This is another all-star film I came across in my childhood, albeit of a more vintage and satisfying nature than the two CANNONBALL RUN outings that I've watched on the preceding days. It's a witty black comedy by Betty Comden and Adolph Green of SINGIN' IN THE RAIN (1952) fame which has a woman (Shirley MacLaine) who marries a succession of men, except that these always seem to die soon after achieving the height of success and happiness thus leaving her increasingly wealthy but obviously guilt-ridden!
Wanting to give away the fortune she's accumulated ($211 million!) over the years, the heroine's referred to a psychoanalyst (Robert Cummings) who's willing to hear her life-story. She began in modest surroundings, a poor girl whose parents (including regular Marx Bros. foil Margaret Dumont), proud of her beauty, want her to marry eminent bachelor Dean Martin; however, he's a heel and she prefers the mild-mannered Dick Van Dyke. Still, the latter soon demonstrates to harbor ideas above his station thinking himself able to wipe out rival Martin's business but, in so doing, he works himself to death! Off to Paris for a breather, she bumps into bohemian artist-cum-taxi driver Paul Newman (in what is arguably his most satisfying comical performance): they're idyllically happy at first, until he hits upon the idea of creating machines to accelerate the pace of his work but, driving even these to a frenzy, they rebel and crush him to death!
Next comes wealthy but bored industrialist Robert Mitchum: for love of MacLaine, he gives it all up fatally for the simple life; this is perhaps the least interesting segment in the film. Widowed and distressed once again, the heroine finds herself at a bar where minor cabaret artist (Gene Kelly, who, naturally, gets to sing and dance) cheers her up: yet, as ever, when the opportunity for celebrity as a movie star comes along ironically, when he decides to be himself Kelly grabs it with both hands with MacLaine already waiting for the inevitable come-uppance (he ends up mobbed by fans at a premiere!). Just as it seems there's no hope for the heroine (especially since Cummings himself offers to marry her, which shows how much he understood her problems!), Martin suddenly re-appears as a lowly janitor. Having been humbled, he now proves the ideal partner for MacLaine (incidentally, this was the fourth of five films in which the two stars appeared together): they raise a family together and live happily ever after but, even here, the writers taunt us with a prospective new jinx (they strike oil on their Texas farm), but it ultimately proves a false alarm.
WHAT A WAY TO GO! is a lavish Twentieth-Century Fox production including a plethora of costumes for the female lead (allegedly worth half-a-million dollars alone!) and outlandish sets (especially a bed in the form of a champagne glass during the Mitchum episode!) which is surprisingly but competently directed by action film expert Thompson (in itself, a testament to his versatility); depicting the progress of the heroine's accident-prone marriages as a series of amusing movie pastiches was a particularly inspired touch. For the record, MacLaine would soon make a similar episodic comedy (teaming her with another roster of male stars) in WOMAN TIMES SEVEN (1967) for Italian director Vittorio De Sica.
Wanting to give away the fortune she's accumulated ($211 million!) over the years, the heroine's referred to a psychoanalyst (Robert Cummings) who's willing to hear her life-story. She began in modest surroundings, a poor girl whose parents (including regular Marx Bros. foil Margaret Dumont), proud of her beauty, want her to marry eminent bachelor Dean Martin; however, he's a heel and she prefers the mild-mannered Dick Van Dyke. Still, the latter soon demonstrates to harbor ideas above his station thinking himself able to wipe out rival Martin's business but, in so doing, he works himself to death! Off to Paris for a breather, she bumps into bohemian artist-cum-taxi driver Paul Newman (in what is arguably his most satisfying comical performance): they're idyllically happy at first, until he hits upon the idea of creating machines to accelerate the pace of his work but, driving even these to a frenzy, they rebel and crush him to death!
Next comes wealthy but bored industrialist Robert Mitchum: for love of MacLaine, he gives it all up fatally for the simple life; this is perhaps the least interesting segment in the film. Widowed and distressed once again, the heroine finds herself at a bar where minor cabaret artist (Gene Kelly, who, naturally, gets to sing and dance) cheers her up: yet, as ever, when the opportunity for celebrity as a movie star comes along ironically, when he decides to be himself Kelly grabs it with both hands with MacLaine already waiting for the inevitable come-uppance (he ends up mobbed by fans at a premiere!). Just as it seems there's no hope for the heroine (especially since Cummings himself offers to marry her, which shows how much he understood her problems!), Martin suddenly re-appears as a lowly janitor. Having been humbled, he now proves the ideal partner for MacLaine (incidentally, this was the fourth of five films in which the two stars appeared together): they raise a family together and live happily ever after but, even here, the writers taunt us with a prospective new jinx (they strike oil on their Texas farm), but it ultimately proves a false alarm.
WHAT A WAY TO GO! is a lavish Twentieth-Century Fox production including a plethora of costumes for the female lead (allegedly worth half-a-million dollars alone!) and outlandish sets (especially a bed in the form of a champagne glass during the Mitchum episode!) which is surprisingly but competently directed by action film expert Thompson (in itself, a testament to his versatility); depicting the progress of the heroine's accident-prone marriages as a series of amusing movie pastiches was a particularly inspired touch. For the record, MacLaine would soon make a similar episodic comedy (teaming her with another roster of male stars) in WOMAN TIMES SEVEN (1967) for Italian director Vittorio De Sica.