By Lee Pfeiffer
Warner Home Video has paid tribute to the late Paul Newman by releasing a batch of his films that are making their debut on DVD. However, the real tribute to the legendary star is that they kept some of these in the vault until he passed away. Still, even mediocre Newman is most welcome and these second-rung titles afford enormous pleasures, though perhaps, not in the way the filmmakers intended. The Warners production notes that accompanied the screener of Newman's 1956 debut film The Silver Chalice are refreshingly candid and acknowledge that the film is so bad, the star famously took out an ad in the trade papers apologizing for his participation in it. That kind of ballsy move, characteristic of the man himself, may have been what prevented him from falling into oblivion (or worse, becoming the next Victor Mature.) Certainly, there isn't the slightest indication that Newman possessed the kind of star power that would see him become one of the giants of the silver screen. Yet, I can scarcely contain my enthusiasm in recommending this release to all lovers of bad movies. If Ed Wood made a Biblical film, it would have been The Silver Chalice - as this is the Ben-Hur of those dumbed-down tits-and-toga "epics" that swept theaters in the 1950s. The movie is best enjoyed in a Mystery Science Theater - like scenario, so invite your most cynical, wittiest friends over, open a few bottles of wine and sit back and enjoy the glories of a film that produces more laughs than anything the Zucker brothers ever dreamed up.
The movie casts Newman as a Greek sculptor (!) named Basil who is adopted by a Roman aristocrat, but sold into slavery after his father dies - the result of some chicanery on the part of a disreputable nobleman who wants to inherit the family fortune. Basil makes the best of his lot and gains a reputation for his sculpting skills. He also attracts an older noblewoman (Virginia Mayo), in what must have been the first MILF instance of the Biblical era. Before long, Basil is approached by those long-suffering Christians with a delicate task - sculpt a silver chalice that will hold the cup Jesus drank from during The Last Supper. In order to do so, Basil has to keep his mission secret, all the while trying to realistically depict the disciples and Christ's likenesses on the precious cup. He gets 'em all, but gosh-darn-it, he can't seem to get the inspiration for depicting The Big Guy's image. (It won't spoil the suspense to tell you that, only after becoming a better Christian, does the image of Christ finally appear before him- complete with the kind of lush studio musical orchestration that must be an omnipresent aspect of heaven.) Much is made of keeping the Jesus cup and accompanying chalice out of the hands of thieves and anarchists, but no one seems to comment on the fact that, for all the risk and subterfuge, the precious silver handiwork resembles a cheap bowling trophy.Â
Most of the pleasures in
The Silver Chalice derive from the famously inept production design. This may be a film about a sculptor but the most prominent chisler was Jack Warner, who seems to have afforded the production less money than he spent on cigars in a week. This is a claustrophobic film with only a few outdoor shots thrown in to alleviate the tedium. The interiors seem confined to a few set pieces including a palace in which the large bricks in the wall are drawn on with what appear to be magic markers. The streets seem to be paved with kitchen linoleum and apparently, the early Romans lived in igloo-like structures! The dialogue is a real hoot with one character extolling the virtues of the city by actually saying "There's no place like Rome." (Surprisingly, he isn't clicking ruby slippers together when he says it.) Gay viewers will be particularly amused by the not-so-subtle homo-erotic content to many scenes. Newman walks around in more mini skirts than you'd find on a London street in 1967. The macho supporting cast is not immune from Village People-like fashions as well. In one scene, Jack Palance and Joseph Wiseman are both clad in over-the-top numbers with plunging necklines that show enough cleavage to have made Jayne Mansfield blush. (Palance is also inexplicably attired in a beehive hat that makes him look like he was channeled from a future Coneheads sketch). Even Lorne Greene is caught up in the bonanza of cliches. The future Ben Cartwright is cast as St. Peter!
It takes a truly awful movie to win a coveted Cinema Retro "must-buy" recommendation, but The Silver Chalice passes the test with flying colors. The film is devoid of any extras, which is a pity, as it would have been fascinating to see the trailer for this disaster. The film does succeed on one count: if it was made in the hope of having religious cynics become more attuned to Christ, I concede I shouted "Oh, God!" after every line of dialogue.
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