CMBA Spring Blogathon: "Adam's Rib," or Court and Spark

This is part of the CMBA Spring Blogathon: Words, Words, Words! Check out all entries!

SCENE: Upper middle-class New York City apartment, evening. Wife waits patiently by door. Husband enters.

Husband: Hello, thing.

Wife: Hello at last.

Husband: Well well well.

Wife: Well well well what?

Husband: Here we are.

Wife: How true.

Husband: Home at last.

Wife: You took the words right out of my mouth.

You have just read great screenwriting.

The movie is 1949's "Adam's Rib," a film about a married couple, inspired by a story about a married couple, and written by a married couple, Ruth Gordon and Garson Kanin. The married couple in the film is played, of course, by Katharine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy who were an all-but-married couple in real life, and this is, to my mind, the Tracy-and-Hepburniest movie of all.

That is: When we think of the unique give-and-take that we associate with a Tracy and Hepburn movie, the immovable male (who ends up moving) versus the edgy female (who loses some of her edginess), we think of this movie. Or I do, anyway -- so there! I'm also hazarding a guess that this movie comes closest to echoing their offscreen relationship, but maybe that's just a wish and not a fact.

Beyond that -- and adding to its greatness -- "Adam's Rib" captures, better than just about any American movie I can think of, what it's like to be married to someone in the best possible way -- sharing an easy, everyday intimacy that enriches your life and yet can still drive you crazy. No doubt Gordon and Kanin had this kind of relationship -- if they didn't, and they were still able to write a script like this, it's some sort of freaking miracle.

Even the way the story for "Adam's Rib" came about sounds like something that could happen in the movie -- Gordon and Kanin were driving through a frightening storm, and Gordon wanted to concentrate on something else. So she asked Kanin to tell her a story. He told her the true story of actors Raymond Massey and Adrianne Allen. Once upon a time, they were married to each other, and they decided to split. Their attorneys were married to each other. During the legal proceedings, each of them fell in love with their attorneys, so both couples split and then everybody got married to everybody else.

From that, "Adam's Rib" began its gestation.

On the surface, of course, "Adam's Rib" is about a courtroom battle between two married attorneys on opposite sides of a case who almost divorce -- Amanda Bonner (Hepburn) is in private practice, and Adam (Tracy) is an assistant district attorney.

The case they get mixed up in involves Doris Attinger (Judy Holliday), a wronged wife. One afternoon, she buys a gun and follows nogoodnik husband Warren (Tom Ewell) to an assignation with lady friend Beryl Caighn (Jean Hagen). Doris barges in and shakily aims her gun at Warren, winging him. Then Doris breaks down and is arrested.

Something about Doris's case awakens the crusader in Amanda. She visits Doris in jail and gets her story, in a scene that also acts as a kind of unofficial screen test of Holliday for the Billie Dawn role in "Born Yesterday":

To paraphrase Carl Laemmle, good writing is worth repeating -- especially since this blogathon is about words. So dig the dialogue between Amanda and Doris. Notice how it's witty, yet appropriate and informative.


Amanda: Now, you would help us very much if you could reconstruct the day. All of yesterday.

Doris: Well, first thing in the morning ...

Amanda: Yes?

Doris: ... I woke up.

Amanda: Yes?

Doris: And I see he didn't sleep home.

Amanda: You were shocked and surprised.

Doris: Oh, no. Not shocked, not surprised. He used to not do that a lot, come home.
...
Doris: So then I bought some chocolate nut bars ... and I went outside of his office and I waited the whole afternoon. And I kept eating the candy bars and waiting until he come out. And then I followed him. And then I shot him.

Amanda: And after you shot him, how did you feel?

Doris: Hungry.

The Attinger Affair opens the movie with unexpected drama, with Manhattan location filming and a slight seediness that calls to mind "Naked City." The Attingers, even if they were getting along, are loud and unsophisticated -- they're a world away from the Bonners in several significant ways, and the script expertly conveys the way each couple lives, talks and fights.

Meanwhile, Adam has found out that Amanda will be his adversary in the courtroom. He steadfastly sticks to the idea that Doris Attinger deserves justice for what she did, but Amanda wants to make Doris more than a defendant -- she wants her to serve as a symbol for wronged womankind. But their argument about it never descends to Attinger territory -- they exchange words and then use their pet name for each other.

Adam: I am going to cut you into 12 little pieces and feed you to the jury. Good night, Pinkie.

