Owen Gleiberman Chief Film Critic As any critic will tell you, when you’re watching a comedy with an audience, it doesn’t matter how bad the movie is — even the jokes that are making you groan are going to provoke laughter. (That’s why comedies are always screened in advance; the studios want the audience giggles to rub off on you.) But at the Venice Film Festival, when I saw “The Palace,” Roman Polanski’s garish debacle of an ensemble comedy, I was sitting in the Sala Darsena, which seats 1400 (and was full), and on the rare occasion when a line in the movie got laughs, it was literally coming from about six people.
I’m not sure if I’ve ever heard a giant theater this deadly silent for a movie that’s working this strenuously to amuse you.
Polanski, if you look back over his credits, has an astoundingly consistent track record when it comes to comedy and satire.
He’s godawful at it. I first discovered this in college when I saw Polanski’s “The Fearless Vampire Killers” (which at the time was called “The Fearless Vampire Killers, or Pardon Me, But Your Teeth Are in My Neck,” a title that sounds like it was written by Henny Youngman).
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