In case you never saw Don Rickles in his prime, the key to his appeal was not exactly lovability or easy-going charm.
He was a caustic son of a gun with a quiver of insults and an unerring instinct for the jugular. He’d say anything to anybody, be it Frank Sinatra or the fellow in the front row with the bad toupee.
Rickles’ unique act, regularly on display on the Las Vegas Strip or on “The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson,” was exciting because it daringly violated taboos with absolute fearlessness. He not only made fun of people’s looks and clothes, but of their ethnicities, often drawing on the rudest, crudest stereotypes.
There was always the danger, or so it seemed, that Rickles would go too far and say something patently racist, or get punched out by an audience member who didn’t appreciate a joke at his wife’s expense. It never happened, somehow, which says something about the power of the mic and the spotlight, and the comedian’s quick wit. (Michael Richards wishes he had known Rickles’ secret.)
Alas, we only get an occasional whiff of Rickles’ blistering shtick in the blandly amusing and forgettable feature documentary “Mr. Warmth: The Don Rickles Project.” Directed by John Landis (“Animal House,” “The Blues Brothers”) with a maximum of affection and a minimum of inspiration, the film is an unabashed tribute and not the incisive portrait of a pop culture icon one might have wished for.
“Mr. Warmth” debuted at the New York Film Festival in October, and is airing this month on HBO in some parts of the country. It comes out Friday, Dec. 14 on DVD.
The documentary consists primarily of bits from a September 2006 show at the Stardust, intercut with an endless stream of wet kisses and anecdotes from the likes of Steve Lawrence, Bob Newhart, Jack Carter, Billy Crystal, Sidney Poitier and Chris Rock.
The current crop of comedians also pays their highest respects, with Sarah Silverman helpfully summarizing the legend’s allure thus: “Everybody wants to gets s— on by Don Rickles.” Yes, perhaps, if you’re one of the regular Joes who’ve filled out Rickles’ audience over the last two decades, and who feels special by being singled out for abuse.
Back in the day, though, being called out by the barb-tongued Long Island Jew was a rite of passage for stars. “If they hadn’t been insulted by Rickles, they really hadn’t made it,” Carl Reiner declares.
In its second half, especially, “Mr. Warmth” turns into a nostalgia trip to the glory days when Las Vegas was an adult town, audiences dressed up for live shows and the Rat Pack ruled the Strip. Before the Mob gave way to the corporations, Vegas operated under its own set of rules. As Rickles laments, “When the boys ran the town, the performers were treated with respect.”
The Long Island native studied drama in New York after World War II, and the documentary reminds us that he was a pretty fair actor in a host of TV shows and movies such as “Run Silent, Run Deep” and “Kelly’s Heroes.” It also makes the most fleeting mention of Rickles’ taste for booze and women (he gave up the latter when he got married, one gathers).
More screen time is devoted to the comic’s beloved mother, who was also his biggest fan. His father, however, barely warrants a sentence, which fits the standard Jewish showbiz biography.
Rickles is still performing as he approaches his 82nd birthday. He puts on an extraordinarily energetic show, although he’s lost a couple steps and he’s more of a teddy bear than a porcupine.
That’s the problem with pioneers and iconoclasts and party crashers. If they live long enough, they end up as defanged mascots. “Mr. Warmth” pulls a few clips out of the vault that showcase what a gutsy, edgy comedian Rickles once was.
“Mr. Warmth: The Don Rickles Project” comes out Friday, Dec. 14 on DVD.