Film: "A Thousand Clowns"
The movie A Thousand Clowns is one of those classic films that seems to have been forgotten by the public. Originally a Broadway play, it received wide critical acclaim when it debuted and was nominated and won several awards (for both film and stage), including nominations for four Academy Awards, including best picture. It was also nominated for three Golden Globes, including the category of "Best Motion Picture - Musical/Comedy."
(It is perhaps of note that the contemporary films that A Thousand Clowns was running against was pretty stiff competition, including The Sound of Music, Doctor Zhivago, Cat Ballou, and The Collector.)
And this is not one of those films that does not age well, or seems silly or vapid years later. The humor as well as the drama of the film is as relevant today as it was when it first opened. Its appeal is near universal. Although it is not a mega-blockbuster film with expensive special effects and big Hollywood stars, the effect that it has is perhaps more direct and meaningful than many films with a much larger budget.
Herb Gardner was nominated for an Academy Award in the category "Best Writing, Screenplay Based on Material from Another Medium" for A Thousand Clowns. He also won the "Best Written American Comedy" award from the Writers Guild of America for the same film.
Certainly the films greatest strength is the script. The Author, Herb Gardner also wrote the Broadway play. The novelty of the story is that it is not what the audience expects, and that it is uncomfortably like real life. (In it's message if not it's story.) The characters seem clearly like characters that the audience has seen in so many other stories that they are lulled into thinking that it is just another movies. The audience is sucked into what seems like a very familiar tale, and then the climax of the film is not what one expects. At face value it seems to merely be a light comedy, but the author forces the audience to look at everyday life, using the most mundane symbolism, and think about things that really have no answer. (At least the end of the film supplies none.)
The thematic elements of the film might merely seem to be about middle age, or responsibility, or conformity, but I don't think those are what the author is talking about. The author is talking about choices in life, and their limits, and their ambiguities. It is a story about not winning, not getting what one thinks they want, and not even knowing what one needs.
One mistaken interpretation of this film might be that it is hedonistic or a "hippy" movie. This film does not take sides or promote an agenda, the story is about not knowing what the right thing to do is, about inner conflicts and how they are affected by the world around us. It is about unresolved conflicts that have no answer.
With the exception of Jason Robards the cast of this film is perhaps not widely known. The ensemble cast is exceptional though. It is of note that there was no real incidental music or gimmicky editing or cinematography, and that the actors and the story were really all that carried the film. The stark difference between this film and other films, especially modern films is perhaps most apparent in this regard. That is not to say that the camera was simply statically pointed at the actors. There was a considerable number of shots and camera angles, and thoughtful and seamless editing. These were restrained and lightly done to a degree, with the exception of the sequences that were shot outside or "on location." (More on that later.)
The lead in the film, Murray Burns, is played by Jason Robards who originally played the role on Broadway in 1962. Robards was nominated for a Golden Globe for "Best Motion Picture Actor - Musical/Comedy" for this film. His portrayal as Murray Burns was like the rest of the film, almost understated. He played this very broad role as lightly as possible. Both the director and Robards could have very easily played this over the top, but in the end it would have smothered the story.
Barry Gordon, the child who played the lead's nephew, was good. I am not sure that he brought as much to the role as the other actors, but then again I am not sure that he had as much to work with either. The role itself was perhaps not as challenging as the other roles in the story.
Martin Balsam, who played the lead's brother Arnold Burns, took the world by storm to degree with this role. He won an Academy Award and a Laurel award in the category of "Best Actor in a Supporting Role." The most significant reason of interest regarding this is the character really has only one scene, the argument with the lead in the abandoned Chinese restaurant. Every other scene the character has is a brief walk on. The impact of this one scene is the really the crux of the whole movie.
Barbara Harris was vulnerable and realistic as the disillusioned social worker Sandra Markowitz. She was nominated for a Golden Globe in the category of "Best Motion Picture Actress in a Musical/Comedy."
Gene Saks, who is also an established director, played the character of Leo "Chuckles The Chipmunk" Herman masterfully. His character was a nervous and self-absorbed man who did not like children, and yet he was host for a children's television show.
The part of social worker Albert Amundson and fiancé to Sandra Markowitz was played by William Daniels, and he also gives an exceptional performance. He was the dry and unimaginative foil to Robard's barbs.
