10 Funniest Steve Martin Movies
Magician, novelist, stand-up comedian, essayist, banjo player, producer, film star, all-round entertainer… Steve Martin is one of Hollywood’s true renaissance men. Now approaching his 80th birthday, he has toned down his act and become a more avuncular screen presence in recent decades, probably best known to younger viewers for his double act with his old friend Martin Short in Only Murders in the Building.
But for those of us who grew up in the ‘70s and ‘80s, Martin was the wild and crazy guy – if that applies to you, you’re probably imagining him dressed in a slim white suit in front of a fervent crowd, wearing a pair of bunny ears or a joke-shop arrow through his head as he wrangles balloon animals. In the mid-’70s, he was the biggest stand-up sensation in America, selling out stadiums, going platinum with his LPs, and becoming a well-known face on TV as he regularly hosted Saturday Night Live.
On the back of such phenomenal success, Martin tired of the stand-up circuit and turned his attention to movies, effortlessly making the leap with The Jerk in 1979. His act translated well to the big screen, making $100 million at the box office against a $4 million budget and becoming one of the highest-grossing films of the year. His cinematic output has slowed considerably since the turn of the 21st Century as he has turned his attention to other interests, but he still deserves to be known as one of the funniest men in Hollywood – and here are 10 classic movies to prove it.
The Jerk (1979)
“It was never easy for me. I was born a poor black child. I remember the days, sitting on the porch with my family, singin' and dancin' down in Mississippi…”
And so begins the tale of Navin B. Johnson (Martin), a simpleton who is shocked to discover he isn’t the biological child of black sharecroppers and heads out to seek his fortune, taking odd jobs, meeting colourful characters, and finding love along the way.
Martin’s big breakthrough movie blossomed from a single line in his stand-up routine (the bit about “a poor black child”) and went from there, growing into a hilarious rise-and-fall story about a dimwit in pursuit of the American Dream. What could have easily been just a collection of skits even has a little substance thanks to Navin’s quirky relationship with Marie (Bernadette Peters (in a role written especially for her), almost something that Preston Sturges might have written back in the 1940s. Just with more silly jokes and a dog named Shithead.
The Jerk probably has the highest strike rate of jokes per minute than any other Steve Martin movie. The classic bits are the stuff of legend: Navin finding his rhythm, telling shit from shinola, protecting cans from a sniper, Navin’s special purpose, Mexican cat-juggling, “I don’t need anything…” The list goes on and on, with Martin rocking every scene and investing Navin with a sweet innocence that is so appealing even when he’s being totally obnoxious: “Two hundred and fifty big ones.”
The Man with Two Brains (1983)
“O pointy birds, O pointy pointy, Anoint my head, Anointy-nointy”
After making a foray into musicals with Pennies from Heaven and sharing the screen with classic Hollywood stars like James Cagney and Humphrey Bogart in Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid (more technically impressive than outright hilarious), Martin went full-on zany again in The Man With Two Brains.
His third collaboration with Reiner is a delirious homage to old mad scientist movies ((The Brain That Wouldn’t Die immediately springs to mind) as Martin plays Dr. Michael Hfuhruhurr, a pompous brain surgeon who finds himself in a love triangle with his spiteful gold-digging wife Dolores (Kathleen Turner) and Anne Uumellmahaye, a disembodied brain kept alive in a jar (voiced sweetly by Sissy Spacek). Things take a ghoulish turn when the Doc needs to find a suitable body for his cranially challenged sweetheart before she expires.
Although it is frantic and far more uneven than The Jerk, there is still some brilliant stuff here. Martin is great at playing smarmy characters and he really leans into it as the sexually frustrated neurosurgeon, matched by Turner in full femme fatale mode after making her screen debut as a voracious trophy wife in Body Heat. They get great support from David Warner, hamming it up as Dr. Necessiter, a mad scientist taking advantage of a serial killer’s work for his brain-related experiments.
Some of the material is a little close to the bone by modern standards with its rampant and literal objectification of women’s bodies, but that is counteracted by Hfuhruhurr falling for Miss Uumellmahaye’s mind.
