Amazing Grace (1974)

An interesting mini-trend during the ’70s involved the resurgence of stars from yesteryear, with young-at-heart rascals George Burns and Ruth Gordon among the beneficiaries of unique projects catered to aged actors. Yet some performers from earlier generations returned to less laudatory effect, as in the awful comedy Amazing Grace, which features iconic “chitlin circuit” comedienne Jackie “Moms” Mabley. Despite having found the energy for career-revitalizing appearances on the TV show Laugh-In during the late ’60s, by the time she made Amazing Grace, Mabley was showing her years in the worst ways. It’s painful to watch her struggle through line readings and physical actions, so even though she basically delivers her characterization with the desired level of cartoonish sassiness, the sum effect is like watching your dotty grandmother tell an old story nobody wants to hear anymore. It’s a shame no one had the decency to pull the plug on this project once the lead actress’ limitations became apparent. Set in Baltimore and offering a silly, Capra-esque plot, Amazing Grace concerns busybody senior Grace (Mabley), who discovers that her next-door neighbor, mayoral candidate Welton J. Waters (Moses Gunn), is in the pocket of a rich (white) criminal named Annenberg (James Karen). Aided by her annoying friend, recently retired porter Forthwith Wilson (Slappy White), Grace sweet-talks Welton into the bosom of the lord, freeing him from corruption and even curing Welton’s wife (Rosalind Cash) of alcoholism. Each scene in Amazing Graceis more trite and vapid than the preceding, and the movie drags torturously as it stretches to include pointless cameos by old-time African-American performers Butterfly McQueen and Stepin Fetchit. Even if Mabley had been in better condition, Amazing Grace would still have been terrible—but given the condition of the leading actress, the movie is downright pathetic.

Amazing Grace: SQUARE

The Hot Rock (1972)

          Lightweight and never quite as laugh-out-loud funny as it should be, The Hot Rock is nonetheless a fun caper flick featuring one of Robert Redford’s most effortlessly charming performances. The movie also boasts a thoroughly entertaining screenplay by William Goldman, the wiseass wordsmith who penned Redford’s breakout movie, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969). In fact, Goldman and Redford clicked so well whenever they collaborated, it’s a shame their friendship dissipated after behind-the-scenes strife during the development of All the President’s Men (1976). Anyway, The Hot Rock was adapted from a novel by Donald E. Westlake, whose special gift is creating likeable crooks and outlandish plots. The Hot Rock begins with career thief John Dortmunder (Redford) getting released from his latest stint in prison—although he’s a talented robber, he has a bad habit of getting caught. Dortmunder is picked up, after a fashion, by his brother-in-law, Kelp (George Segal)—Kelp stole a car he doesn’t know how to drive, so he nearly runs Dortmunder over.

          And so it goes from there: Dortmunder’s life becomes a comedy routine of incompetent criminality once he agrees to pull a job with the amiable but unreliable Kelp. The duo are hired by Dr. Amusa (Moses Gunn), the U.N. ambassador of a small African nation, to steal a gigantic diamond, but each attempt at nabbing the prize ends up a pathetic failure. Over the course of several weeks, Dortmunder and Kelp try stealing the diamond from a bank, a museum, a police station, and a prison, abetted by neurotic explosives expert Greenberg (Paul Sand) and reckless getaway driver Murch (Ron Leibman).

          Goldman and versatile British director Peter Yates keep things moving along smoothly, balancing jokes and tension during elaborate heist scenes, so while The Hot Rock never explodes into raucous chaos, it sustains a solid energy level from start to finish. Yates shoots locations beautifully, capturing a vivid sense of Manhattan as an urban playground for the film’s gang of chummy nincompoops, and the acting is lively across the board. Redford plays everything so straight that he grounds the film’s comedy in emotional reality (while still cutting a dashing figure), and Leibman and Segal complement his work with motor-mouthed hyperactivity. Sand contributes a quieter vibe of sedate weirdness, and Gunn incarnates exasperation with great poise. Overbearing funnyman Zero Mostel pops up for a featured role about halfway through the picture, but luckily he’s only onscreen for short bursts, so he doesn’t wear out his welcome.

The Hot Rock: GROOVY