Anthology of Gaffes

By Stefan Kanfer

Anyone defining schlemiel and schlimazel should consult a Yiddish lexicon or A New Leaf. Traditionally, a schlemiel is a person who spills the soup; a schlimazel is the one on whom he spills it. In this film the schlemiel is Henrietta (Elaine May). The schlimazel is Henry (Walter Matthau).

Henry's lack of character has been concealed by layers of that splendid raiment, money. But, alas, Henry has dipped into principal twice too often, and now all he has left is his red Ferrari and his gentleman's gentleman Harold (George Rose). There are but two effortless avenues to wealth. One is inheritance--and Henry has used that up. The other avenue is marriage--followed by inheritance.

Henry shudders, then squares his shoulders and waddles off to the altar--alone but hopeful. On the way he meets Henrietta, spilling tea at a party. As Elaine May plays her, Henrietta is a hilarious anthology of gaffes; when she smiles, lipstick enamels her teeth. When she rises from a table, her lap is upholstered with crumbs. Price tags cling to her new clothes; her fingers dangle from hapless hands, like stockings hung to dry. But she has one profound saving grace: wealth beyond avarice. "Let me take all this away from you," schemes her new suitor, and sweeps her off her purse.

That ends the comedy but not the picture. Henry studies manuals of toxicology, but never gets around to expunging his bride. Instead, the wastrel learns to endure her and discover the joys of financial management. That leaves Henry with something of a vocation, but it does not leave the audience with much of a picture. Once the laughs subside, the project, like Henry's old wallet, is bare. A New Leaf may be the first film in which Matthau is miscast. He retains his unique webfooted shuffle, and still sends home his jokes special delivery. But his astringent lines ("That woman is not primitive, she is feral") belong on the palate of a George Sanders or a Clifton Webb, not in a sardonic side-of-the-mouth piece. Moreover, May's improvisatory direction overindulges a slew of minor players who could be sued for nonsupport.

Perhaps the most damning analysis of A New Leaf comes from none other than Elaine May herself--by way of her lawyer: "a cliche-ridden, banal story ... It will be a disaster if the film is released." The trouble, claims the Star-Director-Writer, is not the performances, direction or scenario. It is the studio. Paramount, she claims in a fat 14-point complaint, took her black comedy away from her and "advised me ... that the film released would be that as cut and edited by Fritz Steinkamp, a Hollywood editor, and Robert Evans, a vice president of Paramount Pictures Corporation." In a fatter, angrier 81-count reply, Paramount insists that "Elaine May failed to perform her duties as a director in a timely, workmanlike and professional manner, resulting in substantially increased production costs."

New York State Supreme Court Justice Irving H. Saypol viewed the film, then rendered his verdict: on with the show. Director May vows an appeal to withdraw the film. If that fails, she wants her name removed from the credits. Fortunately, she cannot remove her face. It belongs to the funniest litigant in town.

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