One of the more unfortunate things about cinema is how inaccessible some of Elaine May’s filmography is. In the case of The Heartbreak Kid (1972), it’s difficult to buy an affordable copy on DVD. The good news is that there are streaming options for under $4, but the lack of quality release suggests that the film should be reduced to some forgotten corners alongside May’s other underrated work Ishtar (1987). It’s unclear why she has been vanished culturally while her former comedy partner Mike Nicholls has become one of the defining filmmakers of his generation. There has been some reassessment in later years, but those wanting to just pop on The Heartbreak Kid on The Criterion Channel or Mubi will be out of luck. As it stands, you can currently buy an 8x10 photo of the film’s star Cybill Shepherd for half the price of a used DVD.
It is also disappointing because this means that most people will think of a different film when you say the title. The Heartbreak Kid (2007) was a remake starring Ben Stiller and Malin Akerman. Directed by The Farrelly Brothers, it’s everything you’d expect from the duo who brought you such mean-spirited gross-out comedy like Shallow Hal (2001) and Me Myself and Irene (2000). My personal experience with it is short lived. When I was 18, my sister rented it from Redbox and I found it intolerable. Within 20 minutes, I was bored and annoyed at everything going on. Cut to 14 years later and I’m disheartened with how accessible it is compared to May’s version which is superior in every conceivable way.
Much like Agnes Varda in The French New Wave Movement, there is something essential to May standing in New Hollywood as a counterpoint to the male perspective. Whereas other filmmakers like Claudia Weill and Joan Tewkesbury who centered on women, May decided to deconstruct the male ego. Following the excellent A New Leaf (1971), she chose to team up with Neil Simon for a story that has an amazing and challenging tone. On the surface, it’s a comedy about a man going about a very toxic affair. To go deeper is to see that what he’s working towards is essentially hollow, not filling him with any more satisfaction than the marriage he left burned over in their hotel room. In that respect, The Heartbreak Kid is an Americanized version of Varda’s even stealthier Le Bonheur (1965) which finds the allure of masculinity fading as the minutes dwindle away. Both start close enough to the problem that it’s not seen until it’s too late, the tragedy coming in the fact that nobody saw how obvious and preventable this plight could’ve been.
Another thing that helps is that Charles Grodin is cast as Lenny Cantrow. It takes a certain kind of actor to play someone who can be detestable and tragic in the same frame. This is a story whose very premise relies on an actor who can land an affair without having it seem like he’s a terrible person. There needs to be pathos, and Grodin brings so much to it with his overall niceness. When he’s acting opposite his newlywed Lila (Jeannie Berlin), there is an understanding of why they feel disconnected. Their marriage itself feels artificial, that everything going on is hollow and unfulfilling. It’s the perfect post-script to the bus ride in The Graduate (1967), where the idea of complying with societal expectations doesn’t make everything better.
It shines through in the drawn-out pacing, where Lenny and Lila are driving to a resort for their honeymoon. Songs like The Carpenters’ “Close to You” plays over and over in different forms. May designs it to slowly lose its romanticism. The irony of the lyrics also suggests that Lenny doesn’t want to be close to her. This was a mistake, and it’s a trap. Unlike a masculine perspective that would take a Henny Youngman-style “Take my wife, please!” approach, May decides to make it tender and empathetic. Lenny is trying to escape the void, desperately finding something that could make him happier. When Lila gets into the comically tragic sunburned situation, it allows him freedom. He doesn’t have to have her puppy dog him or even touch her. In some ways, it symbolizes how their personal pain makes it difficult to have any greater intimacy.
Enter Kelly Corcoran (Shepherd). In a 60s sex farce like Bedazzled (1967), she would be the object of desire, constantly draped in erotic outfits and implying a youthful vitality for the aging male. May knows that and starts at the level of caricature, even featuring Shepherd whose previous career included winning “Model of the Year” in 1968. It’s easy to see what Lenny sees in her, especially as she wanders the beach in a bathing suit. She has a certain vapidness that plays into the stereotype, this damsel in distress that is appealing. She is Lenny’s to win, to start anew and give life another try. Given that there’s a 15 year age difference between Grodin and Shepherd (and 16 between him and Berlin), it’s the familiar fantasy that Hollywood loves to tell, but it’s not going to just be sensual walks on the beach. May is going to dive into why this is fantasy is unobtainable and inevitably empty.
Lenny tries to reconstruct happiness. Lila has everything that he wants, even if there’s little to suggest that they’re all that compatible. Shepherd is especially charming here as someone who is dull and seems easily manipulated. She is putty in his hands, and watching Lenny know that he can take advantage finds the comedy slowly diving into horror. Was this what happened between him and Lila prior to the opening credits’ cue of The Wedding March? There is the sense that Lila was pushed into marriage, that everyone is trying to get their children to settle down and start a happy, homely life. The American suburbia lingers in the recent consciousness, and New Hollywood felt like a direct response to it. This is May’s contribution, suggesting that people are way too complicated just to fall into amatanormativity. A few are going to end up incompatible.
