BEDAZZLED: Blu-ray (2oth Century-Fox, 1967) Twilight Time

Stanley Donen’s Bedazzled (1967) remains inspired, delicious, unfettered lunacy; the tale of lowly hash-slinger, Stanley Moon (played with luminous sad-eyed sincerity by Dudley Moore), endeavoring to attain the life he believes he is owed on earth, leading to an obviously rigged pact with the prince of darkness – a.k.a. George Spiggott (the superbly cynical, Peter Cook). For a brief wrinkle in time, it looked as though Cook and Moore were well on their way to becoming the sixties’ Martin and Lewis, or Brit-born front-runners to the whack-tac-u-lar Rowan and Martin. For certain, Cook and Moore, in their ribald and irreverent take on life in general, and religion in particular, as cuddly mainstream wits, Pete n’ Dud – Beyond the Fringe on the BBC, and, their infamously subversive alter-egos, ‘Derek and Clive’ (tapes made in the underground and never intended for the public to hear), heralded a new kind of comedy duo, from which, arguably, the likes of Monty Python was notably spawned. With their unapologetic derisiveness towards authority figures, organized religion and, of course, The Bible, it’s not so surprising Cook and Moore’s friendship would eventually sour. Yet, despite their popularity then, Bedazzled was met with mixed feelings and even more mixed reviews at the time of its release; movie mandarin, Bosley Crowthers, carpet-hauling the picture as “pretentiously metaphorical…awfully precious and monotonous and eventually…fags out in sheer bad taste.”

Perhaps, Mr. Crowther was missing the cream of the jest here. For although Stanley Donen’s name appears above the title, effectively to wear both hats as the picture’s producer and director, Bedazzled is ever more Cook and Moore’s big moment in the sun as major motion picture stars who might have been able to write their own ticket had Bedazzled performed at the box office. Cook actually wrote the screenplay, based on a shared idea with Moore. Bedazzled’s swingin’ score, with a pair of hilarious ‘pop tunes’ feathered in – ‘Love Me’ and ‘Bedazzled’ are composed by Moore, and, in tandem with Cook, feature The Dudley Moore Trio. And, of course, Moore and Cook are the focus of the plot, their bromantic chemistry self-evident in the uncharacteristically sympathetic friendship that blossoms between Satan and Stanley Moon, leading to all sorts of empathy for both figures in this Faustian burlesque. We feel rather badly for the devil herein, this unloved of God, who dared strike out on his own, only to be cast out of paradise for his epic gall. Since that time, Spiggott has been reduced to petty crimes and pithy pranks, like causing a lady’s brown paper shopping bagful of groceries to rupture, or inciting a pigeon to piddle on an aristocrat’s Homberg. Cook’s droll kookiness, at one point, appearing as the crew-cut flower-seller, raising funds for the criminally insane no less, and, in another, the caped proprietor of a seedy nightclub where the seven deadly sins hang out, lends an air of unanticipated ‘charm’ to this malingering Mephistopheles - not so much ‘wicked’ as ‘misunderstood’. This is counterbalanced by Moore’s romantically-frustrated sad sack, pining away for Margaret Spencer (the underappreciated Elenor Bron); the one girl he will likely never have. Nor, perhaps, is she worth having if the only way to her heart is through an unholy alliance and trade-off with Lucifer.  

Viewing Bedazzled today, on is straightaway struck by how germane its spikey, sardonic and stark comedy remains. For although the superficial trappings in this time-capsule milieu have decidedly evolved (the modish hairstyles and sixties verve for miniskirts are long gone…and what’s with all the heavy blue eye shadow?!?), thematically, the picture endures because it is all about man’s timeless struggle to comprehend the ‘bigger picture’ in life. We pick up our tale of Stanley Moon, a lowly cook at Wimpy’s restaurant, desperately pining in tortured silence for waitress, Margaret Spencer, who does not even know he is alive, except to call out her orders. As Stanley utterly lacks the confidence to gain her heart, he ineffectually attempts suicide by hanging; the thin metal water pipe chosen to suspend his noose, rupturing, causing dear ole Stanley to land with a wet thud on the floor. Enter the devil, reincarnated as the lugubrious and tuxedo-clad, George Spiggott.  He knows everything about our Stanley, though much to his chagrin, he has a hell of a time convincing Stanley he is actually the all-powerful serpent of the underworld. Spiggott is in a heady competition with God. If he wins the wager, gathering 100 billion souls, Spiggott will be readmitted into Heaven. Demanding proof Spiggott is, in fact, Beelzebub and not a ‘nut case’ escaped from the loony bin – Spiggott, reminding Stanley such was the unflattering moniker ascribed in history, also to Christ, Freud and Galileo in their time - Stanley asks Spiggott to perform a miracle. Spiggott suggests ‘a wish’ instead – on the house, as it were, and with no strings attached. So, Stanley wishes for an ice lolly and is promptly taken by Spiggott to a street-side vendor to buy his own. Hardly, definitive proof the devil is real.  

