By James David Patrick
We love a good scene of drunken debauchery. All the fun (by proxy) with none of the hangover. Speaking of which, explain the success of all three Hangover movies, if not for the desire of average, (mostly) sober humans to live vicariously through the exploits of irresponsible Bacchanalians. The legacy of on-screen drunkenness, likewise, has a darker underbelly. For every ten movies that celebrate the right to get drunk and crazy, there’s one that studies the dehumanizing fallout, the cost of alcoholism and addiction.
For this second feature on the best of the booziest movies, scenes, and personalities, I’ve selected a handful of excellent examples that highlight the highs and ultimate lows of alcohol consumption.
Check out which films I featured in part one here.
Favorite Drunken Personality – Dean Martin
As opposed to W.C. Fields, Dean Martin’s drunken legacy was all an act. The “Volare” crooner formed a long working relationship in a musical comedy act with Jerry Lewis. In their original New York act Lewis, dressed as a busboy, would interrupt and heckle Martin while he tried to sing until the act devolved into improvised slapstick. This led to an NBC radio and TV series before Paramount’s Hal Wallis signed them in 1949 to appear as comic relief in My Friend Irma (1949) and its sequel My Friend Irma Goes West (1950). The comic personality of Jerry Lewis ultimately eclipsed Dean Martin’s straight man. After five years of playing the dull romantic lead in increasingly tired scripts, Martin abandoned the act at the conclusion of their film contract in 1956.
After a sputtering start to his post-Jerry Lewis film career, his big break occurred when he was offered a leading role in the World War II epic The Young Lions (1958), sharing billing with Marlon Brando and Montgomery Clift. As Martin’s solo career on screen and stage blossomed during the 1960s, he became close friends with Frank Sinatra, Joey Bishop, Peter Lawford, and Sammy Davis, Jr., thereby forming “The Summit” or “The Clan.”
Their identity in popular culture, however, became “The Rat Pack”—the cult around which grew because of their Las Vegas stage performances comprised of singing, seemingly improvised slapstick, and idle conversation. Each actor developed a clear stage persona. Sinatra womanized. Sammy Davis, Jr. discussed his race and Jewish religion. Dean Martin, of course, drank. The legend of Martin’s drinking endures today even though the actor rarely consumed alcohol. When he stumbled to the stage, in a stumble-down alcoholic stupor, Martin’s glass was always filled with apple juice. He had to be sober to get up early the next morning to play golf.
This hugely popular character of “Dean Martin” invaded his film career as well in movies like Ocean’s 11 (1960), Billy Wilder’s Kiss Me Stupid (1964) and the Bond spoof The Silencers (1966). In Howard Hawks’ Rio Bravo (1959), the actor played a town drunk (and former deputy) named “Dude” who helps the sheriff (John Wayne) apprehend a murderous brother of a local rancher. The two, with the help of a cripple and young gunslinger must hold off the rancher’s gang while they wait for the U.S. Marshal to arrive. The story itself was conceived by Wayne and Hawks as a rebuttal to High Noon (1952). The response works beautifully because Hawks saw an opportunity to champion the strong central character of Wayne’s sheriff, but also collaboration with a wide range of personalities (a drunk; a “cripple;” and a greenhorn gunslinger/crooner) with one thing in common—commitment to duty and a moral compass.
Though it was not a critical success at the time of its release, Rio Bravo has come to be considered one of the greatest Westerns ever made. It remains one of my favorite movies ever put on film. So strong was this structural narrative Hawks himself went on to make two loose remakes of his own movie in El Dorado (1966) and Rio Lobo (1970). The 1969 comedy Support Your Local Sheriff (recommended in my James Garner piece earlier this year) also borrows this same structural and narrative device.
Women Get Drunk, Too! (Or Not?) – Karen Allen, Raiders of the Lost Ark (Steven Spielberg, 1981)
Though Karen Allen was been cast in the role of “damsel in distress” to fulfill the character trope for George Lucas and Steven Spielberg’s ode to the adventure serials of their youth, the character of Marion Ravenwood is a far cry from a wailing Wanda strapped to a train track and crying out for a hero’s rescue. Marion’s a complex firebrand who drinks Nepalese andocentrists under the table and harbors a seething dislike for the hero of her film. Though she eventually warms (again) to Indy’s charms, the unspecified trauma in their past muddies their relationship. This complication colors Indiana Jones with a hazy shade of gray, making him something more interesting than a 100% pure moral crusader.
Between our two stars, it’s only Marion that boasts a superhuman ability. Indiana Jones is afraid of snakes, and Marion can drink her weight in liquor, highlighted by the two scenes in which she attempts to hustle men for cash or freedom.
Of course, if you haven’t seen Raiders of the Lost Ark lately, it’s time to revisit, arguably, the most perfect example of commercial moviemaking ever put on film.
Beer! (That’s the Category) – Beerfest (Jay Chandrasekhar, 2006)
The Broken Lizard comedy team’s ode to maximum, irresponsible beer consumption might be too long and almost incoherent as a feature film, but it’s also a full case of quotable one liners and visual gags. In certain individual moments, if you squint, it might also seem like a rather smart parody of the underdog sports movie.
German-American brothers Todd and Jan Wolfhouse (Paul Soter and Erik Stolhanske) head to Germany to scatter their grandfather Johann’s ashes. Here they discover an underground drinking contest called Beerfest. They stumble into contentious familial ties, get accused of stealing the recipe for “the greatest beer in all ze world” and humiliated in a drink-off, and vow uncertain revenge. The Beerfest-curious need to know two things. First, Cloris Leachman was a national treasure and her comedic and dramatic talent (double feature with The Last Picture Show (1971), anyone?). The late actress steals every scene as the brothers’ prostitute great grandmother. And lastly, Beerfest contains the most inspired Das Boot (1981) reference in cinema history.
