Be a Clown
By David Skolnick
The
Jazz Singer (Jerry Lewis Enterprises/Hubbell
Robinson Productions, 1959) – Director: Ralph Nelson. Writers:
Oliver Crawford, Ernest D. Glucksman, & Ralph Nelson. Adapted
from the short story The Day of Atonement and
play The Jazz Singer by Samson
Raphaelson. Cast: Jerry Lewis, Anna Maria Alberghetti, Eduard Franz,
Molly Picon, Alan Reed, Joey Faye, Barry Gordon, & Del Moore. Color, 52 minutes.
Jerry
Lewis' artistic dream was to be taken seriously as an actor, and not
just a comedian. He rarely, if ever, succeeded. Through its
short-lived Lincoln-Mercury Startime series,
laughingly introduced as “TV's finest hour,” NBC gave Lewis his
first big opportunity at being a dramatic actor. The series, which
lasted a single season, featured a well-known actor or director in
each episode. The show's second episode, which aired October 13,
1959, has Lewis starring in The Jazz Singer. It was never
shown on television again. But it was released three years ago as a
DVD restored from a copy Lewis saved.
Hopefully
the day will come when Lewis or his family will turn over a copy of
the unreleased 1972 train-wreck movie The Day the Clown
Cried, in which he is a washed-up clown who leads Jewish children
to their death in Nazi Germany gas chambers. The world would be a
stranger place if that occurs. (Read our article on that “lost”
film here.)
The
Jazz Singer is about a son estranged from his dying Jewish
cantor father. The father is angry that his son got into show
business rather than carry on the family tradition of being a cantor,
who sings religious songs and leads prayers in synagogues. At the
end, the son shuns a big opportunity at the last moment to sing “Kol
Nidre” at the beginning of the Yom Kippur, the highest of holy days
in the Jewish faith, service in his father's place. Pops is on his
deathbed, hearing his son singing and is able to rest in peace.
I've
never seen a good rendition of the story, primarily because it's
corny, clichéd, and way too sentimental. Al Jolson made movie
history in 1927 with what is considered cinema's first “talkie,”
in the role Raphaelson wrote with Jolson in mind. Jolson's version
has him sing a few songs, some in blackface, and about two minutes of
synchronized talking, including his famous line: “Wait a minute,
wait a minute, you ain't heard nothin' yet.” While groundbreaking,
the film is not good. But the novelty of sound made it a tremendous
hit and changed the expectations of moviegoers who demanded and got
sound – no matter how primitive – on the Silver Screen. (This
was the precursor to video killing the radio star.)
In
1952, the first remake was released with Danny Thomas in the starring
role. I've never seen it, and neither have a lot of people, though it
can be seen on TCM from time to time. Reviews of the film are
generally unfavorable, which makes sense as the story is the same and
there's no “talkie” novelty. Also, Thomas was not a movie star.
While
I'm a huge Neil Diamond fan, his 1980 film version with Lucie Arnaz
(who was such a bad actress that she peaked in her debut film, the
terrible Billy Jack Goes to Washington) and Laurence
Olivier (during his “pay me and I'll do anything” period) is
awful. Diamond isn't an actor, but he could sing. The film is a
disaster, though it included three excellent songs,
“America,” “Love on the Rocks,” and “Hello Again.”
Well
before Diamond donned the yarmulke and seven years after Thomas'
version, Lewis starred in his rendition of The Jazz Singer on
TV. I have no idea why anyone thought this was a good idea. Lewis
isn't a credible serious actor – though he would make numerous
efforts throughout his career to be one. For example, The
Nutty Professor (1963) is considered a comedy though there's
barely a laugh in the film. To Lewis, his Professor Julius Kelp alter
ego, Buddy Love, an obnoxious ladies' man, is a dramatic role. He
does a halfway-decent Frank Sinatra impersonation, but the film is
flat, and is neither funny nor dramatic. It's only in The
King of Comedy, Martin Scorsese's 1983 black comedy with Lewis in
the supporting role, which finally gives him success in a
serious role – though the film is far from being a straight drama.
Lewis
idolized Jolson, which probably explains how the TV show came about.
Why he was allowed to do so is anyone's guess. Although Startime was
taped, its use of cheap props, combined with bad
acting, tiny sets, coughing sounds from those off camera, and flubbed
lines, makes it seem as if it was done live. NBC
obviously thought highly of the program, as they aired the show in
color, which in 1959, is staggering. The Jazz Singer opens
in a cheap-looking fake nightclub with about a dozen people in the
audience watching Joey Robin's (Lewis) act, which combines attempts
at comedy and singing. However, Robin's shtick is stale –
he tells a joke about being in an airplane and uses his “nice-lady”
voice every time he says the word turbulence, which is
often. His singing, if it can be called such, is even worse.
In
the audience is successful TV actress Ginny Gibson (Alberghetti),
who's seen Robin's act three other times and loves it. She drags her
show's producer, Harry Lee (Moore), to the show, and like the rest of
us, Lee doesn't think much of Robin. Because the room is the size of
a postage stamp, Robin hears Lee complaining, but thinks Gibson is
also mocking him. In retaliation, he repeatedly insults
Gibson until, embarrassed, she and Lee leave.
