Movies are a curious thing, aren’t they? They have the power to transport us, often against our will, to another world entirely. Sometimes, a movie transports you so thoroughly that you say, “Please, take me back home. I no longer want to live here. It’s quite depressing, and I have many important errands to run later this afternoon. My driver’s license is about to expire.” When I think about that phenomenon, I think first and foremost of Jay Roach’s incomparable “Austin Powers in Goldmember.”
I’m a bit of a tinkerer in the cinema myself, both as a film critic and as the director of “The Last Picture Show” and “Paper Moon.” I could sit here and rummage through the attic of my career, but I find such things quite immodest. Needless to say, I have a few baubles boxed up from my past, such as a handwritten letter from Vivica A. Fox, who worked with me on the ABC telefilm “A Saintly Switch.”
I was not asked to discuss myself, though. Rather, I was charged with waxing lyrical on the enduring legacy of the final film in the “Austin Powers” trilogy. What a fine example of a filmmaker and an actor clicking on all levels of the craft—writing, performance, art direction, audible flatulence. Comedy is not a simple genre to dabble in, either. I made a bit of a name for myself with a trifle you possibly have seen called “What’s Up, Doc?” It might be on Netflix, if you’d like to check it out.
Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have said that, since this is for the Criterion Channel, which is like Netflix for smart, attractive people, if you ask me.
Anyway, I’m reminded of something John Ford told me. Ford was prone to these sorts of grandiose pronouncements. Also, fits of alcoholic rage before noon. He said to me, “Find a place for a nice, funny wig in your picture. The audience will see that it is not the actor’s real hair and react with both fear and intrigue.” I believe that Jay Roach took that to heart when crafting the character of Goldmember (Mike Myers), a Dutch pervert who eats his own skin as a snack. Believe it or not, that isn’t his real hair.
“Goldmember” is, above all else, a film about fatherhood. Austin Powers (Mike Myers) is an accomplished, womanizing British spy who has a fraught relationship with his estranged father, Nigel (Michael Caine). The primary antagonist, Dr. Evil (Mike Myers), has his own issues with his son, Scott, brought to life with gusto by Seth Green.
Green is absolutely sublime in this picture. He has the gravitas and the simmering menace of a young Jimmy Cagney. Michael Curtiz tells a great story about Cagney forgetting his wallet at the Warners cafeteria. Cagney liked to buy lunch for the grips and the transpo crew. I think it’s because Cagney fancied himself a bit of a blue-collar guy, even if he was the biggest movie star in the world. Cagney came from nothing, as many of us did back then. His father was a real Irish lout—a bartender and an amateur boxer. He loved nothing more than to get into a drunken piss-up with the Italians down the street. Boy did he hate Italians.
Out of some misplaced need to apologize for his dad’s boorish behavior, one day Cagney buys lunch for all the Italians on the crew on “Yankee Doodle Dandy,” which is the picture that finally won Cagney his Oscar. So Cagney roars in that distinct Cagney voice, “Alla ya meatball subs and lasagnas are on me, ya filthy animals!” I mean, that was Cagney. What can I say?
He flings his hands in the air and his beautifully crafted, monogrammed leather wallet goes flying. I wasn’t there, but I heard that it spun at least seven or eight times before returning to earth. No one can confirm where it landed, but Hollywood legend says it ended up in Joan Blondell’s minestrone. That shows you how influential Cagney’s father was on his career.
I’d be remiss if I didn’t heap some praise on the character of Fat Bastard (Mike Myers), who undergoes a dramatic transformation in the course of this picture. He loses about seven hundred pounds for the purposes of the dénouement, in which Austin Powers and Foxxy Cleopatra (Beyoncé) share a chaste kiss at the première of a movie based on Powers’s life. Bastard is a controversial character when looked at through the lens of today’s culture. Our society frowns on such things as casual misogyny, body shaming, and eating babies, which were quite acceptable in the late nineties and early two-thousands. Times change. Tastes evolve.
But, you know, if Orson Welles were here today, he’d have no problem with a gentle ribbing about his weight. Orson had a wonderful sense of humor about himself. This reminds me of the time Orson came over to the house in Beachwood Canyon. Polly had prepared some finger sandwiches, olives stuffed with blue cheese, pot roast. You know, light snacks. There was some iced tea out, but Orson demanded wine. He slammed his meaty paw down on the dining-room table and screamed, “If I don’t have a glass of sherry right now, I will carve the word ‘asshole’ into the side of your Rolls-Royce with a bowie knife and micturate in your gas tank, you little shitface coward.”
This was before Postmates, back when you couldn’t just order wine with your phone, so I made Polly drive down to Sunset with fifteen dollars in cash in her pocket to get the poor soul some hooch. While we waited, we talked about the cinema, as we were wont to do. He said something about how they should have printed “Midnight Cowboy” on a roll of toilet paper “so I could rub my bum on it more easily.” He was an angry man, not unlike Fat Bastard.
I do hope you revisit “Austin Powers in Goldmember,” streaming this month on the Criterion Channel.
“What’s Up, Doc?” isn’t, but that’s fine.
