Gilda Radner was a veritable bag of funny bones, able to capture the slapstick genius of Lucille Ball, the hauteur of the seventies Studio 54 crowd, the jauntiness of a Fellini clown, yet sturdy enough to go toe to toe with any of her Saturday Night co-stars, including such heavyweights as John Belushi and Bill Murray. We just assumed she was naturally funny and having a great time. But thinking this way negates whatever it is that drives someone into comedy; with Gilda there was no shortage of angst and inner turmoil. Love, Gilda, currently in limited release, reveals a bit of this woman's chaotic personal life.
Early on we learn that Gilda, "decided to be funny about what I didn't have." In this thoughtful documentary from CNN Films, directed by Lisa Dapolito from Radner's audio tapes, home movies, and diary entries, we find out that there was a lot she didn't have. A bright, chubby kid from a well-off Detroit family, Radner's life was turned upside down at 14 when her father died of a brain tumor. So shocking was her dad's death that Gilda felt she didn't grow emotionally beyond the age of 14. Yet, she was a contemplative woman, perhaps inspired by the mountains of self-help gaga being sold in her day. More recent SNL cast members (Amy Poehler, Bill Hader, Maya Rudolph) are shown reading aloud from Radner's diaries; much of it is cryptic, as if Gilda wrote in a shorthand meant only for herself. Still, the snippets reveal an intelligent, observant woman, at once amused and disappointed by her surroundings. She suffered from a major eating disorder and depression, and questioned the usefulness of fame even as she craved it.
In some ways, hers was the traditional showbiz tale, where a gangling girl achieves extraordinary success but never quite finds happiness. Lonely, perhaps in search of a father figure, she gravitated to the men she worked with, and since most were comic mad men like Murray and Dan Aykroyd, it was one romantic failure after another. That is, until she met the gentler, more sophisticated Gene Wilder. Though she appeared in a few movies with Wilder, it appeared that Gilda, by then, was less concerned about performing. After five years of SNL, at a time when when the show was a cultural touchstone, anything else would be a letdown. "I could be happy working in a shoe store," she says after her SNL days, "making the customers laugh." She remained funny, even in her final years as she dealt with ovarian cancer. She died at 42.
Gilda Radner was mesmerizing on SNL because she was a throwback performer. While her co-stars were doing impressions of Nixon and Kissinger, or making sly drug references, she was hurling herself into walls, wearing crazy wigs, and speaking in funny voices. Loose limbed and rubbery featured, she was an Al Hirschfeld caricature come to zany life. Along with this was a likability factor unmatched by any female SNL performer since. She was also a bit raunchy, partial to what she called "gross pig humor." How could we not love her?
Unfortunately, Dapolito handles her subject like a delicate flower. Though well-done, Love, Gilda feels like a typical release from CNN Films. We watch and think, Yes, Gilda was brilliant. Yes, she died young. And that's it. Dapolito should've taken a tip from Radner and gone for more laughs. She also makes a big mistake by not mentioning Radner's classic song, "Let's Talk Dirty To The Animals." Perhaps it was too crude, or would disrupt Dapolito's mission to show the sad face behind the clown makeup.
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