A Estátua

If there was any bit of me left that still respected Roger Ebert's reviews, after reading his scathing criticism of The Statue, that bit is gone. He admittedly walked out of the film, claiming it was one of the only films in his career he ever left mid-way, so how was he allowed to even write a review without its full context? He had to have some underlying personal issues that The Statue flared up; perhaps an old girlfriend made fun of his manhood once and he never got over it.

This movie is harmless. It's light, fluffy, and very funny. There's no reason, save immense mental problems, for anyone to walk out of this movie. In fact, I actually recommend it if you've had a long week and want to see something silly. David Niven stars as a world-famous Nobel Prize winner who has invented a universal language. His wife, Virna Lisi, is a sculptor. Her latest creation is a gigantic larger-than-life nude statue of her husband! He's mortified and refuses her to display it in public - until he takes a closer look and realizes the embarrassing part of the statue doesn't even belong to him. Off he goes with his pal Robert Vaughn to track down every man in his wife's little black book, sneak a peak at their privates, and find out if he's the inspiration behind the statue.

See what I mean? It's harmless, silly, and quite funny. From steam rooms to bathrooms, The Niv finds himself in one embarrassing situation after another. One that just about split my sides was when he had to make sure that he wasn't mistaken about what Niv Jr. Looked like: he snuck into a photo booth and flashed the camera for an inventive "selfie". For someone who acted in Wuthering Heights and Enchantment, it must have been beyond entertaining for him to show his raunchy side. I couldn't stop laughing, especially since I know what a playboy he was in real life. If you love The Niv, find out who took his place in The Statue.

When my friends ask me to name the absolutely worst movie I've ever seen, this is the one I always answer with. Considering Amateau's experience with comedy, and the quality of many of the cast members, this is a real disappointment. Maybe the saddest thing is watching David Niven trying to find the inspiration for a -- er -- feature on a statue his wife produced by skulking around lavatories, steam baths, and a bunch of other places. He looks vaguely embarrassed by it all, and really deserved a much better script. The trouble is, the production values of the film are too good for it to have much of a future on the midnight movie circuit. Plan 9, you're safe for now!

Prurient-minded comedy has acclaimed language professor David Niven furious over his sculptress wife's latest work of art: an 18-foot statue of a naked man with Niven's face but not his phallus (seems size is the sticking point). Since the statue has been commissioned by the US State Department for $50,000, it will be exhibited in public in London's Grosvenor Square; Niven fights to have the unveiling suppressed (on what basis--false advertising?). Alec Coppel's play "Chip, Chip, Chip" has become a shouting match on the screen. Niven argues with wife Virna Lisi, he shouts at US Ambassador to England Robert Vaughn, he's testy with advertising friend John Cleese, all the while dropping double entendres like bombs. Second-half of plot has Niven hoping to find the model who posed for the statue's torso, following his wife's male acquaintances into steam rooms and up mountain tops to get a look at their privates. It's supposed to be good dirty fun (with lots of bare breasts and bums), but nobody involved looks like they're having a high time. *1/2 from ****

David Niven's career hit rock bottom when he signed on to do The Statue. For a man whose name on the screen stood for charm and sophistication what was Niven thinking when he signed for this?

Niven plays a Nobel Prize winner whose wife Virna Lisi is a sculptress and has done a larger than life statue of him. However she's given him some enhanced privates obviously inspired elsewhere and Niven spends the whole film looking for the inspiration.

David Niven has uplifted more films than any other actor by dint of his personality. But this one is just too heavy a lift. It's got all the element of a stag film without the prurient interest that would make one watch.

God only knows what Niven was thinking.

Alex Coppel is best known for his marvellous screenplay to 'Captain's Paradise' and his 'contribution' to 'Vertigo'. By all accounts he wrote a play called 'Chip, chip, chip.' One wonders where it was staged, if at all and who was in it!

He and Denis Norden have adapted it for this film directed by someone named Rod Amateau, an ex-stunt double most of whose directorial work was confined to the wonderful world of television.

Professor Alex Bolt is shocked to discover that the penis on the eighteen foot statue done of him by his renowned sculptress wife which is about to go on public display is decidedly not his own. He then embarks on an odyssey to discover whose amazing appendage it is and consequently behaves like a perfect dick, if you'll pardon the pun.

The actual premiss of the film is amusing and it begins rather well but alas quickly degenerates into an infantile, puerile and embarassing mess with the occasional funny line.

The outraged husband is played by David Niven who didn't make a decent film post 1963. Cinema goers tend only to remember the good ones which is just as well but as always he is saved by his immense charm. Robert Vaughn convinces as a slimy, opportunistic politician and as the sculptress Virna Lisi's smoky voice makes this viewer go weak at the knees. John Cleese is his customary forced, one-dimensional self. Ann Bell is haughty but naughty as Niven's assistant.

A fellow reviewer has very astutely noted a possible connection between this plot and the infamous Argyll divorce case of the early 1960's. The identity of the 'headless man' in the incriminating polaroid has never been truly established. It certainly wasn't Niven but by an amazing coincidence he had slept with the future 'Dirty Duchess' of Argyll when she was just fifteen which resulted in a secretly and speedily aborted pregnancy and they remained good friends until his death. Messrs. Coppel and Norden may or may not have drawn inspiration from the high society scandal but if they did the irony would certainly not have been lost on Mr. Niven.

The ultimate absurdity is when Niven's character discovers that the offending part has been copied from Michelangelo's 'David'. Although one of the greatest works of Renaissance sculpture, its genitalia is, in my humble opinion, nothing to write home about!

All-in-all a rather silly film that comes up short!