There is a very distinct feeling in the film between shots done outside (or on location) and inside. Every outside shot has some degree of a montage. Everything shot outside is loud, almost noisy. Everything shot outside (or "on location") has music, and usually inappropriate to the scene. In every shot that is outside it is happy or hopeful. Nothing unpleasant ever happens in location shots in the film. Murray is always doing something he enjoys, seeing off a ship, visiting the Statue of Liberty, yelling at neighbors. The only real camera trick was an outside shot, a soft lens was used to indicate a memory during the staircase scene, as described later in the paper.
All of the shots done indoors are well thought out and executed, but without incidental music and with the look and feel of a movie done for "Playhouse 90." (Like back in the days when "made for TV" did not always mean flat and bland. Some early television drama was quite good.)
Shot entirely in black and white and without incidental music, it had the feeling of a documentary or a drama. The decision to shoot the film in black and white appears to give the film a stark feeling, in contrast to the humor and warmth of the characters. The lighting heightened this hyper-realistic feeling, which was generally from above and not really flattering to the actors. The film seemed to have heightened contrast, like an early television show. (i.e. the Twilight Zone.) There was no soft focus or flattering angles in most of the film. Everything was supposed to just look like what it was. The look of the film had a feeling in the indoor shots that this was lit by harsh incandescent bulbs, like in real life.
All of the humor and pathos came from the actor's ability and the script. There were few traditional film devices to heighten emotion. The art direction of the film was very eclectic, with a few odd props and a general feeling of squalor. The look and feel of the film is, well, ordinary.
The way the film was directed was something of a "less is more" strategy. If one was to compare him to another director one might pick Robert Altman in that both directors seem to give the actor plenty of room, but A Thousand Clowns was clearly scripted and rehearsed, so that comparison falls short to a degree. Certainly the scenes were shot well and edited seamlessly, but I think that the director very consciously tried to show restraint, at least during the indoor shots. One exception was a cut from a medium shot of Murray saying to his brother "You make it sound like parole..." to an extreme close-up of "Chuckles the Chipmunk" saying "Yes indeed it does, boys and girls..." This rather broad visual humor is not really seen in most of the other indoor shots. This is also the first time that we see "Chuckles," and this further emphasizes the shock vale of the cut.
The style of editing in the film was very unobtrusive. The rhythm of the cuts were always defined by the actors lines and movements. There were actually a typical number of cuts for a film of this length, but they were unobtrusive and did not upstage the action, with the exception of the montages that were done outside. In those sequences everything, including the music and the actors were broad and over the top. (The following will be described in better detail further in the paper.) One sequence that I found compelling regarding editing was the stairway sequence. Also the argument between the two social workers and the feeling that audience briefly got that they are alone, and then not alone. There was also an uncomfortable scene when Murray and Sandra speak upon waking that is very compelling and sensitively handled. The editing was just right. The American Cinema Editors nominated Ralph Rosenblum for an award in the category of "Best Edited Feature Film" for this film.
Despite the complexity of the films story, the continuity of the film seems to be without error that I could find. Part of this might be the fact that any kink in the performance had been worked out on stage years before. Also, with so few sets there would have been less to watch out for.
Like so many facets of the film, any description of the cinematography would have to be broken down into the outside shots and the inside shots. The use of shots like the Directors Interpretive Point of View was used almost every time Murray yelled at his neighbors. Shots of the building without any people shown were used. In some of the montage sequences crowds were shown, and in some cases with the actor amidst them.
The illusion of depth was seen several times to show contrast between two more actors. But all of the inside shots were fairly pedestrian when compared to the work done outside.
The music in the film was almost entirely from a stock library, and was almost entirely inappropriate to the scene. This created a contrast to convey Murray's perception of the outside world. Marching band music was played over a daily commute montage, for example. Also, with the exception of a couple of scenes where two of the actors playing ukuleles and sang, the only scenes that had any music were scenes that represented the outdoors. The unusual music scored by Don Walker was nominated for an Academy Award "Best Music, Scoring of Music, Adaptation or Treatment."
The sound in the film was very pedestrian in the indoor shots, with very sound effects or special nuances. The sound in the outdoors sequences were an example of contrast, being very loud, and with a barely audible hiss at times. It was perceptible that the sound in these cases was recorded outside just by the difference in the quality of the audio. I don't think that this was a distraction; the symbolism of outside vs. inside was played up very distinctly in the film and was expressed on every level, including this one.
Costume design came to the forefront in one portion of the film, when Murray bought a new suit and hat. I bring up the significance of this later in the paper.
I now submit a short description of the film, as it is unlikely that the reader have seen it. I go into greater detail than may seem necessary to point out the manipulation of the audience by the story, which is the films most amazing attribute. It is not so much that the audience watches the characters growth, as it is that the story forces the audience to grow into a more realistic and confusing perception of the situation.
