The Party (PG.)
Directed by Blake Edwards. 1968
Starring Peter Sellers, Claudine Longet, Steve Franken, Denny Miller and J. Edward McKinley. 99 mins. Released on blu-ray for the first time from Eureka Classics.
https://youtu.be/VvgkolEbjeI
The Party is a silent comedy with dialogue, in which a bit part player (Sellers) is accidentally invited to a lavish Hollywood party and causes chaos. It is one of the finest Hollywood comedies from the sixties, an inspired balancing act between precision slapstick and comic improvisation. It has one incy winsy, teeny weeny little drawback – Peter Seller's decision to brown up to play an Indian leading character.
Well, of course, from our modern day perspective, living in this fair and balanced and joyous society where no micro aggression goes unchallenged, we can look back from our pinnacle at the 60s - those bleak, unhappy, pessimistic times - and tut tut mightily at their unforgivable cultural failings. Perhaps one day, just as we can digitally remove cigarettes from old films, we will be able to white up Sellers, de-Indian his voice and change his character's name and then, goodness gracious me, we will be able to enjoy the film without being outraged by its cultural insensitivity.
I can't understand the modern day intolerance for the notion of history. If time travel is ever developed no doubt the first use will be to send cast members of a BBC3 sitcom back to point and jeer at cavemen for making fire with sticks and not having an Instagram page in an episode of It Was Alright In The Stone Age.
Possibly the oddest thing about watching Sellers doing his Indian impersonation is how not very good it is. He's always hailed as a master of accents but there's no subtly to it. (Inspector Clouseau's accent isn't very French either.) The makeup is little more than a number of hours under a sun lamp, complimented with inconsistent amounts of dark powder around the eyes. Probably a bad idea to do this on a set which was full of running water: it never seems to be the same shade from one scene to the next
Not that this in any way hampers his performance, which is one of his funniest. The decision to make his character Hrundi V Bakshi, an Indian actor doing bit parts in Hollywood, was an impromptu one made by Sellers shortly after they abandoned the idea to make the film silent. Sellers always needed some kind of prop or gimmick to get him through a role or chat show appearance, and here he went back to the one he had got him through The Millionairess. Some actors need the right hat, some the shoes and Sellers needed to find the voice. Once he got that, everything would flow freely from him. As a viewer you quickly come to look past the silly costume and focus on his comic mastery
Bakshi is made up entirely of good intentions. The ultimate wallflower he hovers around trying to find a way to fit in with the other party goers. Though the film was intended as an homage to the greats of silent Hollywood comedy what it most reminds you of is Jacques Tati. The isolated figure trying to find a way to ingratiate himself into a modern location, always wanting to inspect and try out the gadgets and machines, is pure Mon Oncle. The best recurring gag in the film is Sellers causing some bit of mayhem and when people look round to see who is responsible, we cut to Seller on the other side of the house, looking entirely innocent and seemingly oblivious to his handiwork. It's a move that would be pure Tati, if it wasn't laugh out loud funny.
Slapstick can be a terrible chore, not just when done badly but even when done moderately well. The minute they think it is being forced or contrived, audiences turn on it really quickly. Most of the gags in the Party build effortlessly and beautifully. There's nothing quite like the laughter that comes from a perfectly executed sight gag, it's such a sense of total satisfaction. There are though a few moments that push too hard. For me, the drunk waiter (Franken) is a bit much, if only because he goes too early: he's loaded by the end of the second reel. The finale, where it becomes a hippy counter culture foam party, is also a little false, but we are nitpicking: this is a sublime pleasure.
There's a poignancy too in those final scenes. 1968 was the last time when the young, free love generation gate crashing a squares' party in the Hollywood Hills could be played out as innocent fun.
Directed by Blake Edwards. 1968
Starring Peter Sellers, Claudine Longet, Steve Franken, Denny Miller and J. Edward McKinley. 99 mins. Released on blu-ray for the first time from Eureka Classics.
https://youtu.be/VvgkolEbjeI
The Party is a silent comedy with dialogue, in which a bit part player (Sellers) is accidentally invited to a lavish Hollywood party and causes chaos. It is one of the finest Hollywood comedies from the sixties, an inspired balancing act between precision slapstick and comic improvisation. It has one incy winsy, teeny weeny little drawback – Peter Seller's decision to brown up to play an Indian leading character.
Well, of course, from our modern day perspective, living in this fair and balanced and joyous society where no micro aggression goes unchallenged, we can look back from our pinnacle at the 60s - those bleak, unhappy, pessimistic times - and tut tut mightily at their unforgivable cultural failings. Perhaps one day, just as we can digitally remove cigarettes from old films, we will be able to white up Sellers, de-Indian his voice and change his character's name and then, goodness gracious me, we will be able to enjoy the film without being outraged by its cultural insensitivity.
I can't understand the modern day intolerance for the notion of history. If time travel is ever developed no doubt the first use will be to send cast members of a BBC3 sitcom back to point and jeer at cavemen for making fire with sticks and not having an Instagram page in an episode of It Was Alright In The Stone Age.
Possibly the oddest thing about watching Sellers doing his Indian impersonation is how not very good it is. He's always hailed as a master of accents but there's no subtly to it. (Inspector Clouseau's accent isn't very French either.) The makeup is little more than a number of hours under a sun lamp, complimented with inconsistent amounts of dark powder around the eyes. Probably a bad idea to do this on a set which was full of running water: it never seems to be the same shade from one scene to the next
Not that this in any way hampers his performance, which is one of his funniest. The decision to make his character Hrundi V Bakshi, an Indian actor doing bit parts in Hollywood, was an impromptu one made by Sellers shortly after they abandoned the idea to make the film silent. Sellers always needed some kind of prop or gimmick to get him through a role or chat show appearance, and here he went back to the one he had got him through The Millionairess. Some actors need the right hat, some the shoes and Sellers needed to find the voice. Once he got that, everything would flow freely from him. As a viewer you quickly come to look past the silly costume and focus on his comic mastery
Bakshi is made up entirely of good intentions. The ultimate wallflower he hovers around trying to find a way to fit in with the other party goers. Though the film was intended as an homage to the greats of silent Hollywood comedy what it most reminds you of is Jacques Tati. The isolated figure trying to find a way to ingratiate himself into a modern location, always wanting to inspect and try out the gadgets and machines, is pure Mon Oncle. The best recurring gag in the film is Sellers causing some bit of mayhem and when people look round to see who is responsible, we cut to Seller on the other side of the house, looking entirely innocent and seemingly oblivious to his handiwork. It's a move that would be pure Tati, if it wasn't laugh out loud funny.
Slapstick can be a terrible chore, not just when done badly but even when done moderately well. The minute they think it is being forced or contrived, audiences turn on it really quickly. Most of the gags in the Party build effortlessly and beautifully. There's nothing quite like the laughter that comes from a perfectly executed sight gag, it's such a sense of total satisfaction. There are though a few moments that push too hard. For me, the drunk waiter (Franken) is a bit much, if only because he goes too early: he's loaded by the end of the second reel. The finale, where it becomes a hippy counter culture foam party, is also a little false, but we are nitpicking: this is a sublime pleasure.
There's a poignancy too in those final scenes. 1968 was the last time when the young, free love generation gate crashing a squares' party in the Hollywood Hills could be played out as innocent fun.
