Gags And Other Buffoonery

THE OPENING SCENE of Gene Wilder's latest film, The World's Greatest Lover, is a masterpiece in parody. Wilder, with his eyes bulging from his head in a passionate glare, impersonates a Valentinoesque Spanish dancer clinging to a sultry female partner. The couple's exaggerated motions, sexy facial expressions, and intensely serious gestures are indeed funny. The scene shows Wilder in his best comic form, and in that brief moment, the movie almost lives up to the expectations created by its title. But the remainder of the film never fulfills its promise. This sequence is, for both Wilder and the audience, merely a dream. As Wilder snaps out of his fantasy and back to the reality of his job as a baker, he fouls up the cake decorator, spewing streams of sticky icing in an imbecillic lapstick scene a la Laurel and Hardy. This, instead of the first scene, in an indicator of the usual level of entertainment in Wilder's latest creation.

A little genius and a lot of banality compose The World's Greatest Lover, and Wilder is responsible for both. As a writer, director and actor he exhibits a wide range of abilities and sensibilities. Unfortunately, his humor has a hit-or-miss quality to it, and he does not always amuse the viewers. Instead of marveling at how much Wilder can do, one leaves the movie speculating how good it might have been had Wilder not tried so hard.

HIS PLOT CONCENTRATES on the problems of a Milwaukee baker (played by Wilder) who must compete with the screen idol Rudolph Valentino for the admiration of his young wife Annie (Carol Kane). To prove himself to her and also to escape the confinement of his job, Wilder changes his name to Rudy Valentine and moves to Hollywood to compete for the "World's Greatest Lover" role in a studio ad campaign. The couple's proximity to the real Valentino is too much for Annie, who leaves her husband to track down her dream lover at Paramount Studios.

Valentine's consequent attempts to win his wife back are both funny and touching. With the help of the real Valentino, Wilder convinces Annie that the real screen idolis a fellow who "only likes boys." But his charade fails to alter her illusions, and only then does the baker realize that the secret to gaining his wife's love lies in being himself. In these scenes Wilder displays a dramatic sensitivity which his more recent Mel Brooks roles have not allowed him to develop. The comedy and conflicts generated by this situation might have been sufficient material for a light but pleasant romantic film which would have highlighted Wilder's insight and talent.

But Wilder, like many artists who become too wrapped up in their own films, does not realize when he carries a good thing too far. For example, he hardly passes up an opportunity to clown, and as a result, he often comes off as a buffoon. Most of the puns and cheap sight gags are of dubious comic value, and the fragile thread of humor which supports them eventually breaks when it is stretched to a ridiculous length. In one scene, the train Wilder is on jolts, and Wilder's sleeping wife is thrown to the seat opposite her and a male passenger takes her place. Wilder, who does not realize what has occurred, begins cooing to, kissing and petting this stranger. For a while, this is very funny, but it quickly falls flat and hardly deserves the five minutes it gets.

So do other overblown attempts at humor such as an accidentally flooded living room ("It's my new swimming pool!" Wilder explains, floundering among the floating chairs), shrill and tasteless jibes at homosexuality, and scenes in which the mere sight of fat people is intended to be funny. Wilder can make such devices laughable for a while, but they are worth a chuckle at most, and not the guffaws he tries (and fails) to extract from them. Repeated as often as they are, they become downright boring.

One of the most subtle and humorous scenes comes right after the train gag. All the men entering the studio contest disembark from the train in Hollywood wearing identical white suits, and Annie gets lost within a sea of Rudy lookalikes. She examines dozens of faces, but cannot find her husband. The segment looks funnier than it sounds, but it works beatifully because it is not dragged out.

THESE FLAWS, HOWEVER, are minor in comparison to the gross mistake of casting Dom DeLuise as Adolph Zitz, the head of Paramount's rival studio. DeLuise, whose only attributes are obesity, overacting and the ability to strangle on cue, wields his demeanor like a sledgehammer and leaves viewers so unsettled that it takes them a while to remember what the rest of the movie is about. Once he appears on the screen with his insipid lackeys and his hapless barber-valet, it is hard for the nicer elements of the plot to reassert themselves.

That is a shame, since Wilder and Kane handle their scenes together delicately. As the Midwestern couple encountering Hollywood for the first time, they display the proper amount of naivete and wonder. Kane is convincingly sweet and supportive and when he declares his true love for her at the end of the film, Wilder does his best acting.

But a side-splitting beginning and a sentimental ending with a lot of dreck in between are not the best ingedients for the definitive Gene Wilder film. There is neither enough originality nor direction to sustain this movie. Those fans who hoped it would symbolize Wilder's break with his past will be disappointed. Had Wilder decided at the outset just how much and what kind of comedy to use, his final result might have been more consistent and much more memorable.