All of Me (1984)
“You're like an energy vampire. You suck the life out of people and take the fun out of being a lawyer.”
All of Me was Martin’s fourth and final movie with Carl Reiner, and it’s an absolute gem, a body-swap farce by way of 1930s screwball comedy. Martin is Roger Cobb, the jazz guitar-loving attorney of bedridden millionairess Edwina Cutwater (Lily Tomlin). Having been ill all her life, Edwina arranges to have her soul transferred by some mystical hocus pocus into the very able young body of Terry Hoskins (Victoria Tennant) at the point of death. Naturally, a mishap occurs and Cobb finds himself sharing his body with his cranky former client.
All of Me takes a little while to get going, but it turns into a masterclass in physical comedy once the transfer happens. With Cutwater occupying one side of his body, Cobb is constantly fighting for control of his limbs – and Edwina is in no mood to play ball. It’s a whirlwind performance from Martin, acting as two different people rolled into one.
Both Martin and Tomlin received Golden Globe nominations, and she’s no slouch in the comedy department either - it’s not overstating things to say their turns compliment each other beautifully and form a perfect whole. Incidentally, Martin first met Victoria Tennant during the shoot and they married two years later, remaining together until their divorce in 1994.
Three Amigos! (1986)
“Not so fast, El Guapo! Or I'll pump you so full of lead you'll be using your dick for a pencil!”
While Martin’s early film comedy roles were mostly a showcase for his individual comic persona, he was arguably even better when he shared the screen with equally talented co-stars – Tomlin in All of Me was a great example. He got two of the best that SNL had to offer as he donned the black mariachi jackets and giant sombreros of the Three Amigos! with Chevy Chase and Martin Short in his first major film role.
Martin is Lucky Day, one third of a conceited but very dim-witted trio of silent movie stars who are fired by their studio boss. They think their luck has changed when they receive a telegram from the residents of a small Mexican village who have mistaken them for heroic gunfighters. Believing it’s just a paid show, the boys soon find themselves facing a gang of very real bandits led by El Guapo (Alfonso Arau, also very funny).
Three Amigos! Is an affectionate comic homage to the classic format of Seven Samurai and The Magnificent Seven, and here’s the thing. Heaven’s Gate had effectively killed off the Western at the start of the ‘80s, so it’s actually one of the few decent examples of the genre from the decade.
Directed by John Landis, it’s a showcase for the distinctive talents of each of the three stars who all look like they’re having a blast. Martin plays the nominal brains of the outfit while Chase does smug and aloof and Short does timid and sweet.
There are times when it feels like each actor is performing their bit in different parts of the same frame, but it all comes together in the superb last act as the Amigos summon up the courage to ride out to El Guapo’s fortress-like compound and rescue the village beauty. This sequence is a constant delight as they sing a lullaby with desert animals and encounter a singing bush and an invisible swordsman before blundering their way through their rescue plan. Amiable and infectiously silly, watching Three Amigos! always feels like hanging out with old friends.
Roxanne (1987)
Fulfilling his dream of updating Jose Ferrer’s Cyrano de Bergerac, Martin toned down the zaniness a few notches and found the sweet spot between outright comedy and romance with Roxanne. He plays C.D. Bales, a popular small-town fire chief whose self-esteem is hampered by his extraordinarily long nose. When a luminous astronomy student, Roxanne Kowalski (Daryl Hannah) visits town, he falls head over heels but believes she would never look twice at him, resigning himself to playing match-maker for his hunky but tongue-tied colleague Chris instead (Rick Rossovich).
Capably directed by Fred Schepisi and kept just the right side of saccharine by Martin’s intelligent screenplay, Roxanne updates the adage that looks aren’t everything with warmth and gentle observational humour. It also gave Martin a chance to show a different side of him, demonstrating more acting chops than his previous material had allowed and establishing himself as a credible alternative romantic lead.
