There are two kinds of critically-reviled films – the first those that are panned upon their initial release almost universally, but over time acquire a more positive reevaluation, normally through being revisited by a new generation of critics, who find something special in it. The second are those that are torn apart when they’re released, to the point where they carry the reputation of being a bad film eternally, their indelible status as a film always being one of ridicule and disdain. However, even in this latter category, there are a few films that tend to gain something of a cult following, even if its only a small but dedicated fanbase of supporters who will stop at nothing to reflect on their own adoration for the work that most see as subpar in every way. Elaine May is far too important a filmmaker to have her fourth (and unfortunately final) film dismissed – but even in the contemporary era, Ishtar has struggled to gain that critical reappraisal it deserves, despite some high-profile film scholars coming out and providing nothing but effusive praise. As someone who adores May in all of her endeavours, I was both curious and terrified to watch Ishtar – everything led me to believe this was not going to be an enjoyable experience, and there were even fears that it may not have been bad, but rather something even worse: boring. Fortunately, these concerns seem to have been entirely misguided and informed by bewildering public perception, since (as controversial an opinion as it may be), Ishtar is something of a misunderstood masterpiece, a daring and hilariously irreverent comedy that strives to do everything it can, with its ultimate downfall being that it is one of the rare comedic failures that falls apart solely on the basis that it may have been too ambitious. Ahead of its time in a way that modern audiences may still be scrambling to understand what May was attempting, but still a work of unhinged, raw genius in its own way, Ishtar is something yearning to be rediscovered.

Perhaps the only reason why Ishtar hasn’t been given the chance to undergo another reanalysis is due to the fact that everything about the film centres on failure – thematically, focusing the film on two unremarkable individuals who are trying to be successful, only to have the film itself prove to be imitating it (by the standards of audiences and critics at the time), seems oddly close to reality, and it’s far funnier to imagine that a film about two untalented hacks repeatably failing could have been such a disaster in itself (in the same way that there is some poetic irony in a lawyer going to prison). Consider that the film also stars two enormously popular actors who were both at the peak of their fame, and you can begin to understand why the cultural cache held by this film is almost exclusively related to how it failed to deliver on the promise it had, and how it’s so much more entertaining to see these actors performing in something that may have been damaging to a career of someone who didn’t have the magnitude of fame that they had. It’s a mean-spirited way of watching a film, and as we’ve seen before, audiences barely spare any time turning on those who have that level of influence and fame the moment they appear to falter – and had Ishtar actually been a poorly-made film, or one that was derivative or boring, these jeers would be well-earned. However, May didn’t make a bad film in any sense – instead, she made one with an enormous amount of heart and the incredulity to conventions that make it quite a poignant piece of filmmaking, from a time when comedy was supposed to hit a few familiar beats to be considered effective. It rejects every idea of tradition, and instead goes it’s own direction, which may have been polarizing in 1987, but is most certainly a cause for celebration in a more lenient, open-minded world, where abstract art is more popular than ever.

Ambition is something that should always be celebrated, even when the final product may not meet expectations. When May set out to reignite the sub-genre of comedies that took place in exotic locales (made most notably by the Bob Hope and Bing Crosby “Road to…” series, which May has frequently cited as an influence), she was certainly taking an enormous leap, since these quaint films were beloved as a product of their time, and with audiences being more keen on cutting-edge comedy that tested boundaries, a throwback to films made decades before may not have been the wisest decision. However, an artistic iconoclast in her own right, May persisted and emerged with Ishtar, which may not capture the spark of the Hope/Crosby collaborations, but instead provided us with its own peculiar set of charms that are just too endearing to ignore, and which make for quite a captivating comedy that never quite lays out its intentions entirely bare, instead being propelled by the popularity of its two stars, and a script that called for some liberal manipulation of reality, to the point where much of the narrative is based around an entirely fictional country, which facilitates some striking commentary that will be fascinating to anyone who can look beyond the more bizarre packaging the message comes in. Ishtar traverses some strange narrative territory, but it works solely because of how much conviction is brought to the film, and the dedication of the director and her two stars are more than enough to justify this film’s existence, especially when what they’re doing is something of a departure for all of them, perhaps not quite so obviously, since this is a film built on the comedic genius of a director who has always had a firm grasp on the collective cultural pulse and thus had the ability to determine exactly what would be funny, and two actors who were almost exclusively known for commanding the screen through nothing but their charisma and commitment to their craft.

The film instead uses the components embedded in the careers of those involved (and perhaps the very reason this film was made in the first place), in creative ways – Hoffman plays the lothario who gets them into trouble, while Beatty is the paranoid, neurotic schmuck who keeps them there. It’s peculiar, and it may not be the best work either is doing – but when you see how wonderfully committed they are to their respective performances, as well as the undeniable fun they’re having with the roles, it’s easy to surrender to the bizarre sense of humour found throughout the film. Added to this, May really does push the envelope in terms of the story she’s telling, and the manner in which its told – there is nothing about the general plot of Ishtar that suggests it had to have been set in North Africa, with those components coming out of a skeletal structure that was actually focused on the careers of two singer-songwriters who fail long before they even come close to achieving fame. It’s a universal story that could’ve taken these characters anywhere in the world (and had this film been even marginally successful, it’s not implausible to imagine that we’d have seen a few further adventures of Rogers and Clarke and their distinct brand of entertainment). Instead, through situating this film at a particular time and place, May is given the opportunity to extend her craft outside of the urban Western world that she had mostly worked in, and instead taking a leap into the proverbial unknown, resulting in a film that may not be the most definitive text on the matter at hand, but truly one of the more entertaining ventures into this region. Considering there aren’t many films that actually take the time to explore the cultures and traditions of this part of the world, Ishtar is an admirable effort to shed light on the subject, and while it may not be particularly sensitive (and there are some misguided stereotypes scattered throughout), the film is often very touching and has a lot of heart, from which it can mine some heartfelt hilarity that makes it entirely worthwhile.

Ishtar is not a film that can be considered perfect in any way – it is rough around the edges and sometimes incredibly deranged, especially in how it functions narratively (and how some of the plot points are beyond absurd). However, it doesn’t promise to be anything else in the first place, so one can’t be disappointed when they didn’t know what to expect. One of the few genuine flaws of the film is that it appears to be trying to tell the story of at least half a dozen others, being packaged with conventions from a wide array of genres that may sound like they’d work in the context of this film, but sometimes tend to falter, and can weaken the overall impact of a work that had a lot of potential, which is why the gleeful evisceration conducted by audiences over the years has been so damaging to any hopes that this film had of redeeming itself through further exploration in the modern era. Looking beneath the schadenfreude that viewers clearly relished in feeling towards this film, and looking at it as a piece of storytelling in its own terms, it’s not difficult to imagine precisely why this is in need of another look by modern audiences, who are not only more accepting to the kind of story being told here, but also more aware of the fact that comedy doesn’t need to be perfect – every joke doesn’t need to land, nor does it need to be polished and endearing. Comedy is allowed to be awkward and uncomfortable on occasion, and very few films prove this better (and earlier) than Ishtar, a rollicking and charming comedy that’s only true shortcoming is that it attempted to do too much – and can we truly ever criticize a piece of art for actually putting in some effort to being unique?