In the courtroom, Amanda is intent on defending her client by skewering gender assumptions while Adam steams. And the headlines come at Adam's expense -- especially when a female weightlifter (Hope Emerson) lifts Adam in a show of strength.

That night, it's impossible for Adam to just make nice. He and Amanda are going to give each other massages, but his anger slips out, and an affectionate pat on the fanny is delivered with a smidgen of force, to which Amanda takes offense:

Adam: What are ya? Sore about a little slap?

Amanda: No.

Adam: Well, what then?

Amanda (outraged): You meant that, didn't you? You really meant that.

Adam: Why no, I ...

Amanda: Yes you did. I can tell. I know your type. I know a slap from a slug.

Adam: Well, OK. OK.

Amanda: I'm not so sure it is. I'm not so sure I care to expose myself to typical instinctive masculine brutality.

Adam: Oh, come now.

Amanda: And it felt not only as though you meant it, but as though you felt you had a right to. I can tell.

Adam: What've you got back there? Radar equipment? 

When the verdict is announced, the photographers for the newspapers (remember them?) want everyone to kiss and make up for the front pages -- the Attingers awkwardly acquiesce, but the Bonners? Not so much.

That night, Amanda is back at the apartment with her willing accomplice, next-door neighbor Kip Lurie (David Wayne), a songwriter in the Cole Porter mode (the song he writes, "Farewell, Amanda," was in fact written by Porter). Kip covets Amanda, and he's more than happy to console her while Adam isn't around.

But suddenly, Adam is around -- with a pistol:

Amanda: Adam. Listen to me.

Adam: Don't you handle me, lady. I'm not nutty. Not any more than the average. You said it yourself today. You said anyone is capable of attack if provoked. You bet, including me. Yes. (To Kip) Don't you move, young man. You stand as still as you can be.

Amanda: Now, Adam. Adam.

Adam: You said that before.

Amanda: You're sick. Please. What are you doing?

Adam: Teaching a lesson. Him first. Then comes yours. Get away, Amanda.

Amanda: Adam, stop.

Adam: Get away, Amanda!

Kip (intense, terrified): Don't do it, Amanda.

Amanda: Stop it! You've no right. You can't do what you're doing.

Adam: What?

Amanda: No one has a right to ... (realizes what she's saying)

Adam: That's all, sister. That's all I wanted to hear. Music to my tin ear. (Puts gun barrel in mouth as Amanda and Kip scream; Adam eats the barrel) Licorice. If there's anything I'm a sucker for, it's licorice.

Amanda (furious): I'll never forget this! Never!

Adam: Me neither. I'll never forget that no matter what you think you think ... you think the same as I think. That I have no right, that no one has a right to break the law! That your client had no right. That I'm right and you're wrong.

Then Amanda and Adam split up. The end.

Nah, just kidding.

But to indirectly prove Amanda's point -- that men and women are fundamentally equal -- Adam wins her back through a traditionally (at least in 1949) feminine method: by fake crying.

In the film's final scene, Amanda and Adam have made and they're heading to their house in Connecticut for the weekend -- but not before a final conversation that kind of serves as the movie's benediction for a fulfilling marriage.

Adam: Say!

Amanda: Speaking to me?

Adam: You were pretty good.

Amanda: When?

Adam: All the way through. Especially the summation. You had me.

Amanda: You weren't so bad yourself.

Adam: I didn't think so either. We got a big thing to talk about tomorrow.

Amanda: What?

Adam: They want me to run for that county court judgeship. The Republicans do. It's a sure seat, practically.

Amanda: Pinky!

Adam: Yeah, that's me. County Court Judge Pinky.

Amanda: I'm real proud of you.

Adam: I'd rather have you say that than anything.

Here's the trailer for "Adam's Rib":

Watching "It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World" with My 13-Year-Old Self

Two years ago I kicked off this blog with a post about one of my favorite films, 1963's "It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World." I have a great deal of affection for this white elephant of a movie, which I saw for the first time in 1970, when it was re-released to theatres. I was 13.

In honor of the film's release by the Criterion Collection -- Which my daughter gave me for Father's Day! -- and which includes a restored, at least as far as is possible, 197-minute version, I have invited my 13-year-old self, Davy, to join me in watching the film for, oh, about the 912th time.

Welcome, Davy.

"I hate the name Davy."

I know. The good news is, within a few years people will stop calling you that. Except for Grandma Dixie. Grandma Dixie will never stop calling you that.

