The Time The Naked Gun Writer Outdid Steven Spielberg in Drama

Not even the most snobby, most contrarian cineaste would seriously argue that Steven Spielberg is not one of the greatest filmmakers of all time. Likewise not even the biggest fan of wacky comedies would argue that Jerry Zucker, who co-wrote and co-directed Airplane!, and co-wrote and produced The Naked Gun: From the Files of Police Squad! with his brother David Zucker and friend Jim Abrahams, was some kind of cinematic legend.

And yet, in one incredible instance, Jerry Zucker outdid Steven Spielberg, and it was nearly simultaneous. In December 1989, Spielberg released a long-digesting romantic epic that was something of a dream project for the Beard: Always. It earned unimpressive box office and even worse reviews. Yet just a few months later in July 1990, Zucker released Ghost, which became a box office smash, won two Academy Awards, and to this day remains a classic of the relatively small subgenre of the supernatural romantic drama.

Both films deal with lovers coming back from the dead to visit their beloveds. But where Spielberg only managed to make a technically sound curiosity, Zucker created something sensual and immediate, a properly romantic film. And one that still makes us swoon.

An Uninspired Remake

Always is a direct remake of 1943’s A Guy Named Joe. Directed by Victor Fleming of The Wizard of Oz and Gone With the Wind fame and written by Dalton Trumbo (Roman Holiday, Spartacus), A Guy Named Joe stars Spencer Tracy as daredevil bomber pilot Pete, who dies during the one mission where he plays it safe, leaving behind his spitfire girlfriend Dorinda (Irene Dunne) and best pal Al (Ward Bond). In the afterlife, a heavenly general (Lionel Barrymore) gives Pete a new mission: to guide up-and-coming flyboy Ted (Van Johnson), who eventually falls for and proposes marriage to Dorinda.

A Guy Named Joe is exactly the type of movie that should be remade. Although a hit in its own time, it’s deeply flawed, ambling lackadaisically through its 122-minute runtime and never really committing to the romance. The movie closes with an incredible sequence in which the ghostly Pete lovingly guides Dorinda through a mission, but those last 10 minutes only make the rest of the movie feel like a missed opportunity.

At first glance, Spielberg and his screenwriter Jerry Belson perfectly update A Guy Name Joe with Always, which might make sense as Spielberg was a lifelong fan of Joe and wished to update the sense of yearning the original film instilled in him as a child. To match its modern day setting, Pete and Al are now aerial firefighters, with Pete pushing his limits to dump water deep into forest fires. Where the original movie waits until more than halfway through to introduce Ted, Always has him catch Dorinda’s eye early on, making their eventual pairing feel natural.

Even better Spielberg nails most of the casting. As Pete’s divine commander, Audrey Hepburn (in her last film role) has none of Barrymore’s gruffness, but retains the character’s warmth. Best of all, Holly Hunter is an ideal update on the spunky Dunne, and Always rightly gives Dorinda much more to do than in A Guy Named Joe.

However, casting ends up being the film’s downfall as well. Brad Johnson is handsome and nothing more as Ted, but the real problem is Richard Dreyfuss as Pete. Pete’s irascible in both versions, but Tracy had a twinkle in his eye that made him lovable. All wired energy, especially when he’s a ghost who cannot directly interact with anyone, Dreyfuss’ Pete is irritated and irritating, constantly yelling and cackling at people.

Worse yet, Spielberg can’t seem to get out of his own way when it comes to filming the romance scenes, leaving them feeling stiff and mechanical. In perhaps the most open-hearted part of Always, Dorinda puts on a dress that Pete bought for her and dances alone in her house, unaware that the ghostly Pete is grooving alongside her. As usual for Spielberg, the scene has perfect blocking, and the lighting and compositions are exactly right. In fact, the staging is so technically correct that it never feels real. We believe that these two people cannot see or touch one another. Despite Hunter’s otherwise excellent performance, we do not believe that they have a connection that transcends time and space.

What should be an example of timeless love instead feels empty and inhuman, altogether unreal.

Ghost Conjures Physical Passion

Charges of empty remoteness cannot be made against Ghost. After all, the movie’s most famous scene occurs within the first 15 minutes when Sam (Patrick Swayze) wakes up to find his girlfriend Molly (Demi Moore) working a pottery wheel. Sam, wearing only blue jeans, sits behind Molly. She’s clad in only a white button down. He puts his hands over hers so they can work the clay together. As the sounds of “Unchained Melody” by the Righteous Brothers swell from diegetic to non-diegetic sound, the two run their hands through the clay together, soon abandoning the project to kiss one another.

It is the exact type of erotic scene that was common in the ’90s (and limply decried today). We watch as Sam and Molly grasp one another. A close-up finds her hands running down his abdomen. Another shows him clasping her butt. More than mere titillation, these shots tell us everything we need to know about Sam and Molly; they long for each other not just spiritually but also physically. Even the gooiness of the clay that they smear along one another’s bodies underscores the tactical connection the two share.

That physical attraction heightens the tragedy of Sam’s death when he’s murdered in what appears at first to be a random mugging. As Sam refuses to go to the afterlife and realizes that the same killer is now hunting Molly, he discovers that his best friend Carl (Tony Goldwyn) has betrayed him. In his spectral state, Sam needs to get help from a bitter fellow ghost (Vincent Schiavelli) and from Oda May Brown (Whoopi Goldberg), a phony medium who becomes the only way he can contact Molly.

On one hand, it makes total sense that Ghost would excel at romance. Swayze and Moore are not just incredibly attractive but they have real chemistry with one another. Moreover the screenplay by Bruce Joel Rubin covers similar ground as A Guy Named Joe but doesn’t get bogged down in the details about a daredevil pilot and afterlife bureaucracy. Instead it gives its lead a clear mission and focuses primarily on the central relationship, which leaves room for effective details, such as Sam’s habit of saying “ditto” whenever Molly declares her love.

Ghost isn’t perfect by any means. It’s a bit too long, the effects don’t all hold up, and Swayze doesn’t always sell his character’s sadness. But when it comes to Sam’s love for Molly, Ghost lingers with the viewers in a way that few films can accomplish.

The Flaw in the Filmography

As great as Ghost is, it hardly set forth a new trajectory for Zucker. First Knight, a retelling of Arthurian myth with Sean Connery, Richard Gere, and Julia Ormond failed to reach the heights of Ghost, and Zucker soon returned to comedy with Rat Race in 2001.

For his part, Spielberg’s learned how to use sensuality effectively (see Munich) and casts performers who can play longing and ensnare the audience (see West Side Story), but romance remains outside of his abilities. Which is fine. No filmmaker can be perfect, nor do they need to be, especially when surprises like Zucker and Ghost can arrive to fill in the gaps.