A Wild and Crazy Guy: Steve Martin at 75

I've been planning on writing something about Steve Martin on WordJam for a while now, but I could never quite figure out what. A couple of film reviews, perhaps, or a retrospective of his novels and short story collections? Maybe an article about his music career? When you're dealing with a polymath it's hard to know where to start. Anyway, when I found out his 75th birthday was coming up I knew I had to do something to mark it. Martin's been one of my heroes since I was a kid, and alongside Peter Cook he's one of the single biggest influences on my own writing and stand-up.

I can't say with any certainty exactly when I first discovered Steve, but my earliest memory of him is from Little Shop of Horrors. Like most people of my generation who were children in the '80s that movie was required viewing in the halcyon days of cheap, mass-produced VCRs and rental shops. It wasn't until I was about nine or ten that I saw The Man with Two Brains, which without doubt was the funniest movie I'd ever seen up to that point. It was grown-up and childish, smutty and smart: perfect fare for a kid who enjoyed putting on funny voices to amuse his classmates. Although most childhood passions are fickle, my admiration for Martin never faded in my teenage years or beyond. Sure, I got exasperated with his film choices sometimes (I can just about bring myself to sit through Father of the Bride II or Cheaper by the Dozen again on a wet Sunday afternoon, which is more than I can say for Sgt. Bilko or The Pink Panther), but whenever I put on Let's Get Small, Three Amigos or even Shopgirl I still find myself bowled over by the range and quality of his work. I mean, how many comedians can you think of who are masters in slapstick, surrealism and satire?

So, as a little personal tribute I decided to do a rundown of my top ten Steve Martin films. There may be a few surprises here (spoiler: Parenthood didn't make the list, which certainly surprised me), but I think you'll agree the following titles demonstrate just what a rich legacy Steve has carved throughout his career. And if on the off-chance you're reading this, Steve, here's wishing you a happy birthday and a heartfelt thanks for all the memories.

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10.

Pennies from Heaven

(d. Herbert Ross, 1981)

This big screen adaptation of Dennis Potter's ground-breaking BBC drama serial may lack the inventiveness and sophistication of the original, but Martin's superb performance as adulterous songsheet salesman Arthur Parker brings charm and emotional depth to what could easily have been a soulless, alienating blockbuster. Martin later reflected that the film's poor box office performance was down to audiences expecting The Jerk 2 instead of a Brechtian musical drama, but in retrospect Pennies from Heaven is an important chapter in the canon of Martin's work as it gives us an early glimpse of his aptitude at both subtle comedy and serious drama. And boy, can this guy dance.

9.

Little Shop of Horrors

(d. Frank Oz, 1986)

It's evidence of Martin's chops as a character actor that he's in Little Shop of Horrors for less than ten minutes yet still manages steal the entire film. Martin was perfect casting for the arrogant, sadistic Orin Scrivello, recalling the smarmy egotist persona he developed in his stand-up routines. We also get to see Martin appear onscreen alongside Bill Murray again, whose gleeful masochism leads to one of the most subversive and downright bizarre sequences in '80s cinema. On a side note, when I was growing up I knew many people who had an aversion to visiting the dentist after watching Little Shop of Horrors. If that's not the mark of a great movie monster I don't know what is.

8.

L.A. Story

(d. Mick Jackson, 1991)

There's a distinct Woody Allen vibe to L.A. Story that's hard to ignore. We get an unfulfilled intellectual frustrated by the vapidity of modern culture, a burgeoning romance with a beautiful, talented woman whose personal life is fraught with complications and a metaphysical plot device that draws attention to both the film's themes and the protagonist's emotional dilemma. So far, so Play It Again, Sam; The Purple Rose of Cairo; Oedipus Wrecks, etc. But Martin's imaginative world is the flipside of Allen's, revelling in infinite possibilities and hopefulness while taking joy from the absurd and banal. L.A. Story is perhaps the purest distillation of this life philosophy, and modestly profound to boot.

7.
Dirty Rotten Scoundrels
(d. Frank Oz, 1988)

I've never been a fan of Michael Caine's work, but the chemistry he shares with Martin in Dirty Rotten Scoundrels is absolutely palpable. Caine's roguish charm as a con artist looking to cheat an American heiress out of her fortune is expertly counterbalanced by Martin's sleazy, smalltime hustler, transforming a relatively straightforward caper movie into a comedy masterclass. It's a shame there hasn't been another vehicle for Caine and Martin, but lightning rarely strikes twice. Besides, as the film fades on the closing credits we know exactly what the future holds in store for these two brilliantly written, beautifully played characters - the cinema in our mind's eye takes care of that.

6.

