The Magic ChristianMoney makes the world go 'round...or at least spins us into a tizzy; and maybe that's not such a good thing. We all make slaves out of ourselves in the pursuit of the almighty [insert currency here], and it makes us into people out of touch with ourselves. Certainly these are lofty themes, the condemnation of consumerism, the critique of capitalism, and could certainly be explored in many ways. The Magic Christian chooses to satirize the worship of the pound, dollar, shekel, and deutschmark with a degree of irreverence and silliness which is a far more effective commentary than just talking heads.
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The Magic Christian was made in 1969, and it is certainly a product of its time. Now, that is not to say that the film is outdated; The Magic Christian seems as relevant today as it will always be, until we all "get it together", and find a kind of camaraderie with our fellow man, away from the barriers of class, gender, race, or religion. There is a definite "hippie vibe" underscoring the film, between the music selections like "Something in the Air" by Thunderclap Newman--played with a truly "offal" pun in mind (couldn't help it)--the wild, costumed train car party, and the clear message that money can't buy you love. Speaking of Beatles references (we were, weren't we?), Ringo Starr plays opposite Peter Sellers' Guy Grand as Youngman Grand, the adopted son of the latter, two souls whose stations in life could not be more different--Youngman has been sleeping in the park, brushing his teeth in the public fountain, whereas Guy enjoys caviar for breakfast and a violin serenade to play him to his car (yes, really). And these two superstars are far from the only recognizable actors in the film. Not only does The Magic Christian play host to several regulars from the Monty Python clan--who also provided contributions to the film, to no one's surprise--but also as the action heats up aboard The Magic Christian--that's the ocean liner the movie gets its name from--several other iconic actors of the silver screen roll out in roles over the top and self-referential. With moments like Christopher Lee striding down the halls in a satin cloak, and Raquel Welch announcing herself as the "Priestess of the Whip", there is little doubt that aboard The Magic Christian, ham is being served. Other moments like this exist outside the confines of the seafaring madhouse, such as Lawrence Harvey's "impassioned" interpretation of Hamlet's famed soliloquy. The Magic Christian bounces forth with episode after episode in its absurd crusade of Guy and Youngman, rapid fire...like that little white ball for the Badfinger sing-a-long at the opening, to their song (written by Ringo's Beatle buddy, Paul McCartney), "Come and Get It", which sets the tone to follow and doesn't miss a beat.
At one point in the film, Youngman asks Guy, his new father and instructor just what their work is...and that is a good question. Certainly, Guy's wealth is not born from just delighting in playing pranks on the multitude of people caught in the crossfire of his culling of consumerism, but there is a kind of profession at work. I suspect that Guy's work is a kind of "anti-profession", a kind of manipulation of the system from which to preach a new gospel, one of "getting together" and not letting the barriers of economy keep us apart. The Magic Christian roasts several sacred cows in pursuit of a "clean kill" of capitalism, cynically mocking the institutions which have grown around the temple of money at the expense of humanity. Guy goes to work on a group of executive "yes men", pushing them with absurd ideas and adopting the presentation of a boardroom hot shot, to see how far the lickspittles will go. Then later, he and his family partake of canard à l'orange at Chez Edouard, although Guy's mannerisms also make a great jab at gourmand snobbery. And speaking of snobbery, the hunt Guy and Youngman attend is turned into a war zone, as shots are fired at the idea of sportsmanship in pheasant hunting. Ringo gets to call dibs on a multitude of deadpan one-liners, which he delivers with deadpan aplomb, and Peter Sellers' chameleon-like savvy is hardly lost in The Magic Christian, as Guy adopts persona after persona when tempting others with the likeness of Her Highness. When Guy and Youngman are aboard The Magic Christian, the acerbic wit and dark humor gets turned on full blast, leaving no one out of the blast zone. Between the Mister Universe dance number, the "Men in White" cinematic "classic", and the name of the ship's physician, the jokes are decidedly "un-PC". But then again, the subversive nature of the humor is such that it becomes clear that The Magic Christian is scrubbing us down with a Brillo pad, looking to ditch those trappings of delicate sensibilities and all that in the dirty bath water. And speaking of "dirty bath water", the conclusion is about as literal of a metaphor for the film's pretense as one can get, but somehow elegant in its hamfistedness; a "rare combination", as Guy might say.
Recommended for: Fans of absurd, hippie-era comedy, occasionally dipping into dark waters. With the episodic feel of Monty Python, the rocking tunes of Badfinger, and a cast of greats from all walks, it is a charming satire of our obsession with money.
At one point in the film, Youngman asks Guy, his new father and instructor just what their work is...and that is a good question. Certainly, Guy's wealth is not born from just delighting in playing pranks on the multitude of people caught in the crossfire of his culling of consumerism, but there is a kind of profession at work. I suspect that Guy's work is a kind of "anti-profession", a kind of manipulation of the system from which to preach a new gospel, one of "getting together" and not letting the barriers of economy keep us apart. The Magic Christian roasts several sacred cows in pursuit of a "clean kill" of capitalism, cynically mocking the institutions which have grown around the temple of money at the expense of humanity. Guy goes to work on a group of executive "yes men", pushing them with absurd ideas and adopting the presentation of a boardroom hot shot, to see how far the lickspittles will go. Then later, he and his family partake of canard à l'orange at Chez Edouard, although Guy's mannerisms also make a great jab at gourmand snobbery. And speaking of snobbery, the hunt Guy and Youngman attend is turned into a war zone, as shots are fired at the idea of sportsmanship in pheasant hunting. Ringo gets to call dibs on a multitude of deadpan one-liners, which he delivers with deadpan aplomb, and Peter Sellers' chameleon-like savvy is hardly lost in The Magic Christian, as Guy adopts persona after persona when tempting others with the likeness of Her Highness. When Guy and Youngman are aboard The Magic Christian, the acerbic wit and dark humor gets turned on full blast, leaving no one out of the blast zone. Between the Mister Universe dance number, the "Men in White" cinematic "classic", and the name of the ship's physician, the jokes are decidedly "un-PC". But then again, the subversive nature of the humor is such that it becomes clear that The Magic Christian is scrubbing us down with a Brillo pad, looking to ditch those trappings of delicate sensibilities and all that in the dirty bath water. And speaking of "dirty bath water", the conclusion is about as literal of a metaphor for the film's pretense as one can get, but somehow elegant in its hamfistedness; a "rare combination", as Guy might say.
Recommended for: Fans of absurd, hippie-era comedy, occasionally dipping into dark waters. With the episodic feel of Monty Python, the rocking tunes of Badfinger, and a cast of greats from all walks, it is a charming satire of our obsession with money.