That's A Lot Of Clowns

I recently watched A Thousand Clowns (1965). Hadn't seen it in years. It's an interesting movie, for several reasons.

It's very stagebound, most of it taking place in one room, with long scenes and a lot of dialogue. But occasionally it breaks out and goes into weird montages (for the time). (Ralph Rosenblum, editor, goes into the story behind this in his book.)

The play debuted on Broadway in 1962 (by Herb Gardner, who wasn't even 30 when he wrote it). This is well before the revolutionary period of the 60s, but after the Beats, and it's interesting to see what a Broadway version of non-conformism was. Jason Robards as Murray is goofy but overall pretty harmless. He does wacky things that don't really harm anyone. The main thing he's done, that's considered dangerous, is dropped out and stopped working, even as he raises his nephew.

The play, and the movie too, essentially gives Murray and his kid a parade of squares that they can mock--William Daniels as the social worker, Martin Balsam as his agent brother (Balsam won an Oscar--he's fine but it's not as if he stands out) and Gen Saks as the TV clown Murray used to write for named Chuckles. (Did this inspire The Mary Tyler Moore Show?). Murray also gets the girl, Barbara Harris, the confused social worker. (Sandy Dennis played the role on Broadway and won a Tony. Soon after, she won an Oscar for Virginia Woolf.)

But at least Herb Gardner gives the squares some speeches where they recognize they're not as cool as Murray, but they've adjusted to the world, and if he doesn't, he'll hurt himself and his kid. That's another thing about early 60s non-conformism--the assumption there's this world out there that everyone, right and left, understands is the normal world--you don't really see that today, since we're all very conscious of alternative lifestyles.

While you definitely root for Murray, and the film is generally sympathetic to him, I think there's some intentional ambiguity. Whether it comes from the writer or the director, you can certainly choose to see Murray, amusing though he may be, as a bit of a jerk. It's easy enough to screw around and have fun, but when you've got a kid, you've got to shape up. Even without the kid (whose plight provides the drama), you can question the decision to just drop out. In addition, there are a few odd scenes (not in the play) where Murray decides to go out and find a job. He's a reasonably successful TV writer--he quit Chuckles, not the other way around--and though he has a flaky reputation, others are willing to talk. Philip Bruns and John McMartin play producers who want him, and Murray just walks out on them. He can't stand even this version of the rat race. I mean, Bruns wants to pay him (and pay him well, I assume) just to be an eccentric panelist saying whatever he wants on a TV show, and this bothers Murray. What's the problem? Sounds like a dream job. (The scene does have the best joke written for the movie--they're in a very dark restaurant. The waiter asks Murray what will he have, and Murray responds "A hamburger and a flashlight.")

At the end, Chuckles comes in and begs Murray to come back. Chuckles is needy, crass and overbearing, and the kid, who up to now has been more adult than Murray, wants Murray to turn him down. But Murray seems to realize he needs to do something, and takes the job. The final scene is Murray out there bright and early with other people on the street running for the bus. I don't think the movie forces us to believe this is good or bad. (The play, if I recall, is a bit more accepting of the need for compromise).