FilmWatch Weekly: Andy Kaufman doc ‘Thank You Very Much,’ plus penguin lessons and unicorn deaths

Four decades after his (presumed) death, Andy Kaufman at last gets the feature-length documentary treatment. Plus: the feel-good "Bob Trevino Likes It," and a new Blu-ray release of the 1999 sharksploitation flick "Deep Blue Sea."
Andy Kaufman (probably) as Tony Clifton in a clip from Thank You Very Much

It’s a little hard to believe that a feature-length documentary on Andy Kaufman hasn’t existed prior to Thank You Very Much. After all, the iconic, revolutionary performer (“comedian” doesn’t quite work) has been played by superstar Jim Carrey in a Golden Globe-winning performance, not to mention the REM song that inspired its title. And his notorious forays into the world of professional wrestling were compiled for the cult film I’m from Hollywood, released just a few years after Kaufman’s death in 1984 at the age of 35. But now, four decades after his (presumed) passing, vaults have been opened, archives have been searched, and, under the auspices of Kaufman’s romantic and artistic partners in crime, Lynn Margulies and Bob Zmuda, this definitive look at his tragically truncated life and ever-widening influence emerges as a must-see.

Kaufman’s enigmatic mythos are by now firmly entrenched, at least among connoisseurs of comedy. His standup routine broke all the rules, whether he was embodying the hapless, accented “Foreign Man” character or breaking into a quite convincing Elvis Presley impersonation. He didn’t have punchlines. He didn’t tell jokes. He seemed to thrive on awkwardness, on setting an audience back on its emotional heels. And he never, ever, ever broke character. That makes him an extraordinarily difficult subject for a posthumous portrait, if indeed it truly is posthumous. (One of the great ironies is that when Kaufman died from lung cancer at such a young age, many fans, and even friends, assumed it was just another prank. And, really, who knows?)

But director Alex Braverman (and producers that include Morgan Neville and Benny & Josh Safdie) gets us about as close as possible to the core of Kaufman. Previously unreleased footage of his early shows, an archival interview with Kaufman’s father, and other vintage ephemera present new angles. Recollections from Margulies and Zmuda, as well as Kaufman’s Taxi co-stars Danny DeVito and Marilu Henner, confirm that, yes, he really was committed to the bit, whatever bit that may have been at the time. It was from Taxi, the network sitcom on which Kaufman played the lovable immigrant mechanic Latka Gravas, that most Americans knew Kaufman, but to say he chafed at that style of celebrity would be a huge understatement.

With something like glee, he sabotaged his own mainstream career at every turn, whether trolling feminists by inviting women into the squared circle and dubbing himself World Intergender Wrestling Champion or spitting in propriety’s face as the corpulent, malevolent lounge singer Tony Clifton. These antics weren’t confined to the stage, and they weren’t always offensive: following his legendary Carnegie Hall performance, Kaufman took the entire audience out for milk and cookies. That stunt hints at another, paradoxical side to him—a childlike aspect that hinted at genuine innocence and made his violations of social norms (usually) forgivable.

One advantage to the forty years between Kaufman’s death and the release of this documentary is the ability to judge just how widely his influence has spread. “Cringe” comedy à la Ricky Gervais or Larry David, “anti-comedy” à la Tim Heidecker or Tim Robinson, and so many other comedians who acknowledge the absurdities inherent in the relationship between performer and audience and play in that discomfiting space—all owe a huge debt to a man who was only able to put in about eight years of work before taking his final bow. He’d be 76 today, younger than Steve Martin (who’s also interviewed in Thank You Very Much). As with another brilliant comedian who died far too young, Bill Hicks, it’s tempting to imagine what Andy Kaufman would think of the world today. Hicks, famous for explosive screeds against hypocrisy, greed, and ignorance, would surely greet 2025 with even more disgust and derision than he could muster in the 1990s. Most of our other famously dyspeptic cultural observers—Lenny Bruce, Kurt Vonnegut, George Carlin—would probably feel the same, and part of me is glad that they don’t have to witness how much worse everything has gotten. Kaufman, on the other hand, I can see looking around and smiling wryly in recognition and a certain satisfaction that we’ve all come to inhabit his world, where everything’s a performance, truth and fiction are indistinguishable, and there’s no such thing as bad press. (Kiggins Theatre)

ALSO THIS WEEK

Bob Trevino Likes It: This is a nice movie, which might sound like faint praise, but genuinely nice movies, like genuinely nice people, are rare enough to be noted these days. Sure, there are plenty of “feel-good” efforts, but they’re usually either filtered through an evangelistic lens or drowning in doltish, secular treacle. Here, though, we have a simple story of friendship between a woman named Lily Trevino (Barbie Ferreira) and a man named Bob Trevino (John Leguizamo). They’re not related, but when Lily sends a Facebook friend request to someone she thinks is her incorrigibly terrible father (French Stewart), it in fact creates a connection to the same-named Bob. Lily works as a live-in caregiver for a young woman with cancer (Lauren Spencer) while dealing with crippling self-doubt (see terrible father figure above). Bob works for a home builder and lovingly supports his wife’s avid scrapbooking hobby. They’re ordinary folks, living in flyover country (Kentucky and Indiana, respectively), but the film treats them both without condescension or irony. Among many things to be grateful for is that there’s never a hint of forced romantic or sexual attraction between them. Writer-director Tracie Laymon, making her first feature, was inspired by a similar encounter she had. It’s not as if Bob Trevino is going to win any awards or end up on any top-ten lists—it’s too gentle for that, and to be honest, some of the performances are less than compelling. (It also serves up a glaringly anodyne vision of social media, Facebook in particular.) But as a temporary anesthetic against cynicism, it’ll do. (Regal Bridgeport Village and Living Room Theaters)