It might not exactly be the Rocky (1976) of beer, but Beerfest might be the best drinking movie during which you should just drink along, albeit responsibly.
The Art of the Cocktail – Casino Royale (Martin Campbell, 2006)
We long ago tired of the argument that James Bond shouldn’t be shaking his martinis. Indeed—most purists shudder at the thought of “bruising” a delicate martini by bashing it about a shaker with ice cubes. However, the most relevant effect is that the drink is made weaker through greater friction and subsequent melting of the ice cubes. It’s time to move on; this brand of Bond-splaining has aged as well as frivolous 1960s sexism. James Bond is an instrument of blunt-force trauma. He is an admirer of fine champagne and beautiful women and only wears the finest bespoke suits. Even the most discriminating connoisseur has a weakness for cheeseburgers.
The most famous 007 cocktail remains the drink that James Bond (via his creator Ian Fleming) describes, off the cuff, in Chapter 7 of the Casino Royale novel:
'A dry Martini,' he said. 'One. In a deep champagne goblet.'
'Oui, Monsieur.'
'Just a moment. Three measures of Gordon's, one of vodka, half a measure of Kina Lillet. Shake it very well until it's ice-cold, then add a large slice of lemon-peel. Got it?'
'Gosh, that's certainly a drink,' said Leiter.
Bond laughed. 'When I'm... er... concentrating,' he explained, 'I never have more than one drink before dinner. But I do like that one to be large and very strong and very cold, and very well-made. I hate small portions of anything, particularly when they taste bad. This drink's my own invention. I'm going to patent it when I think of a good name.'
And, fittingly, it wasn’t until the 21st and booziest James Bond film, the proper adaptation of that Ian Fleming novel, that James Bond finally details the Vesper martini on screen. It also happens to be a top-tier 007. A simple story of international espionage told with flair and a moderate pace that allows Daniel Craig, in his first outing as 007, to fully inhabit the character, embrace the cool, drink plenty of liquor, and fall in love with the ravishing Vesper Lynd (Eva Green).
It’s also worth mentioning that Casino Royale is also Bond’s booziest adventure. According to the Thrillist’s infographic, he drinks 26 units of alcohol: one glass of Mount Gay and soda, two glasses of whiskey, half a bottle of red wine, a bottle plus one glass of champagne, two Vesper martinis, and part of one poisoned Vesper. He still, somehow, manages to stay on his feet (except for the poison part).
I’m waiting for the James Bond v. Marion Ravenwood drink-off.
Charming Alcoholism – The Big Lebowski (Joel Coen, 1998)
Less a narrative film than a mood, The Big Lebowski (very loosely based on The Big Sleep) failed to find a theatrical audience in 1998 and only became a cult classic through discovery and subsequent rewatch on home video. Lines from the Coens’ script have become so woven into our contemporary cultural tapestry that it’s hard to believe there was once a time when everyone just shrugged in the face of such eccentric greatness:
“The rug really tied the room together.” “This aggression will not stand, man.” “Obviously you’re not a golfer.” “Nobody #$%&@ with the Jesus.” “Hey, careful, man, there’s a beverage here.”
Just to name a few.
And, speaking of beverages, the Dude drinks nine White Russians over the course of the movie’s 117-minute runtime. We first meet the Dude wandering (aimlessly and yet with a definite purpose) the aisles of a shopping market to buy drink ingredients (half-and-half, for which he pays with a $0.69 check). As he navigates the Coen brothers’ twisted maze of nihilists, soiled rugs, kidnapped wives, marmots, and bowling, the consumption of “Caucasians” remains the reliable constant… other than the Dude abiding, of course.
Not-So-Charming Alcoholism – Days of Wine and Roses (Blake Edwards, 1962)
To be fair, even raging alcoholic Jack Lemmon remains eminently charming.
Like many stories about alcoholism, director Blake Edwards amplifies the volume of the central performances. The actors push emotion to a critical breaking point in order to hammer home the destructive fallout of addiction. Someone unprepared for Days of Wine and Roses, might expect lighter fare. Though he dabbled in all arenas of filmmaking, Blake Edwards is best remembered for his light comedies, but this one cuts. As Jack Lemmon’s Joe Clay grapples with his own demons, his newly wedded wife (Lee Remick) stumbles with him. Her addictive personality (it all begins with chocolate) feeds off of Joe’s alcoholism.
Is their relationship a sincere human connection? Or is it a shared affection for the bottle, the pursuit of more alcohol, the cycle of pleasure and pain. The violence that creeps in whenever that dependency becomes sickening withdrawal.
Edwards’ film and Billy Wilder’s The Lost Weekend (1945) (which I wrote about in Boozy Movies Part One) share a distinct thematic and tonal range of emotion. After Days of Wine and Roses, Edwards made The Pink Panther and rarely returned to the melodrama. It’s a fascinating entry in the director’s long career, one that proved Edwards had more depth to offer than his later, more commercial career suggested.
James David Patrick is a Pittsburgh-based writer with a movie-watching problem. He has a degree in Film Studies from Emory University that gives him license to discuss Russian Shakespeare adaptations at cocktail parties. You’ll find him crate diving at local record shops. James blogs about movies, music and ‘80s nostalgia at www.thirtyhertzrumble.com. Follow him on Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook.