On Monday at 7:15 PM the Chicago Film Society and CHIRP Radio will present a rare 35-millimeter revival of Robert Altman’s Popeye at the Music Box Theatre. This is surely the most important revival screening of the week, a chance to see an unsung American masterpiece in the big-screen environment it deserves. (Incidentally, the week’s second-most important revival—Doc Films’ 35-millimeter presentation of Alan Rudolph’s Remember My Name, playing Thursday at 9:45 PM—was produced by Altman.) The film remains remarkable for possessing one of the greatest brain trusts in American movies. Not only was it directed by Altman; it was written by the brilliant cartoonist Jules Feiffer, shot by the great Italian cinematographer Giuseppe Rotunno (whose credits include multiple films for Luchino Visconti, Federico Fellini, and Mike Nichols), contains songs by Harry Nilsson, and the inspired cast features Robin Williams (as Popeye), Shelley Duvall (as Olive Oyl), Ray Walston, Paul Dooley, and a number of limber circus performers. The contributions of these artists combine to form something much grander than the sum of their parts—the film may be the most operatic comic-strip adaptation ever made.
And what an ensemble! Williams and Duvall are perfectly cast (their broad expressions really suggest comic-strip characters brought to life), but special mention should be made of Dooley’s characterization of Wimpy the hamburger fiend and Walston’s performance as the Commodore. Neither actor is still for a moment in the film, filling out their roles with funny little gestures that suggest the constant intervention of a cartoonist’s pen. Consider the way Dooley attempts to walk off with a burger during “Everything Is Food,” how his fingers dance over the sandwich and how his silly totter conveys a childlike sense of self-satisfaction. His behavior is so wonderful that you don’t even realize it’s the setup for a gag; Wimpy is so busy luxuriating over his stolen sandwich that he doesn’t have a chance to eat it before a chef takes it back from him. The film is full of countless such behaviors, giving one almost too much to take in at any given moment. (Popeye definitely gains from multiple viewings—it’s too bad the Music Box is showing it only once.) Yet one is never distracted from the central story, in which Popeye comes to Sweethaven, enters into a relationship with Olive, searches for his long-lost father, and adopts an abandoned baby. The cast invests these conflicts with recognizable emotion, bringing an authentic sweetness to the broad material.