Roxanne

(d. Fred Schepisi, 1987)

Martin's witty resetting of Edmond Rostand's Cyrano de Bergerac is that rarest of beasts: a romantic comedy that follows logic rather than genre convention. There are no contrivances here; the characters are so textured that the plot flows organically from their actions instead of relying on barely disguised narrative impositions. It's a surprise, then, that Roxanne rarely seems to feature in lists of great romantic comedies. In its own quiet, understated way, this delightful film is equally as important as, say, Roman Holiday or Annie Hall in redefining what is often regarded as a throwaway or undemanding genre. It also boasts Martin's best acting performance, perfectly matched by the ever-wonderful Daryl Hannah.

5.

Bowfinger

(d. Frank Oz, 1999)

By the late '90s Martin wasn't quite the box office draw he had been earlier in the decade. As a new generation of comic talent emerged, Martin and many of his contemporaries found themselves facing diminishing returns or being sidelined completely. With this in mind, the story of down-on-his-luck film producer Bobby Bowfinger trying for one last shot at the big time is as close to a confessional as you can get. Martin's screenplay brims with humanity and affection for its ragtag collection of oddball characters who make up the also-rans and never-weres on the Hollywood fringe. Unlike other Tinseltown exposés, Bowfinger manages to deconstruct the showbusiness myth without bitterness or recrimination, making it one of the most singular (and therefore entertaining) film industry satires.

4.

The Man with Two Brains

(d. Carl Reiner, 1983)

In many ways, The Man with Two Brains marks the apotheosis of Martin's attempt to bring his own unique comic style to the big screen. No other film he made after this would be as chock-a-block with ludicrous flights of fantasy, absurd visual gags and delirious wordplay. Indeed, not even his previous films took such an 'everything but the kitchen sink' approach. If this was intended as a last hurrah before moving onto more commercial projects, and it certainly feels that way, then The Man with Two Brains is an undisputed triumph that deserves every bit of its cult status as the '50s mad scientist B-movies that inspired it. Like Airplane! and Naked Gun, it rewards - and stands up to - repeat viewings, yielding all sorts of lunatic treasures you're likely to miss the first time round.

3.

The Jerk

(d. Carl Reiner, 1979)

The Jerk launched both Martin's film career and a whole subgenre of wilfully crude, cheerfully un-PC comedies centred around deeply flawed protagonists trying to catch a break in a world pitted against them. What sets it apart from the Adam Sandler vehicles and Farrelly Brothers' gross-outs that followed, however, is an infectious sense of defiant optimism. This simple tale of an even simpler man who leaves his black adopted family for a soul-searching trip across country knows it's crass and dumb, and possibly even offensive, but the innocence of Martin's performance and the carefully carpentered script (co-written with Carl Gottlieb and Michael Elias) never allows it to sink into mean-spiritedness. Better-polished work was to come, but the fact The Jerk remains Martin's calling card shows how high he set the bar from the outset.

2.

Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid

(d. Carl Reiner, 1982)

An affectionate send-up of film noir, Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid follows private eye Rigby Reardon as he investigates the mysterious death of a cheese tycoon. Using footage from classic movies such as The Big Sleep, Double Indemnity and The Postman Always Rings Twice, Martin gets to share the screen with the likes of Humphrey Bogart, Ava Gardner, Charles Laughton and Joan Crawford as he finds himself sinking deeper into a world of heavies, murder plots and fifth columnists. The collage effect is seamless, never once spoiling the illusion we actually could be watching a movie from the '30s or '40s. I have absolutely no idea how Martin, Reiner and George Gipe even began writing the screenplay for this, but with so many great one-liners and comedy set-pieces on display it's churlish picking it apart. A criminally overlooked gem.

1.

Planes, Trains and Automobiles

(d. John Hughes, 1987)

Planes, Trains and Automobiles may be John Hughes' masterpiece and features the late, great John Candy's finest role, but consider Martin's contribution for a moment. Here you have the best comedian of his generation playing the antagonistic straight man to a larger than life, loquacious lug. It would have been easy for Martin to hijack the film by leaping on every humourous or emotional beat that presented itself to steal the limelight from his co-star; it's a testament, then, to both his generosity and intuitiveness as a performer that he lets Candy take the lead, trusts the material and shapes his characterisation accordingly. As a result, this riotously funny, endlessly quotable and deeply poignant tale of two mismatched personalities trying to make their way home for Thanksgiving effortlessly slides into the front-rank of buddy movies and sets a gold standard for cinematic double acts. If you don't have a tear in your eye or a song in your heart when the credits roll you're dead inside.

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But no tribute to Steve would be complete without mentioning his television appearances over the years. From The Smothers Brothers' Comedy Hour to Saturday Night Live and The David Letterman Show, there's a fantastic treasure-trove of sketches and routines to rediscover or explore. I'll leave you for now with my personal favourite, first broadcast on The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson in '92. I've always been envious of comedians who can incorporate pathos into their act, but being able to tug at people's heartstrings while your flies are undone is the mark of a genius.

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