MURDER BY DEATH: Blu-ray (Columbia, 1976) Shout! Select
Even at an hour
and a half, a boatload of red – and oft, thoroughly pickled – herrings, buoyed
by a formidable roster of A-list talent, is not enough to save Neil Simon’s Murder by Death (1976) from sinking
into the mire of abject tedium with a few bright spots factored in. There is a
fine line of distinction between homage and cliché, and Simon transgresses over
it repeatedly, offering us the most threadbare of plots and a fairly
transparent re-branding of nearly every renown literary and movie-land super sleuth
from the 20th century: Peter Sellers as Inspector Sidney Wang (a
knock-off of Earl Derr Biggers' Chinese police detective, Charlie Chan, herein accompanied
by his adopted Japanese son Willie, played by Richard Narita); David Niven and
Maggie Smith, as uber-sophisticates, Dick and Dora Charleston (riffing on Dashiell
Hammett's beloved hubby and wife team, Nick and Nora Charles from The
Thin Man franchise – right down to a wire-haired terrier, ‘Asta’ rechristened
as Myron); James Coco - a fastidious Belgium bumbler, Milo Perrier (clearly, Agatha
Christie's Hercule Poirot, attended by a heavily accented chauffeur, Marcel
Cassette, played by James Cromwell in his movie debut); Peter Falk and Eileen
Brennan as San Franciscan gumshoe, Sam Diamond and his gal Friday, Tess Skeffington
(Hammett’s inspiration again, this time from The Maltese Falcon's
hardboiled Sam Spade and his ever-devoted secretary, Effie Perine), and
finally, Jessica Marbles (Elsa Lanchester, doing nine minutes of Christie’s
Miss Marple, as she wheels her geriatric companion, the mummified Miss Withers
- Estelle Winwood, in a superb cameo). Add to this mix, Truman Capote, as the
nefarious multi-millionaire, Lionel Twain, villainous mastermind of this
nightmarish weekend retreat, Nancy Walker (as his deaf/mute cook, Yetta) and
Alec Guinness (the ‘possibly’ blind
butler, Jamessir Bensonmum).
That Neil Simon,
a playwright whom I otherwise hold in very high esteem, can find no greater
calling for these prodigious thespians – or even to match their as memorable
fictional alter egos – than to have them fling fart jokes and fanciful
hyperbole around as though it were the magic elixir of the sleuthing sect, is a
grave miscalculation from which the picture never recovers. Murder by Death is not a screwball,
although I suspect, somewhere deep down, Simon believes he is being proto-clever.
Alas, nor is it an honorable stab at reverence to these great detectives of yore,
without whom Simon would have virtually nothing to bastardize but dead air. So,
Simon seems to be relying on the audience to remember just faintly enough, then
let their old acquaintances be forgot in favor of committing his stick figure facsimiles
with no soul to memory instead. But why and what for? Who, for example, would prefer
Dick and Dora Charleston to Nick and Nora Charles? These reincarnations of
William Powell and Myrna Loy in Murder by
Death really could have been a hoot, especially as David Niven and Maggie
Smith are seasoned pros, certain to play erudite comedy with a twinkling eye
and a bit of ribald, petty larceny brewing beneath their elegant clothes. But
no – Simon leaves Niven and Smith to some crude ‘kick in the crotch’ jesting – albeit, without Nick and Nora’s wry
wit; Smith, periodically pining for her ‘Dickie’ and Niven imploring his wife
to keep their dog away from his pant leg, lest Myron confuse it with a tree.
Gives new meaning to the phrase – ‘piss
elegant’, doesn’t it?
Strangely
enough, Simon also appears to be parodying his own efforts, particularly in the
various summation speeches peppered throughout, as in Lionel Twain’s “You've tricked and fooled your readers for
years. You’ve tortured us all with surprise endings that made no sense. You've
introduced characters in the last five pages that were never in the book
before. You've withheld clues and information that made it impossible for us to
guess who did it.” or Dick Charleston’s
“Another diversion. He gives us meaningless clues to confuse us, dangles red
herrings before our eyes, bedazzles us with bizarre banalities, while all the
time precious seconds are ticking away...” Wholeheartedly agreed; Murder
by Death stirs all of the aforementioned infractions to the point where
plot is no longer even incidental to our enjoyment (or lack thereof); merely,
the loose-fitted connective tissue, clumsy but necessary to string the audience
along on for what is essentially ninety minutes of vintage seventies stand-up
comedy, bandied back and forth between the principles until a dénouement comes
tumbling forth. The idiotic diffusion of everyone’s expectations to win Lionel
Twain’s million-dollar cash prize for solving a murder yet to be committed,
provides the final bit of entertainment-emasculating entanglement from whence
no point of satisfaction can be transcribed – even as cheaply vetted irony.
