Pennies From Heaven

1981's PENNIES FROM HEAVEN surely must be one of the oddest, most schizophrenic films to come out of Hollywood.  That was entirely the idea.  I imagine Dennis Potter, who adapted his teleplay from the BBC series, must've have been pleased with the results.  This movie seems to reflect his creative m.o., and I have to raise a glass to director Herbert Ross and company for going full tilt with the concept.   Having the conviction to brazenly produce such an unpleasant, off putting drama, one that examines how fantasy informs our reality and vice versa.  Is there salvation to be found in the make believe? Or does it simply warp our view and seal our doom?

In Depression era Chicago, Arthur Parker (Steve Martin) barely ekes a living selling sheet music.  His dream is to open a record store, and while his wife Joan (Jessica Harper) has some inheritance money in reserve, she insists it should be saved for a "rainy day."  Arthur believes it is raining, cats and dogs at that.  And Joan is the very definition of frigid, perhaps even terrified of intimacy.  Is it some deep seated issue, or just that Arthur is a strange dude with weird fetishes? Like asking his wife to apply lipstick to her nipples.

One day, Arthur happens upon Eileen (Bernadette Peters), a shy schoolteacher.  He is instantly smitten. After a bit of stalking, the lovers end up on her couch.  But Arthur decides to go back to Joan, who relents and gives him the money for his shop.  Meanwhile, Eileen loses her job when it is discovered she is pregnant.  Will she find Arthur? Will she transform into something more worldly in the meanwhile? It is a good bet when she meets Tom (Christopher Walken), a stylish pimp.  Beyond that, you're on your own, invisible audience.

I haven't mentioned that PENNIES FROM HEAVEN is a musical, with numbers as lavish as anything produced in the real 1930s.  Ken Adam designed the sets.  Bob Mackie designed the costumes.  Ross stages truly astonishing set pieces, each more stunning than the previous.  My favorite - the elaborate number with Eileen and her students, whose desks turn into mini grand pianos.  The film's conceit is that each character, when life is especially dour, imagines the brown landscape gives way to MGM glitter.  They will lip sync period tunes, though Martin uses his own voice at the film's close.  Some of the transitions from reality to fantasy are initially awkward, but waste little time as they ignite the screen.  Gordon Willis' cinematography perfectly realizes it all.

The film created a palpable discomfort in me as I re-watched it after many years.  It is hardly enjoyable, and at times I have to agree with Fred Astaire's assessment that it was "miserable" and "vulgar."  No '30s era musical was quite like this.  Potter's scathing and heartbreaking points are unmistakable.