My dad, like every other dad on the planet, had his likes and dislikes. Also, like (mostly, sad to say) every other dad on the planet, he was determined to share he was passionate about with his kids.
I can remember when I was a little kid, every once in awhile we would go to the library to see what videos they had available. Being a library, they had a lot of older movies on the shelves. Nothing pleased my dad more than wandering around the shelves with me and stumbling across a cult classic Danny Kaye movie that he watched on TV when he was 10, and somehow could still remember it (I could barely remember anything besides Bugs Bunny and Power Rangers until I was 12).
One of the things my dad loved above all else was comedy. He could go on for hours about the Marx Bros, Red Skelton, Bob Hope, Bing Crosby, Donald O' Connor (who is criminally underrated, FYI), anything that had Martin & Lewis, Lemmon & Matthau (or maybe Tony Curtis) in it. I think he missed his true calling as a film critic. Dad seemed to love comedy as much as Leonard Maltin loves cartoons.
So yeah, needless to say I watched a lot of funny people growing up. Lord knows they were funnier than my dad (hey dad, c'mon you know it's true!) He loved comedy; doesn't mean he was necessarily great at it. Maybe he could've been; we'll never know.
There were two men in particular that my dad had a special place in his heart for. He waited until he felt I was old enough, but the wait must have been annoying to him.
On Halloween night 1995, after I had made the rounds on my annual neighborhood candy donation drive, he finally took down that VHS tape on which he had copied and saved one of his most favorite movies from the shelf, popped in the VCR, and I saw Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein for the first time.
That movie is one of the all time greats, ironically because at the time it was arguably a groundbreaking spoof of the iconic Universal Horror franchise. So technically, the monsters brought people to the theatres as much as the comedians probably did. Avengers gets props for being the first mega-crossover film. Abbott & Costello had Dracula, Frankenstein's monster and the Wolfman in one movie all the way back in 1948! This film helped pave the way for everything from Monster Squad, Young Frankenstein and probably other awesome horror-comedy films like Ghostbusters.
It's also the movie that inspired Quentin Tarantino to go into filmmaking. If that doesn't make you watch this, nothing will. It's one of those films that not only stays with you because of seeing all these monsters together, but the jokes are timeless. The only things that really date the movie is the lack of crassness and color, but the jokes will make you laugh every single time. Here's one of the film's highlights, just to give you a taste, in case I haven't piqued your curiosity enough by now.
Of course, these two guys did not have just one hit under their belts, so let's dig a little deeper into their filmography. Between their big screen debut in 1940 and their final showing in 1956, Bud Abbott and Lou Costello made a total of 30 films, and while most of these are fairly mediocre (every plot centred around a young couple getting together when the boys weren't doing their thing, because apparently every light-hearted movie needs romance) there are definitely a few gems in their filmography. Buck Privates is a great wartime film where the boys unwittingly enlist in the army and try to make it through boot camp without accidentally killing themselves. Never has American propaganda been so hilarious. Also, the Andrews Sisters show up to sing one of their most iconic hits, "Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy of Company B" They would have cameos in several other Abbott & Costello films over the next few years:
The list goes on. Meet the Invisible Man (1951) is a solid follow-up to Meet Frankenstein, Meet the Killer (1949) features Boris Karloff being his usual "cold-blooded" self while Costello manages to trip him up without even trying; The Time of Their Lives (1946) is an interesting ghost story with a surprisingly dark opening for a comedy and, last but not least, The Naughty Nineties (No, sorry, it's not a porno) which includes possibly their most famous contribution to the history of comedy, the Who's on First? routine.
Who's on First highlights their biggest strength as a team. Abbott was the put upon straight man who was constantly frustrated and annoyed by his partner's antics. You couldn't find a better bumbling idiot than Costello, and that's high praise indeed.
The guy could do a spit take or double take like no one else. He was basically the Jim Carrey of his time, a master of physical comedy and exaggerated expressions. Costello was possibly the closest you can get to a cartoon character in live action. These guys never, ever, strayed from their dynamic.
