In fact, I hate anyone that ever had a pony growing up.

Seinfeld

2.2: The Pony Remark

The Premise

Jerry attends a relative’s dinner party and she takes extreme offence at a joke he makes.

Observational

Much as I like Morty and Helen Seinfeld (Barney Martin and Liz Sheridan), I find their episodes don’t tend to have the zest or spark of, say, those with George’s parents. This may be because there’s something slightly recumbent about them, which you could never say of the senior Costanzas.

This idea behind this one is ultimately slightly better than the finished episode; an offhand bit Jerry throws out proves objectionable to Manya (Rozsika Halmos). When she dies that night, Jerry wonders if the offence he caused was so great it killed her. What really sells the thing is the sheer unlikeliness of the subject matter (“Who figures an immigrant’s going to have a pony?”). Jerry decides to lay into these equine beasties (“In fact, I hate anyone that ever had a pony growing up”), little realising that Manya had one (“He was a beautiful pony and I loved him”). Halmos relays Manya’s indignation beautifully. But the dinner scene is such a highlight that the rest can’t quite match up.

Still, there’s some good material at the subsequent funeral, not least the eulogy delivered by Earl Boen (Silberman in the first three Terminators). Louise-Dreyfus also has to shout her inquires over the possibility of letting Manya’s apartment to the not-quite-present Isaac (David Fresco). Consistently barbed are the blunt suggestions that Jerry’s remarks killed Manya; no one is attempting to smooth over his trouble conscience (not really that troubled at all, since a baseball game is his priority), even after Isaac indicates that he wasn’t the cause (“She was much more upset about the potato salad”). Later in the series Jerry will generally coast by unaffected by what transpires; here he is “punished” by losing his baseball game (“Makes you wonder about the spirit world”).

A number of staples of Jerry’s family background are introduced. We learn that Morty had the idea for the beltless trench coat, which will later blossom into a less-than-fruitful business transaction with Kramer. We also see Uncle Leo for the first time, a boorish relative of Jerry’s who comes complete with a tache and a chin; and the inimitably enthusiastic delivery of Len Lesser.

It’s George who shares a backseat with Kramer this time. In fact, he doesn’t even appear until the second half when he surfaces with non-sequitors about his absent sex life. The best part of this scene is his digression and Elaine’s digression over the workings of the spirit world (“It’s all mental!”) Kramer’s contribution is a bet with Jerry over whether he will actually put into effect his plan to split-level and carpet his apartment. When he goes off the idea he does the very Kramer thing of proclaiming the bet is off (Jerry replies, “That’s the bet. That you’re not doing it!”)

Quotable

George: Do you know how easy it is for dead people to travel? One second! It’s all mental! It’s not like getting on a bus.

Eulogist: Oh, how she loved that pony. It’s lustrous coat. It’s flowing mane. It was the pride of Krakow.

Jerry: But I went to the funeral!

Elaine: Yeah, but that doesn’t make up for killing her.

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 ?

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