DVD Vault Flashback: Bob Fosse's All That Jazz (1979)

The only way to start a discussion of Bob Fosse’s semi-autobiographical and strangely prophetic All That Jazz (1979) is with an “It’s showtime, folks!” and jump immediately into the fact that not only is the film Fosse’s directorial masterpiece (sorry Cabaret (1972)) but it’s also Roy Scheider’s greatest performance. How Hoffman won for Kramer vs. Kramer (1979) over Scheider as Joe Gideon is beyond me.

The film opens with Gideon, a Broadway director/choreographer and part-time film director/editor—so Fosse himself—already physically and emotionally shot. We see quick cuts to drugs, bloodshot eyes, and Scheider smoking a cigarette in the shower—the futility of which he comically and pathetically realizes as he’s doing it. This is intercut with the first of many instances of magical realism in which Joe is literally tight-rope walking until he falls. When Fosse repeats the same quick cuts it’s clear that this is how Gideon starts every day; when it’s repeated multiple times his deteriorating health becomes apparent as well. As we spend more time in the fantasy world, a dressing room in which Gideon talks with Jessica Lange’s ANGELique, we also see quick shots of Joe lying on his back wearing an oxygen mask.

In the real world of All That Jazz, the opening audition scene sets up everything we need to know about the film and its characters, especially Gideon, his tenuous relationship with his daughter and ex-wife (their working relationship is surprisingly solid, though), his superhuman career focus, and his superhuman bent towards lechery and infidelity. In a later scene, his girlfriend, Kate (Ann Reinking) catches him cheating—not for the first time—and defeatedly remarks, “I just wish you weren’t so generous with your cock.” The second I heard that I chuckled and thought, “That’s a really good line,” which was immediately followed by Scheider chuckling and saying, “That’s good. I can use that sometime.” My biggest frustration with Joe isn’t so much his lechery, but his double standard about cheating. In one of the magical realism scenes there’s a flashback of Joe as a teen (played by Keith Gordon) humiliated by a trio of women and it seems that from there he spends the rest of his life with a vengeful need to conquer every woman he meets—or at least every one that gives him an erection—thus explaining so much about his behavior.

Bob Fosse’s direction of All That Jazz is absolutely brilliant as he deftly jumps between reality and fantasy to tell a tale of show biz decadence and superficiality. Joe deals with phony producers who don’t appreciate his vision upon seeing the sexuality in his “Take Off With Us” number, which is not only my favorite scene in Fosse’s filmography, but one of my favorite musical numbers ever put to film. Seriously, it’s so spectacular. Anyway, as Joe’s health declines and he has to step away from the production, the commentary on the theater and film business kicks in as the producers go into panic mode and hollowly tell the cast that they’re all a family while feigning to offer assistance during the show’s hiatus. A slimy director (a great early John Lithgow performance) even tries to snake into Joe’s job while he’s in the hospital.

Finally, the two-faced crescendo hits when the producers are in a board room discussing the fiscal details of the production while Joe’s life hangs in the balance in open-heart surgery. The scene cuts from the board room to the prep for Joe’s surgery back to the board room repeatedly until the cuts are to graphic shots of Joe’s surgery while the producers realize the insurance is structured so that it will work out better for them financially if Joe dies from his condition before finishing the show. After seeing that I can’t really blame Gideon for joyously singing, “Hello, emptiness. I feel like I could die!”