Struggling to like this early effort from the Woodman.
I’ve got nothing but praise for the overall concept behind Woody Allen’s 1969 effort Take the Money and Run and how revolutionary it must’ve been seen upon release in terms of where comedy could venture. Yet the movie’s lack of “classic” status isn’t surprising given how much of it fails to hold up. None of the reasons for the failing of the film’s many attempts at humor have to do with the passage of time, however. The brilliance of Allen’s comedy lies in his power to transcend decades and changing tastes. 1972’s Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex is still one of the greatest comedies ever made, with its unorthodox structure and wildly diverse assortment of jokes, all of which prove how untouchable Allen’s humor can be…when it works. The main reason the jokes in Take the Money and Run don’t work might just be because they weren’t all that funny to begin with.
Take the Money and Run charts the early beginnings of Virgil Starkwell (Allen), a New York-raised juvenile delinquent who would go on to become one of the country’s most wanted, if inept, criminals. Shot as a documentary, the film follows Virgil as he commits crime after crime, while maintaining a passionate romance with Louise (Janet Margolin), the true love of his life.
Even the most seemingly tired of Allen comedies is guaranteed to deliver some laughs. It’s therefore more than a shame that the majority of the comedy within Take the Money and Run falls flat. There’s no real mystery as to why many of the jokes don’t work; most of them are obvious and just not funny, even by the day’s standards. Seeing Virgil as a budding cellist who brags about playing in a city parade is followed by a scene showing him surrounded by members of a marching band while he is continuously positioning his chair and getting ready to play; an act he must repeat as the rest of the band continues to march beyond him. At other times, Take the Money and Run’s jokes go on far longer than they need to. Virgil’s holding up of a city bank is thwarted when the teller fails to understand his handwriting on the hold-up note he has given him. When the teller calls his manager, he asks to see Virgil’s gun for identification purposes as the line of customers behind him begin to grow impatient. The joke reads as a decent enough laugh, but Allen’s relishing of it ends up draining any real comedic potency it may have had.
The real surprise of this early Woody venture is just how well Take the Money and Run works as a tale of romance. During the times when Allen and Margolin are shown exploring each other as a couple, the movie takes on an unexpected gentility and honesty that is instantly winning. It’s here where Allen’s softer, sensitive side is brought out, showing his ability to manage not just dual genres, but dual sensibilities to great effect. Take the Money and Run is loaded with one pratfall gag after another, yet the way its writer/director/star treats the soulfulness of the characters, not as fools but as two people trying to hold on to each other and the love they share together, is touching. The irony of it all is that every time Allen inserts comedy into the romantic areas of the film, the jokes actually work. When Virgil and Louise are enjoying an early date in Central Park, the former lies by saying he plays with the Philharmonic. After years have passed, a convicted Virgil and the chain gang he’s been imprisoned with break free and he immediately heads for Louise. The lovers are reunited, but soon begin to argue about the uncertainty of their future as the members of the gang (still chained to Virgil) look on as Louise longingly says to her beloved, “I miss the days when you were with the Philharmonic.”
Allen doesn’t give himself much to do here other than continue to establish himself as a screen persona, which he does to great effect. In Virgil he’s given himself the perfect showcase with which to further the sort of bumbling neuroses which would eventually become his trademark. His performance is greatly elevated by Margolin, who exudes loveliness and serenity in every scene she graces. The main reason the actress’s work sails beautifully through the film is because she doesn’t play the material as if she’s in a comedy. Place Margolin’s performance in a drama and her scenes would still have the same kind of power and effect that they do here.
In all fairness, the shortcomings found in Take the Money and Run can be forgiven since Allen was still honing his talents as a triple threat at the time it was made. It should be pointed out that among its many humorless moments, there are some laughs which do score. The scene in which Virgil mugs a man on the street whom he thinks is a stranger, but turns out to be an old high school buddy, is a highlight. Watching the two reminisce as the man hands Virgil his watch and wallet is a chuckle-filled moment made all the more hilarious when the former asks his old classmate what he’s up to now, which he responds by saying that he’s a cop. There’s no denying Allen’s genius was hard at work with regard to the film’s construction, leading him to become an early innovator of the mockumentary. The director would perfect the artform like no other with 1983’s bold and still-brilliant Zelig. But Take the Money and Run remains for diehard Woody fans only.
Take the Money and Run is now available on Blu-ray from Kino Lorber.
