Una splendida canaglia

"A Fine Madness" is a very strange movie. It stars Sean Connery (with a very strange performance, one of his worst - somewhere between Bond and a plain ruffian; frankly, I don't think Connery is apt for any comedy at all) plus a lavish supporting cast consisting of renowned character actors - but, still, the film is horrible.

It has an absolutely inane screenplay, and Irvin Kershner's (lack of) direction leaves a most confusing impression, even considering the somewhat strange Sixties style which was "en vogue" then. (John Addison's score, however is quite enjoyable.) You never know what's going to happen, and worse, you're not even interested in any of it. Nothing is truly funny, and some aspects are merely annoying (at least by today's standards), e.g. the jocularity of a man beating up his female companion. Samson Shillitoe is a despicable character, so you don't really convey any empathy for him or his needs. - What a waste of talent.

This is the sort of movie that makes me ponder the whole time I'm watching it, "Who SHOULD have been in these roles?" Connery and Woodward really give it a good try, chewing big hunks out of the scenery, but they never convince, not for a moment. The role of earnest but ignorant and garrulous wife could have been played to perfection by Geraldine Page or, in an earlier and lighter version of the story, Judy Holliday. The role of Samson Shillitoe, deranged poet, could have been handled well by Jason Robards or Walter Matthau, and his mysterious attraction for women would have been more believable with the former, and more humorous with the latter.

For me, the only real laughs came from the one short scene featuring pudgy businessman Sorrell Booke learning the facts about his wife's hysteria. "You'll ascertain MY virility????"

I think they were trying for the kind of thing here where, like Alec Guiness's deranged artist character in "The Horse's Mouth," the obnoxious jerk has a mysteriously endearing charm or ability that shines through despite his appalling behaviour, but this poet isn't the horse's mouth. Quite the opposite.

If you enjoy the type of film that leaves you shaking your head and wondering why, this is definitely for you.

I saw this film when it was first released. It was a "fish out of water" comedy, a coarse brute running rampant among effete elitists. At that time, I had a lot of contact with numerous psychiatrist/psychoanalysts. This film brilliantly caught the self satisfied pomposity, the self promotional tendencies, and the double standards of this group. The psychoanalysts couldn't cope with this guy! I found this part of the film hilarious, although most of the humor would go unappreciated by those who didn't know any people in the psychoanalytic world.

I have seen this film many times since then. Much of it now makes me wince. The field of psychoanalysis has imploded and almost disappeared. Making fun of the pretensions of a now forgotten group of elitists is no longer very funny. Thus, it is a clumsy, sexist mild comedy. Yet, see it as a document of its time, and it is worthwhile.

If ever there was an award given out for "Most Outrageously, Sexist-Minded Film Ever (of the 1960s, that is)", I think that A Fine Madness would, most definitely, be a sure-fire winner.

And, with that said - If you are, indeed, a total feminist (or a feminist-hugger), I guarantee you that frequent key moments throughout this utterly absurd comedy will surely get your dander up like no other film from that era ever has. (I'm not kidding about this, folks!)

Of course, in order to get any sort of real entertainment value out of A Fine Madness's story one must keep it firmly in mind that here is a film that is a complete product of its time. This is a picture that proudly beats its chest and clearly states that "Hey! This is a man's world!" (so if you're a woman you better like it, or lump it).

In my opinion - A Fine Madness was solely made to cash-in on Sean Connery's rugged animal magnetism and his equally virile screen-charisma (following his huge success playing James Bond in 1965's "Thunderball").

So, just be warned - If you're prone to detest a lead character who just happens to be nothing but a boozing, womanizing, wife-beating, loudmouth with a hair-trigger temper, then, believe me, you're probably not likely to find this comedy to be much of a laughing matter, in the long run.

As a poet with writer's block who is institutionalized, Sean Connery distances himself quite grandly from screen alter-ego James Bond. Connery is unexpectedly gregarious as the avant-garde writer, Joanne Woodward is suitably shrill as his wife, and the supporting cast (including Jean Seberg and the wonderful Zohra Lampert) is uniformly terrific; however, this quirky piece on challenging the System is rather frantic and bumpy. Director Irvin Kershner has always been a little erratic, and his shifts in tone take a while getting used to. Elliot Baker's screenplay, adapted from his novel, is uneven, yet the film certainly looks good with handsome cinematography and fine use of New York locations. Often gets confused with "They Might Be Giants", another comedy which also co-starred Joanne Woodward and dealt with a certain madness. ** from ****