adventures in movie reviewing: "caddyshack"

"There's no business like show business - and it's a good thing there isn't ... No other business engages in so much public boasting about its 'big heart' and indulges in so much private malice with its little head."

-Sydney J. Harris/Chicago Daily News

The late Syd Harris' summation of the entertainment industry, written way back in the 1970s, remains as succinct, penetrating and on-target as ever.

It's a quote that I reference quite often and, when I do, I am invariably reminded of Warner Bros.' New York-based press junket for Harold Ramis' ”Caddyshack" in July of 1980. It remains a highlight of my film-reviewing career, not so much because of the movie which I enjoyed tremendously (and still do) but largely because of what I've come to call "the incident."

The film was screened for the press on a warm Friday night at the Loew's State Theatre (once located at 1540 Broadway and now long gone), with the interview session scheduled for the following Saturday morning at Dangerfield’s, a comedy club at 1118 First Avenue that was co-founded by one of the movie's stars. That would be Rodney Dangerfield.

The event started off memorably. The atmosphere at the screening felt free-form, informal and appropriately chaotic.  The entire "Caddyshack" cast showed up, as well as the comedy ensemble then currently appearing on "Saturday Night Live," there in support of their SNL cohorts Chevy Chase, Bill Murray and Brian Doyle-Murray. While Belushi, Aykroyd and Gilda were all there, what I remember most is Al Franken and Tom Davis standing in an aisle having an animated conversation with Ramis. 

The movie itself, deliriously funny, always reminded me of a live-action Looney Tune. Which is apt, given that it was made by Warner Bros. Bill Murray was/is the film's standout, improvising a wild variation on Wile E. Cayote opposite a little animatronic gopher's take on The Road Runner.

Bliss.

The next day, a bus was waiting outside the hotel to deliver the press to Dangerfield's.  Here's where matters got strange.  I'm in the hotel elevator, see, with about six other people. One guy, thirtysomething, is talking particularly loud and sounds angry. There's profanity. Then I notice that he's looking at me.  He starts yelling. He's yelling at me. But why?

I assume he's drunk. Or on drugs. Now, I'm on the bus -  and he's there, too, continuing his rant or verbal assault or whatever you want to call it.

OK, now we're at Dangerfield's. The place is packed. Murray shows up needing a shave, wearing a swim suit and matching top and carrying a pizza. Rodney Dangerfield plays maître d', seating everyone. Again, memorable. But that serpentine guy, now sitting in the back of the place, is still yelling at me. Everyone is staring. Studio people try to quiet him to little avail. I'm told his identity by a Warners person. He's someone important, very important, someone intimately involved with the film.

It's Doug Kenney, a comedy genius of the 1970s who worked on the Harvard Lampoon as an undergraduate, co-founded the National Lampoon magazine with Henry Beard and collaborated on the script for "Caddyshack" (not that anyone paid much attention to the screenplay during the production of the film) with Ramis and Brian Doyle-Murray.

Kenney was also one of the movie's producers.

By now, he knows who I am - that I'm with the press and that I'm ostensibly there to help promote his damn film. Wait! Let's get something straight: Contrary to Hollywood legend, it is decidedly not part of a critic's job to help promote or sell a film. (At least, it shouldn't be.) That said, the irrational yelling continued. And people continued to stare at him. And me.

Wow.

I should note at this point that, during "the incident," I was able to figure out the reason for his wrath. I think. At one point, he told me to "take off that button." I was wearing a small button that read, "Animals Have Rights, Too," the slogan of the Fund for Animals, an animal advocacy group (200 West 57th Street in New York), founded in 1967 by the late Cleveland Amory and still going strong. I supported the group's campaigns and animal-care facilities.

He also yelled, "Take off that belt, you hypocrite!" I was wearing a leather belt at the time which, indeed, made me guilty of Doug Kenney's charge.

Anyway, when I get back to the office the following Monday, my editor asks me how everything went. I tell Walt about the incident and we agree that instead of running any interviews, I'd write something else: a column about how good-natured films are often made by mean-spirited people - a dichotomy which still fascinates me. Hence, the Sydney J. Harris quote.

That same Monday, I also receive a phone call from Elijah "Lige" Brien, the head of Warners publicity in the New York office at the time, and another from his colleague, Carl Samrock, both apologizing for the bad behavior.

As planned, we eschewed the usual (and expected) interviews and instead I wrote the suggested column, which remains one of my favorites. Not surprisingly, Warners Bros. never addressed my column or questioned why we didn't run any interviews. (The situation was also seized on by Harry J. Themal, a colleague who covered film for the Wilmington News Journal.) 

The movie industry has never been noted for decency or its ability to cope with success and power.  But what about protocol?  In the bad old days, a Harry Cohn or a Jack Warner would have never tolerated anything less than appropriate behavior by one of their own at a public gathering.

But times changed with the collapse of the studio system and the Doug Kenney situation, frankly, was not unique. He was simply one of many movie people who disappoint and disillusion. Sadly, he passed about a month after the New York incident, falling from a cliff overlooking the Hanapepe Valley on the island of Kauai, Hawaii on August 27, 1980.

There were conflicting reports about his death - that the cliff where he was standing collapsed or that he might have jumped, the latter speculated because, immediately prior to his death, he reportedly left a note for his girlfriend, written on the hotel bathroom mirror, along with a love letter.

Doug Kenney was 33.

 
Note in Passing: "The incident," meanwhile, continues to live on. It was documented in a 2017 Behind the Spotlight profile of Ron Brien, Lige's son, by Timothy Dumas.

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~images~

(from top) 

~minimalist poster art for Warner Bros. "Caddyshack" 
~design: BCCreate  2013©

~co-stars Cindy Morgan, Scott Colomby and Bill Murray at the New York press screening for "Caddyshack"
 ~photography: Warner Bros. 1980© 

~Doug Kenney 

~The "Animal Have Rights, Too" button
~design: Fund for Animals. 1967©