CHITTY CHITTY BANG BANG: Blu-ray reissue (UA/Warfield Productions, 1968) MGM/Fox Home Video

Desperately over imaginative, though rarely as effervescently creative, Ken Hughes' Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang (1968) is producer, Albert R. Broccoli's one attempt to break free from being known solely as the producer of the James Bond franchise with a big-budgeted Hollywood musical. He ought to have stuck to more familiar territory. Despite source material by Ian Fleming (Bond's creator), Christopher Challis’ ravishing cinematography, and the very best feet put squarely forward and on hallowed musical ground by co-stars, Dick Van Dyke and Sally Anne Howe, the resultant spectacle remains both leaden and joyless; oddly enough, trimmed in all the good blessings that every movie musical ought to have, though shorn of its intermittent spark of pleasure, and, utterly bereft of a single inspired thought to make the enterprise saleable as a whole. It takes less time to read Fleming’s beloved children’s book than to see this movie, which gives one sincere pause to reconsider just how much screenwriters, Roald Dahl and Ken Hughes (with an assist from Richard Maibaum) have stretched Fleming’s thimble of a plot into 144-minutes of clunky musical comedy. At the time of its release, Time Magazine astutely declared Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang to be a movie for all ages - then cloyingly added, "between five and twelve". Today, it is difficult to imagine any 12-year-old sitting through the misery of the Sherman Brothers’ score, a woeful and shameless attempt to recapture and bottle the magic of their most commercial efforts on Mary Poppins (1964).  Save the highly hummable title track and the melodious 'Hushabye Mountain', the Brothers Sherman have wedged in one forgettable song after another, a cavalcade of mediocrity, blown all out of proportion by Production Designer Ken Adams' elephantine – if highly imaginative sets.

But the Dahl/Hughes’ screenplay lulls and lollygags its way through a series of largely unremarkable vignettes.  It is one of the dubious distinctions of Mary Poppins, that in the wake of its runaway popularity, every studio in Hollywood sought to do Uncle Walt one better by creating their own ‘family classic’ – preferably, as a big and bloated roadshow, infused with all the glitz, glam and razzamatazz that could be mined and mustered.  But the money that flowed into these post-Poppins-esque pageants quickly ebbed as audiences turned away in favor of more realism at the movies. For every Thoroughly Modern Millie (1967), there was a Sweet Charity (also, 1967); for every The Sound of Music (1965), a Camelot (1967) or Hello Dolly! (1969). While even these duds among the time-honored list are gingerly regarded today as impressive, if top-heavy, with varying degrees of artistic charm to be gleaned from the experience of re-viewing them on home video, most at the time were colossal failures that only continued to sink their studios’ balance sheets further into the red, and, in a decade in which the already cash-strapped studios could scarcely afford to take either the plunge or the gamble. In hindsight, the ‘family-themed’ follies faired worst of all, I suspect, because the blind innocence, necessary, though in increasingly shorter supply as the sixties wore on, is virtually nonexistent today. You cannot motivate a child, older than say ‘five’, to become enthralled by the likes of a simple little story that does not involve at least one weird or wooly character, or possesses elements of the supernatural. How sad!

But even for those of us old enough to remember a time when movies were about narrative creativity and good solid character development, Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang remains a real fanny-twitcher. The lesson to be taken away from the experience of sitting through Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang is that, whatever its flaws, it remains a picture of quality, as custom-built as its ‘phantasmagorical’ and eponymous, ‘sleek as a thoroughbred’ automobile. If not for the debut of Herbie, in Disney’s The Love Bug (1968) a far more influentially humanized four tires and a steering wheel, then this vintage claptrap that eventually sprouts its wings – literally – and thanks to some unlikely customization – might have lived on in the annals of movie-lore as a beloved junker with class. Alas, the car, in all its flourish, does not premiere from this wreckage fully-formed until we are almost an hour into the story, leaving the genuinely defective ardor between master-inventor, Caractacus Potts (Van Dyke) and Truly Scrumptious (Howes) – heir apparent to a candy-making empire, as the rickety crutch, quite unable to sustain our casual interest. While Van Dyke’s performance as the pondering pater of two precocious kiddies, is sickeningly sweet to a fault, Howes, perhaps as counterpoint, is the vinegary bane of Potts’ existence; uppity, meddlesome, and opinionated until, predictably, Truly falls in love – the proverbial elixir to knock that suffragette-sized block off her slender shoulders.

