New on DVD

In honor of bumbling Maxwell Smart, a brief history of our favorite clueless detectives

By Kathleen Murphy
Special to MSN Movies

A supershamus like Sam Spade or Philip Marlowe negotiates incredibly tangled plotlines as well as mean streets. Along the way, colorful rogues mislead and every devious frail makes a play for the hawkshaw. Detoured down one blind alley after another, Spade's smarts and stubborn integrity finally pay off. Our flawed knight-errant nails the truth, shedding momentary light on his dark, corrupt world.

On the comedic flip side, every dead-serious element of the hawkshaw's quest gets detonated for big-time laughs. Instead of ultra-cool and capable detectives, we get bumbling idiots and naïfs who can't find or fight their way out of a paper bag. Yet, against all odds, the silly Sherlocks often stumble over the solution to the mystery, however irrelevant and improbable it may be.

Back in 1965, Mel Brooks and Buck Henry nailed the type with TV's Maxwell Smart, an anti-007 who could never, ever "Get Smart." Now, CONTROL's ever-clueless Agents 86 (Steve Carell) and 99 (Anne Hathaway) hit the big screen. We celebrate by playing a madcap game of cinematic Clue with a bunch of perpetually in-the-dark private eyes, dense flatfeet and not-so-secret agents.

"Sherlock Jr." (1924)
In his most sublime silent comedy, Buster Keaton plays a shy young movie projectionist who dreams of being a detective. Falsely accused of theft and spurned by his sweetheart, he dozes off, then dives into the movie he's showing. Soon our hero has taken a starring role as Sherlock Jr., the world's greatest detective. Sartorially splendid in top hat and tails no matter the time of day, this sweetly deadpan shamus is menaced by the lounge lizard who, in non-reel life, stole his girl and her dad's watch. With uncanny ease, Keaton dances out of every trap and through one impossibly elegant stunt/sight gag after another: riding a water tower crane until a great gush washes him down to earth; or leaping through a window straight into a woman's dress and poke hat, held at the ready by his assistant. "Sherlock Jr." is pure poetry, celebrating the power of the imagination and cinematic illusion -- conjured not by F/X but by an artist who literally broke his neck to make it happen.

"Ace Ventura: Pet Detective" (1994)
Remember Plastic Man, that surreal comic-book superhero who could twist his body into any shape? That's Jim Carrey, his Silly Putty face as terrifyingly malleable as Jerry Lewis'. Sporting a hideous Hawaiian shirt and striped pants, impossibly pompadoured and sideburned, Ace Ventura is given to freeze-framing himself in hip-shot poses, grotesque parodies of physical "cool" that defy anyone to diss his private-dickery. On the track of a purloined dolphin, Ace disguises himself as a football-obsessed nutcase to infiltrate a mental institution -- picture Carrey in pajama top, pink tulle tutu, plaid Bermudas, black socks and boots, his guileless face framed by outspread wings of hair. Going slo-mo to act out an instant football replay, he morphs into a spastic noodle. "Well, all righty then," Carrey drawls, careening through space with a fearless grace that recalls Keaton and Peter Sellers.

"Hot Fuzz" (2007)
This smart, fast flick spoofs Agatha Christie, "Bad Boys," "For a Few Dollars More," "Chinatown," "Straw Dogs" and "Scary Movie" -- for starters -- and confirms Simon Pegg and Nick Frost ("Shaun of the Dead") as dab hands at high-style satire. Nicholas Angel (Pegg) is a humorless, by-the-book cop, so good at his job that he overshadows everyone else on the force, so dedicated that his only pal is a Japanese peace lily. Exiled to a rural village, he slowly bonds with dumb, good-hearted Danny Butterman (Frost), one of the bozos at the local cop shop. The town of Sandford is populated by Stepford types, weirdly jolly and upbeat even in the face of multiple grisly murders -- save for a supermarket exec (Timothy Dalton) who pops up at every crime scene grinning like the devil and slinging sinister wisecracks. Dead-ended by a mystery that won't yield to his single-minded logic, our Angel can either crack up or relax into nonstop viddying and tippling with Danny. The secret of Sandford is both more and hilariously less than one expects, and the climactic shoot-'em-up celebrates Clint Eastwood and John Woo, buddy-buddy love, and the wicked charm of Pegg & Frost Inc.

