Whole Thoughts From A Half-Wit

by Nick Santa Maria

Hello there fellow comedy buffs. It's me, Nick Santa Maria, star of stage, screen, and now, blog. Since Aaron Neathery is a good friend, and since I was originally supposed to be a regular contributor to this blog (although I can't fathom why my bathroom habits would be of anybody's concern), I decided to jump into the fray and put in my 25 cents worth (allowing for inflation). With your indulgence I'm going to supply some recent random thoughts about some of the stuff I've been exposed to of late.

I recently purchased Harry Langdon's Three's a Crowd and The Chaser, now available from KINO. Langdon directed these two features and, in my opinion, did a fine job. There are shots that don't match very well, and there were some harmful cuts made to Three's a Crowd which makes it a bit confusing at moments, but all in all it is much better than I was led to believe. I will say, though, that The Chaser seems more like a bloated two-reeler than a fully fleshed out feature. It resembles Saturday Afternoon in substance, but it veers in that Harry is really a carouser. And he really seems to have some sexual appeal to the women in this film. Regardless of content (these films have been written about to death), I always welcome a chance to watch Harry. At one point he tries to figure out how to get an egg out of a chicken. It sounds simple, and it is, but in Harry's hands it's hilarious. He is absolutely fascinating. There is nothing like him. Nothing. There is a scene in The Chaser where Harry believes he drank a glassful of poison when in actuality he has downed a heaping glass of castor oil. He lays down on the kitchen floor and covers himself in a blanket to await his impending death (he's committing suicide). He waits. And he waits. And he waits. He waits for what seems like a freakin' hour! Then he jumps up with the realization that he desperately needs to be in a bathroom, bolting up the stairs in a panic. I've never seen anything like it. No wonder his audience abandoned him. I can picture a table of silent comedians, who'd made it successfully into the sound era, shaking their heads and saying, "Poor Harry... I told him to play to the audience. But no. He had to have his own way. He was too different!". And that was the trouble. There was nobody like Langdon. And I believe that he confused the hell out of audiences back then. Hell, he confuses them now. What a brave, talented, sad little artist.

I've become addicted to What's My Line. I set my DVR to record it every night off of the Game Show Network. And as I watch everyday I ask myself the same question, "When did we all get so stupid?". This is sophisticated, witty, and multi-syllabic entertainment at it's best. The people are so polite and nice to one another. It's such a far cry from today's TV world where the comedy comes from the pleasure of humiliating people. Where else can one see Fred Allen on a semi-regular basis on the wasteland he wrote so eloquently about, TV? As a part of the panel (Bennett Cerf, Arlene Francis, and Dorothy Kilgallen) Allen seems uncomfortable and unable to give full rein to his wit. He begins many a joke but is forced to pull back as if he was interrupting someone at a dinner party. When he does get the spotlight he is very, very funny. This was Allen's last regular gig in a medium that held little use for him. He seems a bit tired and a bit befuddled, but he's always sardonic and funny. And when Fred Allen doesn't assume the number two chair position, Steve Allen is there in his place (no relation, other than the great wit). Watching this ancient game show has led me to re-assess the talented Mr. Allen. Steve Allen was so ubiquitous in my youth that I admit to taking him for granted. Now I see why I was drawn to him in the first place. He's a master wit of the first order. (I had the pleasure of auditioning for him once back in 1983. He was producing a small production of his show, Sammy Glick is Alive and Sick. Coincidentally, I did an imitation of Fred Allen during my piece and made him laugh. I didn't get the job, though, and he hired an upstart by the name of Bill Maher instead.) And let me tell you, the mystery guests alone are worth watching for. I don't think I can remember seeing Herbert Marshall, Ed Wynn, Edgar Bergen, Liz Taylor, and Bob Hope all in one week....on a game show! I've already gotten a few of my friends hooked , and if you start to watch you'll be hooked, too.

