HEAVEN CAN WAIT: Blu-ray (Paramount, 1978) Paramount Home Video

In his mid-century career aspirations, Warren Beatty was to find himself in a highly enviable bargaining position. Having moved on from merely being considered Shirley MacLaine’s younger brother, fit for Hollywood’s hunk-mill, grooming young bucks rising through the ranks as pre-processed beefcake, Beatty (who added an extra ‘T’ to his namesake, also, dropping his first name, ‘Henry’ presumably for flourish and to better fit on a marquee) is one of the most underrated stars today, despite having earned a whopping 15 Oscar nominations throughout his lengthy career (4 for Best Actor/Best Picture respectively, 3 for original screenplay, and, 2 for Best Director – winning only a single statuette for Reds, 1981). Beatty’s movies in totem have been nominated for an incredible 53 Oscars! The man who would be king’s fascination with ‘the movies’ began in his teens, deeply affected by 1940’s The Philadelphia Story for its strong and uncanny resemblance between star, Kate-the-great Hepburn, and his own mother, and, Love Affair (1939), which he fell in love with at age 14 and would remake in 1994, still playing romantic leads at age 57! But Beatty’s insatiable desire to ‘control’ every aspect of the creative process, once described as “virtually aflame with the arrogance of youth”, was not always welcome on the set during his formative years as the new ‘face du jour’.  Nevertheless, his athletic physique – culled from years as a high school football star, coupled with his strong-jawed masculine features, to include a penetrating stare and floppy shocks of thick, raven black hair, were immediately embraced by the camera.

After some television work, Beatty’s Golden Globe-nominated debut in Elia Kazan's Splendor in the Grass (1961) seemed to suggest his future would be made playing the kinds of conflicted ‘stud’ roles once inhabited by James Dean. But Beatty had different ideas about the trajectory of his career, proving the merit of his convictions by virtually rewriting his ‘playboy’ image with 1967’s Bonnie and Clyde – a picture he not only starred in, but produced and, thanks to his shrewd orchestration of a 30% profit share, earned him a cool $6 million. He was all of 29!  In hindsight, Bonnie and Clyde was the watershed in Beatty’s career – a picture so ill-embraced at Warner Bros., it was dumped on the market before Beatty involved himself in a total revamp of its marketing campaign. The immediate public response to Beatty and the picture was electrifying. Beatty, previously considered something of a pain in the ass, was suddenly, and quite unexpectedly, crowned Hollywood royalty, invited to hobnob with the ‘in’ class – a change in circumstance he sheepishly found ‘embarrassing’. As such, he all but withdrew from acting thereafter, marking a return to form in Robert Altman's McCabe and Mrs. Miller (1971) opposite Julie Christie – his paramour since 1965. Beatty’s new-found solvency allowed him to indulge in his fascination with politics, taking more than a year off to work for the ’72 Democratic ticket while turning down the leads in The Godfather, The Way We Were, The Great Gatsby and The Sting. Instead, he returned to form as a promiscuous Beverly Hills hair-stylist in the sexually frank dramedy, Shampoo (1975).

Given all the success and diversity Beatty continued to display as he evolved his screen image throughout the mid-60’s and well into the 1970’s, Heaven Can Wait (1978) is a rather curious picture for him to undertake – a throwback to the sort of ‘glamour’ boy parts Beatty abhorred while trying to get himself to be taken seriously as a young actor for hire. But Beatty, who not only stars, but co-directed (along with Buck Henry), produced and ‘authored’ the screenplay – based on 1941’s Here Comes Mr. Jordan, not 1943’s Heaven Can Wait (confusing…I know), is actually at the top of his game here, indulging in the celebrated milieu of a classic screwball, revamped with contemporized finesse for the less than uber-glossy seventies; the picture, to earn a whopping 9 Oscar nominations including, a nod in every major category involving his personal participation. To clarify, Heaven Can Wait is based on Henry Segall’s failed 1938 Broadway venture, also titled, Heaven Can Wait, though never produced for the stage, but whose film rights were almost immediately snatched up by Columbia Pictures’ Harry Cohn in 1941, only to be rechristened as Here Comes Mr. Jordan. In ’43, director, Ernst Lubitsch made a movie for Fox titled, Heaven Can Wait, bearing no earthly resemblance to Segall’s play or the Columbia classic derived from it. Then, in 1947, Columbia produced Down to Earth – a glossy, Technicolor/Rita Hayworth musical and superficial ‘sequel’, reuniting the characters in ‘Mr. Jordan’ played by Edward Everett Horton and James Gleason. Just prior to this, Segall’s original stagecraft finally made it to Broadway as ‘Wonderful Journey’ where it barely lasted 9 performances. Which brings us to Beatty’s endeavor to remake Here Comes Mr. Jordan as – what else? - Heaven Can Wait! Two years thereafter, Universal did Xanadu (1980), a loose reboot of Down to Earth - Mr. Jordan’s sequel. In 2001, Segall's Heaven Can Wait was resurrected yet again, this time as (wait for it) - Down to Earth – having virtually zero connection to the aforementioned Rita Hayworth musical, but instead a weirdly cynical farce and offshoot of Here Comes Mr. Jordan. Oh, now I do have a headache!

