Serial Movie Review
Serial Review
"Serial" Overview

Rating: NR
1980
Cast and Crew
Director : Bill PerskyProducer : Sidney Beckerman
Screenwiter : Rich Eustis,Michael Elias
Starring Martin Mull, Tuesday Weld, Jennifer Mcallister, William H Macy, Sally Kellerman, Peter Bonerz, Christopher Lee, Tom Smothers
Martin Mull is a little-remembered comedian of the ’70s and ’80s, best known for
TV’s Fernwood 2-Night and the HBO series The History of White People in America (with collaborator
Fred Willard, since then a fixture in Christopher Guest movies). Mull achieved greatness
only with Serial, an underrated mainstream comedy with moments of Albert Brooks-like
social satire.
Based on a novel by Cyra McFadden about the wacky California hot-tub culture of the
late '70s, Serial expanded on the novel's Marin County setting to skewer the entire
decadent nation. Mull plays a working stiff whose wife (Tuesday Weld, in an excellent
performance) leaves him to find herself. His teenage daughter joins a cult, and Mull
tries to adapt to a single lifestyle while wanting his family back. The supporting
characters include a psychologist (Peter Bonerz) who encourages Mull's best friend
to drown himself in the Bay to achieve oneness with the universe, and Tom Smothers
as a hippie priest who begins a wedding by apologizing for being part of a society
that "kills whales."
The film uses these wacky characters to comment on the emptiness of cultural orthodoxy,
and I can't think of many films that have done it better. Subsequent ’70s spoofs
(The Ice Storm, Boogie Nights, That 70s Show, etc.) have the benefit of 20/20 hindsight, but Ser
ial was one of very few films (along with Network, of course) to ridicule the empty
self-indulgence of the decade while it was still going on. Though some of its one-liners
miss, the film's more pointed observations are often spot on; and even some of the
broader gags are well done (like a scene where Mull tiptoes through an orgy).
The ending descends into silliness, and like any film designed to capture a specific
time and place, Serial feels dated (especially the opening scenes). Still, Seria
l deserves a lot of credit for daring to throw sacred cows on the grill. Sure, America
has moved onto different fads, and feminism and psychoanalysis are not the unassailable
cultural forces they were back then. But beneath the one-liners, Serial is really
about the emptiness of narcissism and self-deceit. And Americans are just as self-absorbed,
and almost as politically correct as ever, if not more so.
Besides, if those who forget history are doomed to repeat it, then a print of Se
rial should be preserved in perpetuity along with other '70s artifacts (Styx records,
the Jungle Room at Graceland, etc.) to make sure we never forget the Me Decade.
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Review by David Bezanson
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