Popeye (1980)Rarely has the existential crisis of self been put more eloquently than by Popeye (Robin Williams) in the film of the same name: "I yam what I yam". Even for those who have never been exposed to the classic cartoons of the squinty-eyed sailor with the bulging arms and predilection toward turning into a titan of fightin' prowess with a can of spinach, Popeye (1980) captures a certain feel of nostalgia for the origin of that character--that is the Depression Era of the 1930s. But even in a time of economic downturn, the people of Sweethaven--including their newest visitor--manage to make time for an impromptu musical number.
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The story of Popeye goes that the titular sailor with a speech impediment comes to Sweethaven in search of his father, following a vision he received while stranded at sea. After ruffling the preened feathers of the skittish (to the point of being neurotic) residents of the coastal shantytown, he crosses paths with the daughter of the family he's renting a room from, Olive Oyl, played by Shelley Duvall in a role my mother once proclaimed she was born to play. After a misunderstanding involving an abandoned baby--who Popeye names "Swee'Pea" (a very young Wesley Ivan Hurt)--and Olive's erstwhile (and large) fiance, Bluto (Paul L. Smith), Popeye and Olive Oyl find themselves in financial distress, and try to care for Swee'Pea while they bond in the process. It's a sweet story, but the real magic of Popeye is in the outstanding ingredients which make up this oft-neglected masterpiece of family film. I say "family film", true, but it should be mentioned--in true sailor fashion--that the "Commodore" (Ray Walston) has a bit of a mouth on him. First, there's the music; you would be hard pressed not to have at least one (or more) of the toe-tapping, easy-to-whistle songs stuck in your head even after a single viewing. Composed by the legendary musician Harry Nilsson--once described as the unofficial "fifth Beatle"--the songs are catchy and charming, and evoke the era in which the film is presumably set. The songs are great, but they are also a bit strange once you pay attention to the lyrics. Songs like "Everything is Food" is always going to leave one with a quizzical look with lyrics like "Everything is meat, meat, meat/Careful what you put on your feet/Once it lived on an animal/Now it walks along with you". There is the town of Sweethaven itself, a dilapidated, saltwater-crusted husk that defies structural logic, which looks like it's one good storm away from being blown down itself. Even stranger is that the town itself still stands on the island of Malta where Popeye was filmed. Popeye is filled with an eclectic mix of strange characters which make Popeye himself somehow look normal by comparison. Directed by Robert Altman, the feel that Sweethaven is a living, breathing place with "real" characters makes it all seem kind of like a demented caricature of Altman's own McCabe & Mrs Miller. And, of course, there is Robin Williams' miraculously spot-on performance of Popeye. More than just a rehash of the cartoon character, Williams introduces real depth to him which makes him both engaging and yet outlandishly funny; a favorite quirk involves his way of muttering his displeasure or other asides for the benefit of the audience, observations which are always humorous.
Those familiar with Popeye no doubt recall the classic love triangle between Popeye, Olive, and Bluto; but what Popeye contributes more to the forefront is that the sailor is also a defender of the meek, and may not be looking for a fight, but isn't willing to let someone go about bullying others. Take his throwdown at Roughhouse's burger joint with the gang of goons who belittle and provoke Popeye; it isn't until the thugs start taking out their frustrations on the innocent patrons that Popeye springs into action and gives them what for. Sweethaven's the kind of town that seems to be conditioned to avoid strangers for fear of impending trouble, a paranoid terror no doubt instilled by the Commodore, Bluto, and their agent, the infuriatingly arbitrary, bicycle-operating tax collector (Donald Moffat), although Popeye's actions gradually gain the support of the otherwise skeptical residents. As a kid, it was never really clear to me why Olive Oyl was going to marry Bluto to begin with--she didn't seem to like him, but she did seem like a bit of a twit, so who knows. But after watching Popeye again, a barely noticeable comment she makes about her family not having to pay taxes--something she defensively asserts has absolutely nothing to do with her engagement to the ginormous brute--puts it all into perspective, and makes Olive come across as more than (just) a selfish ninny, but one who is also concerned for her family's financial welfare in this Depression Era economy--at least to a point, which breaks when she actually has to go through with it. The flip side of this obsessive concern for money present throughout Popeye is also felt in Wimpy (Paul Dooley), the burger-obsessed glutton who capitalizes at every opportunity on other people's good will. After Swee'Pea makes it evident that he has a "sixth sense" about predicting the outcomes of sporting events--following a prize fight, where the prize happens to be a temporary tax exemption--Wimpy absconds with the babe to help him bet on the horses, which triggers an event where Popeye is forced to part ways with Olive after she facilitates this brand of "baby exploitation" for some quick cash. It would be a stretch to define Wimpy as a "villain", when he is, in fact, a wimp, a fact which Bluto takes advantage of to recruit him to abduct Swee'Pea to help him find the Commodore's secret treasure. Strange as it may be to say, but these events have a kind of weird, Christ-like allegory to them, after Popeye openly condemns the race track as a house of "ill-repuke", and Wimpy betrays him for a pittance of a hamburger. (Wonder if they were "silver dollar" burgers?) Popeye is filled with countless delightful moments which charm and amaze with simple elegance. One of my favorites happens to be when Popeye writes a letter to the missing Swee'Pea, puts it into a baby bottle--complete with rubber nipple--and throws it into the ocean. Does Popeye really believe that the baby will find this bottle and read his confession of love and his desire to be the kind of father he dreams his father would be? No, but it is a metaphor for his attempts to cope with the struggles of being a good parent by taking an action indicative of someone stranded at sea--as he has been--even if it doesn't make sense, and trying by doing what he knows. Popeye manages to conjure forth a concentrated dose of nostalgia and innocent fun, where times might have been simpler, but remains engaging and sweet. And it's an important reminder about the benefits of eating your spinach.
