by Jillian Butler, Ampersandology
Oh, Roy Scheider. Never were you more resplendent than in this film. It shames me that there are people of my generation who think you're nothing more than Sheriff Brody in Jaws. But good news! It's time for....
Th above still illustrates everything you need to know. In All That Jazz (1979), Scheider stars as Joe Gideon, a thinly-veiled allusion to director/choreographer Bob Fosse. He's a self-absorbed, drug-addicted alcoholic womanizer, and he still comes off as an okay guy. Please notice: the man is wearing a sequined Brando t-shirt, and yet remains the sexiest thing of all the things.
Let me repeat that: he wore a sequined t-shirt. You never doubt the Sexy.
I've aways suspected Roy Scheider never got the credit he was due, mostly because when his obits ran, all news outlets to tag him with was the "star of Jaws." It's their loss, because Scheider was so much more. In my mind, he's usually the highlight of very good films, and the redeeming factor in many bad films. He singlehandedly made me watch Marathon Man---I refused for a long time, you see; I have a thing about dentists.
He fights! He punches! He wears suits and puts Dustin Hoffman in sexy danger! Amazing. He's still the thing I remember most of that film, and he was on screen for all of what, 20 minutes?
Though the latter half of his career was tepid at best, watching him in All That Jazz is a revelation: as Gideon tunnels further and further into addiction, Scheider plays his sad resignation straight, with a wry self-absorption. His downward spiral becomes so much more moving to me than if it had been typically sentimental or realistic, because Gideon is the Dream Factory.
It's funny, but watching Scheider in All That Jazz again I was reminded of a modern take on the perpetual screw up: Hank Moody in Californication. Moody drinks, sleeps around and constantly lets down the figures of love and stability in his life, like Gideon. But where Moody murders audience sympathy for his half-hearted failure to live up to any expectations set for him, Scheider's performance makes it clear that Gideon's worst enemy is his own resignation to that same failure. Scheider said of Fosse, who Gideon is basically based on:
Basically, Gideon gives up on himself before anyone else even thinks to, because he's the only one who knows the whole truth, that's he's a phony and no-good. Whether or not that's true, you feel it in Scheider's performance, that he's in on his own big secret. It's a terrific performance, one of his best. And definitely his sparklyist.
Let's face it, Scheider was a true blue original. In his youth, he'd been a boxer (ooh!), a frat boy (oh.) and a member of the Air Force (...oh?). He was lean, with a strange, angular face that was never quite handsome. But he had a rough, salty edge to him, an old soul even in his youngest days on the screen. I love watching his performances because they sparkle with a hard wisdom. This man has seen a great deal and survived more still. And he's always thinking it through.
Also, he makes all the illicit things he does in films (smoking, killing people, appearing in Jaws sequels) seem actually like a terrific thing to do. See, I'm pretty shallow, is what I'm saying.
Oh, Roy Scheider. Never were you more resplendent than in this film. It shames me that there are people of my generation who think you're nothing more than Sheriff Brody in Jaws. But good news! It's time for....
Intellectual Crush of the Week!
And tag Roy Scheider: you're it.
Th above still illustrates everything you need to know. In All That Jazz (1979), Scheider stars as Joe Gideon, a thinly-veiled allusion to director/choreographer Bob Fosse. He's a self-absorbed, drug-addicted alcoholic womanizer, and he still comes off as an okay guy. Please notice: the man is wearing a sequined Brando t-shirt, and yet remains the sexiest thing of all the things.
Let me repeat that: he wore a sequined t-shirt. You never doubt the Sexy.
I've aways suspected Roy Scheider never got the credit he was due, mostly because when his obits ran, all news outlets to tag him with was the "star of Jaws." It's their loss, because Scheider was so much more. In my mind, he's usually the highlight of very good films, and the redeeming factor in many bad films. He singlehandedly made me watch Marathon Man---I refused for a long time, you see; I have a thing about dentists.
He fights! He punches! He wears suits and puts Dustin Hoffman in sexy danger! Amazing. He's still the thing I remember most of that film, and he was on screen for all of what, 20 minutes?
Though the latter half of his career was tepid at best, watching him in All That Jazz is a revelation: as Gideon tunnels further and further into addiction, Scheider plays his sad resignation straight, with a wry self-absorption. His downward spiral becomes so much more moving to me than if it had been typically sentimental or realistic, because Gideon is the Dream Factory.
It's funny, but watching Scheider in All That Jazz again I was reminded of a modern take on the perpetual screw up: Hank Moody in Californication. Moody drinks, sleeps around and constantly lets down the figures of love and stability in his life, like Gideon. But where Moody murders audience sympathy for his half-hearted failure to live up to any expectations set for him, Scheider's performance makes it clear that Gideon's worst enemy is his own resignation to that same failure. Scheider said of Fosse, who Gideon is basically based on:
Fosse, I think, came to a high point in his life, with an Oscar, a Tony and an Emmy, and asked himself, "Do they think I'm really that good? They don't know I'm really a sham, a hoax, a phony, a lousy human being, not much of a friend to anybody and a flop ... they don't know I'm covered with flop sweat". That's an expression Bob uses a lot -- flop sweat.
Basically, Gideon gives up on himself before anyone else even thinks to, because he's the only one who knows the whole truth, that's he's a phony and no-good. Whether or not that's true, you feel it in Scheider's performance, that he's in on his own big secret. It's a terrific performance, one of his best. And definitely his sparklyist.
Let's face it, Scheider was a true blue original. In his youth, he'd been a boxer (ooh!), a frat boy (oh.) and a member of the Air Force (...oh?). He was lean, with a strange, angular face that was never quite handsome. But he had a rough, salty edge to him, an old soul even in his youngest days on the screen. I love watching his performances because they sparkle with a hard wisdom. This man has seen a great deal and survived more still. And he's always thinking it through.
Also, he makes all the illicit things he does in films (smoking, killing people, appearing in Jaws sequels) seem actually like a terrific thing to do. See, I'm pretty shallow, is what I'm saying.
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