Costello was always the oblivious sweet-natured man who was suckered into whatever scheme Abbott came up with from film to film, switching from a dirty greedy coward to an outright villain depending on the plot of each. Costello would inevitably cause a mess of things, and Abbott woukd always get hit with the collateral damage. While you would think that repeating the same schtick would get stale after the 10th time, let alone the 30th, they were so good at playing off one another, at playing their respective roles, that you would come back to watch them again and again. You watch an Abbott and Costello movie, you know exactly what you're in for.
To be fair, it's not like they reused the exact same material over and over. They knew exactly what they could do as entertainers and who they were doing it for. No shame in doing what you're good at.
There's another scene from The Naughty Nineties that showcases their formula and how they changed it up from scene to scene. Bud is always the straight man, Costello, being the eternal clumsy lovable idiot, always does the wackier bits of their routines. When their dynamic is given a different spin, it is always hilarious.
The guy could do a spit take or double take like no one else. He was basically the Jim Carrey of his time, a master of physical comedy and exaggerated expressions. Costello was possibly the closest you can get to a cartoon character in live action. These guys never, ever, strayed from their dynamic.
Costello was always the oblivious sweet-natured man who was suckered into whatever scheme Abbott came up with from film to film, switching from a dirty greedy coward to an outright villain depending on the plot of each. Costello would inevitably cause a mess of things, and Abbott woukd always get hit with the collateral damage. While you would think that repeating the same schtick would get stale after the 10th time, let alone the 30th, they were so good at playing off one another, at playing their respective roles, that you would come back to watch them again and again. You watch an Abbott and Costello movie, you know exactly what you're in for.
To be fair, it's not like they reused the exact same material over and over. They knew exactly what they could do as entertainers and who they were doing it for. No shame in doing what you're good at.
There's another scene from The Naughty Nineties that showcases their formula and how they changed it up from scene to scene. Bud is always the straight man, Costello, being the eternal clumsy lovable idiot, always does the wackier bits of their routines. When their dynamic is given a different spin, it is always hilarious.
Sadly, over the course of their film careers they suffered through several tragedies. Costello's infant son drowned in the family pool in 1943; Costello was never the same again, the grief and anger he felt probably made it difficult to be himself. Abbott suffered from epilepsy in later years and became an alcoholic while struggling and deal with the chronic pain.
The two had a falling out in 1945 and refused to speak to each other off the set afterwards. Lou Costello passed away suddenly at the the age of 53 in 1959 after suffering a massive heart attack, ending any chance of reconciliation between the two. After his partner died, Bud Abbott' career became a shadow of it's former self. Without Lou, the comedy magic was gone. By the late 1950's audiences already were moving on to watching Martin & Lewis and other younger comedians.
People whose job it is to make other people laugh seem to be cursed to suffer. It's a sad paradox that seems almost seems intentional a this point. Either way, even though their stardom was relatively brief, their legacy is the stuff of legend and biopics.
The two had a falling out in 1945 and refused to speak to each other off the set afterwards. Lou Costello passed away suddenly at the the age of 53 in 1959 after suffering a massive heart attack, ending any chance of reconciliation between the two. After his partner died, Bud Abbott' career became a shadow of it's former self. Without Lou, the comedy magic was gone. By the late 1950's audiences already were moving on to watching Martin & Lewis and other younger comedians.
People whose job it is to make other people laugh seem to be cursed to suffer. It's a sad paradox that seems almost seems intentional a this point. Either way, even though their stardom was relatively brief, their legacy is the stuff of legend and biopics.
I only hope that somewhere much brighter and beautiful than here, where men and women and children are free to live without pain or sadness, Abbott and Costello have just finished another one of their umpteenth fine performances, the same they've always done, what they were perhaps always meant to do.
And maybe my dad is somewhere in the audience, with my grandfather sitting beside him, laughing as loud and as long as I remember from my childhood.
All of Abbott and Costello's films are available on separate DVD collections. You can find them all here
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