But back to Beatty’s version…or rather, Beatty, whose enviable bank account never entirely translated into the sort of hedonist lifestyle expected from a guy with too much disposable cash to burn, but lacking in the good sense God gave a lemon. No, Beatty was Hollywood’s golden boy in 1978. His appetites for insatiable companionship and, more directly, in building and maintaining his epic celebrity were, by then, legendary. Yet, despite being offered the prime cut in hot projects, Beatty’s own discerning tastes, not to mention his uncanny knack for repeatedly hitting the bull’s eye, afforded him the luxury to not only decline most, but institute his own spate of passion projects to be unquestioningly green-lit by studio’s desperate to work with him. Much has been made of Beatty’s eccentricities; wearing 3-day old, dirty jeans to the set, engaging in political debates instead of shop talk using the hip Hollywood speak-ease, indulging in a vigorous regiment of vitamins, and sporting a photographic memory with instant recall. There’s another word for it – genius. Alas, given Beatty’s physical attractiveness, the impressiveness of his brain did not always get equal billing among either fans or his critics.  And, if some chose to overlook the not-so-obvious, weighing the unorthodoxy of his lifestyle ahead of his brilliance, irrefutably, no male star of his generation had more clout, guts or presence of mind to view such thought-numbing celebrity with a clear-eyed, hands-on ‘get it done’ and ‘do it well’ work ethic.  By 1978, Beatty had been nothing less than a star for more than 17 years and, even more impressive, without any fallow periods or ‘comebacks’ to taint his reputation as a qualified rainmaker for the studios.

If the company you keep is any indication of the person behind the Teflon-coated façade, then Beatty’s cultivated entourage was an enviable who’s who of unlikely compatriots: Henry Kissinger, Vladimir Horowitz, Lillian Hellman, Robert F. Kennedy, Julie Christie and Diane Keaton among them. However, even before he appeared in movies, Beatty was a darling of the Hollywood tabloids – a bad boy, engaged to Fox contractee, Joan Collins but having an affair with his Splendor in the Grass costar, Natalie Wood, resulting in the disillusion of Wood’s marriage to Robert Wagner. And Beatty would again be branded the tarnished scamp and home-wrecker, this time as a named correspondent in Peter Hall’s divorce suit against actress, Leslie Caron. Dear Warren…he did get around. In this regard, Beatty, rounding 41 in ‘78 showed little direct signs the hands of time had advanced on him. Heaven Can Wait is thus the beneficiary of his perennial youthful quality, especially as Beatty’s alter ego in the picture, Rams quarterback, Joe Pendleton, resurrected as a nutty and moneyed philanthropist by an ‘angel’ of spurious motives (played to perfection by James Mason), proved there was enough good humor, G-rated romance and populist politics to fill at least 2 good movies. Yet, combined with ‘heaven-sent’ sequences and the trappings of a whodunit? with a parade of familiar faces to flank the star (Charles Grodin, Dyan Cannon and the beloved Jack Warden among them) Heaven Can Wait emerged as nothing short of a euphoric, if fairly straight-forward ‘good time’ had by all – but especially, the audience. The Beatty screenplay (co-authored by Elaine May) is still – in spots – a hoot and a holler, with Beatty’s low-key distillation of wonderment and disbelief at waking up dead – yet, somehow, more alive than ever – coming off with that essential/ethereal quality, necessary to buoy the comedy and thoroughly suspend our disbelief.

