The Night They Raided Minsky's

Everyone may know William Friedkin for "The French Connection" and "The Exorcist", but this gem from before his heyday will always come to my mind. During the movie's first few minutes, you're not exactly sure where it's going, but then we meet Rachel Schpitendavel (Britt Ekland), an Amish woman who has just arrived in 1920's New York City. Not quite sure where to go in this bustling metropolis, she goes to Billy Minsky's Burlesque House. Of course, she doesn't know that burlesque involves some stuff that is perpetually anathema to the Amish lifestyle. But performer Raymond Paine (Jason Robards Jr) sees some real potential in her. Meanwhile, there are two forces at work against Rachel's potential success: her father has arrived in town to take her back to the farm, and the police are seeking to shut down the burlesque house.

Overall, "The Night They Raided Minsky's" is one of those nostalgia pieces that always has something coming. Interestingly, it was also a debut and farewell: Elliott Gould made his film debut playing Billy Minsky, and Bert "Cowardly Lion" Lahr plays a role too (he actually died while they were filming). Maybe this movie's not a masterpiece, but it's truly got something for everyone. Cool.

A gorgeous Amish girl, Rachel (Britt Ekland) leaves the sect and comes to New York to dance, and winds up at Minsky's Burlesque House in "The Night They Raided Minsky's." Wide-eyed and innocent, she explains that she dances to portions of the Bible. When she shows what she can do, well, it's not burlesque.

But this gives Raymond (Jason Robards), one of the comics, an idea. A group wants to close down the burlesque house because they think the numbers are indecent. If they announce a star from Paris, Madame Fifi, and send Rachel out with her Bible dances right as the place is being raided, it should put an end to the raids.

Meanwhile, Rachel's father (Harry Andrews) is looking for her.

This is a wonderful cast that includes, besides those mentioned, Elliot Gould, Forrest Tucker, Bert Lahr, and Denholm Elliot I guess I thought there would be a little more story to this film, instead of so many burlesque numbers. It's just a matter of taste. I've just never been that fond of burlesque.

Sadly Bert Lahr died during this film, so his part was shortened and he was replaced.

The end is very good, with the invention of the striptease. If you're a fan of burlesque, you will love this film.

Following the 12 Norman Wisdom vehicles I watched during the course of the last 2 weeks, I decided to add to them his only American film. A nostalgic piece about vaudeville in New York's lower East Side in the 1920s, perhaps the film's single greatest asset is its remarkable recreation of that era; amazingly, the inspired transition from black-and-white photos of the period to the film itself seems to have been a happy accident which occurred during the editing process!

The IMDb also noted that the film's preview was a disaster and that editor Ralph Rosenblum employed more than a year of his life to try and save it!; I have no idea how Friedkin's 'original' version looked like but the finished product is a very enjoyable film indeed, if somewhat shapeless (featuring too many 'girlie' shows, for instance, though the music by Charles Strouse is admirably 'of the period'): the plot concerns the goings-on in a second-rate (self-proclaimed "The Poor Man's Follies") burlesque theater whose lease is about to expire and the manager (Elliott Gould) - with the help of his two star comedians (Jason Robards and Wisdom) - has to devise a plan to hold on to his venue; the solution arrives in the shapely form of a naïve Midwestern girl (Britt Ekland), an aspiring dancer but whose debut performance is turned via a series of incidents into the first-ever striptease act!

Friedkin managed to come up with a splendid cast: while Robards may be too stern for the 'leading man' figure (who falls for Ekland's ingénue), he's got some of the film's best lines; Ekland herself is delightful, particularly during the literally show-stopping climax; Wisdom's moving but unsentimental performance makes the most of his 'comic sidekick' role, emphasizing the character's humanity (realizing Ekland's inaptness at performing on stage, he patiently schools her) and feelings (he secretly loves her too but since Ekland prefers Robards herself, he's happy to leave her to his pal).

The supporting cast, then, is a pure delight: Forrest Tucker (as a gangster with a share in the theater), Elliott Gould (playing, as already mentioned, the flustered but inexperienced manager who's entirely dependant on his star attractions), Joseph Wiseman (as Gould's bemused Jewish father, the owner of the theater who's intent on its foreclosure because he disapproves of the style of his son's shows!), Harry Andrews (sporting a wicked beard and exaggerated eye-brows to match as Ekland's Amish father, who arrives in New York in order to claim back his wayward daughter), Denholm Elliott (hilarious as a Vice Squad official whose presence at the theater is recurrent so as to fervently jot down all form of lewdness and general unwholesomeness he happens to notice going on, in preparation for an eventual Police raid...which, naturally happens on "The Night They Invented Striptease", as the film was alternately called!) and Bert Lahr (as, more or less, the Chorus to the narrative but whose role was considerably diminished because, sadly, he passed away in mid-production!). Perhaps the film's funniest moment is the confrontation scene between Wiseman and Andrews (with the former telling the latter that "The only God who could tolerate me is the only one who could tolerate you!"), after which their joint prayer for their children's souls is interrupted by the perpetually awkward Elliott, who's forced to accompany them but is clearly lost!

