Joe Versus the Volcano
Our Hollywood cameo and what might have been
A cult classic…that’s what they say when the public finally catches up to a masterpiece that was ahead of its time. Such was the fate of Joe Versus the Volcano. Today, the 1990 John Patrick Shanley film has a reputation as one of the most individual studio movies of its era.
“Fearless and frank, it’s a parable about living life in a way that prepares you for death that feels almost absurdly welcome in the here and now,” as the Midwest Film Journal sums up the current consensus. My co-worker Dave considers it one of his favorite movies, reckoning he’s seen it at least ten times. It’s also notable as the first and weirdest on-screen pairing of the decade’s sweetheart couple, Meg Ryan (in three roles) and Tom Hanks (the titular Joe).
But on its release, neither critics nor mass audiences knew what to make of its absurdist, stylized, fable-like quality (Meg Ryan in three roles?). “Not since Howard the Duck has there been a big-budget comedy with feet as flat as those of Joe Versus the Volcano,” panned Vincent Canby of the New York Times, although Roger Ebert called it “new and fresh and not shy of taking chances… What’s strongest about the movie is that it does possess a philosophy, an idea about life.” There’s one category, though, in which Joe Versus the Volcano is Hollywood’s undisputed champion: Hammacher Schlemmer content.
We meet Joe working in one of cinema’s all-time great depressing workplaces, a medical supply company touted as “Home of the Rectal Probe”. It’s a nightmare of dripping walls, flickering fluorescent lights, and rancid coffee creamer. Off the clock, Joe learns that he’s such a hypochondriac, he’s given himself an incurably fatal “brain cloud”. A tycoon named Graynamore (a bug-eyed, wild-haired Lloyd Bridges) offers Joe a deal: if he agrees to throw himself into a volcano as a sacrifice for some Pacific Islanders that Lloyd wants to make nice with, Joe can otherwise live it up for his remaining time, funded by the manic mogul’s fortune.
After 39 minutes and 53 seconds of such Hammacher-free preamble, we finally get to the best part: us. Right after Hanks’s Joe gets his unfortunate indoor-soccer mullet shorn by Carol Kane, we see him approach our front door to stock up on gear for his South Pacific sojourn and a few indulgences for his final weeks. Naturally! Where else would you spend some Moneybags’s money bags?
It brings me no joy to report that I don’t think this exterior is really shot at the old Hammacher store at 147 East 57th Street. Joe enters via a green French door set in an alcove; all the images I can find of the real store show gold-tone metal and glass doors in a flat storefront. Also, the listed hours don’t say anything about Saturday. That’s the kind of detail you might miss on a movie set, but probably not at your actual place of business for decades.
Once inside, Joe first tries a portable putting green, which meets his liking. Then we cut to the checkout counter where his haul is laid out. “Swiss Army knife, world band travel radio, shaving kit, two brass Coleman lanterns, violin case bar,” says the Hammacher clerk, played by William Ward. “Will there be anything else, sir?”
Pan to a giant red and white umbrella, which snaps shut to reveal Joe behind it. He’ll take that, too. His imminent death and Graynamore’s blank check have set Joe free to indulge his tastes in oversize umbrellas. Again, this interior sadly doesn’t correspond any image of the real store I’ve been able to find.
That’s it. Thirty seconds after he entered, Joe is off to another stop on his pre-sacrifice shopping spree. As originally conceived, that wasn’t quite the end of the scene. At least one version of the script has Joe then notice a pair of water-walking shoes and add that to his order. Could they be the polystyrene Water Walkers we saw when we flipped through the Summer 1976 catalogue?
This bit functions as a nice little punchline to the Hammacher Schlemmer scene, taking us from the extravagant but practical items we just saw to something downright zany. Joe’s really breaking out of his uptight shell and going for it. Alas, the Water Walkers don’t appear in the finished film, robbing cinemagoers of the unforgettable sight of Tom Hanks striding the ocean blue on a pair of Styrofoam pontoons.
But in a mysterious twist, Hammacher may have provided a different flotation device. The next scene - one of the movie’s most memorable - finds Joe in an ultra-high-end luggage store (unnamed in the movie, referred to as J. Russ in the screenplay). Eagle-eyed watchers have noticed that the steamer trunk Joe purchases bears a strong resemblance to one we were selling at the time for $20,000.
Not quite identical, but the proximity of the two in the movie raises, as they say, intriguing questions. Is the one we see onscreen the Hammacher trunk with alterations to make it even fancier? Was writer-director Shanley merely inspired by ours? Or am I out on a shaky palm frond here?
The quick cut between the two stores, separated by just a few seconds of nonspecific aerial Manhattan footage, has led to confusion among some viewers (our Dave included) about whether it’s even supposed to be a different store. Was the original idea to have Joe buy luggage at Hammacher Schlemmer, too, before it was given its own separate locale? I tried to reach the writer-director to ask him all these questions, but esteemed show business professionals are rather difficult to get ahold of. Mr. Shanley, if you’re reading this, let me know.
In any event - spoiler alert - Hanks and one of Ryan’s characters use said trunks to float adrift on the ocean for much of the last quarter of the movie. Joe finally has time to enjoy his Hammacher purchases, shimmying to “Come Go with Me” on the world radio, pouring Ryan an eye-opener from the violin-case bar, giving himself a luxurious shave, and working on his short game with the putting green.
We won’t tell you how it all ends, but if you see only one movie where Tom Hanks covets a huge umbrella, make it Joe Versus the Volcano. Just one thing about our star turn rankles. Somehow we seem to be the only thing that appears in a ‘90s movie that has not been remade or rebooted. It’s been 36 years. The time is overripe. Hollywood, call our people.
And if you like Gnomenclature, you should know about Shoddy Goods, Jason’s other newsletter. It tellis similar stories about consumer culture but drawn from the rest of the world outside Hammacher Schlemmer. It’s about as fun as your Inbox can get.
Joe verses the volcano is one of my all time favorite movies!!