"Who are you?"

I'm you, 44 years from now.

"Thanks for the warning. I need to start taking better care of myself. How do I know you're really an older me?"

Because I know things about you that no one else knows.

When you were three, you made our mom set a place at the dinner table for Shari Lewis.

When you were six, your first-grade teacher wouldn't let the kids correct mistakes on their papers, so you smuggled erasers to the class and got in trouble.

And you have a fixation on Elizabeth Montgomery.
 
"Hey, I am 13, you know."

Fine. Now I'll just start the DVD player.

"What's a DVD player? Remember, I come from a time with just three TV channels."

A DVD player is a magical machine that lets you watch any movie you want, whenever you want. They'll start appearing in about 1985. Now let's start the movie with Saul Bass's credits and Ernest Gold's merry-go-round theme:

The next thing we see is a ribbon of asphalt across the California desert. The real star of this movie is the American highway system.

"I love car chases."

I know. I'm you, remember? Here's a clip:

Oops. Sorry, wrong movie.

"It looked funny!"

It is -- "21 Jump Street" with Jonah Hill and Channing Tatum.

"Who or what are they?"

Never mind -- back to our movie.

We're introduced to the main characters as Smiler Grogan (Jimmy Durante) drives recklessly past them before flying off a cliff and crashing in a valley. They are:

Failed entrepreneur Russell Finch (Milton Berle), wife Emmaline (Dorothy Provine in hair helmet) and mother-in-law (Ethel Merman):

Dentist Melville Crump (Sid Caesar) and wife Monica (Edie Adams):

Truck driver Lennie Pike (Jonathan Winters):

And buddies Ding (Mickey Rooney) and Benjy (Buddy Hackett):

"This is Buddy Hackett's greatest role -- except for 'The Love Bug.' "

Agreed. Before he literally kicks the bucket, Grogan tells the men that he has buried $350,000 from a robbery under a big W in a park about three hours away. And thus begins a race to get the cash. End of exposition. What do you like best about the movie, Davy?

"I hate the name Davy. So here are the things I love most about the movie -- the car chases, Jonathan Winters, Dick Shawn as Milton Berle's worthless brother-in-law -- especially his dancing with Barrie Chase -- "

" -- and when Edie Adams's dress rips and she shows a lot of leg."

Really?

"I'm you, remember? And I'm 13. Oh -- and the airplane flying through the Coca-Cola billboard."

OK, Davy, fair enough.

"I hate the name Davy!"

Now -- let me tell you what I really enjoy about the film: The older I get, the more I appreciate Spencer Tracy's character, Captain Culpeper, who, Godlike, is following the race for the cash. He's about to retire and he's been trying to crack this case for years, and he's about to get his wish.



Look at that guy -- weatherbeaten and wrinkled, but still quiet and calculating. And still wearing a beaten-up old brown fedora -- the same one Jerry Lewis runs over at the beginning. It keeps getting crushed and Culpeper picks it up, pats it back into shape, plops it on his head of snow-white hair and keeps on going. He gets no respect from anyone -- not the police department, not his family -- and he starts to hatch a plan of his own for the cash. This is at just about the time everyone congregates at the Big W.

This is my favorite part of the movie.

I don't know if it's because of the resolution of the mystery, or the fact that we get to see everyone together and playing off of each other. I mean, just look at this lineup -- Sid Caesar, Phil Silvers, Terry-Thomas, Berle, Rooney, Shawn, Winters, Peter Falk -- and everybody seems so young! Well, except Spencer Tracy.



And you know what else I love? See the cab behind them? It's a 1959 Plymouth Belvedere, the same kind of car we had when I was a kid. I really don't have much of a memory of it because we traded it in when I was seven, so I just like seeing one.

"Can I talk now, old man from the future?"

Please.

"OK. I like this movie because it's big, loud and fast. It excites me and makes me want to learn more about movies. I can't even imagine a time where people can watch a certain movie or TV show any time they want, but that sounds great."

Yes, you'll like it. But avoid any TV show with the words "Real Housewives" or "Bachelorette" in the title. I love "It's a Mad Mad Mad Mad World" because it's a time capsule of Southern California in 1962-63 -- I like looking at the buildings and cars and billboards (there are several "Nixon for Governor" ones; he ran in 1962 and lost). The movie also helps me remember what it was like to be your age -- when my biggest worry was how I was going to do on the math test in Mrs. Wirth's class.