We
then go to the home of the Rabinowitz's, Morris (Franz), a cantor –
who played the same role in Thomas' 1952 film – and his wife,
Sarah. The cantor is tutoring a boy who is singing a religious song
in Hebrew. Morris and Sarah are Robin's parents and Mom
can't stop talking about how much she misses her son, Joachim, who
changed his name when he got into show biz. However, Joachim
Rabinowitz aka Joey Robin is dead to his father. It's the
same story as the other versions, but Robin, like the main character
in the other film remakes, is not a jazz singer. We see a soft side
to Morris, who has a picture of his son crudely hidden in a frame
behind another picture. The home looks like it's made out of flimsy
plywood, and likely is.
Back
to Robin, whose behavior toward Gibson really ticks off his
agent, Tony De Santos (Faye), who's likely working on a
commission and isn't seeing much with his client playing tiny dive
bars. Joey realizes he's made a big mistake and he and De Santos go
to a classy hotel (this fake nightclub looks considerably better
though the production budget wasn't wasted on props) to hear Gibson's
act. She sort of sings an opera song, which is more a
high-pitched yell with some melody. Robin gets Gibson to come over,
and he apologizes for his behavior.
Gibson
tells Joey and Tony she had a brother who fought in the Korean
War. He was a huge fan of Joey, who performed for the troops in
what was probably some sort of torture for prisoners of war. Gibson
wants Robin to be on her next TV show, which, if he's good, will lead
to instant fame and fortune. The show is based in Los Angeles, the
Rabinowitz's hometown, and it just happens to be in
time for Pop's birthday. Joey sends his mother a telegram that
he's going to be in town and wants to surprise Dad, who he hasn't
seen in five years, at his birthday party. The only person Sarah
tells is her brother, Nate (Reed). For those not familiar with Alan
Reed, I'll give you a three-word clue, “Yabba, Dabba,
Doo!” Yup, Reed would go on to voice Fred Flintstone for about
six years, starting less than a year after his performance in this.
Robin
shows up to the party late, and he and his father embrace. But
tension quickly returns as Robin tries to be funny. Dad says,
“That it's a knife in my heart that my only son turns his back on
tradition and becomes a clown.” He doesn't know the half of it.
Lewis gives us one of his classic sad looks while garnering no
sympathy from viewers. He's trying to be sincere in his acting, but
just can't do it. Joey goes on to explain why he's a comedian and
sings what his father calls “a jazzed-up version” of “one of
our most sacred songs.” Morris proceeds to slap his son in the
face. The overacting needle is off the charts, but at least
we get a “jazz” reference in this version of The Jazz
Singer. In case we missed it, Morris, in a fit of anger, says,
“Better I should be dead then my song sing jazz holy songs in my
house,” as he orders his son to leave. It kind of kills the
party atmosphere.
We're
next inside a synagogue and Morris isn't feeling too well. Morris
tries to sing and collapses in dramatic fashion because of his
failing health. The story then immediately jumps to Robin practicing
a really high pratfall. Lewis gets some serious height on this
pratfall, landing on a wooden floor, which has got to
hurt. He does a little dancing, including tap, and after leaving the
stage, he is praised by fellow performers and the crew working on
Gibson's show.
Back
in his dressing room, Robin imagines what a great success he'll be.
The absolute worst part of this stinker is a dream sequence in which
he marries Gibson with his parents right by his side. He's really
dreaming if he thinks his cantor father and religious mother would
approve of him marrying a shiksa. It's awful and seems
more forced than the rest of the production. There doesn't appear to
be any attraction to Joey on Gibson's part, and it's the only time
the viewer gets the impression he's into her. Joey puts on heavy
clown makeup, including a red nose, as he's going to perform “Be a
Clown” on that evening's show.
Fred
Flintstone, I mean Uncle Nate, appears in Robin's dressing room –
apparently there's no security – to tell him of his father's health
and even worse, there's no one to sing “Kol Nidre” on Yom Kippur,
which just happens to be that night. Joey refuses to see
his father, giving a speech to his uncle about how important his work
is. His mother also easily slips into her son's dressing room,
begging him to see his dying father. Lewis attempts to play this
seriously, but comes off terrible. He tries to practice his
song, but can't concentrate and runs off the stage. In full clown
makeup, he goes to see his father at the family home. If his father
is dying, why did the doctor just leave and why isn't he at the
hospital?
Dad
can't sing and asks Joey/Joachim to fill in for him. Moments later,
Ginny and Harry arrive at the house with the latter demanding Joey's
return to the TV studio as the show is going to air soon. Joey slips
out of the house unnoticed. Harry tells Nate, “The show must go
on.” In response, Nate said, “Where does it say, 'The show must
go on?' What is this, an 11th Commandment or something? The show must
go on?”
During
a pause in the argument, Morris stands up and attempts to
go to temple, but stops when he hears his son singing “Kol Nidre.”
The synagogue must be 10 feet from the Rabinowitz house and the wind
has to be blowing in the right direction because there's no other
explanation for how Morris can hear his son singing so clearly from
inside the temple.
The
story ends with Lewis' character wearing a tallit (prayer
shawl), a strange yarmulke that looks like an ice-cream-man
hat and a red nose – though the clown makeup is almost completely
gone – doing a terrible lip sync job to “Kol Nidre.” There's a
large American flag prominently on display at the temple right behind
him. I guess that's to show Jews are Americans. And that's it. It
just ends.
At
52 minutes, it's easily the shortest of the four Jazz
Singers.
The original is 88 minutes, the Thomas version is 107, and Diamond's
is a painfully long 115 minutes. The Lewis version is rushed and the
story compressed. There shouldn't be too many complaints because with
twice the time there's the risk of this being twice as bad, assuming
that's possible. You can view it at
your own risk at: http://vimeo.com/86241792
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