After its
Charles Addam’s inspired main titles, Murder
by Death opens on a dark and stormy night as five internationally renowned
detectives gather by invitation at the formidable Tudor estate of the
mysterious Lionel Twain. In due course, virtually all are subjected to some
mysterious figure in black, pushing cement lion statuary off the balcony
overlooking the front door. None of the summoned are naïve enough to fall for
this perilously botched attempt upon their lives, and so, each is admitted into
Twain’s inner sanctum and shown to their respective bedrooms by Twain’s blind
butler, Jamessir Bensonmum. The Charlestons are put up inside a cobweb-infested
antechamber, staged for just such an occasion, while Sidney Wang and son are
led inside an appropriately gaudy chinoiserie boudoir where Bensonmum has
inadvertently lit a fire in the middle of their bedspread, mistaking it for the
hearth. In due course, all of the aforementioned, along with Miss Marbles, and
her enfeebled nurse, Sam Diamond and his sexually frustrated moll, Tess, Milo
Perrier and his butler, Marcel, find their way into the Gothic dining room.
Meanwhile, below stairs, Bensonmum admits Yetta, the hired cook to prepare
dinner for the guests. Alas, as Bensonmum cannot see Yetta, and this deaf-mute
illiterate cannot read lips, she takes her place on a stool, awaiting
instructions while Bensonmum already believes she is hard at work cooking up a
storm.
Suspecting a
plot afoot, Sidney determines that his wine has been tainted with a corrosive
acid. As he cautions the group to be skeptical of whatever else they may encounter
from this moment forward, both Sidney and Dickie are nearly gouged by a pair of
sabers, dislodged from their overhead mounts, perfectly to impale the seats of
their chairs. At this juncture, the elusive and reclusive Lionel Twain appears,
staging a grand entrance to further unsettle his guests. Twain lays out the
purpose for their gathering; a handsome million-dollar prize awaiting the sleuth
fortunate and bright enough to uncover a killer in their midst, even before the
actual crime of murder has been committed. Unimpressed, Dickie plans to leave
before the festivities get underway. But Twain now seals off the windows and
doors, challenging this room full of crime-solving paragons to beat him at his
own game before vanishing from their midst and leaving everyone perplexed and
stranded. Although Twain has assured his flock the murder will occur just
before midnight in the dining room, Bensonmum’s body is instead discovered by Yetta,
slumped over a kitchen chair in the pantry. Sam and Dickie investigate the
scene; Dickie encouraging Sam to search Bensonmum’s pockets for clues.
Meanwhile, a steamer trunk containing a life-like mannequin of Yetta is
discovered by the others.
Returning to the
pantry twice, Sam and Dickie first find someone has stolen Bensonmum’s body,
but left his butler’s attire behind, perfectly poised in his chair; then, rediscover
a nude Bensonmum, face down in the chair, minus his clothes. Unable to deduce why
anyone would go to all this trouble to stage a crime scene, Sam and Dickie elect
to return to the others in the dining room. Ducking into the loo to relieve
himself, Dickie appears to have vanished into thin air; Sam opening and closing
the door twice – once, to find only Myron seated on a moth-eaten bed, and then,
to reveal Dickie inside, still peeing into the porcelain bowl. Now, Dickie and
Sam return to the dining room. Only, it too is deserted. However, only seconds
later, trying the same door again, Sam and Dickie find everyone patiently
waiting for them on the other side. Sam and Dickie deduce Twain’s elaborate
hoax is perpetuated by some strange ‘mechanical marvel’ - a perfect recreation
of all the rooms in the house, presented twice to fool his visitors. At this
juncture, Twain reappears with a knife thrust between his shoulder blades. So, he is the murder victim he spoke of only
an hour or so before. How odd.
As the group valiantly
tries to piece together the particulars of this impossible turn of events, each
learns that the others have ulterior motives for attending Twain’s invitational
soiree. Presumably from a bad loan and worse investments, the Charlestons are
apparently broke and in desperate need of Twain’s million-dollar payoff. Perhaps,
they offed him. Sidney is revealed as Twain’s illegitimate son. Tess shares
that Twain knew the otherwise butch and tough-talking Sam frequented a gay bar
in drag in San Francisco. He was working a transgender case, or so Sam claims. Finally, Miss Marbles was apparently Twain’s
former jilted lover. Suspicions run
higher still as Sidney suggests everyone bolt their doors as they retire for
the night. But only moments into preparing for slumber, Sidney and Willie are
confronted with a poisonous snake slithering up their bedsheets. In Dick and
Dora’s boudoir, a deadly scorpion crawls along their comforter with the intent
to sting. Miss Marbles unearths a gas leak in her bedroom, surely to asphyxiate
her and Miss Withers as their door has been bolted from the outside, while Milo
and Marcel face the real possibility of being crushed to death after their
ceiling slowly begins to lower itself.