And yet, Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang can easily be regarded as more the charmingly misguided hot mess of a movie musical than a total derailment. As the picture is made by men, apart from Dahl, whose forte is clearly better suited to spies, sex and sardonic wit, the genteel milieu of a ‘family film’ escapes their best efforts at virtually every possible turn.  One thinks of Van Dyke here as the goony, rather than gallant, ‘Johnny English’ knock-off – minus an English accent (thank heaven, as he thoroughly mangled the cockney strain in Mary Poppins) of the suave and sophisticated James Bond type of hero. His Caractacus Potts is meant to be the audience’s friend, paternal hero to his children, and, potential love mate for our burgeoning Truly, who, as incarnated by Howe, is too big for him. And, despite his amiable persona, it’s still a very tall order for Van Dyke to fill – not that he ever does. So, we get a weird sort of cross between Van Dyke’s ‘Burt’ the chimney sweep from that ‘other’ family classic, and the slightly frazzled hubby he played on The Dick Van Dyke Show (1961-66), with flashes of Bye Bye Birdie’s misguided romantic fop shamelessly thrown in. Van Dyke is even given a Mary Poppins-esque ‘Step in Time’ moment to distinguish his musical talents – ‘Me Ol’ Bamboo’ – a painfully transparent reminder of that aforementioned Poppins’ standout, not terribly surprising, given Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang too was choreographed by Marc Breaux and Dee Dee Wood. As a legacy piece in the respective careers of its formidable roster of talents, including Ken Adams, Ian Fleming, Roald Dahl, the brothers Sherman, and, of course, Albert R. Broccoli – a true renaissance indie producer and untouchable in the industry – Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang is, sadly, just a footnote – a glamorous one to be sure, but far more of a blip than a blast.

Perhaps some of the backstage animosity percolating between the three writers had something to do with the movie’s failure. Indeed, Ken Hughes, while gifted as both a director and writer, had openly intruded upon Roald Dahl’s creative good graces when he eluded in an interview to having rewritten ‘every fucking word’ of Dahl’s original screenplay to accommodate his own creative verve. Exactly where Richard Maibaum fits into the constant caustic confrontations between Hughes and Dahl remains largely open for discussion. Suffice it to say, Dahl left their story sessions repeatedly deflated and displeased, while Maibaum divested himself from any responsibility for the resultant story as told on celluloid. And Dahl was to incur a bit more insult to injury, candidly offended when, despite receiving lead credit for the picture’s authorship, was not included in the reception line for Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang’s Royal Premiere.  If Hughes alone was pleased with final results, he had only himself to thank, and, if not, to accept the liability for having mucked around too much with Fleming’s original prose. Indeed, much of Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang bears only a passing fancy to the book; Caractacus, a Commander in the Royal Navy in the book, already wed to the largely absent, Mimsie – and faithful to her, no less; the adventuresome events that cap off the movie’s third act escape from a wicked potentate, not a dream – as suggested by Hughes, but actually ‘real’, if entirely ‘fantastic’.

The year is 1910 and Jeremy (Adrian Hall) and Jemima Potts (Heather Ripley) have become enthralled with a derelict wreck rusting away at a local gas station not far from their farmhouse. Their eccentric father, Caractacus (Dick Van Dyke) is the slightly scatterbrained inventor of multiple failed experiments, including an over-sized precursor to the modern-day vacuum cleaner. One day, while skipping school, Jeremy and Jemima are almost run over in the street by Truly Scrumptious (Sally Ann Howe); the daughter of a wealthy candy manufacturer. Truly attempts to preach some insufferable suffragette-esque common sense into Caractacus' head about the welfare and education of his children. But Caractacus is boorish, rude and quickly admonishes Truly for her faux concern. She should take her culture and her class, lump it back to London, and, mind her own business. Actually, Truly really is a prig. After some time, however, and more than a few contrivances, Truly warms to Caractacus. She also convinces him that one of his candied inventions, a sugar flute, might be the next great invention in confections, the patent Caractacus could sell to her father for the necessary funds to sustain his family. Caractacus makes post haste for the Truly Scrumptious Candy Factory. His intrusion, regrettably, is hardly welcome by Lord Scrumptious (James Robertson Justice) and, after the lavishly appointed dance procession; 'Toots Sweet' (a slavish first attempt to recreate the merriment of Mary Poppins) Caractacus is jettisoned from the premises in disgrace.

Episodic at best, the screenplay next has Caractacus' take his hair-cutting invention to a local fair where it malfunctions, making coleslaw of an unsuspecting patron’s head. However, by joining the fair’s buskers, Caracatus earns enough money to buy the automobile that has captured the heart and imagination of his children. Retooling it with all the creatively absurd accoutrement, presumably to entice any child, Caracatus debuts the rechristened 'Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang' to his children, who are ecstatic. After narrowly running Truly off the road, Caracatus encourages her to join them on their journey to the seaside for a picnic. At the beach, Caractacus tells his children the story of evil Baron Bomburst (Gert Frobe) a tyrannical ruler of the fictionalized province of Vulgaria. In the Ian Fleming novel, this episode is an extension of the narrative. In the film, it closes the third act as an extended dream sequence. In both instances, Bombast kidnaps Grandpa Potts (Lionel Jeffries) and takes him to his towering castle in the Black Forest (actually, the Nieuwenstein in Germany) in a vain attempt to force him to build another Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang. The real Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang first develops flotation devices, then wings to make the arduous rescue journey to Vulgaria. There, Caracatus and Truly learn Baroness Bomburst (Anna Quayle) has imprisoned all the town's children in the dungeon below the castle. A local toymaker makes Truly and Caractacus up as a marionette and wind-up doll – both presented as gifts for the Baron's birthday celebration. The pair distracts the Baron and Baroness long enough for the children to escape, and, Grandpa to be freed.

This dream sequence dissolves back into the present. Now, Jeremy and Jemima encourage Caracatus to propose to Truly. Believing their class distinction is too great, Caracatus has a change of heart after Lord Scrumptious resolves to purchase the Toot Sweet - thereby instantly elevating Caracatus to a social status he believes is now worthy of Truly. As Caracatus and Truly drive off together in Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang, the car once more takes flight, this time seemingly on the imaginary wings of love. Despite its many misfires, it is difficult to dismiss Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang as an outright failure. Christopher Challis' cinematography, as example, is a stunner - utilizing deep focus to capture all of the many meticulous details incorporated in Ken Adams' sumptuous production design. While the choreography by Dee Dee Wood and Marc Breaux is trying much too hard to recapture the magic of their efforts on Mary Poppins, it effectively generates brief sparks of exhilaration that the cobbled-together narrative plot otherwise lacks. The luck and the tragedy of it all is everyone from cast to crew are working overtime and at the peak of their powers to transform this modest tale into a memorable roadshow experience. The picture’s financial failure notwithstanding, its creative deficits are as glaring, blown up in 70mm, and therefore, emerge more ironic than conclusive. It is not simply audience’s tastes for ‘family-orientated’ big-budgeted movie musicals have gone away by the time Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang hit movie screens. Nor can any blame rest squarely on the performances given by any of the principles. And, as per its production values, few movie musicals have been as lavishly appointed to practically guarantee box office success.

Alas, in the end, Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang remains a heavy-handed and over-produced clunker, sugary sweet, if brimming with talent, all of it relegated to the scrap heap of movie duds with gusto. The picture’s legacy has had an even more unorthodox afterlife, resurrected as a stage adaptation in London’s West End with a successful run from 2002 to 2005. Interestingly, that show – with its focus on story, and, the emotional content of the Caractacus/Truly romance, given new songs and more inventive choreography, made for a far more entertaining stagecraft, augmented by some clever special effects that allowed the magical automobile to become airborne and take flight over the audience in the theater. But as a movie, Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang must be regarded as one of the last of a dying breed, and definitely responsible for casting a pall on the end of that era in big and splashy sixties roadshow musical celebrations. As the era of the grand and ornamented downtown movie palaces gave way to the wrecking ball, replaced by the cookie-cutter/stadium-styled venues with much smaller screens, movies like Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang were no longer the product of choice to fill seats. Shorter, more intimate stories became the vogue while spectacles in 70mm, once king at the box office, seemingly overnight were an anathema to the mainstream, overly extravagant dinosaurs, deserving of their burial.  While co-producers, Albert R. Broccoli and Harry Saltzman strove to split their creative energies between this, and another costly endeavor – and – box office bomb, the WWII epic, Battle of Britain (1969), their lack of good fortune in either endeavor convinced both men to return to, and stick with, the formula that had served them best. The musical and war movie’s sincere loss, perhaps; though undoubtedly, James Bond’s distinct gain.

Fox/MGM's Blu-Ray reissue is a blessing. The virtues baked into the original Super Panavision 70mm presentation have been lovingly preserved in 1080p. The image is well-defined with robust colors and a gorgeous amount of fine detail that truly recreates the cinematic experience. Process and effects shots are transparently obvious with a minor loss in overall color density, and amplification of film grain. Forgivable shortcomings, few and far between. A lot of Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang is shot full scale, and, on massive sets designed by Ken Adams, populated by a whopping assortment of extras. All of this looks ravishing. The audio has been given a 5.1 DTS upgrade. While the Sherman brothers score, and Irwin Kostal’s underscore, greatly benefit here, dialogue and SFX can still sound rather tinny and frontal focused, heavily manufactured and hollow. Extras have been ported over from MGM's lavishly appointed ‘anniversary edition’ DVD from some years ago, and, include several featurettes, including a 26 min. reminiscence from Dick Van Dyke. We also get featurettes devoted to the score, special effects and the original theatrical trailer. Bottom line: if you are a devout fan of Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang (and, there are many out there) then you will want to own this Blu-ray. It does the movie’s visuals justice.

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

2

VIDEO/AUDIO

4.5

EXTRAS

3.5