L'homme à la tête fêlée

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.

This nicely done adaptation of Eliot Baker's comedic novel (screenplay by the author himself) displays Sean Connery at his versatile finest. In the midst of his "Bond" persona (two years after "Goldfinger") Connery gives a brilliant, anti-typical performance as Samson, a poet to whom art is everything, and the polite fictions and civilities of society nothing. As a man, he is rude, crude, sexist and insensitive to the feelings of everyone, including himself. He is a monster in the mode of Gully Jimson [ "A Horse's Mouth" (1958)] or the real-life Dylan Thomas. A genius whose talent is little recognized, the poet reacts violently to the humdrum restraints of a culture that considers genius anti-social. That underlying tension, and his penchant for enjoying every attractive woman who happens to be in the vicinity, get him classified as a psychotic and put on the fast-track schedule for a pre-frontal lobotomy. Connery's talent and charm save this very funny movie from the somewhat offensive obnoxiousness of its hero, and clinch its optimistic argument about the ultimate triumph of artistic greatness. Also, don't miss the lovely performance by Coleen Dewhurst as a psychiatrist-seductress.

An abusive creative type in Manhattan (Sean Connery) has writer's block and is compelled by his waitress wife (Joanne Woodward) to visit a psychiatrist (Patrick O'Neal), but the bore's dallyings with the quack's wife (Jean Seberg) worsen the situation. Meanwhile Clive Revill is on hand as a mad lobotomist.

Believe it or not, "A Fine Madness" (1966) has nothing to do with secret agent shenanigans, but is rather a zany Manhattan farce with a theme that would be done more effectively in "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" (1975). Nevertheless, it's amusing seeing Connery play a cranky, boozing, womanizing poet who cleans carpets for a living.

Woodward is also entertaining as his not-gonna-take-it wife. Speaking of which, the flick scores pretty well on the feminine front with the likes of Seberg and Sue Ane Langdon (Miss Walnicki). Colleen Dewhurst even shows up.

The film's also worth checking out just to travel back in time to Manhattan of the mid-60s.

The movie runs 1 hour, 44 minutes and was shot on the East Side of Manhattan, plus Long Island.

GRADE: B-

The idea that free-spirited creativity is a social disorder that must be cured by a well-meaning but thoroughly incompetent psychiatric establishment is the theme here, and one quite familiar to anybody who has seen One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest.

Sean Connery was a great choice to play a blocked, womanizing writer at the core of the drama and he centers the film with his amiable exuberance. Comparisons to Cuckoo's Nest are inevitable, and this film lacks the other's stifling power and resonance, but it shares a common vision of the psychiatric profession acting as a microcosm of authoritarian abuses in society at large. Still, this is a funny and charming, much lighter satire on the same subject, energetically directed by Irvin Kirschner, and enjoyable for Connery fans in any case.

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.