The answer, according to the film’s box office receipts: audiences would rather watch Neil Armstrong take one small step than watch Peter Ustinov take one very silly one.
With a ragtag platoon of teenage cadets and a horse named after a Spanish poet, Max crosses the Rio Grande. He finds the Alamo defended by exactly one sleepy security guard. Within an hour, the Mexicans have "reclaimed" the shrine, run up the Mexican flag, and confused the hell out of a group of schoolchildren. Viva Max
Viva Max! was not a good movie. But it was a brave one. And in an era where border politics are no laughing matter, a comedy that dares to laugh at the very idea of a border might be exactly what we need—or exactly why Hollywood is too scared to make it today. The answer, according to the film’s box office
What follows isn’t a war. It’s a farce. The local police, led by a bumbling chief (Harry Morgan, in full Dragnet mode), surround the mission. The Texas National Guard rolls in. A cynical reporter (Pamela Tiffin) turns it into a national obsession. And Max, utterly bewildered by his own success, tries to negotiate by demanding a new pair of boots and a pardon for his horse. The film’s secret weapon is Peter Ustinov, the Oscar-winning polymath who could play everything from Nero to Hercule Poirot. His General Max is no villain; he’s a romantic, a fool, and a surprisingly dignified man trapped in a clown’s scenario. Ustinov plays the role with a twinkle that suggests he alone understands the joke. Within an hour, the Mexicans have "reclaimed" the