Only now, Spiggott suggests a trade; Stanley’s soul for seven ‘legitimate’ fantasy wish-fulfillments, certain to satisfy all of Stanley’s earthy desires for Margaret Spencer. Naturally, Stanley will not be allowed to triumph in these wagers, as Spiggott repeatedly relies upon Stanley’s naivety in asking for situations he cannot possibly manage on his own with any degree of success. As Stanley is always tongue-tied around Margaret, he asks first to be more articulate, thereby able to impress his beloved with his intelligence. So, Spiggott morphs Stanley into a rather irritating prig with a Welsh accent, spewing verbal diarrhea that briefly enthralls Margaret. Coaxing her up to his flat, Stanley’s lecture on Brahms devolve into a pretentious discussion on humanity’s need to be physical – free of societal and moral constraints. This results in a fumbled play for Margaret’s affections. Horrified, Margaret cries out, ‘Rape!’ Told earlier by Spiggott, that if ever he finds himself in a delicate and inescapable situation, he need only stick his tongue out and spittle, Stanley uses up his first ‘escape’, discovering Spiggott atop a building, playfully taunting pigeons to poop on unsuspecting passersby.

Disheartened by his first folly, Stanley next wishes Spiggott to reincarnate him as a multi-millionaire already wed to Margaret, whom he also desires to be made more physically vigorous. Alas, as Stanley has not specified the object of Margaret’s passion should be him, Spiggott instead has Margaret openly enamored with her lanky music instructor, Randolph (Robin Hawdon), inciting Stanley’s jealousy. Delayed in his discovery of Margaret’s infidelity, Stanley now finds his wife naked in the bath with Spiggott. Spitting his way out of this awkward scene, Stanley encounters Spiggott collecting bees from a hive, setting them on a peaceful gathering of flower children. Spiggott also offers to put Stanley up for the night in his own posh digs, an overnight stay with one of his deadly sins, Lily Lust (Rachel Welsh). This provides a momentary diversion, as Lust cavorts in her panties for Stanley’s pleasure, only to be sent away by Spiggott in the morning. Unable to deduce what went wrong, or how best to approach his next wish, Stanley is goaded by Spiggott into becoming a rock star with hundreds of groupies, including Margaret, to satisfy his libidinous drive. Bedecked in flashy duds, Stanley brings down the house during a televised rock concert. Alas, his thunder is stolen by the overwhelming popularity of a new band, Drimble Wedge and The Vegetation, whose lead singer turns out to be Spiggott, spewing inane monotone lyrics that anesthetize the female audience before bringing the crowd to near hysteria.

In passing, Stanley wishes he could be ‘a fly on the wall’ to know what is happening to Margaret at this very moment. Spiggott, eager to use up all of Stanley’s remaining wishes, seizes this opportunity to turn them both into animated flies at the morgue, where Police Inspector Clarke (Michael Bates) is presently showing Margaret various cadavers, hoping she will be able to identify one of them as Stanley. In fact, Clarke harbors dishonorable intentions, plotting his own seduction of Margaret. This is witnessed by Stanley and Spiggott. Believing he has come up with the ideal solution, Stanley wishes for Spiggott to grant him and Margaret a quiet life in the country – married, with children – and planning to celebrate a wedding anniversary. Spiggott complies. Only, again, Stanley has fumbled his wish. So, in this latest scenario, Margaret is wed to Spiggott instead. It is their anniversary they are planning to enjoy, with Stanley – presumably, also married, but to someone else – merely a guest for the weekend. Affording Stanley his opportunity to seduce Margaret, Spiggott sends the pair off to an art exhibit. Alas, neither Margaret nor Stanley can bring themselves to commit adultery – winding up uncontrollably sobbing in each other’s arms before Margaret flees in tears, leaving Stanley to writhe in emotional agony.

Stanley wills himself back to reality; this time, encountering Spiggott as a city official, deliberately setting off parking meters to expire so he can issue tickets. While Stanley claims to be disgusted by Spiggott’s lack in generating any sort of epic peril for the human race, Spiggott explains how it is the little things that set off mankind and keep it from attaining holy enlightenment. To alleviate Stanley’s sadness, Spiggott takes him on a trip to the carnival with Gluttony and Avarice. He also plays tricks on Stanley’s mind, telling him everything he has been told up till now is a lie, including being told that ‘everything’ he has been told until now is, in fact, a lie…get it? This Abbott and Costello-inspired ‘who’s on first?’ play on words routine wears a bit thin. But it segues rather nicely into Stanley’s penultimate quandary. Believing he still has two wishes to go, Stanley asks Spiggott for the quiet life; that he and Margaret may love one another reclusively, far away from the temptations of the big city. In reply, Spiggott turns Stanley into a nun of the Order of Saint Beryl, a devote sect who operate in total silence and glorify their founder by performing acrobatics on trampolines (an expansion on a sketch from Cook and Moore’s TV show, Not Only... But Also).  Margaret is also a nun at this convent. And although she feels a strong desire toward Stanley, she absolutely refuses to entertain consummating their love as both are presumably women. Believing he still has one wish left, Stanley contacts Spiggott, only to learn he has already used it up on the aforementioned ‘ice lolly’.