That’s not to say Roxanne isn’t also funny. Martin peppers the dialogue with his usual zingers, and there are two outstanding comic set pieces: One in which C.D. helps Chris woo Roxanne via hidden radio, and another when he embarrasses a barroom bully by rattling off a bunch of imaginative nose jokes. But despite his exuberant joie de vivre and big heart, we also recognise his hurt and yearning, which made C.D. his most disarmingly human screen character to that point.
Planes, Trains and Automobiles (1987)
“Those aren’t pillows!”
Planes, Trains, and Automobiles may well be the most enduringly popular movie of Martin’s entire career, a film that proved John Hughes could do adults just as well as teenagers by casting Martin and John Candy as an odd couple for the ages. The result is a road movie that is both gut-bustingly funny and emotionally rich, and one that gained extra poignancy when Candy passed away seven years later.
This time around, Martin got to play the straight man as Neal Page, an uptight advertising executive who just wants to fly back from New York to Chicago to spend Thanksgiving with his family. A sequence of epic setbacks threatens to derail his plans, however, leaving him to make his way back home in the unwanted company of Del Griffith (Candy), a folksy and cheerfully overbearing salesman who sells shower curtain rings for a living.
Both actors play their roles to the hilt with Martin stepping to one side to let Candy get the bulk of the laughs while also having some big comic moments of his own – his notorious F-bomb laden rant at a car rental clerk (Edie McClurg at her rosie-cheeked best) earned the otherwise family-friendly film an R rating in the United States. It was worth it.
The movie has some surprising depth, too. As a kid, I always thought Neal was the bad guy of the piece, but now I’m older I see how shifty and obnoxious Del really is, which gives their relationship an extra dynamic as the movie reaches its touching conclusion – seriously, I can’t even think about those last few minutes without getting a little teary-eyed!
Dirty Rotten Scoundrels (1988)
“I’ve got culture coming out of my ass.”
This remake of the lightweight 1964 farce Bedtime Story (which starred Marlon Brando and David Niven) was originally envisioned as a vehicle for Mick Jagger and David Bowie. Luckily, it got a serious upgrade thanks to a classy pairing of Steve Martin and Michael Caine instead.
Caine is Lawrence Jamieson, a refined con artist making a lucrative business on the French Riviera. His M.O. is seducing wealthy women and tricking them into giving him large amounts of cash. It’s all going swimmingly until Freddy Benson, a brash two-bit hustler, arrives on the scene peddling a similar shtick. The town isn’t big enough for the two of them, so they make a bet to see who can con $50,000 out of a naive newly-rich American tourist, Janet Colgate (Glenne Headly).
The chemistry and contrasting styles of the two stars enlivens a fairly predictable conman caper. Martin is full of cocky egotism while Caine is more calculating and debonair, and both actors get plenty of moments to shine. Caine, not previously known for comic performances, arguably steals the movie with his cunning twinkle, but Martin sells the more knockabout stuff with customary zeal – not least in a show-stopping scene when he plays Jamieson’s very special brother, Ruprecht, to scare off victims once he’s landed the money. It might not be the most sensitive portrayal of mental illness, but it sure is hilarious.
L.A. Story (1991)
Somewhat overlooked among Martin’s comedies, L.A. Story is to the City of Angels what Woody Allen’s Manhattan is to the Big Apple, just without the creepiness and the Kierkegaard jokes. It is Martin’s love letter to Los Angeles, and there are parallels – he plays Harris K. Telemacher, a wacky TV weatherman who pines for something more and falls for Sara, Victoria Tennant’s very Annie Hall-like Brit.
Directed by Mick Jackson (Threads), Martin’s approach is far more whimsical and surreal – Harris does take love advice from a talking freeway sign, after all – as he casts the city as a pastel-coloured idyll of palm trees and Hockney-esque swimming pools where any eccentricity goes, lightly satirising the lifestyle and the fads of L.A. in the early ‘90s.
Martin and Tennant receive excellent support from Marilu Henner as Harris’s society snob girlfriend; Richard E. Grant as Sara’s good-natured ex; and a young Sarah Jessica Parker as SanDeE*, Harris’s ditzy and inappropriately young rebound fling. Add a bunch of cameos including Patrick Stewart, Woody Harrelson, Chevy Chase, and Rick Moranis, and you’ve got yourself a very entertaining cast.