Unfortunately, the film was recorded off what has to be the sloppiest channel on Cable TV; in fact, the screening froze at one point and the reception was subsequently lost for a brief instance!

This can be a wonderful guilty pleasure, as it mixes a little (and I mean a little) skin, music hall numbers, traditional burlesque routines, a slightly salacious backstage story, and film-style slapstick.

Jason Robards and Norman Wisdom are a very convincing comedy team, although Robards is a bit dark. Give the actor and the filmmakers credit for maintaining the character as a ruthless SOB and not trying to make this guy cute and lovable.

You'll also see Bert Lahr (the Cowardly Lion) in his last film performance, which had to be truncated as he died during production (his role would have been more important and added a touch of surrealism). Also on hand is Elliott Gould, in pre-"Bob, Carol, Ted & Alice" days as a sweet schnook (and the title character), as well as Forrest Tucker as a gangster, Jack Burns as a candy butcher (that's the guy who sells the crummy boxes of candy that MIGHT have a watch in them--and if you believe that...,) Denholm Elliott (Indiana Jones' friend) as the guy who conducts the raid, as well as some real burlesque dancers and comics from the old days.

Adams and Strouse, who wrote BYE BYE BIRDIE contribute a small group of peppy songs, including "From Head To Toe You're A Gentleman" a duet for Robards and Wisdom (the latter a beloved variety star in Britain) and the immortal production number, "Take Ten Terrific Girls But Only Nine Costumes And You're Cooking Up Something Grand."

Britt Ekland inadvertently invents the striptease (it's complicated, read the plot synopsis), but reliable rumor and legend is that the breasts on display belong to a double. Incidentally, the nudity here is about as extensive as in Titanic, so if your kids have already seen that, this will not corrupt them.

The fact is the whole thing is a curiously innocent Mulligan stew of comedy and music, given its subject matter.

Norman Lear wrote and produced in his pre-ALL IN THE FAMILY DAYS, and William Friedkin directed in his pre-FRENCH CONNECTION days. According to the book "WHEN THE SHOOTING'S DONE THE CUTTING BEGINS" by Ralph Rosenblum, the film's editor, Friedkin shot the film indifferently and left immediately. Rosenblum spent the best part of a year recutting the film with the blessing of United Artists production chief David Picker. Rosenblum uses a technique of editing in hokey old silent footage to indicate to the audience that no one is taking the story too seriously, which lifts the curse over some purple writing and acting. Also Rosenblum seems to have invented a trick of mixing authentic B&W archive footage with new footage printed in black and white, which suddenly switches to color. This is an exciting and startling effect the first couple of times, but it is a bit overplayed.

Anyway, this film is better than you probably think it is, and better than it needs to be. Give it a look, it couldn't hurt.

And I mean that most sincerely, this is one of the great films of the 1960s, charting the last days of the burlesque music-hall theatricals in America. The plot of the film is something of a mish-mash, mixing up Britt Ekland as an Amish runaway who finds herself onstage, with Denholm Elliot as a moralistic do-gooder trying to close down Minsky's theatre, but in truth, as with a large number of films of the period (see also The Pink Panther films), the plot is merely a convenience, a washing line upon which to hang a large number of characters, theatrical set-pieces and little illustrations of life in and around the theatrical world. A host of fine actors grace the screen, with Elliot Gould making an early appearance as Minsky jr, Harry Andrews as Ekland's glowering father, Joseph Wiseman as Minsky sr and most affectingly, Bert Lahr in his final screen performance. Even Ekland is OK, and it takes a lot to say that. But at the centre of it all are Jason Robards and Norman Wisdom as the theatre's chief comedy double-act. An odd pairing that works amazingly well, with Robards an effectively sleezy straight man (his seduction of Ekland is both funny and stomach churning). But if Robards is good, Wisdsom is fantastic, his comedic skills honed in England finally being given full rein (I enjoy a lot of his British films, but few of them really allow him full use of his abilities), and the song and dance routine and when he defines burlesque to Ekland rank as his finest on-screen moments. it's a bitter shame that the failure of this film and personal circumstances forced him to leave Hollywood, because with the right material he could have gone so much further. Truth is, if you have no sympathy for this sort of material, this will not change your mind. But for an utterly unique film, packed with beautiful little minutiae of theatrical life and a great mix of dark humour and bawdy comedy, this is really something to be cherished.