The End (1978)

The End is the kind of daring, underrated black comedy that somehow finds real tenderness in the unlikeliest place: a man staring down mortality and trying to laugh his way through the terror. Burt Reynolds walks a tricky tightrope, turning Wendell’s panic into humor without cheapening the ache underneath, while Dom DeLuise storms in with a fearless, scene-stealing performance that’s equal parts manic and oddly endearing. The vibe is mischievous and dark, but it’s never cynical; it keeps surprising you with how human it feels even when it’s being outrageous. It won’t be for everyone—if gallows humor makes you squirm, you may resist it—but if you like comedies that take risks and land somewhere unexpectedly touching, this one’s a gem.

The End is clearly aiming for a bold, taboo-busting comedy about mortality, using desperate situations and odd-couple chaos to squeeze laughs out of something genuinely scary. The problem is the tone swings wildly—one minute it wants to be darkly clever, the next it’s broad and silly—so the jokes often land with a thud or feel tasteless rather than daring. Burt Reynolds’ approach behind and in front of the camera can come off undisciplined, and if you’re allergic to a lead character who spends a lot of time whining, this will test your patience fast. If you like messy, 1970s boundary-pushing comedies and can roll with uneven execution, you might find a few inspired moments, but don’t expect consistent laughs or a steady hand.