He’ll probably kill his family over this.

Seinfeld

2.3: The Busboy

Premise

After George accidentally causes the firing of a restaurant busboy, he attempts to make amends. Elaine has an unwanted would-be boyfriend to stay.

Observational

An early example of mixing things up, as George and Kramer team together to visit the titular character. This also stands out as the first not to have a “Jerry” plot. And it’s an episode Larry David cites as inspiring his most successful structures; two (or more) disparate plotlines that converge in the final stages.

If Jerry is in incidental, somehow he still manages to get many of the best lines; perhaps because he’s even more reactive. This is particularly acute during the diner scene the day after the restaurant incident. Not only is he cheerfully flippant regarding the consequences of the busboy’s firing (“He’ll probably kill his family over this”) but he shows complete indifference towards George’s pangs of guilt (“Maybe I’ll try that pesto”).

There are the usual incidents of small talk (“Where was pesto 10 years ago?” spotting someone with a hair transplant) that probably didn’t make it into one of the improv bits (this time we begin with Jerry riffing on the bills placed in a book at restaurants). But the episode really picks up when Kramer sallies forth from his apartment for the first time to visit Antonio (David Labiosa). George’s nervousness and insecurity is perfectly mirrored by Kramer’s exuberance and unselfconsciousness.

The scene is all the more amusing because Labiosa makes Antonio such a dangerous presence; squat and pugilistic, glowering with anger. Michael Richards is on fire, launching into pigeon-Spanish (“Agua?”) and generally making matters worse for George and Antonio; he leaves the door open allowing the busboy’s cat to run off, then he breaks his lamp (and attempts to “re-fix” the broken ceramic). Then, when Antonio asks who left the door open, he makes eye gestures implicating the hapless George.

Elaine’s plotline is all prelude to a scene of magnificent physical comedy as she attempts to get not-boyfriend Eddie (Doug Ballard) packed and dressed so he meets his flight on time. She’s already detailed to Jerry how she can’t stand him, pretending to be on her period so she doesn’t have to sleep with him, with a misanthropic bent that epitomises the show (“He’s a wonderful guy, but I hate his guts”). Her berserk rampage in a huge nightie, attempting to get Eddie into his trousers and throwing his clothes randomly into his suitcase, is a tour de force (Louise-Dreyfus may tut that she could have done it better, but she’s just being picky).

The dovetailing conclusion occurs off-screen, as the now grateful Antonio (an exploding gas main at the restaurant means that George’s act of selfishness saved his life!) has an altercation with Eddie on the stairs to Jerry’s apartment. Jason Alexander plays George’s fear-then-relief that Antonio doesn’t intend to kill him perfectly, while Kramer’s giddy excitement captures his lack of awareness of the potential repercussions for George (“The busboy’s coming! The busboy’s coming!”) And, of course, George and Elaine must suffer the fall-out from the set-to (George has to look after Antonio’s cat, while Elaine is stuck nursing Eddie back to health).

Quotable

George: I didn’t know he’d get fired.

Elaine: I said I’d never eat here again.

Jerry: I didn’t say anything.

Jerry: Kramer, George wants to know when you want to go look for the cat again.

Kramer: Well, it’s been a week. It’s up to the cat now.

Verdict:

Comments

Oh, you got me right in the pantaloons, partner.

The Party (1968) (SPOILERS) Blake Edwards’ semi-improvisational reunion with Peter Sellers is now probably best known for – I was going to use an elephant-in-the-room gag, but at least one person already went there – Sellers’ “brown face”. And it isn’t a decision one can really defend, even by citing The Party ’s influence on Bollywood. Satyajit Ray had also reportedly been considering working with Sellers… and then he saw the film. One can only assume he’d missed similar performances in The Millionairess and The Road to Hong Kong ; in the latter case, entirely understandable, if not advisable. Nevertheless, for all the flagrant stereotyping, Sellers’ bungling Hrundi V Bakshi is a very likeable character, and indeed, it’s the piece’s good-natured, soft centre – his fledgling romance with Claudine Longet’s Michele – that sees The Party through in spite of its patchy, hit-and-miss quality.

I never strangled a chicken in my life!

Rope (1948) (SPOILERS) Rope doesn’t initially appear to have been one of the most venerated of Hitchcocks, but it has gone through something of a rehabilitation over the years, certainly since it came back into circulation during the 80s. I’ve always rated it highly; yes, the seams of it being, essentially, a formal experiment on the director’s part, are evident, but it’s also an expert piece of writing that uses our immediate knowledge of the crime to create tension throughout; what we/the killers know is juxtaposed with the polite dinner party they’ve thrown in order to wallow in their superiority.

They'll think I've lost control again and put it all down to evolution.

