He rarely made me laugh, but I respected him as an actor. Especially in One Hour Photo.
No one’s mentioned Airplane! yet. No question, it’s a very funny movie, but how the heck does it get there. It starts with very dumb, juvenile jokes, and just keeps 'em coming. I start laughing in spite of myself, until I’m splitting a gut.
“He’s got a drinking problem [he keeps missing].” “Don’t call me Shirley.” “I want every light on that runway.” And on and on. Yes, some of the jokes are funny for being outrageous, but mostly, they’re just dumb. And I can’t stop laughing.
A good case can be made for Bob Hope being the most important and most popular American entertainer of the 20th century.
He rose from the bottom in vaudeville to be a top performer, and carried that over to Broadway musical comedy. He moved to Hollywood for a starring role in The Big Broadcast of 1938, where he got to sing “Thanks for the Memories,” which won the Oscar and became his theme song. By 1940 he and Bing Crosby teamed for their first Road movie and rose to superstars. Hope was in the top ten film grossers every year from 1941 to 1953 and finally surpassed Crosby for number one in 1949.
Radio helped. His show was in the top ten from 1938-1949, number one or two from 1942-1946. He had started doing topical monologs in vaudeville; radio drove them to a brand. They influenced every talk show host monolog down to today. At one point he offered a large booklet that he “wrote” as a promotion for a Pepsodent box top and a dime. Four million people sent them in. A movie he was working on changed its name to They Got Me Covered to match the book. As with every other one of his dozen or so bestselling books, they were written by his writers. No one cared. He became the iconic symbol of the Academy Awards, hosting 19 times. Carson is unimaginable without Hope.
Hope was among the first in the 40s to do programs for troops, first at home and then around the world. Those drove his radio ratings and made him synonymous with the war effort. He continued to do these for 30 years. Being synonymous with war efforts no longer worked with everyone; having half the country worship him seemed to work out pretty well. His annual Christmas troop specials were ratings bonanzas. He was so powerful that instead of a killing schedule of 39 episodes, as was customary in the 1950s, he forced NBC to give him 10 specials and promote the hell out of them.
tldr: Hope was at the top in vaudeville, Broadway, motion pictures, radio, television, books, variety, stand-up, hosting, and had his own golf tournament. He reigned for 40 years and drew crowds for another 20. He influenced all future stand ups; Woody Allen always claimed he owed his style to Hope.
Topical humor dates rapidly, expectedly. Identifying with the government and its wars dated, unexpectedly. Hope ran his one-note persona into the ground with tons of hackneyed performances, true. He was a womanizer, a brutal boss, and a general jerk. He is not popular today and I get it. I nevertheless have to respect Hope’s tremendous body of work. Nobody else was ever on top of so many fields for so long. That’s greatness.
I agree that Hope’s career spanned the entirety of entertainment in the twentieth century. He had a long association with NBC, first on radio and then on television. (So when he finally passed, I was surprised that NBC didn’t seem to give him the recognition.)
About the only times I find Hope funny is when he puts himself down. Describing his college football career, he said they called him “Neckline Hope”, because he was “always plunging up the middle, but never showing anything”.
Or when his guests would be given lines that made fun of him. When the Carpenters were guests on one of his specials, he asked what they thought was the reason for their success, Richard said he didn’t know. Karen elaborated, “Sometimes, people are really big stars for 30-40 years and no one can explain why”.
I did like his line when hosting the Academy Awards, “Or as we call it in my house, pass over.”
Which, from my recollection, was essentially the joke that he told over and over when he hosted the Oscars, as he had never won one. And even that wasn’t entirely true, as he had received five honorary Oscars.
We got it, Bob; you’ve never won an Oscar. But, I suppose that there were people who enjoyed hearing that bit again and again.
The line came at the beginning of the 1968 show. “Welcome to the Academy Awards, or, as it’s known at my house, Passover.” The Oscars were held much later then than now. They ran on April 10. Passover was set to start two days later, so it was the most topical of jokes that year. And possibly the best one-liner of any host. Give a shout-out to Hope’s Jewish writers.
I heard a story about Airplane! One of the actors (Robert Culp or Lloyd Bridges) got the script and thought it was the worst thing he’d ever read. And you know, I can totally see that. As just words on a page, it would have been terrible.
“Surely, you can’t be serious.”
“I am serious, and don’t call me Shirley.”
That’s terrible, until you see it in the movie. The genius of that movie is in the performance. The directors had the vision to see that such terrible lines, delivered with absolute deadpan earnestness, would be hysterical. Add one madcap character for the serious characters to interact with, and it worked.
I heard something similar about Dr. Strangelove, that Stanley Kubrick tricked George C. Scott by telling him that his outrageous takes were just rehearsal and wouldn’t be in the final movie. Scott wanted to tone down the performance because he thought such antics would hurt his credibility as a dramatic actor.
In both cases the directors knew what they were doing. They made classics because they could see how funny they would be, even before they were made.
Thank you for that; I agree, that particular line, on that particular night, was a good one. I was more referring to the fact that, when he hosted the Oscars, one could count on Hope making a big deal about not having won one himself.
I don’t see anything wrong with that. That was his schtick. You might as well say, “We get it, Rodney, you don’t get no respect.”
Bob Hope was an icon of wit and charm, and deserves admiration for his contributions to entertainment. His days in vaudeville and on the silver screen belong to an era beyond my memory, but his legacy as an esteemed elder statesman of Hollywood performance art is undeniable. Whether he hit television as a host, made surprise appearances on variety shows, or shared anecdotes as a talk show guest, Hope added an air of classic showbiz flair.
Sure, I never doubled over with laughter at his quips (his type of comedy was not my style), but Hope had a knack for tickling the funny bone with gentle, fatherly humor that was endearing and warm. He may not have been a heavyweight in philosophical punchlines, but he certainly knew how to sprinkle a dash of levity on top, like the cherry atop a sundae. I miss him.
My first and possibly only memory of Bob Hope is when his puppet appeared in Genesis’ “Land of Confusion” video, where he’s reading “I…gotta…tell ya…” off of cue cards. I think I probably had to ask one of my parents who that was and I why it was funny.
People who aren’t familiar with Bob Hope make me feel old.
My twist on that is much better:
I just flew in from New York, and boy, is that joke tired.
Only problem is… not that many folks in the audience these days would have heard of the joke in the first place.
I think the real question is if anyone has found Aaron Seltzer/ Jason Friedberg parody movies from the 2000s funny. Three of which are considered the worst of all time: Epic Movie(2007), Meet the Spartans and Disaster Movie (both released in 2008).
And why did Airplane! work as a parody and their movies did NOT.
Probably because Zucker/Abrahams/Zucker were a lot better at the art form than most of those who followed them.
Everybody quotes Airplane!
How many people quote Airplane II: The Sequel? hint: Zucker/Abrahams/Zucker had nothing to do with it
And Kubrick supposedly never told Slim Pickens that the film was a comedy, knowing that Major Kong would be that much funnier if he delivered all his lines as if he was in a serious war drama.
[Ninja’d: wanted to reply to Exapno_Mapcase above.] And why were Mel Brooks’ Young Frankenstein and Burning Saddles so much better than his Spaceballs, or Men In Tights? My own (never humble) opinion is that he really loved the original Frankenstein, and had some real and serious ideas about Westerns, but not so much either Star Wars or Robin Hood so the later parodies were mostly collections of random jokes gathered around a sort-of-like-the-original-ones movie.