Pennies from Heaven (1981)
Director: Herbert Ross
Cast:
Writing: Dennis Potter
The Backstory:
Steve Martin, high off of his successful debut film, The Jerk, wanted to make a Depression-era musical. This is fine, of course—no one doesn't like Depression-era musicals, right?—but there was one small stumbling block: Steve Martin couldn't sing.
Undaunted by what many would see as a rather critical failing if one were to be making a musical, he hit upon the perfect solution: the actors in his movie, rather than singing original songs (or even Depression-era songs), would lip-synch to 1920s songs as they danced! Brilliant! A quick call to Bernadette Peters (with whom he had co-starred in The Jerk), and Pennies from Heaven (adapted from a British miniseries by the same author) was born.
The Bloodshed:
The plot of this movie unfolds as if the viewer is in a dream, albeit a hideous, NyQuil-induced dream. Arthur Parker (Martin), a sheet-music salesman in Depression-era Chicago, is weary of his humdrum existence, and especially of his his frigid wife Joan (Harper). While at a music store (of course), Arthur falls in love with Eileen (Peters), and abandons his wife to live in sin with the petite schoolteacher. Only slightly more repulsive to the viewer than his utter abandonment of Joan is the intricate web of deceit that he spins in convincing Eileen to take him in. The film then follows Arthur as he lurches between his wife and his mistress, obviously torn between them but too morally repugnant and slimy to make us care. The plot takes some more turns from here, but there is absolutely no reason for you or any right-thinking person to care about them.
The Aftermath:
Pennies from Heaven is, without qualification or excuse-making, the worst film I have ever seen in my entire life. The Busby Berkeley-esque dance sequences, though well-executed, make no sense in the context of the plot. Our protagonist, Arthur, is unsympathetic to the point of inciting hatred, and is woefully incapable of provoking sympathy, or even interest, regarding his desperate actions.
The pacing and editing is no less wretched than the plot itself. It's altogether possible to make the argument that director Herbert Ross had never seen an actual movie before, as he clearly had no idea as to what one was supposed to look like. To name only one instance of this incompetence, at one point we are treated to seeing, from a third-party perspective, Arthur watch a blind girl walk down the street towards him. Very. Very. Slowly. Finally, she passes him and he watches her walk away. Very. Very. Slowly. End of scene. (Incidentally, the only other time we will see her is after she has been murdered, for no apparent reason, by the accordion-playing man. I swear to God this is the truth.) By the time the completely (and I do mean completely) illogical ending rolls around, we are too numb to take note, or even do much else, save punching spasmodically at the "Eject" button and sheathing the videotape back in its carapace, until it is inflicted upon another unwitting soul.
What else can I possibly say about this excercise in futility and pain? Except for a brief dance sequence by Christopher Walken (which, you guessed it, happens for no apparent reason), this film has no redeeming qualities whatever. Many people, I have found in my search for more information on this stinker, claim that it is "fascinating" or a "unique, amazing film," but these people are all insane. Stay away.