I've recently discover Big Hearted Arthur Askey. TCM showed three of his films back to back to back and I'm now a fan. What an irreverent little pain in the arse. He's like a good natured pitbull. His modus operandi in relation to the other characters in the films seems to be, "LOVE ME OR I'LL BADGER YOU INTO THE GROUND!". I thought Groucho, Robert Woolsey, and others of that ilk were brazen and unyielding... well, Arthur gives them all a run for their money. He's tiny, he's kind of feminine and he's a riot. He works with a "partner" who goes by the name of Richard "Stinker" Murdoch. I remember my dear second wife saying to me once, after watching an Abbott and Costello film, "Abbott doesn't do anything. Lou's the whole show.". Well, despite her totally uninformed opinion, it made me realize that if Lou Costello were living in England in the 40's Abbott would have been in the same boat as "Stinky" Murdoch, or Jerry Desmonde (who apparently died penniless and alone). Murdoch is an equal partner to Askey in no uncertain terms. In fact they would have worked beautifully as an official team. Murdoch is tall and handsome where Askey is short and goofy looking... Murdoch can get the girl, play straight, and even act... Askey is more freakish by nature. What was with English comedy performers? Will Hay dumped Moffatt and Marriott and paid dearly. Tony Hancock dumped Sid James and Kenneth Williams and we all know where Mr. Hancock ended. So, it is with slight discomfort that I watch the Askey films, but not enough to consider the films anything but delightful. If you get the chance check out, Band Waggon, The Ghost Train, and Charley's Big Hearted Aunt, by all means do.

I was recently having a meal with the still lovely Ann Jeffries, and knowing full well that she was not only the best Tess Trueheart in the movies, and co-star to Lugosi and Atwill, not mention star of the Topper TV series, but she worked in a few films with those Third Banana wannabes, Brown and Carney! So, being me, they were the first ones I wanted to know about. Well, as expected, she didn't have much to say other than, "They were very nice, and very talented, but they weren't a team. We knew it, they knew it, and the audiences knew it.". It reminded me of the time I approached AMC's long ago host, Bob Dorian (back when AMC almost rivaled TCM as a classic film station). The first thing I asked him was, "Why don't you show more Wheeler and Woolsey movies?". He looked at me like I had just landed from the planet Zoomar, and he said, "You like them?". I answered in the affirmative and he replied, "Then there must be something very wrong with you.". I guess he didn't collect their films.

Oh... and if you dig really hip and intelligent comedy, give a listen to Aaron Neathery's Electromatic Radio. It's brilliantly funny.

That's all for now. I'm going to watch What's My Line. I wonder who the mystery guest will be? Wally Brown, perhaps?

Elf Esteem

Just in time for Christmas Eve Eve, a very special Christmas Biffle and Shooster short; Elf Esteem by Nick Santa Maria... in glorious VitroColor! Enjoy!

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The Opera-tives

Just in time for Friday the 14th, another brand-new vintage Biffle and Shooster comedy written by Nick Santa Maria. Enjoy!

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Friday Ends n' Odds

Foistly, a new Biffle and Shooster comedy short written by our pal Unca' Nick Santa Maria! As an exhibitor might have written in a trade journal in 1934, "Renting and Raving is a real honey of a picture. All my patrons really go for the antics of these two nuts. Take my advice and book this one! Hot dog!".

Secondly, Hook, Line, and Sinker (1930) starring Wheeler and Woolsey (and a pre-personality Hugh Herbert) has finally reared its head over at archive.org. And it's a nice print, too.. not the blurry, washed-out TV print with the re-shot titles and the muddy audio that has been making the rounds on bargain DVDs. You can download it in five different flavors, 3.7 GB being more than adequate for DVD. Hopefully this means that Half Shot at Sunrise (1930) isn't far behind! And while I'm at it, I should also mention that Harold Lloyd's swansong The Sin of Harold Diddlebock is now available at archive.org, too! I'm not much of a fan of Harold's last picture, but the first ten to fifteen minutes are undeniably brilliant and promise a movie that Sturges couldn't deliver.

Thoidly, also from archive.org comes this silent, battered, Dutch-subtitled print of Gum Shoes (1935) starring Monty Collins and Tom Kennedy. If you've never seen it with sound (and if you can't read Dutch), you may be surprised to discover how easily you can follow the plot, a testament to Columbia's strict adherence to the forms and formulas of silent slapstick comedy (not to mention their habit of recycling gags and scripts).

Biffle and Shooster in "The Case of the Missing Plot"

You wanna know what Third Banana writers do when they're not writing about classic comedians? They trade arms for hostages! And then they make up fake classic comedians! I have the team of Farnsworth and Katz, and Nick Santa Maria now has Biffle and Shooster. Nick is second to none when it comes to writing snappy gag dialogue in the Ryskind/Kaufman/Kalmar/Ruby vein. Vot a talent, that boychik!

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Geoff Collins Sees The Producers - At the Right Price!

The following article is for the benefit of our readers who may have become jaded and cynical by the fact that all our material so far has dealt with the ancient, dusty comedy of people who have long since departed this mortal coil. Not true!

