The story of Jean-Marc Clement and his pretty chorus girl is so widely hated and depreciated among the critics I always get surprised when I find myself enjoying it. Sure it's overlong, from a good half an hour, sometimes dull and never truly believable: why they kept the introduction sequence is a mystery. Also, as often with musicals of this era, the camera practically never moves.
Still, there are noticeable good points: the score makes for a pleasant listening, from the classic Cole Porter 's"My Heart Belongs to Daddy" (the only number really well staged) to the romantic, jazzy themes "Let's Make Love", and "Incurably Romantic". Marilyn sings and dances with her own soulful abandon, and as an actress, she will only disappoint those who do not like her at all. I, a fan, thought she was right on my money. There is true charm in her portrayal of Amanda, an everyday beauty queen who knits between sexy numbers, good comic timing too -although she overacts a bit the final scenes. And with her pale blonde hair and tired gaze, she looks almost younger than in the 50's. Some biographical allusions -like the night school- and the fact she's supposed to be an happy-go-lucky, "at home wherever she goes" make sit ultimately poignant.
As for Montand, in charge of a difficult task after Gregory Peck and James Stewart had said "no", he looks surprisingly at ease. Apart from the heavy french accent, his approach of the Clement character is cleverly unexpected : while everyone thinks of him as an icy, pompous businessman crossed with a self-assured playboy, Clement appears as always charming and suave, exceedingly polite, widely smiling and very stiffly dressed. As a result, it makes impossible for the viewer not to go for him -specially as once he poses as a struggling extra, he gets humiliating indifference and mockery from everyone. The trouble is the story becomes much less believable and a bit confusing : and while you care for the billionaire, you never get to understand him or the life he leads. The chemistry between the two stars is fine yet it never sparkles, much because of the script which until the very end imposes misunderstanding and a one-way relationship.
The supporting cast is less reliable, from dazzling to forgettable. Theatre people have not much soul, although they're supposed to be the good guys : directors spend their time screaming, there's a mean blonde dancer and Frankie Vaughan, as the whining crooner, is no match for Monroe. On the other hand, Wilfrid Hyde-White is pleasant in a prototype for his Col. Pickering of "My Fair Lady". And young Tony Randall frankly excellent as the public relations man who gets disgusted by his boss's frivolity. Long before I got to love Randall as Felix Ungar, I thought he gave the subtlest performance of the movie. It's too bad that after a definite part in the first hour, his likable character stands aback in the shade with Hyde- White, to watch the seduction going on. One gets the feeling he had scenes cut or else added in the course of the film. Of course, one has to mention the three guest-stars that make most of the life in the middle dragging part, during which Clement learns how to be an artist. It turns out the shorter the appearance, the better it is and Gene Kelly is truly priceless in the one little scene he waltzes with Yves Montand. Bing Crosby and Milton Berle are nice too but the latter remains too long on the show.
The script, which suffered many rewrites before and during the shooting is an odd mixture, including moving monologues by Arthur Miller (who, complained Peck, wanted badly to extent Marilyn's part), classic comedy stuff, good one-liners and awkward gags: the Elvis Presley satire comes from a long way. The charm and tenderness of some sequences does not work so well with the mechanical farce going around, leaving the general feeling of an of- balance movie. George Cukor was not the ideal musical director and he fails to reconcile human comedy and singing lavishness - although he would score a triumph a few years later with "My Fair Lady", but then the script was of better quality. One may wonder what "Let's Make Love" would have been, with sharper writing and wiser editing. But there's enough good to contradict the severe critics, as long as Monroe, Randall and sometimes Montand are around. So forget the faults. Enjoy the stars.
Still, there are noticeable good points: the score makes for a pleasant listening, from the classic Cole Porter 's"My Heart Belongs to Daddy" (the only number really well staged) to the romantic, jazzy themes "Let's Make Love", and "Incurably Romantic". Marilyn sings and dances with her own soulful abandon, and as an actress, she will only disappoint those who do not like her at all. I, a fan, thought she was right on my money. There is true charm in her portrayal of Amanda, an everyday beauty queen who knits between sexy numbers, good comic timing too -although she overacts a bit the final scenes. And with her pale blonde hair and tired gaze, she looks almost younger than in the 50's. Some biographical allusions -like the night school- and the fact she's supposed to be an happy-go-lucky, "at home wherever she goes" make sit ultimately poignant.
As for Montand, in charge of a difficult task after Gregory Peck and James Stewart had said "no", he looks surprisingly at ease. Apart from the heavy french accent, his approach of the Clement character is cleverly unexpected : while everyone thinks of him as an icy, pompous businessman crossed with a self-assured playboy, Clement appears as always charming and suave, exceedingly polite, widely smiling and very stiffly dressed. As a result, it makes impossible for the viewer not to go for him -specially as once he poses as a struggling extra, he gets humiliating indifference and mockery from everyone. The trouble is the story becomes much less believable and a bit confusing : and while you care for the billionaire, you never get to understand him or the life he leads. The chemistry between the two stars is fine yet it never sparkles, much because of the script which until the very end imposes misunderstanding and a one-way relationship.
The supporting cast is less reliable, from dazzling to forgettable. Theatre people have not much soul, although they're supposed to be the good guys : directors spend their time screaming, there's a mean blonde dancer and Frankie Vaughan, as the whining crooner, is no match for Monroe. On the other hand, Wilfrid Hyde-White is pleasant in a prototype for his Col. Pickering of "My Fair Lady". And young Tony Randall frankly excellent as the public relations man who gets disgusted by his boss's frivolity. Long before I got to love Randall as Felix Ungar, I thought he gave the subtlest performance of the movie. It's too bad that after a definite part in the first hour, his likable character stands aback in the shade with Hyde- White, to watch the seduction going on. One gets the feeling he had scenes cut or else added in the course of the film. Of course, one has to mention the three guest-stars that make most of the life in the middle dragging part, during which Clement learns how to be an artist. It turns out the shorter the appearance, the better it is and Gene Kelly is truly priceless in the one little scene he waltzes with Yves Montand. Bing Crosby and Milton Berle are nice too but the latter remains too long on the show.
The script, which suffered many rewrites before and during the shooting is an odd mixture, including moving monologues by Arthur Miller (who, complained Peck, wanted badly to extent Marilyn's part), classic comedy stuff, good one-liners and awkward gags: the Elvis Presley satire comes from a long way. The charm and tenderness of some sequences does not work so well with the mechanical farce going around, leaving the general feeling of an of- balance movie. George Cukor was not the ideal musical director and he fails to reconcile human comedy and singing lavishness - although he would score a triumph a few years later with "My Fair Lady", but then the script was of better quality. One may wonder what "Let's Make Love" would have been, with sharper writing and wiser editing. But there's enough good to contradict the severe critics, as long as Monroe, Randall and sometimes Montand are around. So forget the faults. Enjoy the stars.