It’s an odd movie that is pretty pleased with itself and tries too hard to woo the audience at certain points, but it is hard to hold that against it since it hits far more than it misses. At its best, L.A. Story is breezy and charming with just a little bit of bite, held together by Martin’s effervescent performance. Harris Telemacher brings together all the different contrasting strands of his screen persona, mixing the high-brow and the goofball, the affable with the sarcastic, the aloof with the sentimental. If you’ve seen the recent documentary STEVE! (Martin) A Documentary in 2 Pieces, you’ll know he is quite a complex and private character, and there is definitely a sense that Harris is probably the closest we’ve got to the real Steve Martin onscreen.
Father of the Bride (1991)
“Drive carefully. And don't forget to fasten your condom.”
Martin really began to mellow in the ‘90s, which wasn’t necessarily the curse some people seemed to think it was (more of that in the next pick). Whereas some comic actors grimly hang on to the same shtick as they get older, Martin matured gracefully, alternating light-weight comedies with some solid dramatic roles (Grand Canyon, Leap of Faith, The Spanish Prisoner).
He was well cast in Father of the Bride, Charles Shyer’s kind-hearted remake of the 1950 Spencer Tracy classic. He plays George Banks, a loving family man who is shocked to learn that his beloved daughter Annie (Kimberley Williams) is engaged and plans to marry a guy she has only known for a few months. The lad seems decent enough, but George can’t stand to let the apple of his eye go, and he grows increasingly anxious in the build-up to the wedding.
Father of the Bride is a feel-good movie that isn’t afraid to tug on the heartstrings occasionally, provoking light chuckles rather than outright belly laughs. It’s still irresistible thanks to the gorgeous chemistry between Martin and Diane Keaton as Nina, George’s level-headed other half. The cosy low-wattage vibe is given a burst of manic scene-stealing energy every time Martin Short appears as flamboyant wedding planner Franck Eggelhoffer. The principal cast all returned for two sequels, Father of the Bride Part II (1995) and Father of the Bride Part 3(ish) in 2020.
Bowfinger (1999)
In the mid-’90s, Paul Kaye’s alter-ego Dennis Pennis skewered many big names during his stint on the red carpets of Hollywood, Cannes, and Venice. Few moments slapped harder than when he ambushed Steve Martin in 1996. Approaching the star at the premiere of Sgt. Bilko, Pennis asked bluntly: “How come you’re not funny anymore?”
Martin didn’t respond, turning away in disgust. You could see it stung, and there was an element of truth to it. A turn towards more serious projects and dross like Housesitter and Mixed Nuts meant that the actor simply wasn’t generating the sheer wealth of laughs that he had in his heyday.
Frank Oz’s Bowfinger was considered something of a comedy comeback, starring Martin as a down-at-heel B-movie mogul who hatches a cunning plan to make Chubby Rain, his sci-fi horror opus. All he needs is a big name, and decides to make the flick with paranoid superstar Kit Ramsey (Eddie Murphy) without the actor’s knowledge.
Penned by Martin, Bowfinger was another affectionate swipe at Los Angeles and the Hollywood system, and it also provided a superb vehicle for Eddie Murphy during a period when his own star was somewhat on the wane Without resorting to fat suits or copious make-up like some of his other multi-character roles (The Nutty Professor, etc.), Murphy created two very distinct personalities as Kit and his Duane Dibley-esque twin brother Jiff.
Generously, Martin takes something of a back seat and hands most of the movie’s best laughs to Murphy, but he still laces the screenplay with plenty of choice lines for himself. As a satire, Bowfinger certainly isn’t as revered as Robert Altman’s The Player, but it still draws favourable comparisons with Mel Brooks’ The Producers and Tim Burton’s Ed Wood. The latter is particularly appropriate as Bowfinger offers a madcap celebration of guerrilla film-making on a tight budget.
So there you have it, our picks of Steve Martin’s funniest movies. What are your favourites? Let us know!
