As is often the case with any cherished property, there is a contingent of devotees who claim that attempting to adapt it to another medium is impossible, which is particularly notable when it comes to film adaptations. While there are instances of certain directors botching attempts to pay tribute to existing works, very few concepts are too sacrosanct to be immune to such a process, and there’s a lot of incredulity towards those that are dedicated to the belief that some properties simply should not be adopted. The key distinction between a good adaptation and a bad one usually comes down to a few factors, primarily the people involved in its creation – it is always better to have the original creators involved, but if that’s not possible, having people who care about the material can be a good alternative. However, sometimes the most appropriate person is also the least expected, as we find in the case of Popeye, the lavish, big-budget musical adaptation that was helmed by Robert Altman, at the tail-end of his remarkably prolific period in the 1970s, where he quickly ascended to become arguably Hollywood’s most acclaimed and subversive studio filmmaker. Over forty years later, this film is still considered polarizing – at the time, it was seen as an outright failure, and the attempts to reposition it as a cult classic have been a slow, laborious process that has yet to meet its intended destination. Boldly directed by one of the most audacious and daring filmmakers of his generation, and a film that I’d expect plays better to contemporary audiences than it does those who were present at the time of its original release, Popeye is a fun, entertaining romp that perfectly pays tribute to E. C. Segar’s original creation, breathing new life into a cherished chestnut of property and proving that a strong vision, while unconventional, can yield extraordinary results when constructed by someone with a fervent dedication to the premise and the desire to do something unique and daring.

There are few filmmakers that spring to mind that are more appropriate for an adaptation of this material than Altman, who may not be the most obvious name – especially since it was designed as a family film, an area in which the director had virtually zero experience – but yet when we consider various qualities of his existing films at the time, it makes perfect sense as to why he was selected to take on this film, which was written by Jules Feiffer, another slightly unexpected choice based on his background as a comic writer more than a screenwriter, albeit one who does prove to be just as fitting in practice. Altman was a remarkably versatile filmmaker when it came to the genre, but he did possess a very unique style that was beautifully captured in a lot of what he did throughout his career, and which he brings to every frame of this film. The reason he was such a perfect choice for this film is that, in addition to various stylistic qualities, his films are bound together by a sense of subversion and incredulity towards convention. He was insistent on breaking the rules of the industry, which he did not do through independent means like some of his contemporaries, but rather through working directly with the studios to create these unorthodox but wildly entertaining films. Popeye was not an exception, and while we can’t honestly say that this film is personal or indicative of the director’s style in the same way as some of his more acclaimed works, his vision is still present in absolutely every frame. The humour, style and overall experience are very much within Altman’s wheelhouse, and he works closely with Feiffer (who had a solid body of work based around the same kind of subversion) to create a version of this character that is bold and unflinching, but also genuinely quite tender when it is appropriate. He is a perfect fit for the material, and he creates an unexpectedly complex, engaging comedy that is as enthralling as it is deeply and undeniably rich in both visual and narrative elements.

Not only was Altman a perfect fit for the material, but he casts Popeye exceptionally well, and there is not a single actor in this film that isn’t entirely appropriate for the role they are given. The titular character is portrayed by Robin Williams in one of his earliest film performances and in hindsight the idea of arguably the greatest comedic actor of his generation playing such an iconic character seems too good to be true, which is why it proves to be such a delightful performance. He fully commits to the part, using his distinct elasticity (in terms of both physical attributes and his unique sense of humour) to bring this character to life. He’s joined by the beguiling Shelley Duvall as his love interest, the equally iconic Olive Oyl. There may be some shortcomings in this film, but both leads are extraordinary – they are beyond dedicated to these parts, and bring them to life in a manner that is beautiful, poetic and perhaps even effortlessly elegant. The supporting cast is equally as strong, even if they’re not as well-crafted or filled with dimensions. Paul L. Smith is a wonderful villain in the form of Bluto, albeit in an instance where his performance is almost entirely based around his hulking physicality, and the cavalcade of reliable supporting actors, including, Richard Libertini, Paul Dooley, Linda Hunt, Ray Walston, Roberta Maxwell and Donovan Scott (many of whom had worked with Altman in the past), are all terrific and bring so much heart and humour to their respective roles. Altman always had a knack for bringing out the best in his actors, and even though working with such recognizable, iconic figures, he proved to be quite effective, constructing a bold and effortlessly charming ensemble that portrays the eccentric residents of this quaint seaside hamlet, and bring so much nuance and detail to their roles. As both an acting achievement and an adaptation of the original material, every one of the actors is at their peak, which considerably elevates the film and makes it so much more engaging.

However, as much as Popeye may be a delight, this is still a film that does struggle in a few areas, which is why I am very hesitant to proclaim it a masterpiece, especially since some flaws may not impinge too much on the quality of the film, but do have a slight impact on the overall experience. To go back to the idea that Altman was a revolutionary whose greatest achievement was conquering the studio system, it is clear that he was dealing with a slightly different kind of challenge in the form of The Walt Disney Company and Paramount Pictures, who co-produced this film. The former in particular is known to be very protective of their property, and have a much bigger involvement with their creatives than some other studios, to ensure what is being done is appropriate and aligned with their vision. The result is that Altman was kept on quite a short leash, and it is generally seen as almost a universal fact that he should have been allowed to have free reign. It isn’t clear what results may have come about as a result of giving the director the chance to approach the characters from a more liberal, laissez-faire point of view, but it is clear that Altman was quite stifled and couldn’t be as bold as he intended, even though the final product is still a charming and upbeat comedy. Subversion is not something that can necessarily be restricted – a satirist can only thrive if they have carte blanche to realize their vision as they see fit, which is primarily why Popeye sometimes feels quite limited. It is still a wonderfully endearing film, but it was clear that at some point Altman’s vision didn’t entirely align with those of the studio, who ultimately had the final word and therefore placed limitations on what we can imagine was a far more off-the-wall, outrageous version of this material when it was originally crafted by the director. Nonetheless, there are still enough merits scattered throughout the film to make it very effective, and we can easily see that there was something much more intrepid contained within an otherwise delightful comedy. 

Perhaps the best way to look at this film is not as a faithful adaptation of Segar’s stories, but rather Popeye as seen through the decidedly unconventional and daring eye of Altman, who brings his unique vision to the proceedings and creates a subversive and challenging version of a very common narrative. There is a lot of heart behind this film, and allegations that it was just an attempt on the director’s part to cash in an easy paycheque, or that he was somehow doing the bare minimum are easily disproven simply by looking at any given moment throughout this film. The production design is impeccable, with the seaside town of Seahaven being visually stunning in a way we don’t often find in these films, and every performance is impeccably crafted and beautifully engaging, contributing a strong, earnest sense of dedication that goes against any idea that this film is in any way simplistic or insincere. It will never be viewed as Altman’s peak as a director, and most would logically prefer to watch the original animated shorts if given the choice, but Popeye is far from a failure, especially in how every frame is lovingly constructed by a team of dedicated artists who work together to craft this delightfully off-the-wall, heartfelt comedy that may have a few shortcomings scattered throughout, but which are mainly inconsequential if we can step away from the film and view it from a broader perspective, which is that of a delightful, off-the-wall adaptation of some cherished characters and the charming, outrageous stories that have been embraced and adored for nearly a century since their debut.