In Twain’s
study, a shadowy figure prepares to leave. But no…wait…our entourage of investigators
have freed themselves from their fateful follies, descending on the library to
confront the real murderer – perhaps. Bensonmum is alive; even more startlingly
exposed as Twain’s ugly and illegitimate daughter – Rita. Now, Bensonmum strips
away his mask to illustrate that he is Lionel Twain. The crowd is aghast. As
each of the attendees inserts their piece of the puzzle, hoping against hope it
will allow them to claim the million dollars, Twain instead defeats their
theorizing and manages to hold onto his money. Thwarted in their deductions,
these demoralized snoops depart Twain’s mansion penniless; Sidney, reasoning
the only thing ‘killed’ was a perfectly good weekend. As the last car departs
from Twain manor, Twain strips off yet another mask to reveal himself as none
other than Yetta in disguise. Brilliant? Hardly. Dumb, implausible and
pointless? You bet!
Setting aside all
of this nonsensical mugging for laughs, and a summation of the plot that paints
itself into one dead-end corner after the next, Murder by Death still adds up to nothing more – or better – than a
unique squandering of its formidable talent. Neil Simon is wringing jokes as
though they were his last. He really scrapes the bottom of the barrel, relying
on the artfulness of his players to carry the load. Consider, Peter Falks’
delivery of the line, “Locked, from the
inside. That can only mean one thing. And I don't know what it is.” It is Falks’
lazy-eyed and Columbo-esque bewilderment we find amusing herein – not the line
itself. Of the lot, Peter Sellers is given the lion’s share of dialogue, with
platitude-laden Fu Manchu and Confucius-styled parables. These are the most
amusing bits in the picture, and Sellers – no stranger to ‘yellow-face’ – is a devilishly
compelling ‘Asian’ foil. But the rest of the gaffes are laced in groans instead
of snickers – sly or otherwise. Even if Simon had not taken such a low road
with the humor – such as it is – Murder by
Death devolves, in large increments, into a precociously insane ‘crazy
quilt’ of disingenuous gibes, with Simon as the purveyor of not so clever-clever
anticipations he never entirely fulfills, but rather idiotically lumps together,
just for sh_ts and giggles. In the last
analysis, Murder by Death is just
silly and hypocritical; a crime story where a crime has quite possibly been
committed but is never satisfactorily resolved. The picture’s crime is that it
fails to serve up either chills or laughter in any sustainable way.
Shout! Factory
has released Murder by Death as part
of their ‘Select Series’. Despite its
licensing from Sony, the image quality herein is not as pristine as one has
come to expect from Sony’s mastering efforts in 1080p. A patina of moiré
patterns persist in some of the establishing shots. Contrast is intermittently
weaker than anticipated and age-related artifacts, while not egregious or
distracting, are nevertheless present throughout. Color fidelity is fairly
solid, although flesh tones tend to veer from natural to pinkish or ruddy orange.
Overall, long and medium shots have a soft-ish texture. Close-ups, however,
reveal an impressive amount of fine detail in skin, hair and fabrics. Finally,
film grain is inconsistently rendered. It can appear thick at times, and
practically nonexistent at others. The DTS mono audio is fairly impressive. In
addition to a vintage ‘conversation’ featurette
with Neil Simon, Shout! has also afforded us a new audio commentary from film
historian, Lee Gambin. But what on earth is wrong with the sound reproduction
here?!? Gambin sounds, at intervals, as though he were being recorded in either
a wind tunnel or echo chamber with reverb and muffle added. His words blend
together as garble and, erratically, the sound is shrill and grating. I cannot
understand it. There is also a photo gallery, presented rather slap-dash
without even accompaniment from David Grusin’s score. We also get a badly worn
theatrical trailer. Bottom line: Murder
by Death is not vintage Neil Simon and this mediocre 1080p presentation has
not improved its prospects either. Judge and buy accordingly.
FILM RATING (out
of 5 – 5 being the best)
2.5
VIDEO/AUDIO
3.5
EXTRAS
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