POPEYE

As part of my quest to watch all of Robert Altman's films, Popeye was one I approached with low expectations.  Honestly, I selected it early on... simply to get it out of the way.  When the film was released, the reception was far from enthusiastic, and at the time, I didn't have the film-viewing acumen to fully appreciate the immense talent of Robin Williams or Shelley Duvall.  Because of that, I always had a nagging sense that I would hate it.  But now that I've seen it, I can honestly say that not only did I NOT hate it… I found it surprisingly charming!  While it's not without its flaws, Popeye ultimately serves as a heartfelt and well-executed tribute to the classic Fleischer Studios Popeye the Sailor cartoons from the 1930s and 1940s.

One of the standout strengths of Popeye lies in its remarkable casting.  Robin Williams, riding high on the success of his breakout role as the exuberant Mork in Mork & Mindy, delivers a subdued yet captivating portrayal of the iconic Popeye.  He wisely keeps his character’s comments just below the volume of everyone else, embodying Popeye’s charming curmudgeon persona with subtlety. Williams also puts his unique stamp on the beloved Popeye voice, originally made famous by Jack Mercer in the animated shorts, capturing both its gruffness and tenderness.

Shelley Duvall’s performance as Olive Oyl is nothing short of brilliant.  She brings the character’s awkward physicality, signature exasperated lilted sighs, and headstrong spirit to life, completely embodying Olive's essence.  The supporting cast shines just as brightly, with Paul L. Smith bringing a menacing yet comical edge to Bluto, Paul Dooley as the hamburger-obsessed Wimpy, and Bill Irwin portraying the bumbling Harold Hamgravy.  For a fun bit of trivia, Popeye was originally a minor character in the Harold Hamgravy comic strip, which debuted in 1919, with Olive Oyl as Harold’s girlfriend.  However, as Popeye’s popularity soared, he gradually took over the strip—along with Olive—and Harold was written out.

One of Altman’s strengths as a director is filming large ensemble casts and making sure that each and every character is important to the scene.  He employs this skill seamlessly throughout this movie.  His appreciation of the source material shows from the film’s opening to its inevitable closing.  This film is an outstanding example of bringing animated cartoons to life while not expelling the absurdism that animation allows.

There are two main factors that hinder the overall success of this film.  The first is the excessive reliance on musical numbers. While the original Fleischer-animated Popeye shorts did include songs, these were brief, often featuring only one or two. In contrast, Popeye the movie has 12 musical numbers, which feels excessive—three or four too many.  While a few of the songs, like He’s Large, He Needs Me, and I Yam What I Yam, genuinely enhance the characters, many others feel more like filler.  Several songs seem tacked on merely to occupy space, rather than serving any meaningful purpose.

The second thing that doesn’t work is the film’s plot, primarily its ending.  One spinach-fueled punch and suddenly things are wrapped up.  It almost feels like someone said, “Hey, we’ve filmed enough to make a movie, so let’s wrap this up!”   Defeating Bluto should have been more satisfying.

The bottom line is that Popeye has much more going for it than going against it.  I’m sincerely glad that I watched it.  Were it not for my goal this year to see all the films that Robert Altman directed I would never have watched this film.  And that would have been my loss. This was a truly enjoyable two hours of pure escapism!