“THIS IS A HOLDUP?”

By Raymond Benson

Woody Allen’s very first directorial effort (not counting What’s Up, Tiger Lily? from 1966, which was, in actuality, a Japanese spy movie that Allen rewrote, dubbed, and re-edited into a comedy) was the low budget, no frills Take the Money and Run, released in the summer of 1969 to an unsuspecting audience. While Allen was already somewhat familiar to the public via his numerous television talk show and stand-up appearances, as well as his small roles in three late-60s motion pictures, no one was quite prepared for the zany, nebbish onscreen persona that Allen debuted in Take the Money. It was a cinematic guise he would keep to the present day.

The intellectual Jewish nerd that Allen presented (here his character’s name is Virgil Starkwell) quickly became the guy whom we all thought Woody Allen really is. Some folks might have said, “Oh, he’s just playing himself.” Perhaps certain characteristics of the real Woody Allen may have been a part of Virgil Starkwell, or Fielding Mellish, or even Alvy Singer, but like Groucho Marx and his onscreen persona, we now know that Woody Allen is not that guy. In truth, he tends to be surprisingly shy, quiet, and introverted. This revelation makes the performances in his movies that much more remarkable.

Take the Money and Run is also a milestone because of its “mockumentary” format, a comedy sub-genre that had been rarely explored up to that point. Something like A Hard Day’s Night might be called a mockumentary, but it wasn’t until Allen’s landmark unveiling of his first feature that we saw the comedic possibilities of presenting a story as if it were real news—complete with documentary-style narration (provided in this case by veteran Jackson Beck).

The movie is the tale of a common serial thief, and how his love life and eventual marriage (to Louise, played by Janet Margolin) affects his “career.” The hilarious biographical narrative includes wacky robberies, failed attempts to go straight, and numerous stints in the pen. One cannot easily forget the classic bank holdup scene in which Allen passes a note to the teller, who can’t read the handwriting. Before long, the entire staff of the bank is attempting to decipher whether Starkwell wrote “gub” or “gun.” “Is this a holdup?” one guy asks.

Made for roughly $1.5 million, the picture looks, well, cheap, and it has that 1960s shot-on-newsreel-cameras feel, which of course is entirely appropriate. The direction is competent; Allen has long acknowledged the contribution of editor Ralph Rosenblum to his early comedies. It’s not unfair to say that Rosenblum may have taught Allen essential lessons in directing. That said, it’s also no small feat to act in, direct, and co-write (with Mickey Rose) a movie. Despite the low rent vibe of the picture, the jokes really do come every few seconds, and this is worth the price of admission. It is a very funny movie.

The Kino Lorber Blu-ray transfer looks fine, although the video quality of the original picture wasn’t particularly great to begin with. Unfortunately, like with most Allen Blu-ray releases, there are no supplements other than trailers for other Kino Lorber releases.

Nevertheless, Take the Money and Run is a worthwhile examination of a genius artist’s baby steps. There’s no question that Allen’s career began with an impressive laugh riot—and things would only get better.

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