PENELOPE: Blu-ray (MGM, 1966) Warner Archive

Director Arthur Hiller's Penelope (1966) - not to be confused with that other silly story of social acceptance and a 'snout'-hearted gal played by Christina Ricci in 2006, stars Natalie Wood as the titular title character: winsome wife, turned calculating kleptomaniac, merely to garner the attentions of her rather bookish/banker husband, James B. Alcott (played with ineffectual stodginess by Ian Bannen in a part originally conceived for Dirk Bogarde). A lot of money (Wood's wardrobe alone, personally supervised by Edith Head cost a cool $250,000) but precious little else was poured into this lavishly appointed and stylishly executed fluff and nonsense. Wood, an actress of immeasurable stealth and sophistication elsewhere, plays the scene-stealing pixie with a bit of bounce, but hardly the right sort of ta-ta or ho-ho to make any of it stick beyond vacuous implausibility run amok.  Much was trumpeted – and anticipated from – this glittery cast, including Peter Falk - in his pre-Columbo days, as the benevolent and easy-to-manage Lieutenant Horatio Bixbee; Dick Shawn, as perpetually harried and slightly horny psychoanalyst, Dr. Gregory Mannix, and Jonathan Winters, miscast, and haplessly wasted in a needless flashback, stripping down the virginal Penelope to her skivvies; thereafter, sexually assaulted by her libidinous biology instructor, Prof. Klobb. This is a comedy?!?

Indeed, the laughs that derive from this roller coaster ride in George Wells’ screenplay - based on Howard Fast’s 1965 crime novel (written under the nom de plume, E.V. Cunningham) - are not of the yuk-yuk ilk. Nor do they derive from the classic screwball, sublime English farce or any other format in modern comedy known to man.  This has caused several critics to charge the picture as being remarkably 'unfunny' when, in fact, there is a certain queerly absurd irony at work here. If not entirely sarcastic, it is, most definitely - often brutally - sardonic.  Apart from Winters’ broad lampoon as the lascivious Klobb, bouncing on springs with arms extended in a hulking gesture of misguided lust, the rest of the cast play this one strictly down the middle. Ian Bannen, an actor I greatly admire, gives a frustratingly competent gesture that never rises to the level of a performance herein. In flashbacks, he fills the role of the robustly handsome suitor rather nicely. But once the engagement ring is on his finger, he immediately reverts to a paralytic woodenness that neither benefits the character nor the story. Awkward, dull and generally unpleasant to be around, James Alcott is a guy who looks good only on paper - a wealthy stick-in-the-mud that our Penelope cannot motive, either to sweep her off her feet, or eschew the vacuous viper,  Mildred Halliday (Norma Crane) - an oversexed socialite, more his speed and temperament, who wastes no opportunity to sink her hooks, and lips, into him. Indeed, Mildred cannot even wait until after the wedding. Penelope discovers her husband locked in Mildred's embrace as she is about to cut the cake.

Penelope and James live in fairly palatial digs: mid-century modern Manhattan - a la MGM's plush backlot recreations, as well as some exquisite location work, lensed by Harry Stradling Sr. who makes it all look like a plush Disneyland-for-adults – New York’s concrete and glass, vistas, typifying the uber-cultured sect. There is more of an artistic hurdle to overcome in Preston Ames and George W. Davis' studio-bound recreations of Greenwich Village Bohemianism, with its atypical artsy-fartsy enclave doing their bubble-headed best to remain intensely apart from the status quo in a thoroughly pointless vignette to illustrate the extent to which Bannen's buttoned-down high financier will go to win the heart of his wild child bride. Aside: he arrives in beatnik sandals, blue jeans and a powder turquoise sweater. Go, stud! Penelope is a very stylish affair. Stradling's cinematography is lush and lovely. There is not a moment here that disappoints from a purely visual perspective. Every inch of the Panavision frame is filled with stunning architecture and, when unavailable, uber-classy bric-a-brac of glam-bam ilk that once seemed so essential to the new look of things yet to come. But a good-looking picture does not a good movie make - at least, not entirely. At the time of its release, while MGM's publicity was quick to declare Penelope as 'public entertainment #1', the critics had their pens sharpened to suggest otherwise.  The movie was such a colossal flop, Natalie Wood took a personal hiatus from the biz, not appearing again on the screen for three full years.

In hindsight, Penelope can be viewed as a sort of template for everything that went wrong at MGM in the mid-60's; Metro’s distinction as purveyors, devoted to glamorous/escapist picture-making, decidedly at odds with what the paying public was interested in seeing by the mid-60's. Reality is not Penelope's thing. And neither is storytelling, regrettably so, as once we get over the initial Pink Panther-styled set-up of a lady bandit, holding up her husband's financial institution merely to get his attention (ballsy!), the various elements of the plot simply curdle before getting very stale – very fast. There is nothing inherently awful about any of the performances in this movie - and yet, in retrospect, nothing to distinguish them as purposeful, daring or enjoyable. Wood’s Penelope is a one-dimensional spoiled trophy wife, so bored with being rich and pampered she turns to kleptomania for kicks. Ian Bannen’s hubby is little more than window-dressing; curiously deferential about his former peccadilloes with the libidinous, over-the-hill Mildred.

Our story begins with a clever heist.  Penelope Elcott enters her husband’s newly inaugurated bank, deviously disguised as an old woman. Congenial to a fault, she questions the teller, Miss Serena (Amzie Strickland) about her namesake. After all, it stands to reason, anyone named Serena ought to be serenely contented in life.  When the teller agrees, Penelope pulls out a rather large gun from her purse and orders Serena to hand over a large sum of bills before making off to hide in the woman’s lavatory. Cornered by the police, the real Penelope – or rather, one sporting a yellow Givenchy suit and red-haired wig, emerges, feigning panic at being held up by the old woman still inside. Police corner the stalls while Penelope effortlessly slips away unnoticed out the front door, past a virtual army of security guards. She makes her way to psychiatrist, Dr. Gregory Mannix for their weekly session and nonchalantly reveals to him she is a kleptomaniac who has just knocked over her husband’s bank. Taken aback by her confession, Mannix instead reveals to Penelope he has been in love with her for some time. She confides in him an episode from her youth, in which she was stalked by a libidinous biology professor while still a student. Later, we catch other glimpses from Penelope’s past; her first seduction of James in Greenwich Village, and their eventual wedding day, in which Penelope finds James in the arms of eager socialite, Mildred Halliday.

Gradually, Dr. Mannix begins to piece together these clues to reconsider how stealing things from the rich mavens courted by her husband’s financial firm made Penelope feel satisfied with her own station in life; also, exploited by her as a crutch to fuel her kleptomania. Meanwhile, Lieutenant Horatio Bixbee begins to track down the bank thief’s steps. He finds the woman – whoever she was – later donated $1000 to a Salvation Army worker, Maj. Higgins (Arthur Mallet) and gave away her expensive Givenchy suit to a second-hand thrift shop where it was quickly snatched up for a mere $7 by con-artists Sabada (Lila Kedrova) and Ducky (Lou Jacobi) – who run a high-end dress shop on the swankier end of Manhattan. Lt. Bixbee accompanies Penelope to Sabada’s dress shop. Feigning an act as a married couple, interested in buying back the Givenchy suit – now, priced at $600, Bixbee has Penelope try on the garment – which she willingly does – and is satisfied he has found his thief when the suit fits her perfectly. She pretends not to understand his meaning. Revealing his true identity to Sabada and Ducky, Bixbee claims the Givenchy as evidence. He further entertains Penelope at a fashionable sculpture garden, amused by her cleverness and nonchalance.

Alas, at this juncture, a young woman, inferred as a prostitute, Honeysuckle Rose (Arlene Golonka), is questioned by Sgt. Rothchild (Bill Gunn). It seems Dr. Mannix, in offering to return all of Penelope’s stolen loot by stuffing it into the bank’s night deposit slot, instead suffered an attack of cold feet, dropping the money on the pavement where it was later discovered by Rose, who tried to claim it for her own. Now, the focus of the crime shifts to Rose who is right for the frame-up. The girl is arrested against Penelope’s strenuous objections. Penelope even confesses to the crime herself. But to no avail, Bixbee refuses to believe anything Penelope has to say. Believing his wife is suffering from the onset of a nervous breakdown, James elects to throw a little penthouse soiree in which a good many of his clients, including Mildred are in attendance. Penelope wears all of the jewels she has stolen from them in the past, offering to give everything back. Regrettably, high society refuses to acknowledge the gesture, further causing Penelope to believe she is losing her toe-hold on reality. Ducky and Sabada resurface and try to blackmail Penelope. Their plan backfires when Penelope desires the cons to admit to James their devious little plan as proof, she held up his bank. Instead, Sabada and her cohort panic and lie to James about the true intent of their visit. Believing the only way, she can regain her sanity is to steal again, Penelope robs James’ bank for a second time, using a real old woman as bait.  