"A Shot in the Dark" (1964)
Introduced in "The Pink Panther," Peter Sellers' exquisitely demented Inspector Clouseau acts out nonstop klutziness with balletic grace. Colliding with human being or inanimate object, this French detective falls into an exaggerated crouch, chopping his arms at recalcitrant reality like a lunatic Bruce Lee. Whatever absurdity he has uttered or suffered, he stonewalls it with unflappable aplomb -- it does not matter that he has just caught fire or been assaulted by a rack of rampant cue sticks. Faced with the escalating mayhem his ineptitude has loosed, Clouseau remains maddeningly unruffled. His delusional self-confidence and pulp-fiction patter ("I suspect everyone ... and no one; I believe everything ... and nothing") uncork uncontrollable hilarity, especially when Inspector Maladroit goes all slitty-eyed, pompous and nasal. And sanity takes another major hit every time Clouseau enunciates words like "buemp" and "muuuth." Hard not to identify with once-suave Commissioner Dreyfus (Herbert Lom), reduced to writhing at his underling's feet, gnawing at his ankle -- driven stark raving mad by the triumph of Clouseau's lunatic logic.

"Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery" (1997)
Defrosted 30 years after London has stopped "swinging like a pendulum do," Britain's top secret agent, Austin Powers (Mike Myers), mop-topped and bucktoothed, hits the ground running, a shagedelic satyr in an age of feminism and political correctness. Encasing himself in a blue velvet suit, accented with lace frills at the throat and wrist, unleashing his repertoire of nasally suggestive ripostes on his delectable sidekick (Elizabeth Hurley), Austin goes on the prowl for his nemesis, Dr. Evil -- also Myers, and also just thawed. Flashing bad teeth, a pudgy physique, and a weirdly overgrown thatch of chin-to-groin hair, Austin never doubts his glam charm, or twigs to what a clueless spook he is. Nearly seduced by sexpot androids, our Secret Agent Man has only to strip down to his British-flag briefs and fire off a barrage of lethal bumps and grinds to fatally blow the blond baby dolls' minds.

"The Black Bird" (1975)
Sam Spade Jr. (George Segal), cynical son of Saint Bogart, reluctantly keeps the shamus business going in a scruffy 'hood -- with the irascible assistance of Dad's aging secretary. Stalking around like Groucho Marx in a rumpled suit and mashed fedora, Spade always leads with an erect cigar. Venal to the core, he meets every plot twist with jaded double takes. When the Maltese Falcon resurfaces, he's hot to find the highest bidder: femme fatale Anna (Stéphane Audran) who bunks in a swank apartment somewhere in a Russian Orthodox Church (!), or a baby-voiced dwarf in full Nazi regalia with a posse of Hawaiian assassins. When Anna, dressed to the nines in haute couture, shines him on about her poverty-stricken hospital for crippled kids -- or "criplettes," as he dubs them -- Spade Junior ripostes, "Why don't we go have a lot of drinks and watch me make a fool of myself over you?"

"Johnny English" (2003)
Either you love Rowan Atkinson -- from Blackadder to Bean -- or you don't. In his James Bond fantasy, the quintessential nerd suavely slings a Savile Row greatcoat over his shoulder, lowers his voice to nasal plumminess and levels a penetrating gaze of perfect idiocy at John Malkovich, the French nut job plotting to become King of England. Agent English has graduated from the Clouseauvian school of detection: his gun never fails to fall apart in a pinch, his witty asides land like duds, and his nonsensical perorations about the mystery at hand utterly baffle his hapless assistant Bough (pronounced "Bog"). Styling himself "a coiled viper" in close combat, English segues out of ridiculous pratfalls with the composure of a dignified drunk. When an undercover beauty offers to "do things to him," English goes all aglow, wondering whether those things might involve "plastic toys and soft cheese."

"The Cheap Detective" (1978)
Hanging up Columbo's trench coat for this Neil Simon spoof, Peter Falk as Lou Peckinpaugh, PI, pulls off a canny, very funny Bogart impersonation. Lips pulled stiffly back over his teeth, just verging on a lisp, he's Bogey swimming in a metacinematic soup stirred up out of "The Maltese Falcon," "The Big Sleep," "To Have and Have Not," "Casablanca" and "Chinatown." Every moment of movie-romance or mystery is enthusiastically deflated: Betty DeBoop (Eileen Brennan) does a mean Bacall ("If you want me, give me a call. You know how to dial, don't you, Lou? Just stick your finger in the little round hole ..."); Louise Fletcher, in perpetual soft-focus glow, turns Ingrid Bergman's Ilsa into a patriotic bore; and wonderful Madeline Kahn, a nutty hybrid of Brigid O'Shaughnessy and Mrs. Mulwray, sheds one name and disguise after another, claiming that "my husband ... my father ... my husband" has gone missing. Slouching through the funhouse, Falk's private dick is by turns bemused, bored stiff, but always up for another broad, whatever movie she's from.

"2001: A Space Travesty" (2000)
OK, some spoofs are just black holes, even if -- or maybe because -- they star Leslie Nielsen of "Airplane!" and "Naked Gun" fame. Former pet detective "Dick" Dix is ordered by the Department of Human and Alien Affairs ("Dating service?" Dick wonders) to head to planet Vegan to rescue the president -- America's being led astray by a Clintonian clone. What follows is graceless slapstick and a tsunami of sex and fart jokes. Nielsen staggers through "Travesty" permanently boggle-eyed, mouth agape, light years off course when it comes to the mad scientist's plot to rule the world. Still, something like a germ of madness infects the penultimate opera house scenes, featuring famous impersonators: While the Three Tenors bicker, Clinton the clone is exposed (hee-hee) courtesy of a penile birthmark. Relishing Bill's sexy sax-playing, Madonna purrs: "I like the way he plays his horn" -- inspiring George Bush the Elder to confide that "my son likes to toot, too." À propos recent current events, it's a little scary when Bubba takes a nasty kick to the John Thomas, giving Hillary the Nutcracker the last big laugh.

"After the Sunset" (2004)
From the get-go, Stan Lloyd (Woody Harrelson) seems a bit of a blockhead, totally outclassed by boyhood pal and master heist artist Max (Pierce Brosnan), who traps and drugs the FBI agent while he's transporting a priceless diamond. Backed by shapely moll Lola (Salma Hayek), Max takes off with the rock to tropic climes, where the couple means to retire. But just as Max begins to find paradise a tad tedious, Stan and another fabulous diamond turn up, setting the scene for one final caper -- and one last chance to bring Max down. Balding oaf and hairy-chested con man kill time by fishing, boozing and bonding, even ending up in bed together for an easy ha-ha moment. Still, when push comes to shove, the cat can't help playing the mouse. Stan manages to pull off a counter-con, chortling triumphantly, "I revel in it! I revel in it!" -- a happy mouse until the next switcheroo.

Who are your favorite bumbling detectives? Write us at heymsn@microsoft.com.

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Kathleen Murphy currently reviews films for Seattle's Queen Anne News and writes essays on film for Steadycam magazine. A frequent speaker on film, Murphy has contributed numerous essays to magazines (Film Comment, the Village Voice, Film West, Newsweek-Japan), books ("Best American Movie Writing of 1998," "Women and Cinema," "The Myth of the West") and Web sites (Amazon.com, Cinemania.com, Reel.com). Once upon a time, in another life, she wrote speeches for Bill Clinton, Jack Lemmon, Harrison Ford, Joe Pesci, Robert De Niro, Art Garfunkel and Diana Ross.