The screwball comedy is a mainstay of 1930s and 1940s Hollywood, although its influence crept into the 1950s with some comedies set in Wall Street business offices.
The hallmark of screwball comedies is fast-paced dialogue focusing on a man and a woman, sometimes married to each other, sometimes not. These romantic entanglements almost always involve mismatched couples.
A “screwball” storyline is different from a genuine romantic tale in that the emphasis in the former is a satirization of the idea of love, and regarding the latter, the emphasis is on traditional romantic love.
Hollywood’s studio-made screwball comedies, which honored sarcasm in all its delicious glory, delivered a who’s who of great actors and actresses, including, but not limited to, Carole Lombard, Myrna Loy, William Powell, Katharine Hepburn, Spencer Tracy, Cary Grant, Rosalind Russell, Jean Harlow, Barbara Stanwyck, Jean Arthur, Henry Fonda, Claudette Colbert, Gary Cooper, Irene Dunne, Clark Gable, Veronica Lake, Joel McCrea, and James Stewart.
I have never considered the romantic comedies of Rock Hudson and Doris Day to be screwball films, although Day did star in “The Thrill Of It All,” from 1963, a delightful screwball-style movie with James Garner. My favorite screwball comedy that is set in the corporate canyons of Manhattan is “The Solid Gold Cadillac,” the jubilantly entertaining 1956 feature that stars Judy Holliday and Paul Douglas.
The luxuriant 1957 masterwork, “How To Marry A Millionaire,” gives us three leading ladies in one beautiful screwball bouquet: Betty Grable, Marilyn Monroe, and Lauren Bacall. Even director Alfred Hitchcock dipped his hand in the screwball romance pool. His “Mrs. And Mrs. Smith,” from 1941, stars Robert Montgomery and the aforementioned Lombard.
The screwball style has returned to movie theaters with “Fly Me To The Moon,” a comedy built around the space race between the United States and the Soviet Union. In the late-1960s, Kelly Jones, which may or may not be her real name, is a fast-talking Manhattan advertising and marketing executive, who is graced with a chameleon-like persona and the gift of gab.
Jones, wonderfully acted by Scarlett Johansson, scores premium contracts by pretending to be whomever she thinks potential male clients will believe has the skills to deliver what’s best for their companies. She can pretend to be a pregnant woman or an incorrigible seductive flirt, when in reality, she’s neither. She’s just very good at her job.
Because of the surprising success of the Soviets with their satellites and orbiting cosmonauts, President John F. Kennedy had decreed in 1962 that the United States would go to the moon by the end of the decade.
One evening, a mysterious fellow, who goes by the name of Moe Berkus (Woody Harrelson at his shadowy, off-kilter best), makes Jones an offer he won’t let her refuse. He says he “represents” President Richard Nixon and that her country needs help winning the space race. Berkus has boned up on what Jones has done promoting cereals and automobiles to the American public. He wants her to turn around NASA’s bland public image. The goal? The United States must win the space race. Good news is needed. The nation has been dealing with the war in Vietnam and the tragic disaster involving astronauts on Apollo 1.
Jones accepts the challenge and after she arrives at Cape Canaveral, she has a classic screwball comedy meet-cute with a fellow named Cole Davis (played by Channing Tatum). It takes place in a diner. He definitely finds her intriguing, but because it turns out that he’s the launch director for the Apollo 11 space mission that is going to the moon, his feelings change once he finds out why she’s been tasked to be a special advisor to NASA.
Jones uses her prodigious skills to get positive publicity for the Apollo 11 astronauts, successful ideas that appall Davis, but succeed with the public. Her bag of tricks includes linking the astronaut with supermarket items such as Rice Krispies and Tang drink mix, as well as with expensive, male-oriented wristwatches.
It’s here that the thematic hammer falls. Davis intends to remain professional, but this is a romantic comedy after all, and you’re always aware that he is more than merely curious about the new lady in the midst of the run-up to the moon launch. Berkus has decided that NASA needs a back-up plan should the landing on the moon fail to work as planned. He advises Jones that she has to hire actors and a television crew to stage a fake walk on the moon just in case the actual astronauts are unsuccessful. Furthermore, the people at NASA, including Davis, must not know about it.
The core of the movie is interesting, but there’s a slight problem. The story doesn’t flow as well as it should because the screenplay by Rose Gilroy isn’t as tight as it needs to be. There is a lot of filler. At 132-minutes, the picture’s running time is too long. And, this length is completely unnecessary.
What occurs during the landing on the moon on July 20, 1969 — there might be two, one real and one phony — should have been slotted earlier in the movie because the extended ending proceeds in fits and starts. Director Greg Berlanti can’t be blamed because he came to the film after the original director, actor Jason Bateman, left the project. Berlanti’s work with the cast is superb. It’s the fragmented script that hampers the goings-on.
Johansson, who should do more comedy, has energy to spare in her Eva Gabor wig. Tatum, who is called upon to wear colorful knit tops throughout the film, is good, but he’s sometimes hindered in how his character approaches romantic problems because of the weak writing. Also on tap with very fine work are Anna Garcia as Jones’ assistant, Jim Rash as the fake moon landing’s director, and Ray Romano as an important NASA engineer.
The movie’s 1960s production values are outstanding, especially the cars and costuming. And, to top it all off, there’s an enjoyable alley cat that has a key role to play in this historical adventure. “Fly Me To The Moon” is a pleasant, summer moviegoing diversion.