So, is Stanley doomed to be a nun for all eternity? As it turns out, Spiggott is not such a bad lot after all. Having exceeded his quota of 100 billion souls – and, quite certain this will get him into Heaven – he is perfectly willing to let Stanley off the hook – just this once.  In the blink of an eye, Stanley is teleported back to his old job and life.  Attempting to re-enter Heaven, Spiggott is met by a cool and skeptical Saint Peter (Lockwood West) who explains that when he gave Stanley back his soul it was the right thing to do, but done for the wrong reason. Disgusted by this catch-22, Spiggott returns to the diner to find Stanley still pining for Margaret. Although Stanley manages to work up enough nerve to ask his beloved out on a date, she casually turns him down, citing prior commitments. Contented, for now, to have made the effort, Stanley turns down Spiggott’s generous offer of seven more wishes, meant to lure him into selling his soul for yet a second time. Ever the wiser since their last encounter, Stanley politely refuses. In reply Spiggott departs, vowing revenge by getting back at the whole of the human race. He will unleash all manner of shallow technological curses, certain to inflict misery on the modern age.

Bedazzled is a stylish affair, thanks in part to cinematographer, Austin Dempster, who fills the screen with a colorful use of the Panavision frame. For the sequence where Stanley wishes to be a pop icon, adored by millions of screaming/dreaming fans, Dempster makes a rather unorthodox decision to shoot the entire sequence in B&W. And while the ‘staged concert’ is framed within the context of being part of an ‘American Bandstand’-esque program that would have been broadcast in B&W, the behind-the-scenes of the actual taping would most assuredly have been witnessed in color – not B&W. Exactly what artistic statement Dempster is trying to make by having everything monochromatic here is, frankly, beyond me. The other curiosity is the main titles, appearing under a psychedelic swirl of color we later realize is the dizzying POV of Spiggott, who takes Stanley on a roller coaster ride with Gluttony (Parnell McGarry) and Avarice (Danièle Noël). Again, thematically, the titles do not elude to this sequence, nor is it a pivotal moment in the movie.  At the time of its release, blasphemy was considered a common-law offense in the UK. Squeamish that Bedazzled might offend religious groups, the British Board of Film Censors were taken to task by Stanley Donen, who claimed to have pre-screened the picture for a London rector, as well as the Arch Deacon of Westminster Abbey. Neither were ‘offended.’ Donen won his case and the censors passed Bedazzled. Rather shamelessly, virtually all of the ad campaigns for the picture heavily promote the likeness of Rachel Welsh, even though she appears for less than 7 minutes of screen time. Nevertheless, Welsh – known more for her undeniable beauty than her acting skills – herein, affects a rather convincing Southern drawl and plays the barb-laden comedy to the hilt, cavorting in her unmentionables while shot through a heavy gauze. In the final analysis, Bedazzled is a unique, if uneven, farce with a tender message; a cautionary tale about being very careful for what you wish for – especially if the guarantor of such promises is playing with a loaded deck.

Bedazzled arrives on Blu-ray via Twilight Time’s alliance with Fox Home Video.  Presented in its original Panavision, overall, image quality is quite good.  Fox has done nothing to upgrade the previous HD master available in Europe. So, there are slight blemishes scattered throughout this 1080p transfer, and rare, though obvious, instances of age-related artifacts. Color saturation is impressive – reds, popping from the screen, and greens, appropriately vibrant. Flesh tones too have been accurately rendered, and contrast – while occasionally waffling – is overall another reason to be pleased. The aforementioned B&W sequence exhibits amplified grain. I am not entirely certain this was in keeping with Dempster’s original cinematography, as this sequence appears digitally harsh with bumped contrast. Overall, fine detail is very good, particularly in close-ups.  We get two audio options: 2.0 and 1.0 DTS. Ostensibly, they sound identical, with the 2.0 distinguishing itself mostly in Dudley Moore’s underscore. Extras are ported over from the previous DVD release of Bedazzled; a brief featurette, hosted by the late Harold Ramis and vintage interview footage from Brit-based, The Paul Ryan Show, showcasing two separate interviews with Peter Cook and Dudley Moore, incongruously edited together to suggest ‘a conversation’. Neither of these features goes beyond a mere scratching of the surface.  We also get an isolated music and effects track. Bottom line: for those who adore the stylings of Cook and Moore, Bedazzled serves up a big screen feast of their classy and caustic comedy. This Blu-ray, while not exactly perfect, is nevertheless, solid. Recommended.

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

3

VIDEO/AUDIO

4

EXTRAS

2.5