The Penguin Lessons: Two recent films, both based on true stories, have been set during the 1970s dictatorships that predominated in South America during those years. The Oscar-nominated I’m Still Here told the story of a real Brazilian family shattered by the repressive military junta’s kidnapping, torture, and murder of its patriarch, resulting in shattering consequences over a span of decades. The Penguin Lessons, well, it’s about a penguin. That’s not entirely true, it’s really about a British schoolteacher (Steve Coogan) who arrives in Argentina for a gig at an exclusive private school run by a requisitely fusty headmaster (Jonathan Pryce). When school is temporarily cancelled due to political unrest in the capital, he visits a Uruguayan beach and rescues a penguin that had been trapped in an oil slick and washed up on shore. If Coogan’s casting wasn’t enough of a hint, our protagonist is a grumpy wiseass, so when he ends up saddled with this penguin, it’s not his first choice. But he smuggles it back to his “no pets allowed” lodgings, and eventually learns a lesson about the importance of standing up for what’s right. Or something. Based on a memoir, and directed by Peter Cattaneo (The Full Monty), this is a prime, if intermittently entertaining, example of a story that co-opts a story about a historical atrocity—the U.S.-funded Operation Condor program that resulted in the disappearances of thousands of leftists in South America—and uses it as the backdrop to a story of self-discovery by a Western interloper. Not to be confused with My Penguin Friend or My Octopus Teacher. (Wide release.)

Sponsor

Portland Opera Keller Auditorium Portland Oregon

Death of a Unicorn: For a film centered on a horse with a sharp horn sticking out of its forehead, it’s very hard to figure out what the point of it is. Paul Rudd and his daughter Jenna Ortega have been invited to the isolated mansion of his employers, a Sackleresque family with a pharmaceutical empire: patriarch Richard E. Grant, matriarch Téa Leoni, and self-entitled scion Will Poulter. On the drive there, they accidentally hit a unicorn with their car, which is awkward to be sure. After all, unicorns are the most innocent, pure creatures we know, right? Well, what this movie is saying is, what if they weren’t? What if, once the malevolently wealthy family realizes the curative properties of the unicorn’s horn and plots to exploit it, the poor thing’s parents show up and start to wreak havoc on anyone they find in their way. Like the recent Opus, this is an example of a fascinating and talented cast being put through their paces by a predictable script and a neophyte director, leading to many missed opportunities. Of the name cast, Poulter hams it up to best effect as a cartoonishly privileged man-child devoid of even the slightest morality. But it’s Anthony Carrigan, indelibly known as Barry’s NoHo Hank, who gets the highest percentage of the film’s few genuine laughs. From its overly winking take on the creature feature to its half-baked skewer-the-rich message to its decision to cast Paul Rudd as a straight man, Death of a Unicorn ends up far from magical or unique. Unfortunately, it’s all too real. (Wide release)

ON DISC

Deep Blue Sea: Director Renny Harlin’s 1999 sharksploitation flick was a poorly reviewed flop when it was originally released, and this new deluxe release from Arrow Films doesn’t try to hide that fact. Nonetheless, as with Arrow’s recent release of Demolition Man, the supplemental material adds a ton of valuable context to a prime example of 1990’s studio high-concept moviemaking. Referred to in shorthand as “Jurassic Park meets Jaws,” it’s set at an aquatic facility where a scientist (Saffron Burrows) has spearheaded an effort to imbue sharks with added brain capacity in order to harvest their blood for an Alzheimer’s treatment. When things go inevitably, horribly awry, a rogue’s gallery of character actors including Samuel L. Jackson, Stellan Skarsgård, Michael Rapaport, and LL Cool J are thrust into a watery yet cheesy battle for survival.

Arrow’s release comes close to overkill with three audio commentary tracks. One features an expert on shark movies, Rebekah McKendry, another brings screenwriter Duncan Kennedy to the microphone, while the third is a replication of the track recorded by Harlin and Jackson for the original DVD release (Jackson, of course, is both more voluble and more entertaining). Kennedy’s is the most instructive, providing an insider take on the process that takes a spec script into a studio feature. For instance (spoiler alert), Burrows’s female mad scientist character survived in the original script, but after test audiences communicated their misogynistic disapproval of this, it was decided that she would be killed off and LL Cool J’s character would live. The best bits on the disc are a half-hour interview with production designer William Sandell, who talks through his entire unlikely Hollywood career, and a visual essay by Trace Thurman that applies a Marxist-feminist critique to the film with impressive effect. In short, if you want to revisit a cheesy post-Jaws, pre-Sharknado example of selachian cinema, this is a great opportunity. And if you want to use it to analyze the glories and gaffes of late-’90s Hollywood, that’s fine too.

