The Lonely Guy

Steve Martin's attempt at a more sophisticated comedy than his earlier features ends up as The Jerk on Prozac (or maybe Haldol). There are not many narrative movies made from either satirical or legit self-help books, and that's because the reality of watching a film based on such a source is never as good as the idea behind the book. Films of this ilk only get made because the book was a bestseller with "sex" in the title—Sex and the Single Girl, The Joy of Sex, Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex* (*But Were Afraid to Ask—or because their content sparked the interest of a producer who was certain they could transform it into a movie and make millions—He's Just Not That Into You, What to Expect When You're Expecting, Queen Bees and Wannabes.

Bruce Jay Friedman's social satire in the form of a personal growth manual, The Lonely Guy's Book of Life, was an instance of the latter. Friedman was a hilarious writer who wrote in a deadpan style and often drew on the events of his personal life to comment on the many major changes taking place in American society during the 1960s and 1970s. A contemporary and friend of Joseph Heller and Thomas Pynchon, Friedman wrote for all mediums—stage, screen, magazines, short stories, literary novels, and pop culture prose. His screenwriting credits include the original story for another 1984 picture, Splash.

Steve Martin was a big fan of Friedman's writing, especially The Lonely Guy's Book of Life, which features a tone similar to the one Martin would adopt in his later-day prose. Martin felt so connected to the book he felt there was a character for him to play in a movie version. It took several writers, producers, and directors to fashion a shootable picture from the 1978 book. However, the results are dismal despite all the A-list talent that contributed to it. Neil Simon wrote the first draft, with Taxi creators/writers Ed. Weinberger and Stan Daniels penning the final screenplay. Director Arthur Hiller (The Out-of-Towners, Love Story, Silver Streak, and The In-Laws) eventually ended up in the director's chair.

It's amazing the screenwriters chose to tell this story in such a similar way to Martin's prior movies, with him narrating the story, explaining the situations to us, and directly addressing the camera for comic effect. That worked brilliantly in a film like The Jerk, with its many wacky situations, but this is a movie we're supposed to see ourselves in. The picture's tone is a painful mess, with all the forced, unfunny jokes landing even worse than they should because of Hiller's pedestrian direction.

One gets the feeling that in the hands of a more gifted comedy director, like Carl Reiner, this movie might have played tighter, faster, and funnier, but this film was DOA from the point of conception. Friedman's sardonic, deadpan humor reads incredibly witty on the page, but when brought to life, it's kind of lifeless. An ironic self-help book about how to spruce up an ordinary, drab life can be hilarious, but a narrative movie along the same lines can’t really help but be centered on depressed losers whose lives are routine and uninspiring—hardly the kind of thing people go to a Steve Martin comedy, or to any movie, for.

The proof is that Charles Grodin brings such a perfectly calibrated mix of humor and authenticity to his role of Martin's lonely guy friend, but this actually works against the picture. Grodin's performance is flawless, but he just isn't a character we want to spend more than a few minutes of screen time with. That's true of everyone in this movie, from Martin to his potential love interest, Judith Ivey, to the many fall-flat cameos by Steve Lawrence, Merv Griffin, Loni Anderson, and Dr. Joyce Brothers. A big misstep and a tedious watch.