Take the Money and Run is the directorial
début of Woody Allen and is essential viewing for anyone wanting to trace the
evolution of the man as an artist. More importantly, it is a very funny film in
its own right, and one that has elements that pre-dates a range of comedies
from Airplane to This is Spinal Tap.
Shot as a fake documentary, the film traces
the life of Virgil Starkwell, the archetypal loser criminal. Virgil goes from
bullied child, to falling in with a bad crowd, to a series of bungled crimes
and prison time. Footage of him in action is intercut with interviews with the
likes of his long suffering wife, a shrink, and his cleverly disguised parents
In one aspect, it is apparent that perhaps
Allen is still learning his craft, as nearly all of the scenes feel like
sketches, and loosely connected ones, rather than parts of a whole story. This
is understandable given that this is what he would have been used to writing on
TV, as well as in stand-up and his pieces for the New Yorker, which much of the
dialogue sounds very similar to with its offbeat non-sequiturs. However, so many of the sketches are brilliantly funny, which surely should be one way of judging the success of a comedy film.
Take the Money and Run is one of the first
examples of a “mockumentary”, and I think it is the first made as a
feature film for cinema release. It is certainly sets the template for how the
comedy works in this genre, with the serious nature of the documentary style
constantly clashing with the stupidity of the characters, or the surreal silly
circumstances on screen, such as Starkwell's complaining over his choice of
wardrobe for a bank job (“I have happened to have ironed your beige shirt. Do
you wanna wear that?” “Who wears beige to a bank robbery?”)
Aside from Allen’s own later film Zelig,
the most obvious example to take up this style would be This Is Spinal Tap.
However, while both of those films are ostensibly set in the real world (or a
realistic depiction of it), Take the Money and Run frequently veers into the
sort of surreal tangents later to be seen in Blazing Saddles, or Airplane, with
jokes such as Starkwell in a car trying to chase and run down a blackmailer
inside her own living room, or an experimental drug with the side effect of
turning him into a Rabbi.
The use of voice-over (something that would
crops up frequently in Allen films) allows us to quickly speed through any
back-story and set up the scene for a gag without losing momentum. In addition,
using Jackson Beck to perform the voice-over is a stroke of genius, as his
deadpan deep baritone delivery adds gravitas, and works to play up the parody
of the documentary style.
There are other touches that would crop up
again later throughout his work, such his underrated skill for physical comedy
(perfected a few years later in Sleeper), as well throwaway references to things
such as psychoanalysis and Judaism. Also worth a mention is Marvin Hamlisch's
score, which, with its recurring themes and motifs, helps go some way to
creating a coherent feel amongst the chaos of the script.
The film also stops just in time, as even
Allen's unpredictable non-sequiturs start to get predictable. This is less of a
problem in later films where he has fleshed out characters and a meatier story,
but here, where there is nothing but gags, a slight monotony sets in during the
final few moments.
Take the Money and Run was originally
supposed to end on a downer, with Virgil being gunned down in slow motion, a la
Bonnie and Clyde, but was talked out of it by Ralph Rosenblum, the man hired as
editorial consultant. Rosenblum also helped shape and tighten the remaining
footage, and Allen was suitably impressed with his work to collaborate on a
further five films, including Annie Hall
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