In mystery or action films often there is a twist or a catch. This is different than what happens in A Thousand Clowns. The change that takes place is an almost deceptively mundane realization. The audience is seeing a very real life conflict in the characters, and like real life there is no happy ending, or dramatically sad ending, but only the mundane ending that that could only take place in the real world. The feeling is almost like when a hero or icon is shown to have feet of clay.
The film starts with a shot of the back the lead character's head (He is wearing a hat. Throughout the film he is wearing a hat.), with a quick cut to a box kite flying in the sky, and then a quick cut back to the lead again. In the background the first four lines of and old song written by Judy Holliday, "A Thousand Clowns," plays.
And then, predictably enough, the camera cuts to a montage of several different shots of people going to work as the beginning credits are superimposed over the images. To emphasize the humorous aspect of Murray's observation of people going to work as odd or tragic, marching band music is played very load. The ordinary images of people going to work are thus elevated as a significant event of some meaning. The music is so loud during these montages that it is almost jarring, further emphasizing the strange juxtaposition.
This first few moments of the film that are seemingly disjointed and uninformative actually set the tone for the rest of the film. They show the enigmatic habits of the lead character, Murray, the strange reversed parent/child role he plays with Nick, and the gives a very clear idea of how rest of the film will play. Also, the images in the first few moments of the film give a glimpse into the almost mundane symbolism that the film employs. The story has already delineated a feeling of "us and them," Murray vs. his neighbors, Murray vs. employment, and even Murray vs. the enigmatic adult sensibilities that the boy Nick represents.
The film moves along at a very rapid pace. This is one of the dichotomies about the film. Although the film is almost entirely dialog, with very few characters and even fewer sets, the film actually moves along very quickly. As the audience watches it they are almost lulled by the conversational quality of the film, when in fact the story advance very quickly and huge amounts of information for the audience to absorb are presented in a seemingly casual fashion.
The montage of people going to work with the beginning credits seamlessly changes to a montage of Murray and Nick getting off a bus, flying a kite, running in the park, etc. and the marching music seamlessly transitions to a Dixieland jazz band momentarily before fading away to dialog. Muck of the dialog is played over the different shots of Murray and Nick in their various activates.
We quickly learn from the dialog that Murray collects brass eagles, Murray is celebrating his own private holiday - Irving R. Feldman's Birthday, Nick wants Murray to get a job, that Nick attends some "genius school," and that the school has alerted the Child Welfare board about Nick and his "situation." The Child Welfare Board is going to come over and visit the two of them, per Nick. This becomes the subject of focus, with Murray acknowledging that he has thrown away several letters from the Child Welfare board because "he does not answer letters from large organizations." We also learn that Murray has had a female companion over the last few nights, and thus Nick was unable to tell Murray this news earlier. At this point Nick seems concerned, Murray appears distracted and self-indulgent. Murray's apparent solution to the problem is to take Nick to the Statue of Liberty, in honor of Irving R. Feldman's Birthday.
Thus the characters are very quickly sketched in. At this point in the film Murray is the irrepressible non-conformist, part Don Quixote and part Bill Murray in "Ghostbusters." The boy Nick is his Sancho Panza sidekick with a bit of Alex Keaton thrown in, forever the worrying adult in a child's body. So far in the film the audience is very comfortable with these very familiar stereotypes.
This also encapsulates another feature of the script in that the seemingly casual banter throughout the film is dense with plot information, and moves very quickly.
When Murray and Nick get home to their one room apartment they find two members of the Child Welfare Board waiting for them, Albert Amundson and Sandra Markowitz. At this point we also see the main set, the one room apartment that Murray and Nick share. The apartment is very cluttered with odd junk and several brass eagles.
Ms. Markowitz and especially Mr. Amundson are very professional and stuffy, pointing out the seriousness of the situation, and Murray very cordially wisecracks and jokes with the two of them. They are almost like cardboard villains to his cardboard hero. It all seems very familiar. We learn that Murray used to write for the "Chuckles the Chipmunk" television show, and subsequently quit.
As the conversation progresses, Murray is more and more insulting in a passive aggressive fashion. Mr. Amundson becomes more and more agitated, and Ms. Markowitz becomes angry with Mr. Amundson and enamored of Murray.