"I have acne, too, you know. And braces. It's not like life in 1970 as a 13 year old is all Popsicles and Kool-Aid."

OK, fair enough. But you have a lot to look forward to -- and you'll be surprised how this movie keeps playing a role in your life. You'll have the pleasure of introducing your son and daughter to this movie. You'll make out at least once to this movie. And as you age and your perspective changes you'll look at it differently.

"OK, I'm looking forward to it. Just one more thing -- the acne clears up, right?"

Yes, David.

"Whew."

"Dante's Inferno," or Smart Carny

Even though it isn't entirely unexpected, there's still a lot of talk about h-e-double hockey sticks in the 1935 film "Dante's Inferno." Because it's a legitimate part of the plot, "hell" is thrown around with abandon, like a five-year-old just given permission to say a forbidden word. ("Mommy said I could say doody, daddy! Doodydoodydoodydoody!")

But beyond the word, hell itself makes a hellacious twenty-minute appearance (or maybe it just seems like twenty minutes) about two-thirds of the way through the picture in a sequence filled with naked, sweaty extras writhing in torment. It's like Saturday night at the Playboy Mansion! Only with (slightly) more pain.

And then at the end, there's another hellish setting featuring Crepes Suzette and -- Rita Hayworth?

But, hell, let's not get ahead of ourselves. We'll start at the beginning.  

Our protagonist is Jim Carter, played by Spencer Tracy. When we first meet him, Carter is working on the crew of a luxury liner. He's down in the engine room, where sweaty, muscular guys stripped to the waist are shoveling coal into a gaping maw of flame! It's like Saturday night at the -- oh, wait, already did that joke.

Actually, Carter isn't doing any shoveling. He's faking an arm injury and he's convinced the other guys to do the work. But he gets fired because of his goldbricking, and ends up at a seedy carnival. (As opposed to a classy carnival.) He gets a job in blackface, with his head supplying the target for ball throwers in one of the sideshow booths. He quits that job after a direct hit and meets Pop (Henry B. Walthall), who looks pretty much how you would expect someone named "Pop" to look. Pop is the pop-erator of another attraction on the midway called "Dante's Inferno." It's striking, but small-time.

Pop: I'm just offering a little glimpse of hell and a few suggestions on how to keep out of it.

Carter: I get you -- it's a peep show.

Carter sees possibilities in the place, and he also sees possibilities in Pop's niece Betty (Claire Trevor), who's the ticket taker.

When it's time to start touting the attraction, Pop steps up, and he's the worst carnival barker ever -- his voice is barely above a whisper and he uses words like "endeavor." So Carter gives it a try:

Carter, as you've no doubt figured out by now, is a cum laude graduate of the School of Hard Knocks. "I've had every trick of the trade kicked into me," he says. "Now it's my turn to kick back."

Then he talks about hell some more, because he can.

"We're gonna put hell on a paying basis, Pop," he says, "and I'm gonna show you how to do it."

To Betty he says, "With your brains and my personality we'll build them the biggest hell on earth."

... as the carnival folk watch.

Betty and Carter are married ...

Hell, Betty buys into Carter's vision to sell hell at 25 cents a pop, and, hell, they get married in a carnival ceremony, with the organ grinder's monkey as a bridesmaid.

Then, hell, Carter embarks on his plan to build a bigger, better inferno, even if he has to drive some rival vendors out of business to do it. Pop is leery as hell, but it doesn't matter:



On the opening night of the new, improved inferno -- Now with 40% more damnation! -- one of the swindled vendors shows up and commits suicide. But business booms anyway, and Carter keeps adding on to his boardwalk empire. A pesky building inspector tells Carter that the new inferno is unsafe, but a bribe keeps him quiet -- until the building collapses and the inspector commits suicide, too. Carter is charged in connection with the crime, but he lies on the stand and gets off.

This means it's just about time for Pop, who was injured in the collapse, to tell Carter all about Dante's actual version of hell, with the help of a nicely illustrated book:



The hell sequence is visually astounding. It supposedly incorporates footage from a 1924 version of "Dante's Inferno." Also, director Harry Lachman was trained as a painter, so you figure his touches are in there somewhere. And director of photography Rudolph Mate also lent his skills to "Cover Girl" and "The Pride of the Yankees," as well as directing the noir classic "DOA," so he was no slouch either. There's also a substantial contribution from the guy who choreographed the burning of Atlanta in "Gone with the Wind." Yes, you can choreograph fire. Especially if you're David O. Selznick.

