Max Shulman was an absolutely brilliant comic writer/satirist ("The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis," "Anybody Got a Match?", etc.). In the mid-50s he published "Rally 'Round The Flag, Boys!" taking on everything from Madison Avenue, the New Haven Railroad, the U.S. Air Force to the space race in a hilarious farce that shows how seemingly unconnected lives, priorities and events can converge to produce a disaster of epic proportions. Even little league gets a drubbing at his hands.
This movie took the title and many of the book's characters. For some reason, the writers and producers chose to discard everything else.
Newman could have been GREAT as Harry Bannerman, harried Peter Pan-type account exec facing the prospect of fatherhood and settling down. Unfortunately, the script sabotaged him. Joanne Woodward is relegated to standing around looking hastled and confused-- probably trying to decide exactly how she's going to kill her agent for getting her into this dog. Veterans like Gale Gordon, Jack Carson and Murvyn Vye are similarly wasted.
The only cast member who doesn't disappoint, strangely enough, is Tuesday Weld as Comfort Goodpasture . . . but then, her character didn't have much to do in the book either, come to think of it.
This is what happens when Hollywood bends over backwards to avoid offending anyone . . . after having purchased the rights to a book that's guaranteed to offend just about everyone.
There is a character named Hoffa in this film. Oscar, not James. Probably the best thing that could be done with this turkey of a movie would be to take the master copy, seal it up in an empty bottle of "Newman's Own," and bury it about six feet under Hoffa. James, not Oscar.
This movie took the title and many of the book's characters. For some reason, the writers and producers chose to discard everything else.
Newman could have been GREAT as Harry Bannerman, harried Peter Pan-type account exec facing the prospect of fatherhood and settling down. Unfortunately, the script sabotaged him. Joanne Woodward is relegated to standing around looking hastled and confused-- probably trying to decide exactly how she's going to kill her agent for getting her into this dog. Veterans like Gale Gordon, Jack Carson and Murvyn Vye are similarly wasted.
The only cast member who doesn't disappoint, strangely enough, is Tuesday Weld as Comfort Goodpasture . . . but then, her character didn't have much to do in the book either, come to think of it.
This is what happens when Hollywood bends over backwards to avoid offending anyone . . . after having purchased the rights to a book that's guaranteed to offend just about everyone.
There is a character named Hoffa in this film. Oscar, not James. Probably the best thing that could be done with this turkey of a movie would be to take the master copy, seal it up in an empty bottle of "Newman's Own," and bury it about six feet under Hoffa. James, not Oscar.