So once again Grodin falls into the mundanity, believing that he’s unlocked The Fountain of Youth. There’s all the wonderful sex. They have a picture perfect relationship while Lila wastes away. He leaves his old life behind. To May’s credit, she manages to make it feel like she was totally removed from the story altogether, that she doesn’t matter. She was just an object to him, an attempt at something that he now sees in Kelly. Even as he tries to act mature, there is this boyishness to him that finds him eagerly looking beyond responsibility and towards something that’s vibrant and fun. The easy fix is greater than any effort that could sustain him for years and decades. It’s the type of effort that makes one wonder if he ever felt connected to anyone for longer than a few weeks.
He is an example of toxic masculinity, but May also sympathizes with him. Lenny isn’t someone who gets severely punished. Instead, he has this lingering pain that keeps him from growing. He’s stalled out. Even as he talks to Kelly’s parents about marriage, there is something to suggest he fears becoming them. He isn’t ready. Even if they might be miserable, he’s not ready to settle down and live in that metaphorical prison. It’s not a Youngman joke to him. He wants to believe the perfect woman is out there.
But is Kelly the perfect woman? In some respect, Kelly has a cinematic idea of perfect. She has a beauty that makes her easy to look at and there’s a willingness that suggests she’ll do what you want. However, what does the viewer know about Kelly’s personality that allows her to be something greater? Quite deceptively, Shepherd has played the role with excellent deflection, never allowing Grodin to ever truly be intimate with her. He has access to her body, but her brain remains a mystery. He is doomed to be miserable when they go on their honeymoon and things start over. As awful as this means that Lenny probably is, May’s willingness to explore psychology makes the ending all the more poignant. This isn’t a story that ends in celebration but is almost full circle to where everything began.
In recent months, I’m realizing how underrated Grodin is. He has a nice guy charm that perfectly clashes with his willingness to play absurd and egotistical men. Even when he’s being forceful, there is something weak about him. There is recognizable desperation. He is disconnected from the world around him. His efforts to be nice may be genuine but May finds a way to make it feel hollow. When he plays opposite Shepherd in her second role after the phenomenal The Last Picture Show (1971), there is an interesting balance. Both have something incomplete in their personalities that they’re searching for, and yet neither of them are that missing piece. Even casting Berlin in a comparatively farcical role feels intriguing. May’s willingness to play with tone may be difficult but there’s something impeccable about the dedication eventually paying off with something that’s just as much a punchline as it is tearful.
I suppose because of first being aware of The Farrelly Brothers’ version and even late 60s sex comedies, I was assuming that The Heartbreak Kid would be more sexual. It is true that May doesn’t ignore these themes, but they’re so detached from the greater message. Every character urges for something greater, but they don’t know how to get it. When there is sex, May paints it modestly. Shepherd may be idealized, but this doesn’t feel like a Stephanie Rothman film. Her shots are radiant, but hide her body in ways that “leave to the imagination.” In the most erotic scene, Grodin stands opposite Shepherd in a black background, shadows covering their body. It’s almost dreamlike, but also one of a surreal nightmare. They are in ecstasy, but are they really any closer to bonding on a deeper level?
This is an interesting addition to the New Hollywood canon because of how it paints masculinity. While most directors were focused on how they were leaders, fighting an oppressed system, their style of vulnerability was more caused by heartbreak and violence. There was a directness that could be attributed to Nixon-Era turmoil. To some extent, there was also toxic masculinity in connection to The Women’s Rights Movement. However, May was curious about exploring a vulnerability that lied more on a failure of character, where the conclusion was about the ways we’re isolated in ourselves. She did so with a balance of comedy and drama that was just as challenging as her male counterparts, and I’d argue it made her stand out. She was able to write about women, but they were in relation to men, creating something more complex about how genders relate to each other. It may sound like some sexist inability to tell the stories she wanted, but one could argue that The Heartbreak Kid is distinctively feminist in the same way Le Bonheur was: a reflection of masculinity that you can only notice if you’re not a man.
I wish that this film was more accessible (currently available on YouTube for free). If nothing else, it provides an alternate view of media from the early 70s that shows how diverse the perspectives of the time were. In general, I think that Elaine May is deserving of more respect and should’ve had a richer directing career than what she received. There was something beautiful and profound about her approach to cinema. Her choice to cast Grodin and Shepherd also reflected the underrated charisma, how having chemistry that doesn’t fully connect can be the perfect combination for a narrative. This is an interesting story of what it means to grow old and need to settle down. How can you do that when you haven’t found the one or, in the case of Lenny, probably never will? What a brilliant, horrifying perspective that ended up being.
Comments
Post a Comment