Move

This little-known 1970 film (the year Gould cranked out about six) actually has some interesting social comments to make, but NOBODY ever saw this flick. I saw when it was released, mainly because of the lovely and talented Paula Prentiss, and Gould I liked from B&C&T&A and M.A.S.H. (same year) and the strangely beautiful Genevieve Waite was in it. Gould basically plays a plodding scumbag who doesn't deserve the life he has (which he is clueless about), but he's really too old (even then) to be trying to find himself in that turbulent time period.

A 4 out of 10. Best performance = Paula Prentiss (wonderful). This is better than I LOVE MY WIFE (another unknown Elliott movie from that year), but it doesn't follow through with the Gould angst of his character. 1970 was a great year for films (especially the unknown ones), but this condescending and fake-brooding, but if you're interested in that time period (especially film wise), check it out for curiosity's sake.

Move is a treat. At the time of its release Elliot Gould was just reaching a his first cycle of over exposure and most people missed this movie completely. It is in the same tradition of self conscious movies as "You're a Big Boy Now" and others that came out during the late 60s. The difference is this movie is intelligently written and directed and it gets better as it progresses as opposed to falling apart and resorting to slapstick like most zany movies do at the three quarters mark. Gould perfectly captures the o.c.d. craziness of his character and Paula Prentiss as usual is terrific. The only flaw in this film is I would have loved to see at least one more scene with her. All the supporting characters are scarily great. I do not want to give the whole story away. See it!

I read someone once say that "films like _Move_ destroyed Gould's career in 1 and a half years." Maybe, maybe not, but _Move_ is really not a bad film at all: a bit counter-culture, but not obnoxiously so.

Gould is an intellectual New Yorker whose fortunes have led him to walk dogs in central park, and to author pornographic literature to make a living--a self-described "scatological existence." Prentiss (in a straight role) is his long-suffering wife, who watches as he suffers a mental breakdown. This film is of interest to Prentiss fans as it was her first big role in 5 years of eschewing Hollywood. Genevive Waite is the ditzy model Gould meets in the park.

Perhaps the film's greatest drawback (to us men, at least), is Gould's penchant for dropping his trousers to reveal an inordinately hirsute physique.

When all is said, its a film with its own charms, and the ending sweetly closes the story.

Harried dogwalker in New York City can't seem to get out of his small apartment: the movers keep putting him off and the office receptionist is a flibbertigibbet. Unfunny comedy starring Elliott Gould does have an amusingly absurdist introduction (the city traffic moves around Gould backwards while he walks forwards), which director Stuart Rosenberg then fritters away. Working from a gross, would-be existential screenplay by Stanley Hart and Joel Lieber (via Lieber's novel), Rosenberg tries goosing the action with arty shots (such as filming through lattice work) and fantasy snippets, thus affording Gould the opportunity to "get loose". What Gould really needed was a stronger script and tighter direction. The blooming star made a number of films back-to-back in the early 1970s--most of them pop-crack quickies like "Move"--oversaturating the film market with his anarchic "personality" and causing him to fall out of favor with US audiences. *1/2 from ****

This comedy about a Manhattan couple's logistically hobbled move from one apartment to another was based on a now-obscure 1968 comic novel that probably would seem very datedly hip now. Like most such, did not translate well to the screen. So what we get is yet another attempt at something cool and offbeat that the mainstream Hollywood talent turns into a badly off-key sitcom. Even the novel aspect of Elliott Gould's protagonist being a dogwalker is stupidly handled for dumb yoks--if he's a professional, why does he act as if he has no idea how to control his canine charges?

Stuart Rosenberg, a TV veteran turned wildly uneven movie director (who was briefly mistaken for an important one when "Cool Hand Luke" hit big), was clearly the wrong person for this idiosyncratic material. it's hard to imagine who would have been the right person--maybe the Robert Downey of "Putney Swope"? But certainly few could have handled the potentially capable cast more awkwardly, or made the actress' frequent toplessness seem less "liberated" and more gratuitously labored. (You can practically hear the studio technicians' not-so-whispered comments about that broad's rack and this one's can.) The dream sequences and fantasies are puerile, and coarsely integrated; the "wild mod party" sequence is possibly the worst of that type ever, which is really saying something.

This is one of those movies that is mostly interesting in illustrating the haplessness of the period, in which so many adventurous and memorable movies were made, albeit amidst so many more little disasters like this one that flopped at the time and have been justifiably forgotten since. The industry was floundering, with the old formulas no longer working and no idea yet why some stabs at the "new" would be DOA and others click. Elliott Gould became the poster child for that waywardness, as the career heat he generated with "MASH" dissipated in a string of flops like this one. He works so hard here to pull the mess together, but he's not given a real character to play, or even a consistent tone. We don't know why his hero's marriage to Paula Prentiss is in semi-trouble at the start, or why it's apparently better again at the end; nor do we understand why on a whim he sleeps with Genevieve Waite as (what else but) a "kooky" English model met in the park. I guess it's all meant to be, you know, whimsical and free-spirited, but those are not things Rosenberg can manage. Instead, "Move" strains even to function as something more like a basic sex farce.

This movie is like a bad, limply semi-"counterculture" cross between Neil Simon-ish "Oy life in Manhattan is such a headache" comedies and the wilder satire of something like "Little Murders"--another Gould-starring flop from the next year, though an infinitely better film. It satisfies my curiosity to have finally seen "Move," but yeah, it's pretty much as bad as its reputation suggests.