Beatty passion for Heaven Can Wait was fermented nearly a year earlier, as he was preparing to undertake two epic projects in tandem: the first – and never to be realized - bio-pic on reclusive billionaire, Howard Hughes, the latter, devoted to fiery leftist/author, John Reed – eventually to find its way to the big screen as Beatty’s magnum opus – Reds (1981). Taking May's screenplay to task, and altering whole portions to suit his ego, Beatty contemplated either Cary Grant or ex-Senator Eugene McCarthy as Mr. Jordan (played in the ’41 classic by the inimitable Claude Rains. James Mason proved a valiant successor here. As necessity is usually the mother of invention, Beatty elected to assume the directorial reins with Buck Henry after his #1 and #2 picks to helm Heaven Can Wait - Mike Nichols and Arthur Penn turned him down, citing prior commitments.  Henry was not averse to Beatty’s controlling interest in the picture, familiar with the star’s edicts and temperament. However, while Beatty regarded Heaven Can Wait as a ‘nice, little movie’ to allow for a respite before embarking on Reds, it quickly strained the star/director’s patience and need for absolute perfection.  And Beatty, having assumed the producer’s credit too, knew damn well if Heaven Can Wait flopped, the critics would be too eager to blame his totalitarian creativity. He had little to fear. May’s screenplay, more finessed than fumbled by Beatty’s chronic tinkering, proved a soufflé rather than a latke. The treacle of 40’s sentiment and big-hearted bloat was trimmed to accommodate the 70’s verve for more cynical humor with a succinct line-up of witty wags, never to outstay their welcome on the screen. Miraculously, this tale from another generation still had bite, and – yes, poignancy to recommend it. It also cleverly skirted our direct or even lingering contemplation of its more nonsensical fantasy elements.

Initially, Beatty desired the character of Joe Pendleton to be a boxer, and sought the participation of no less a great than Muhammad Ali for the part. Alas, Ali’s iron-cast commitments to boxing ‘for real’ resulted in Beatty remaking Joe as an American football player – a sport, Beatty knew so much about, and thus, casting himself in the lead. Beatty’s discerning creative nature is all over Heaven Can Wait, down to his individual selection of songs and score to augment the storytelling. Whereas, in Here Comes Mr. Jordan, Pendleton undertakes an alto-sax rendition of The Last Rose of Summer, Beatty’s beau hunk plays Ciribiribin on a soprano sax. For the scene where Pendelton puts his servants through the rigors of basic training at the Farnsworth mansion, Beatty selected Handel's Sonata No. 3 in F Major, turning to Dave Grusin and the London Symphony to create the movie’s signature title song. In this latter effort, Neil Diamond also composed a song, ‘Heaven Can Wait’ – rejected b Beatty, who also turned down the Paul McCartney and Wings ditty, ‘Did We Meet Somewhere Before?’, later, to be fitted into Rock 'n' Roll High School (1979).

Heaven Can Wait is Beatty’s show – figuratively, as well as literally, and he applies the same level of exceptionalism to have successfully morphed him from a latter-day James Dean knock-off into Hollywood’s premiere purveyor of eroticism without ever sacrificing that boyish warmth or unquantifiable, yet modest magnetism women over the course of his time in the spotlight have found so gosh-darn appealing. Like a male Judy Garland, the audience feels defensive of Beatty – both the man and his screen-sized alter egos. The other appeal Beatty possesses is undeniably derived within his own social class of Hollywood professionals, preferring the experimentalists to the main-streamers and relishing every opportunity to prove that daring ‘arthouse’ pics have just as much box office staying power as the preprocessed and heavily marketed ‘fluff’ being promoted by the studios in lieu of real/reel art. Only in hindsight is Heaven Can Wait about as near to that latter-aforementioned mark Beatty otherwise steered clear of to reach the pinnacle of his success; this unassuming tale of a man prematurely sent to the afterlife by an anxious, novice angel, seamlessly updated to reinterpret the tangible with the imaginary.  So, at last we meet, Joe Pendleton, the L.A. Rams second-string quarterback, nursing a demoralizing knee injury and having to face the inevitable, if prematurely advancing emeritus years of his career. Determined to a fault, Joe is all set to mark his comeback when fate intervenes. He dies on his birthday and is summoned to heaven where his death is proved to be a clerical error. Now, Joe convinces heaven’s eminence grise, Mr. Jordan he must return to earth and continue his football career. Problem: by the time this conversation takes place, Joe’s body has already been cremated, forcing Jordan’s hand to find a viable ‘replacement’ in its stead.