We also learn that Nick is Murray's nephew, his sister having left Nick with Murray years ago. The identity of Nick's real father is undeterminable, and his mother had never properly named Nick. She felt that because she could not give him a proper last name, she was reticent to give him a first name. On his sixth birthday Murray had made a deal with Nick that he could use any name he wanted until his thirteenth birthday, at which time he must choose a name for good. Some of the names he used were King, Rover, Lefty, Chevrolet, Big Sam, etc. His Cub Scout membership was in the name of Raphael Sabatini, and his library card was under the name of Dr. Morris Fishbein.
This point of the child's name seemed to be the breaking point for Mr. Amundson, and he seemed to have seen enough. Ms. Markowitz on the other hand is growing angry with Mr. Amundson and the two of them have a heated argument. This scene was shot in an interesting way. The argument between the two of them was in a one-room apartment, but was fought like Murray was not in the room. (Nick had left at this point.) as the argument reached it's crescendo Ms. Markowitz and Mr. Amundson (and the camera) become aware of Murray in the corner, making a corned beef sandwich.
Mr. Amundson leaves in a huff, and Ms. Markowitz (Sandra) stays. She is crying and upset. Mr. Amundson (Albert) was her Fiancé, and she is now sure that she will be fired. She hates her job, but is also very afraid of the unknown variable that her life has become.
Murray consoles her, and tells her that she should be happy. She is well rid of Albert, and her job. He explains it that there are just so many other "Sandras" running around, like multiple expressions of herself. He compares it to the little car at the circus that drives around and around, and then it stops, and out come a thousand clowns.
Murray convinces Nick to play "Yes Sir, That's My Baby" with him on a pair of ukuleles. Halfway through the song Nick grabs his stuff to go upstairs to spend the night at a neighbor, as it would seem certain that Murray is going to sleep with Sandra that night. The audience now gets a peek at part of Murray's character in this uncomfortable moment. He is kind of asshole, he has put their relationship in jeopardy, and is now hedonistically going to sleep with the social worker. But as an audience member one sort of chalks it up to the whole lovable cad persona he playing.
There is a brief courtship sequence/montage where Murray and Sandra go to see a ship off, visit the Statue of Liberty, etc. The music is a continuation of Murray playing "Yes Sir, That's My Baby." Murray explains at the ship that "it's a great thing to do when you are about to start something new it gives you the genuine feeling of the beginning of things."
The audience is in love with the couple at this point, and Sandra is now fully on "our side." She will play yang to Murray's yin, and all will work out in the end. The author's manipulation still feels much like any other script in any other movie. This will end up like any other funny romance comedy it seems to the audience, and everything is right on schedule.
The next morning Murray has a one sided conversation with the weather lady recording, and then yells out the window in one of his rants (as he is wont to do) "This is your neighbor speaking. I'm sure that I speak for all of us when I say that something must be done about your garbage cans in the alley here. It is definitely second rate garbage! Now by next week I want to see a better class of garbage. More empty champagne bottles and caviar cans. I am sure that you are all behind me on this, so let's snap it up and get on the ball."
Sandra pops out from behind a screen around Murray's bed and asks for a bathrobe. Murray's causal reflections are shattered, and uncomfortable conversation ensues between the two of them. The scene is brilliant in it's understatement. What could have easily been played for a cheap guffaw was instead quietly and realistically funny and poignant. It was a very human moment rarely seen in comedies, or any film for that matter.
Murray and Sandra state their love for each other. Murray's brother makes another brief appearance, and states that Chuckles the Chipmunk wants him back on the show. There is another brief montage of Murray and Sandra on a bicycle built for two. The music is a slower, more dramatic rendition of "Yes Sir, That's My Baby." Then all of a sudden Sandra wants to redecorate the apartment, and asks for a spare key. Murray looks troubled, and states that he does not have an extra key. Albert comes to the door, Sandra hides in the closet, and Albert feels awkward upon finding out that Sandra is in the closet. Albert tells Murray that the Child Welfare Board will take away Nick that coming Friday.
At this point the audience feels a little sorry for Albert. Albert seems a little more human. He has lost his fiancé, and she is now in a Murray's closet. (!) We learn that Murray lives above an abandoned Chinese Restaurant. Murray and Sandra talk about what to do about Nick. Murray states that he will get a job, and his brother sets up several interviews for him. These interviews are very funny, and further enhance the feeling of Us against Them, or Murray vs. all of the phonies in the world. Sandra is cleaning the apartment. There are montages of people at work, going to work, eating lunch, etc.
Another example of the mundane symbolism at this point is that Murray buys a new suit, and more importantly a new hat for the interviews. He is shedding his old self for the man he promises to become, but he seems to only be wearing the new suit as a tourist. He does not look comfortable in it, nor does he take on a businesslike demeanor.
