Staffing the Whorehouse

Believe it or not, the Wife and I watched "The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas" for the very first time the other night. This is a stunning revelation for two native-born Texans, I know. Particularly in light of the fact that I grew up in Columbus, a mere 20 miles or so from La Grange, and even had a former employee of the Chicken Ranch as my Cub Scout den mother (although in the interest of full disclosure, I didn't learn this particularly interesting factoid until many years later). I remember when the movie was being filmed around Hallettsville when I was 11, and that's the distinctive courthouse in Hallettsville you see in the film (which is particularly dazzling when lit up for Christmas). There were location shots being done all around our part of the state, along with Dolly Parton and Burt Reynolds sightings. When I expressed excitement about going to see the film in theaters, my folks flat-out said no. I was baffled as to why. "Because of the name," was all the answer I got from them. I had no clue. Seriously.

The movie itself is an interesting misfire. It's very uneven, which is to be expected, I suppose, since it's reported to have gone through several directors before it was finished. I have to say that casting Dolly in the role of Miss Mona was inspired. Burt Reynolds as Ed Earl... not so much. Old Burt doesn't act so much as mug his way through the film. And he can't sing, dragging Dolly down with him in the silly "Sneakin' Around" number. Charles Durning was distracting, but not horrible. Dom DeLuise was horrible as Melvin P. Thorpe, a caricature of Marvin Zindler, himself a caricature of a journalist. The less said about Gomer Pyle, the better (I wonder if they went with Jim Neighbors because Don Knotts wasn't available?).

As a musical, Whorehouse is mind-bogglingly static. There are a couple of fun song-and-dance numbers here, the best of the lot being "A Lil' Ole Bitty Pissant Country Place." But geeze Louise, when Dolly sings "I Will Always Love You," everything grinds to a halt. She stands there, stiff as a board, singing in soft focus. Burt stands across the room, stiff as a board, arms at his side. I could not believe how turgid that scene was--all I can fathom is that they were on the last day of shooting and wanted to get it over with. Any type of choreography or blocking would eat up most of the day, and their flights left Austin at 5 p.m. Even the emotionally arresting "Hard Candy Christmas" succeeds because of the song and not because of any inspiration on the director's part.

With the imperfections of the original movie, I think this is a movie ripe for a remake. Normally, I hate remakes, because Hollywood gravitates to movies that were done right the first time around, and were therefore successful. Whorehouse was fairly successful for 1982, bringing in almost $70 million at the box office, but I don't think it comes anywhere near realizing its potential. Look at the excitement Baz Luhrmann has brought to the musical genre, or the cool synthesis of Broadway and cinema Rob Marshall accomplished with "Chicago." In fact, were I heading up a studio, Marshall'd be my choice to helm a Whorehouse remake (there's plenty of material available to differentiate it from the first film. A bunch of songs were dropped from the stage version, as was a subplot involving two new girls starting work at the Chicken Ranch).

So, with the director in place, who would round out my cast?

Ed Earl Dodd: Lyle Lovett. You can tell here that I'm not going the Burt Reynolds route here. Lovett can actually sing, and his craggy, character-filled face more closely evokes that of the real Sheriff T.J. Flournoy than Reynolds.

Miss Mona: Crystal Bernard. Yeah, her. Can you believe she's 47? She looks forever frozen at 21 in all those "Wings" reruns. But she has several things going for her: 1) she's cute, which counts a great deal in a production like this; 2) she can sing, which counts even more in a production like this; 3) the delicious irony of casting the Bible-toting Baylor alumna in this particular production is far too tempting to pass up.

Governor: Tom Wopat. Didn't see that one coming, eh? I didn't either, until I saw the touring production of Chicago in San Antonio. Wopat did a great job as Billy Flynn (although is dancing wasn't much to write home about) which, as a character, isn't all that far removed from the Governor.

Jewel: Queen Latifah. Maybe it's typecasting. So what. Queen Latifah kicks ass in this type of role, which obviously would be beefed up in the remake. I think Jewel has a solo number in the stage play cut from the film, but I've never seen the stage version, so I'm not sure.

Dulcie Mae: Sheryl Crow. Because why the hell not?

Melvin P. Thorpe: Johnny Depp. Man, this is the toughest one for me. Dom DeLuise absolutely did not work in the first film. And really, how can you do a loon like Zindler without going so far over the top that you shatter all believability? If any actor can pull off the social crusader/televangelist/ego maniac persona of Zindler, it's Depp. Bonus points for being able to sing, although I haven't seen his "Sweeny Todd" yet, so consider this one a leap of faith.

Thoughts?

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