When Robert Altman died last month, critics professional and amateur alike wasted no time in saying farewell to one of the great maverick film directors. Most every summation took care to mention his 1980s career lull, which ended with The Player(or Vincent and Theo, depending on a critic’s personal taste) and began, everyone agreed, with 1980’s Popeye. Even those articles which made cases for Altman’s lesser-known films skimmed over Popeye; A. O. Scott’s paean to Altman “at his worst” defended the honor of such flawed films as H.E.A.L.T.H., Prêt-à-Porter, and Dr. T and the Women, but about Popeye only had to say: “A big budget, and a big flop. It ams what it am.”

But what ams Popeye? I first watched Altman’s comic-strip musical in a Milwaukee cinema within a few weeks of my sixth birthday, in December 1980. Baffled and bored by it at the time, I have more distinct memories of the pizza dinner my family shared afterward. But viewed again after Altman’s death, Popeye stands as a worthy entry in the director’s filmography for its charm, its gently countercultural spirit, and its performance by Shelley Duvall as Olive Oyl, the role—as so many critics noted—she was born to play. Remarkably faithful to the look, rhythm, and spirit of E. C. Segar’s Thimble Theater comic strips, in which the character originally appeared, Popeye, like its antecedents Dick Tracy and Sin City, stands as a testament to the challenges—and rewards—of translating a comic kit and caboodle to film.

Made for a reported $20 million—big money at the time—Popeye had a famously troubled shoot, culminating in rumored fistfights between producer Robert Evans and Altman on the film’s astonishing set in Malta. It’s that set—designed by Wolf Kroeger, and still open to the public—that epitomizes the enjoyably contradictory heart of Altman’s film. Logs were reportedly shipped in from Holland and roof shingles from Canada. Seaworthy boats were purchased and then deliberately half-sunk in the harbor. A 250-foot seawall was built in Anchor Bay to keep back rough seas. In a wonderful example of movie studio largesse, no expense was spared to build, in its entirety, the rickety, ramshackle harbor town of Sweethaven.

Popeye is a movie built of such pleasant folly. Start with the very idea of Altman—a scathing satirist and a pioneer of naturalistic acting and dialogue in film—directing a stylized musical based on a comic strip. Aside from Duvall and title star Robin Williams (in his first movie role), a collection of character actors populated Altman’s film, most of whom possessed little musical experience and rather thin voices. And he staged the entire extravaganza on a set...