Review of Catch-22 (1970) by Sarah S — 27 Jul 2008

Catch-22 is one of the funniest black comedies I have ever seen. It's full of great sight gags, more daring versions of run-of-the-mill army jokes, satirically realized characters that are written to take devastating aim realistic versions, et cetera. Aside from all of that, the reason that it is all so funny is because of the surrounding point of it all: Alan Arkin's character simply cannot escape the binds of the military regulations and rules, which come in the form of an endless stream of subtle catch-22s. The premise of course is founded upon the catch-22 that Arkin faces when trying to be declared insane so he doesn't have to fly anymore missions, a hilarious boundary of opposing yet still compatible reasons, but throughout the film, a flow of smaller catch-22s decorates the plot. I haven't read Joseph Heller's novel, but having seen the film, I can say it's a brilliantly delivered satire.

The film's zipping pace adds to the tongue-and-cheek tone of the movie. Mike Nichols almost always brings an acute intensity to the style and pace of his movies, and so in this film, the story is told through overlapping scenes, fixated cinematography comprised in several scenes of one long take, blaring and constant sounds, and grippingly animated performances from the cast.

Alan Arkin, Anthony Perkins, Bob Newhart, and Jon Voight deliver most of the laughs, all of them somehow assigned to different roles for humorous delivery. Arkin and Perkins, though their characters are very different, are the livewire physical comedians, Newhart is the gawky neurotic butt of schemes and chains of cause and effect, and Jon Voight is the dry exaggeration of the coldly, proudly capitalizing American entrepreneur.

Catch-22 was made in 1970, beginning a decade of the most potent crop of films there would be until the turn of the 21st century, the later spurt of cinematic high points lasting a lot shorter than a decade, for now in America, our films have developed a peculiar pituitary disorder in which the maturity has receded greatly and reduced itself to a childlike state. Let's face it. There really aren't too many great films right now. More legitimately put, you can't just walk into any movie nowadays with the sure feeling that you'll enjoy yourself. You have to choose wisely and carefully now to make sure you don't spend two hours watching a contrived, formula-deformed disaster. Catch-22 is the perfect example of the creative intelligence, sophistication, and razor-sharp talent that went into movies in the 1970s.