Pop's pep talk and a vivid visit to hell don't do much good, however.

Pop: Dante is giving us a terrifying picture of tormented souls ... we make our own heaven or hell here on earth.

Carter: Since the beginning of time, there's only been one sin and that's failure.

Carter, undaunted, embarks on his next project, a gambling ship -- one similar to where he worked at the beginning of the film. It's called the Paradise -- more like pair of dice, am I right?   

On the ship's first night out, bad omens gather like vultures gathering around the dead things vultures like to gather around. The crew is inept, the passengers are drunk, and flaming desserts are being prepared right next to highly flammable curtains. While a dance team that includes Rita Hayworth is spinning on the floor, things are quickly spinning out of control:

     
To add to Carter's problems, his young son is on board, and ex-wife Betty -- yes, she's left him -- is frantic. Will the possible loss of his son knock some sense into Carter? Or will he continue to build his own hell RIGHT HERE ON EARTH?!?

Trevor is fine in a thankless role, and, as Pop, Henry B. Walthall still has that same quiet nobility -- and the same hair -- of the Confederate soldier he played "The Birth of a Nation." (Walthall would pass away in 1936, a year after this film was released.)

As an actor, Spencer Tracy had a marvelous ability to look dumb and smart at the same time, and as Carter he uses that skill to good advantage. This was one of the last films Tracy made with Fox before joining MGM and becoming Hollywood royalty, and legend has it he had such a low opinion of "Dante's Inferno" that he refused to allow his name to appear on advertisements. On the other hand, maybe Fox figured that Tracy wasn't as important to selling the picture as hell was.

Hellhellhellhell.

Here are complete credits for "Dante's Inferno."

"Me and My Gal," or Law and Short Order

"Me and My Gal," released in 1932, is a little movie with a lot going on.

It's a showcase for a young Spencer Tracy, already relaxed and assured onscreen as police detective Danny Dolan. It's a showcase for an even younger Joan Bennett as his gal, a gum-chewing waitress named Helen who works at Ed's Chowder House on the waterfront. It has a criminal subplot that includes adultery and a break-in that will end up being reused in "Rififi." And smack dab in the middle of the movie, there's a quick parody of Eugene O'Neill's "Strange Interlude."

Despite all this, "Me and My Gal" is leisurely paced, spiced here and there with funny little set pieces, including a kind of Pete-and-Repeat patter that Danny indulges in with his John Candy-ish partner, played by Adrian Morris. Here's an example, from when the boys are called to break up a noisy wedding reception -- the bride is Bennett's sister:



The love story between Helen and Danny is spiced with slang, including "jake" and "bezark," a 1932 version of "dame." Then they drop their verbal sparring for a moment to poke fun at "Strange Interlude"; the movie version, with Clark Gable and Norma Shearer, was playing in theatres at the time. Danny calls it "Strange Innertube" and he and Helen ape the characters, whose unspoken thoughts are heard in voiceover:


In the crime subplot, Helen's sister Kate (Marion Burns) is having an affair with gangster Duke Castanega (George Walsh, brother of the movie's director, Raoul Walsh) and, even worse, is hiding him in the apartment she shares with her husband, a sailor who's out to sea in more ways than one. She also works in the bank that Duke's gang is breaking into and has given him information about which safe deposit boxes are most valuable. The gang, like the gang in "Rififi," breaks into the bank through the apartment above:

Meanwhile, back at Kate's place, her husband's father, Sarge (Henry B. Walthall, at right), sees everything that's going on, but he's paralyzed and mute. The only way he can communicate is by sending Morse code signals by blinking his eyes. Helen deciphers the code and finds out that Duke is in her sister's, ahem, attic. But to keep her sister out of trouble, she doesn't tell Danny about it:


Danny finds out, of course, and in the ensuing happy ending Duke is killed, Helen's sister's honor is restored and Sarge blinks happily.

It's interesting to see Tracy work here -- he manages to convey his character's intelligence even when Danny isn't acting all that smart. And Bennett's character is almost Lombard-ian with her guts and good humor. They're a nice match. And it's nice to see Walthall -- whose career included a leading role in "Birth of a Nation" in 1915 -- in a later role. He would appear with Tracy again in the 1935 film "Dante's Inferno."

Here are the full credits for "Me and My Gal."   