ALSO THIS WEEK

Direct Action: “This bold, politically charged film explores direct action against oppression through the life of a militant activist community in France.” Director Ben Russell in attendance. (Clinton St. Theater, Thursday 4/3)

Sabbath Queen: “Follows Rabbi Amichai Lau-Lavie’s epic journey as the dynastic heir of 38 generations of Orthodox rabbis including the Chief Rabbis of Israel. He is torn between rejecting and embracing his destiny and becomes a drag-queen rebel, a queer bio-dad and the founder of Lab/Shul—an everybody-friendly, God-optional, artist-driven, pop-up experimental congregation.” (Tomorrow Theater, Wednesday 4/2)

We & the Wonder & the Woe: This presentation of short films by the Portland EcoFilm Festival includes an ode to seaweed narrated by Forest Whitaker and a portrait of generational conflict related to a venerated tree on a family’s property. (Hollywood Theater, Wednesday 4/2)

ALSO OPENING

Audrey’s Children: “1969. Dr. Audrey Evans (Natalie Dormer) joins [a] world-renowned children’s hospital and battles sexism, medical conventions, and the subterfuge of her peers to develop revolutionary treatments and purchase the first Ronald McDonald House, impacting millions.” Featuring Clancy Brown as Dr. C. Everett Koop, future Surgeon General of the United States. (Regal Bridgeport Village)

Sponsor

Orchestra Nova Northwest MHCC Gresham The Reser Beaverton

The Woman in the Yard: “A mysterious woman repeatedly appears in a family’s front yard, often delivering chilling warnings and unsettling messages, leaving them to question her identity, motives and the potential danger she might pose.” (wide release)

A Working Man: “Levon Cade (Jason Statham) left his profession behind to work construction and be a good dad to his daughter. But when a local girl vanishes, he’s asked to return to the skills that made him a mythic figure in the shadowy world of counter-terrorism.” (wide release)

REPERTORY

Friday 3/28

  • 300 [2006] (Cinemagic, also 3/30, 3/31, & 4/3)
  • Better Off Dead [1985] (Kiggins Theatre)
  • Charlie’s Angels [2000] (Tomorrow Theater)
  • Clue [1985] (Academy Theater, through 4/3)
  • Deep Red [1975] (Academy Theater, through 4/3)
  • Dune [1984] (Cinema 21, also 3/29)
  • The Maltese Falcon [1941] (Hollywood Theatre, through 4/3)
  • Risky Business [1983] (Academy Theater, through 4/3)
  • Robocop (director’s cut) [1987] (Cinema 21, also 3/30 & 3/31)
  • The Slayer [1982] (Hollywood Theatre)

Saturday 3/29

  • Barbarella [1968] (Hollywood Theatre, on 35mm)
  • I Saw the TV Glow [2024] (Clinton St. Theater)
  • Inland Empire [2006] (Cinema 21, also 3/31 & 4/1)
  • It Happened One Night [1934] (Cinema 21)
  • Lost Highway [1997] (Salem Cinema, also 4/2)
  • Moulin Rouge! [2001] (Cinemagic, also 4/1 & 4/2)
  • Starship Troopers [1997] (Cinema 21, also 3/30 & 4/2)
  • Stop Making Sense [1984] (Hollywood Theatre)
  • Waterworld [1995] (Cinemagic, also 4/1 & 4/2)

Sunday 3/30

  • But I’m a Cheerleader! [1999] (Tomorrow Theater)
  • The Conversation [1974] (Salem Cinema, also 4/1)
  • Revenge [2017] (Hollywood Theatre)
  • RRR [2022] (Hollywood Theatre)
  • Speed Racer [2008] (Cinemagic, also 3/31 & 4/3)

Tuesday 4/1

  • American Hunter [1988] (Hollywood Theatre)

Thursday 4/3

  • Eno [2024] (Cinema 21)
  • Intolerable Cruelty [2003] (Salem Cinema)

Marc Mohan moved to Portland from Wisconsin in 1991, and has been exploring and contributing to the city’s film culture almost ever since, as the manager of the landmark independent video store Trilogy, the owner of Portland’s first DVD-only rental spot, Video Vérité; and as a freelance film critic for The Oregonian for nearly twenty years. Once it became apparent that “newspaper film critic” was no longer a sustainable career option, he pursued a new path, enrolling in the Northwestern School of Law at Lewis & Clark College in the fall of 2017 and graduating cum laude in 2020 with a specialization in Intellectual Property. He now splits his time between his practice with Nine Muses Law and his continuing efforts to spread the word about great (and not-so-great) movies, which include a weekly column at Oregon ArtsWatch.

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