Recommended for: Fans of a funny and whimsical family film, a musical with catchy songs, and a charming adaptation of the classic serial comic. It kind of makes me want to take a trip to Malta to see the real Sweethaven; I wonder if I could get a hamburger while I'm there...
Those familiar with Popeye no doubt recall the classic love triangle between Popeye, Olive, and Bluto; but what Popeye contributes more to the forefront is that the sailor is also a defender of the meek, and may not be looking for a fight, but isn't willing to let someone go about bullying others. Take his throwdown at Roughhouse's burger joint with the gang of goons who belittle and provoke Popeye; it isn't until the thugs start taking out their frustrations on the innocent patrons that Popeye springs into action and gives them what for. Sweethaven's the kind of town that seems to be conditioned to avoid strangers for fear of impending trouble, a paranoid terror no doubt instilled by the Commodore, Bluto, and their agent, the infuriatingly arbitrary, bicycle-operating tax collector (Donald Moffat), although Popeye's actions gradually gain the support of the otherwise skeptical residents. As a kid, it was never really clear to me why Olive Oyl was going to marry Bluto to begin with--she didn't seem to like him, but she did seem like a bit of a twit, so who knows. But after watching Popeye again, a barely noticeable comment she makes about her family not having to pay taxes--something she defensively asserts has absolutely nothing to do with her engagement to the ginormous brute--puts it all into perspective, and makes Olive come across as more than (just) a selfish ninny, but one who is also concerned for her family's financial welfare in this Depression Era economy--at least to a point, which breaks when she actually has to go through with it. The flip side of this obsessive concern for money present throughout Popeye is also felt in Wimpy (Paul Dooley), the burger-obsessed glutton who capitalizes at every opportunity on other people's good will. After Swee'Pea makes it evident that he has a "sixth sense" about predicting the outcomes of sporting events--following a prize fight, where the prize happens to be a temporary tax exemption--Wimpy absconds with the babe to help him bet on the horses, which triggers an event where Popeye is forced to part ways with Olive after she facilitates this brand of "baby exploitation" for some quick cash. It would be a stretch to define Wimpy as a "villain", when he is, in fact, a wimp, a fact which Bluto takes advantage of to recruit him to abduct Swee'Pea to help him find the Commodore's secret treasure. Strange as it may be to say, but these events have a kind of weird, Christ-like allegory to them, after Popeye openly condemns the race track as a house of "ill-repuke", and Wimpy betrays him for a pittance of a hamburger. (Wonder if they were "silver dollar" burgers?) Popeye is filled with countless delightful moments which charm and amaze with simple elegance. One of my favorites happens to be when Popeye writes a letter to the missing Swee'Pea, puts it into a baby bottle--complete with rubber nipple--and throws it into the ocean. Does Popeye really believe that the baby will find this bottle and read his confession of love and his desire to be the kind of father he dreams his father would be? No, but it is a metaphor for his attempts to cope with the struggles of being a good parent by taking an action indicative of someone stranded at sea--as he has been--even if it doesn't make sense, and trying by doing what he knows. Popeye manages to conjure forth a concentrated dose of nostalgia and innocent fun, where times might have been simpler, but remains engaging and sweet. And it's an important reminder about the benefits of eating your spinach.
Recommended for: Fans of a funny and whimsical family film, a musical with catchy songs, and a charming adaptation of the classic serial comic. It kind of makes me want to take a trip to Malta to see the real Sweethaven; I wonder if I could get a hamburger while I'm there...