How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love "It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World"

My name is David, and I am a recovering baby boomer. I mention this to help explain the affection I have for movies made when I was a kid, especially from about 1957-65. You can tell me they're cheesy and cliched, and tell me that they reinforce negative stereotypes. I know, and the "intellectual" within me agrees with you, but the kid in me wants to see that cool car chase again.

What all this brings me to is "It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World," the all-star, three-hour 1963 film that there really isn't any reason to like. It's bloated, overproduced, somewhat overacted and contains long unfunny sequences just made for your DVR remote's "skip" function.

But -- a big but -- it has car chases with lots of 1960s cars! And great views of Southern California in the early 1960s! And Jonathan Winters! And Dick Shawn! (Did I mention car chases with lots of 1960s cars?)

The movie starts with a death -- the demise of small-timer Smiler Grogan (Jimmy Durante), who, one bright morning in the California desert, runs his black Ford off the highway and down a desolate hill. The motorists he sped past all stop to help -- dentist Sid Caesar and wife Edie Adams; failed businessman Milton Berle, wife Dorothy Provine and mother-in-law Ethel Merman; buddies Mickey Rooney and Buddy Hackett, headed to Vegas; and truck driver Jonathan Winters.

Just before he kicks the bucket (literally), the dying Smiler tells them of his long-hidden treasure -- $350,000, buried under a "big W" in a park several hundred miles from where they are. By the time police arrive, Smiler has passed, and the group members decide to keep the information to themselves. But they can't agree on how to split the loot, so it becomes every man for himself, and the race is on.

Every Man for Himself
It's a Mad Mad Mad Mad World — MOVIECLIPS.com

Watching all of this from Santa Rosita, the city where the money is buried, is police Captain Culpepper (a wizened Spencer Tracy), who has had Smiler followed in hopes of finding the money. With Smiler gone, Culpepper, godlike, follows the greed parade as it works its way toward Santa Rosita by car, truck, airplane, biplane, wrecker truck, jeep and even bicycle.

For all the mugging that comes from the cast of comedians, all of them at their peak of popularity, Tracy provides the movie's emotional core. The Grogan case is the one Culpepper's been trying to crack for years, and once he does he'll be ready to retire. But all that's waiting for him is a tiny pension, a crabby wife and an ungrateful daughter, so Culpepper's thoughts begin to turn larcenous. Tracy was an actor who could express volumes with a smile or a shift of the eyes, and he's in great form here, in what would be his second-to-last film. (Director Stanley Kramer had also worked with Tracy on "Inherit the Wind" and "Judgment at Nuremburg," and would direct his final film, "Guess Who's Coming to Dinner," with Katharine Hepburn and Sidney Poitier.)

By the time the group makes it to Santa Rosita, the ranks have expanded to include Terry-Thomas, Phil Silvers, Peter Falk, Eddie "Rochester" Anderson and -- my personal favorite -- Dick Shawn as Merman's manic, moronic son, Sylvester.


Silvers does his patented con artist schtick, and Winters is great as the thick-witted trucker, but Shawn's comic intensity wipes everyone else off the map. (Shawn had such a reputation as a comic wild man that when he suffered a heart attack on stage in 1987 and died, the audience thought at first that it was part of the act.)

The script is by William Rose, an American expatriate who stayed in England after World War II, and he gives some trenchant commentary on America to British comic Terry-Thomas:

Preoccupation With Bosoms
It's a Mad Mad Mad Mad World — MOVIECLIPS.com

Other cameos in the movie include Jerry Lewis, Jack Benny, Carl Reiner, the Three Stooges, Jim Backus, Don Knotts, Arnold Stang, Marvin Kaplan and Ben Blue. And in the end, it's probably too much.

But here's how I watch "It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World." I start at the beginning and watch until Caesar and Adams are in a biplane going toward Santa Rosita. Then I skip until Jonathan Winters is conned by Phil Silvers and tears up a gas station in pursuit of him. Then I skip until Buddy Hackett and Mickey Rooney land in Santa Rosita and Culpepper's plan begins to come together as everyone converges at the park.

From there I watch until the end, including a scene where the great Buster Keaton spends a few seconds dodging speeding cars using the EXACT SAME MOVES he used forty years before in "Sherlock Jr." or "The General."

The kid in me loves the cars, the billboards (there are several "Nixon in '62" in the background, from when Richard Nixon was running for Governor of California and lost), the city streets and Ernest Gold's merry-go-round musical score. The adult in me loves -- well, it loves to see the kid in me have a good time.