Unable to find a suitable top-tier athlete into which Joe’s soul might otherwise neatly fit, Jordan suggests Joe reconsider stepping into the body of one Leo Farnsworth, a hard-nosed, billionaire industrialist, newly poisoned by his scheming wife, Julia (Dyan Cannon) and her lover/Leo’s private secretary - Tony Abbott (Charles Grodin). Initially disinterested, Joe decides to give this one a go, especially after becoming smitten with Betty Logan (Julie Christie in a role originally slated for Diane Keaton – Beatty’s latest paramour, then Kate Jackson and Mary Steenburgen), the slinky Green-Peacer, currently protesting Farnsworth’s plastics plant in Europe. Joe consents to become Leo, but only temporarily, until a more suitable body can be found for him to inhabit. Mr. Jordan agrees. Meanwhile, Julia and Tony are understandably confused when Leo is revived into a ‘new’ and ‘improved’ version of his former self, putting Farnsworth's domestic staff through the rigors of embracing his ‘football’ obsession. As Farnsworth/Joe buys the L.A. Rams, determined to lead them to victory at the Super Bowl with the complicity of longtime pal and trainer, Max Corkle (Jack Warden). A crisis arises when Mr. Jordan informs Joe, he must give up Farnsworth's body immediately. Crestfallen, Joe, who has made inroads into Betty’s heart, now comforts her with the notion she may, one day, find another who touches her heart and, when this happens, to fondly remember him. At this juncture, Julia and Abbott murder Farnsworth. The Rams begin the Super Bowl with Tom Jarrett, another quarterback while Detective, Lieutenant Krim (Vincent Gardenia) interrogates suspects in Farnsworth’s death. With Corkle’s guidance, Julia and Abbott are exposed as the killers.

During a skirmish on the field, Jarrett is mortally wounded, but with Jordan’s help, gets resurrected with Joe’s soul, leading the Rams onto their Super Bowl victory (in a sequence actually filmed during halftime of the Rams/Chargers preseason at L.A.’s Memorial Coliseum).  At the postgame celebration, Corkle recognizes Joe in Jarrett and the two share a poignant embrace. Alas, as Joe – as Jarrett – proceeds to enjoy the fruits of his labors in a televised interview, Jordan imparts his final bit of wisdom, instructing Joe, in order to live as Jarrett, he must first be cleansed of all memories of his former past. As Jordan vanishes for the last time, Jarrett becomes woozy. Corkle tries to reconnect with Joe, but finds instead there is no trace of his former friend in the ‘new’ Jarrett. Exiting the stadium, Jarrett accidentally bumps into Betty. The two begin a conversation, each appearing to ‘recognize’ the other, though not entirely certain how this is possible. Jarrett then coins a phrase that reminds Betty of Joe. She agrees to go out with him for coffee – presumably, the beginning of a new and meaningful relationship.

