Word: slapsticker
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...this slapstick comedy, even the Occupation takes second place to the preoccupation-cherchez la femme. The plot is as old as Gaul, and only a new director would have the gall to tell it again: the sleepy middle-aged husband, the nubile wife, the young stranger (Henri Garcin). But Jean-Paul Rappeneau, 33, has an appetite for the absurd and an unerring eye for casting. An actor in the mugging tradition of Toto and Fernandel, Philippe Noiret is excellent as the pawky, paunchy husband; and Catherine Deneuve, as his restless wife, is as light and tart as a lemon souffl...
...fairness to those who study such things, it should be said that all is not rosy in Lester's old Rome. The climactic chariot race, for instance, goes into excess, both of slapstick and length, and it does not do to play any joke too long. But as Mostel says, none of us is perfect, and Lester here is about as close as anybody has a right to expect. The opening number promises "A Comedy Tonight." And there...
...subtle humor, mind you. The film, like the play, is one for bellylaughs, lewd asides, slapstick, and caricatures. The plot races from absurdity to absurdity until you really don't follow what's happening--and couldn't care less. Lester realized that it's the momentum of gags that keeps the whole thing going and never has his rapid camera style been put to better use. He manipulates the slaves, eunuchs, soldiers, whores, and patricians in a stylish frenzy, bringing them together for the well chosen musical numbers. These, one might add, are among the best moments in the film...
...engage in a "micro-orgy." This leads to Martian Summer, in which the Sun God, wearing a mask on the back of his head, is by sudden twists and turns a scowling accuser and a smiling protector. Most ludicrous are the earthlings, who in Terrestrial Autumn romp through a slapstick wedding scene that teeters on the brink of banality. After some sober reflections on descending night and death in Plutonian Winter, all elements conspire in a bright aurora borealis of a finale...
Museum can be thoroughly enjoyed for belly laughs, but Novelist Lodge, 31, really belongs at a loftier level than that. He has an assured literary style that is wasted on slapstick, and a natural wit that lacks only a better sense of direction...