Alas, this time her post-heist afterglow is not of elation or even rank satisfaction, but horror and betrayal. Confronting her demons headlong, Penelope pleads with Bixbee to help him ‘find her’ moral compass. Knowing James will not press charges against his own wife, Bixbee refuses to entertain the notion Penelope is a kleptomaniac. Now, Penelope turns to Mannix who reasons why her rich dinner guests refused to recognize the stolen jewels: so as not to lose out on their fraudulently inflated insurance claims. Mannix implores Penelope to forgo her marriage and run away with him instead. Only now, having made sense of it all, she refuses to entertain the notion, declaring herself cured. Realizing how badly he has neglected his wife, James goes in search of her, seeing Penelopes everywhere. This, predictably, begins to drive him wild and, in desperation, he retreats to Mannix’s office for some heartfelt counseling. Happily, Penelope resurfaces there, having forgotten her shoes and come around to reclaim them. The couple are reunited and embrace – their sanity and faith in each other completely restored.

Penelope is mindless fluff. It also was not a success at the box office. Indeed, Natalie Wood found the process of making the picture arduous at best, breaking out in hives and suffering panic attacks that left her ambivalent and over-thinking her every nuance and gesture to the point where director, Arthur Hiller insisted she was “resisting the film.” When it premiered, the critics eviscerated Penelope as a joyless, tacky and escapist, utterly void of comedic charm. To be fair, the picture lacks the obvious laughs is, at once, lamentable, and yet, oddly refreshing. It’s nice to see a comedy that isn’t immediately going for the crotch. And Penelope makes up for this dearth – somewhat – with superb production values and fairly competent acting from all concerned.  While it cannot be rightfully inferred that Penelope was ever going to become a classic on the cusp of rediscovery, the picture holds together with a sort of unusual urbanity that is cynical and slickly packaged. Add to this a swingin’ sixties score by Johnny Williams, with a toe-tapping main title and, in hindsight at least, Penelope deserves of far less vitriol than it received in 1966. Immediately following the picture’s box office implosion, Natalie Wood bought herself out of her Warner Bros. contract for $175,000. She had been loaned out by Warner to MGM for this outing and thought herself the sacrificial lamb in this exercise. Wood went one step further, firing her staff of agents, managers and lawyers, going into an artistic seclusion to last nearly three full years.

Penelope has resurfaced on Blu-ray via the Warner Archive in a sparkling 1080p transfer that is positively ravishing. Shot in Panavision and MetroColor, the image here is refined and lovely throughout. The animated main titles pop off the screen with bold colors. Thereafter, the live action footage is ravishing, with a deep and refined palette, pluperfect contrast, excellent fine detail and a light modicum of film grain looking very indigenous to its source. This is one fantastic-looking image that will surely please, regardless of what you think of the movie itself. Arthur Hiller’s widescreen compositions utilize every inch of the anamorphic frame, often situating actors at extreme right and left of the screen, while filling the middle with a stellar amount of interesting background information. You are going to love – LOVE – the way Penelope looks on Blu-ray. It’s that simple. The 2.0 vintage stereo sounds magnificent, with a rich bass to carry the dialogue and effects. Extras are limited to a badly worn theatrical trailer and a careworn vintage featurette, starring Edith Head, who superficially waxes about her contributions on the picture while we observe Natalie Wood model the various costumes she will don in the movie. Head discusses character motivation through costume design. But this is a forgettable puff piece, designed to promote Penelope as Head’s own fashion parade. That – most assuredly – it remains!  Bottom line: Penelope is a frothy, light-headed and disposable entertainment. That said, there is a lot to admire here. If it doesn’t come across quite as it should, the fault is curiously inconspicuous to pinpoint. The movie’s not high art, for sure. But it looks fabulous in hi-def. Judge and buy accordingly.

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

3

VIDEO/AUDIO

5

EXTRAS

1