Time Bandits (1981) (SPOILERS) Terry Gilliam had co-directed previously, and his solo debut had visual flourish on its side, but it was with Time Bandits that Gilliam the auteur was born. The first part of his Trilogy of Imagination, it remains a dazzling work – as well as being one of his most successful – rich in theme and overflowing with ideas while resolutely aimed at a wide (family, if you like) audience. Indeed, most impressive about Time Bandits is that there’s no evidence of self-censoring here, of attempting to make it fit a certain formula, format or palatable template.

I'm an old ruin, but she certainly brings my pulse up a beat or two.

The Paradine Case (1947) (SPOILERS) Hitchcock wasn’t very positive about The Paradine Case , his second collaboration with Gregory Peck, but I think he’s a little harsh on a picture that, if it doesn’t quite come together dramatically, nevertheless maintains interest on the basis of its skewed take on the courtroom drama. Peck’s defence counsel falls for his client, Alida Valli’s accused (of murder), while wife Ann Todd wilts dependably and masochistically on the side-lines.

You must have hopes, wishes, dreams.

Brazil (1985) (SPOILERS) Terry Gilliam didn’t consider Brazil the embodiment of a totalitarian nightmare it is often labelled as. His 1984½ (one of the film’s Fellini-riffing working titles) was “ the Nineteen Eighty-Four for 1984 ”, in contrast to Michael Anderson’s Nineteen Eighty-Four from 1948. This despite Gilliam famously boasting never to have read the Orwell’s novel: “ The thing that intrigues me about certain books is that you know them even though you’ve never read them. I guess the images are archetypal ”. Or as Pauline Kael observed, Brazil is to Nineteen Eighty-Four as “ if you’d just heard about it over the years and it had seeped into your visual imagination ”. Gilliam’s suffocating system isn’t unflinchingly cruel and malevolently intolerant of individuality; it is, in his vision of a nightmare “future”, one of evils spawned by the mechanisms of an out-of-control behemoth: a self-perpetuating bureaucracy. And yet, that is not really, despite how indulgently and glee

Miss Livingstone, I presume.

Stage Fright (1950) (SPOILERS) This one has traditionally taken a bit of a bruising, for committing a cardinal crime – lying to the audience. More specifically, lying via a flashback, through which it is implicitly assumed the truth is always relayed. As Richard Schickel commented, though, the egregiousness of the action depends largely on whether you see it as a flaw or a brilliant act of daring: an innovation. I don’t think it’s quite that – not in Stage Fright ’s case anyway; the plot is too ordinary – but I do think it’s a picture that rewards revisiting knowing the twist, since there’s much else to enjoy it for besides.

A herbal enema should fix you up.

Never Say Never Again (1983) (SPOILERS) There are plenty of sub-par Bond s in the official (Eon) franchise, several of them even weaker than this opportunistic remake of Thunderball , but they do still feel like Bond movies. Never Say Never Again , despite – or possibly because he’s part of it – featuring the much-vaunted, title-referencing return of the Sean Connery to the lead role, only ever feels like a cheap imitation. And yet, reputedly, it cost more than the same year’s Rog outing Octopussy .

Do you know the world is a foul sty? Do you know, if you ripped the fronts off houses, you'd find swine? The world's a hell. What does it matter what happens in it?

Shadow of a Doubt (1943) (SPOILERS) I’m not sure you could really classify Shadow of a Doubt as underrated, as some have. Not when it’s widely reported as Hitchcock’s favourite of his films. Underseen might be a more apt sobriquet, since it rarely trips off the lips in the manner of his best-known pictures. Regardless of the best way to categorise it, it’s very easy to see why the director should have been so quick to recognise Shadow of a Doubt 's qualities, even if some of those qualities are somewhat atypical.

I don’t like fighting at all. I try not to do too much of it.

Cuba (1979) (SPOILERS) Cuba -based movies don’t have a great track record at the box office, unless Bad Boys II counts. I guess The Godfather Part II does qualify. Steven Soderbergh , who could later speak to box office bombs revolving around Castro’s revolution, called Richard Lester’s Cuba fascinating but flawed. Which is generous of him.

I think you’re some kind of deviated prevert.

Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964) (SPOILERS) Kubrick’s masterpiece satire of mutually-assured destruction. Or is it? Not the masterpiece bit, because that’s a given. Rather, is all it’s really about the threat of nuclear holocaust? While that’s obviously quite sufficient, all the director’s films are suggested to have, in popular alt-readings, something else going on under the hood, be it exposing the ways of Elite paedophilia ( Lolita , Eyes Wide Shut ), MKUltra programming ( A Clockwork Orange, Full Metal Jacket ), transhumanism and the threat of imminent AI overlords ( 2001: A Space Odyssey ), and most of the aforementioned and more besides (the all-purpose smorgasbord that is The Shining ). Even Barry Lyndon has been posited to exist in a post-reset-history world. Could Kubrick be talking about something else as well in Dr. Strangelove ?

Now In Full Color, with a Happier Ending

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