Then there is a scene where Murray's brother, Arnold Burns, tries to explain to Murray how serious things are, and talks him into a phone interview with his old boss, Leo "Chuckles The Chipmunk" Herman. Murray leaves before the phone interview starts.
Nick comes home and sees the apartment, and tacitly becomes Sandra's ally in reforming Murray. She tells Nick that Murray is going to get a job. Nick is ecstatic, and bemoans his earlier fate at the hands of the irresponsible Murray.
Murray comes home without a job, not because he was not hired but because he would not even try. He gives a rousing speech, but clearly it is hogwash and Sandra's dreams are shattered. He has let everyone down. This conversation takes place on a stairwell, and Murray keeps trying to be dashing and funny. Very quickly Sandra sees that Murray is a phony, his words were eloquent but worthless in the end. At one point Murray talks about seeing another boat off, touches her hand and says, "It gives you the genuine feeling of the beginning of things."
At this point it cuts to a soft lens shot of them throwing confetti at the ship the day before, and the whole world caves in, at least to the audience. The author has manipulated the audience to this point, this dramatic fall from grace. Murray is not a lovable cad, he is just a cad. At this point the audience is made to feel that Murray is heartless, he is the villain. The audience is not finding this funny. This is not what was supposed to happen. Sandra leaves, deeply disillusioned.
Murray yells after her that she has forgotten her files. He arrives at the apartment and finds that Sandra has cleaned and decorated. He states that he has been "attacked by the Ladies Home Journal," and tears off his jacket and hat.
The next scene is in the abandoned Chinese Restaurant, where Murray's brother Arnold walks in on him. At this point in the film the angst and disillusionment in the film come to forefront. The two argue over what it means to exist, and what to do at this juncture in time. The argument encapsulates and encompasses very broad philosophical ground not often covered in a film of this type, or any film for that matter. Neither wins the argument, but everything in the story, every apparent cliché and seemingly hackneyed well-worn plot device thus far comes to a head in this scene. Nothing is as the audience thought it would be. This is the finest scene in the movie. I won't try to go into detail because one really has to see it. It turns the whole film upside down.
At this point the audience is totally at a loss. Everybody thought they knew what was going to happen next, the characters had been clearly defined as black and white and good and bad. This is not even a case of reversal, where Murray is shown the error of his ways by his responsible brother or some such device. Neither of them wins the argument. It's all shades of gray and confusion. This is conflict that can have no resolution.
It has been said that only fiction must make sense, real life is just a big jumble. The author has thrown the audience for a loop, the story far too closely resemble real life at this point. Nothing makes sense, nor can it. The audience cannot imagine a happy ending.
Nick tells Murray that he has chosen the name "Murray" to be called after his thirteenth birthday because he admires him for getting a job. Murray has not told him yet that he did not even really try to get a job.
After this Murray meets with "Chuckles the Chipmunk" and is forced to eat crow and suck up to his former boss to get his job back. All of this is in front of Nick. Nick stands up for the two of them and attempts to play "Yes Sir, That's My Baby" to drive "Chuckles" away. Murray has to tell him to "go to his alcove" and further bows and scrapes to Chuckles.
What is remarkable about this scene is that the audience can't even feel hate for "Chuckles." Through the whole film "Chuckles" has loomed as a target of hatred in the background like the shark from Jaws, but in the end the audience is really just made to feel sorry for him. He is very like many people, self-conscious and afraid. He is so self-absorbed that he has no idea how his behavior affects the people around him.
Later Nick allies himself with Sandra, and states that instead of "Murray," he will call himself "Theodore," or "Wilbur." This is to punish Murray for lacking a spine and giving into his former boss.
The last scene in the movie is Murray leaving for work and giving one of his rants to the neighbors. "Campers! The entertainment committee was quite disappointed in the really poor turnout at this morning's community sing. I mean, where is all that old Camp Chickawatamee spirit? I'm sure I speak for all of us here when I say that I - now, I'd like to say right now that, that - campers, I can't think of anything to say." He is now just broken and sad. The very last cut is of Murray running for the bus, just another faceless commuter. He has become the object of his earlier derision, he is one of the "People going to work." The last scene has become the first scene.
And the audience at this point is as perplexed as they were during the argument between the two brothers. There was no correct solution, no last minute save, no tidy plot device. It does not make any kind of sense, like fiction is "supposed" to. It is this realistic and unanswerable nature of the questions that this narrative stirs within the viewer that makes the story so compelling.