With ample plot to spare, Heaven Can Wait is a slickly designed ‘feel good’ fantasy rom/com. The picture’s greatest asset is its screenplay, a masterclass in story-telling. The cast are secondary to the writing. Even Beatty’s all-seeing/all-knowing puppet master takes a backseat here, and all to the good. Dyan Cannon and Charles Grodin are complimentary baddies, his chronically maddened derision offset by her vacuous and perpetually paranoid trophy wife. The magnificent Jack Warden anchors the heart of the picture to its underlay of bro-mantic chemistry, lost, rekindled, then sacrificed again with heartbreaking precision over the sincere loss of a good friend. It just works – spectacularly and with a ‘lump in the throat’ finale capped off by a bond of reunion between Joe and Betty. Obviously, Beatty knew his craft as Heaven Can Wait raked in a cool $100 million against its relatively paltry $15 million budget. At Oscar time, though nominated for a whopping 9 Academy Awards, Heaven Can Wait took only a single statuette home – for Best Art Direction. Aside: if the Farnsworth mansion looks familiar to some, it’s likely due to its ever-lasting iconography as the Carrington estate on TV’s long-running primetime soap opera, Dynasty (1981-89) – the Filoli manor, once a private residence, now a main staple of California chic under the National Trust for Historic Preservation. Arguably, Academy voters were a wee envious of Beatty and the picture’s success – perhaps, even determined not to let Hollywood’s reluctant upstart have the upper hand, critically, nominated in all four major categories; only the second time in Oscar history where a single artist was so honored. The first: Orson Welles for Citizen Kane (1941) – very spiffy company, indeed!

The executive brain trust over at Paramount Home Video, to have long ago made the decision to forsake its’ back catalog in hi-def has oft baffled me. Then again, this is a studio that basically sold its entire history to MCA in the mid-fifties because it could no perceive ‘resale’ value in the likes of a Bing Crosby, Mae West or W.C. Fields. Clairvoyance – not Paramount’s thing. Need further proof: Paramount was among the last of the Hollywood majors to support DVD (they went with DIVX instead) and, at the dawn of 1080p, chose instead to ignore the necessary upgrades to make their catalog viable for rediscovery on home video. Even when they did release a sporadic title to Blu-ray, or farm others out to third party distributors (they even brokered a deal with Warner Bros. to do the heavy lifting back in 2016), the results were hit or miss. Shane (1953), as example, arrived on Blu-ray via Paramount’s arrangement with Warner Home Video, and, in near pristine condition while Witness (1985), a picture released under their own home video banner, and, made decades afterward, looked as though to have been fed through a meat grinder just prior to being mastered in 1080p. Aside: Paramount has yet to correct the shame of Witness on Blu-ray. But I digress – especially when, shortly thereafter, the studio began getting fairly comfortable farming out VHS quality plunk to Aussie-label ViaVision in the hopes no one would notice. Have you seen No Way To Treat a Lady or Double Jeopardy? Just awful!   Paramount also chose to virtually ignore a vast assortment of very high-profile catalog titles altogether, of which Heaven Can Wait, on many a fan’s ‘must have’ lists, was merely one of the ‘lost’ treasures still MIA until now. Was it worth the wait?

Arguably, yes – as things look very good indeed in 1080p. Not sure why Paramount didn’t include this one as part of their Paramount Presents…line-up, unless merely to eschew the responsibility of having to cull together some extras. This disc has none. But I am getting ahead of myself. Prepare for a highly enjoyable video presentation. The image here is bright, subtly nuanced, sporting a modicum of film grain looking very indigenous to its source, and detail that will surely impress, without seemingly any untoward digital sharpening.  A few shots appear curiously ‘clumpy’ as though DNR might have been liberally applied, but I don’t think so. It’s a weird anomaly, less fully true and organic to film while still not exactly artificially processed. Overall, the image is not without merit. Color saturation is wonderful. Flesh tones appear natural. The blue/yellow football turf and red jerseys sparkle, contrasted nicely with deep and enveloping black levels.  Age-related artifacts are not an issue either. The DTS 2.0 mono gives an adequate, if unremarkable, but theatrically genuine listening experience. Occasionally, things can sound ever-so-slightly strident.  Did I mention, there are no extras? Ho-hum. Paramount at it's usual. Bottom line: Heaven Can Wait’s Blu-ray release delivers a solidly crafted video presentation while ditching the urge for a collector’s edition. But we really do wish Paramount would just decide, once and for all, what they are doing with their vintage flicks. Full-blown restorations, packed with oodles of extras would be nice – but likely impractical from a studio used to cutting every corner in the book, or, more recently, completely to avoid any interest in ‘the book’ itself. This disc? Highly recommended – for content and effort where it counts – on the transfer.

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

3.5

VIDEO/AUDIO

4.5

EXTRAS

0