by Daniel White
Whimsy and mirth are not attributes that I find appealing in art. I prefer sarcasm, grit, hard boiled noir or sassy screwball comedies that snap. Cynicism, yes. Playful caprice? I'd rather stick a lit cigar up my nose. And yet, and yet... I loved They Might Be Giants (1971), a movie that is full of whimsy, mirth, fancy, and quaintness.
George C. Scott plays Justin Playfair, a wealthy former judge who believes he's Sherlock Holmes. Hoping to have him committed in order to get control of his estate, his brother (Lester Rawlins) has him observed by psychiatrist Mildred Watson (Joanne Woodward).
Two extraordinary actors, Scott and Woodward, they make the movie awaken and come alive just by their amazing talent. In lesser hands, this movie would have disintegrated into toxic fairy dust, but these two pros make it soar.
Filmed almost entirely on location in New York City, it features scenes in the Jefferson Library in Greenwich Village, on Fifth Avenue, and Central Park. What a treat to see actors like Jack Gilford, Rue McClanahan, and Al Lewis in supporting roles, but the movie belongs to Scott and Woodward, two lonely souls who find love and companionship.
John Barry has provided a haunting musical score that captures the movie's spirit perfectly. Along with director Anthony Harvey and screen writer James Goldman, the movie is a spiritual marvel that most people will find silly and nonsensical. I did not. With George C Scott and Joanne Woodward at the peak of their prowess, They Might Be Giants is a whimsical treat that delights.
Available on YouTube in two separate prints- try to find the complete version that includes the supermarket scene.
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