However, before we start, you need to know that this article has been edited for language. We can't have our lovely Third Banana site littered with the kind of obscenities you'd find in the films of [momentary pause for a brief shudder] Adam Sandler.

You also need to know, for the purposes of the following narrative, that Cineworld in Milton Keynes, a cinema complex in sleepy Middle England, has half-price tickets on Tuesdays. Thrilling, isn't it? But maybe not as thrilling as the prospect of seeing Nathan Lane [my God! - he's writing about someone who's still alive!] in the stage version of The Producers, at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane.

Ivy and I had booked tickets for the Christmas Eve 2004 matinee, the last show before Christmas - and the only show we could get any tickets for - and we eagerly awaited this rare chance to see the great comedian in action. Sadly, it was not to be. When we arrived at the theatre, we saw the dreaded, all-too-familiar A4 sheet sellotaped to the door :

Due to the indisposition of Nathan Lane, at this performance the role of Max Bialystock will be played by Cory English.

My initial reaction was, I'm afraid to say, not charitable. "Oh dear" I said, "it seems that Mr. Lane has returned to New York for Christmas!" [Don't forget, this has been edited for language] Other theatregoers in the lobby were also grumbling along similar, if less profane, lines, and it was only when a charming young lady who sold us the programme pointed out that Mr. Lane had slipped a couple of discs in his back that we became more favourably inclined towards Mr. English. Who would want to be in his shoes at such a time? Two thousand people had turned up, expecting to see Nathan Lane. It made us realise that an understudy, especially if he's understudying a world-class comedian, has the hardest job in the world. If anything, he has to be better, funnier than the absent star. With this in mind, we silently wished him all the best.

It seemed that the entire audience felt this way. And Mr. English didn't disappoint us. He made his entrance, he got his first laugh, everyone relaxed, and he gave a fantastic, hilarious, unforgettable performance. God bless you, Cory English. Understudies are the unsung heroes of show business. Mr. English, with his greasy hair plastered down over a barely-concealed "bald spot" was Max Bialystock: seedy, greedy, conniving - and very, very funny.

The only problem is: we still haven't seen Nathan Lane.

"Tell you what" said Ivy, "when the film comes out, we'll go and see it in Milton Keynes, on a Tuesday, for HALF PRICE!!!"

Again, please bear in mind that this has been edited for language. Sorry, Ivy.

So I'm pleased to report that after more than a year, I can finally say: Mission Accomplished! Last Tuesday, Ivy and I went to Cineworld in Milton Keynes and saw the movie version - for half price; and I'm also delighted to report that it's a treat, full of that overstated Third Banana New York Broadway comedy we all know and love. The dull jockstrap who writes the film reviews in our local paper didn't think much of it, however, although he did concede "the songs are good". Idiot. He probably got bored due to the lack of explosions. Anyway, we loved it... but hold on a minute... something was missing...

What happened to Nathan Lane's opening number?

After the scene establishing that Max's latest show is a flop, the movie cuts abruptly to the bit where Leo bursts in on Max and the sexually-active nonagenarian Hold-Me-Touch-Me in the office. Max's introductory song "The King of Broadway" in which he establishes his character as a once-great impresario who's gone hopelessly to seed, just isn't there. What happened? Was the movie too long? Or is this scene languishing in a dustbin behind Cineworld because the projectionist wanted a longer tea break? We know one man who can answer this question; and it's a good job too, 'cos you'll get nothing from The Producers website. I'm on pay-as-you-go here and the bastard thing takes about two years to load up. I gave up in the end. Feck 'em.

Ivy and I stayed in our seats at Cineworld right to the bitter end because I'd heard there was a post-credit sequence right at the end of the movie that was worth waiting for; and there is. Only four of us saw it that afternoon; all the other unadventurous zombies had long since gone, to continue their life-in-death shopping in the mock-America mall that we know (but don't love) as Milton Keynes. But while we waited, amongst the hundreds of names unravelling before us, one name stood out:

Nick Santa Maria.

Our third Third Banana writer is in the movie, playing one of the accountants in Matthew Broderick's "I Wanna Be a Producer" number. Over to you, Nick. Why was "The King of Broadway" cut out ? It's a classic number; it introduces Nathan Lane's character. Was it filmed? Does it exist? Will it be on the DVD?

Answers, please. Why was it cut out? [This last sentence has been edited for language]

A final thought: if you understand and appreciate The Producers, and consider it, as I do, the best musical comedy you've ever clapped eyes on, then, my friend, this is the website for you. Put us on your Favorites list; we're on your side.