Spielberg's famously disastrous comedy is kind of like the Heaven's Gate of comedies. Not because it was one of the expensive debacles that came out at around the same time (which it was), nor because it's as bad as Heaven's Gate (it isn't). The main link between these two otherwise dissimilar films is how they are both overwhelmed by the scale of their productions. Though Michael Cimino and Spielberg both produced films that were undeniably impressive as spectacles, somewhere along the way they forgot to also make films that would be, respectively, exciting or funny. Of course, Cimino had probably decided that it was beneath him to make a movie that would be "merely" exciting. Obviously making a Western was just too lowbrow for the maker of The Deer Hunter. 1941 doesn't possess anything close to the suffocating pretentiousness of Heaven's Gate; in fact the opposite is true. Both movies are equally stupid, but at least 1941 knows that it's stupid. Spielberg does actually try to fulfill the requirements of the genre he is working in, unlike Cimino. The problem with 1941 is how clearly you can see Spielberg trying to be funny. Comedy is like dance; it doesn't work if you can see the effort. The filmmakers' (especially Spielberg's) mistake was in thinking that physical destruction on its own is funny. Because of this approach, we are treated to the sights of: a tank crashing through a paint factory (and then a paint-thinner factory); a Japanese sub shelling an amusement park; a man trying to hit the sub with an anti-aircraft gun blowing apart his own house; the whole house falling into the ocean; and much, much more. What Spielberg and his collaborators seem to have forgotten is that destruction, however absurdly over-scaled, generally only works as the punch line to a gag. In Used Cars, which shares with 1941 the same writing team, Bob Gale and Robert Zemeckis, one of the funniest scenes involves one of the used-car salesman wrecking cars on his rival's lot. The scene works because of the salesman's demented spiel, while the destructiveness serves only to cap off the scene. In 1941, however, the human element gets lost amid the epic scale. The cast is impressive, but the actors seem to have been selected on a sort of rabbit's foot-type theory- hey, if we cast famous comedy stars or character actors, their talent will sort of rub off on the movie! John Belushi and Dan Ackroyd appear as, respectively, a crazed pilot and a pompous tank commander. Both of them seem to have been hired on the assumption that anything they did would be funny, without much thought as to how they might fit into the movie. Belushi, who is particularly out of place, does his shtick from Animal House but not nearly as funnily. Tim Matheson is also called on to reprise his role in Animal House, but not to much effect. John Candy plays a racist sergeant, which is apparently supposed to be funny in itself. In addition to then-current comedy stars, Spielberg also enlists a gallery of famous character actors. Warren Oates plays a Dr. Strangelove-type commander, and does not display any previously untapped knack for comedy. Elisha Cook Jr. shows up for about thirty seconds to get shot at by John Belushi. Slim Pickens is put to better use, as a drunken lumberjack who, in the movie's funniest scene, encounters a group of Japanese sailors and tries to chop them down with his ax. (Ironically, and incredibly, this scene was cut from the theatrical version, perhaps on the basis that what audiences really wanted was more scenes with Bobby Di Cicco). Robert Stack and Toshiro Mifune as, respectively, General Stilwell and a Japanese sub commander, are the only actors who emerge with any dignity intact. Stack also gets the movie's second funniest scene, tearfully watching Dumbo as a riot rages outside. The movie's visual scope is undeniably impressive. The sets are huge, while the costumes and props are characteristically impeccable. And I can't deny that part of me thoroughly enjoyed seeing all of this luxurious period detail get systematically trashed and destroyed, not to mention wasted on such a gleefully moronic movie. However, even on the visuals Spielberg and his collaborators shot themselves in the foot. Spielberg and his cinematographer, William Fraker, chose a fuzzy, smoke-filled visual style which generally just makes the movie look out of focus, when 1941 should have looked as bright and sharp as a Looney Tunes cartoon.
