Tony Curtis is an ambitious young saxophonist who shows up in New York looking for a job. He's from Milwaukee. (!) He hasn't brought much money, only his instruments, and he's stumped when the Dixie Hotel (!) demands seven dollars a night for a room. (!) LOL. God, I loved New York City in 1960. As a young feller I was on a first-name basis with every one of its park benches in Washington Square.
Curtis manages to find a room for a few dollars a night in a boarding house run by a tough old broad. Oh, she's crust on the outside. But underneath that, she's a real softy. And underneath THAT, she's a real MEAN barracuda.
She finds a shabby room for Curtis by the simple expedient of throwing Debby Reynolds out because she's in arrears. But Curtis, a gentleman of the Midwest, offers to share the room because Reynolds has no other place to go and is one step away from becoming a working girl. Do they fight, you ask? Do they argue? Do they trade favors? Do they fall in love? You're kidding.
It was written by Garsin Kanin who knows the tough underbelly of the city. It began as a play and maybe that accounts for the extended talk fests involving Curtis and Reynolds. The viewer already knows what's going to happen the moment they meet. Neither is going to wind up in the booby hatch. This is not Tennessee Williams.
The writing is uneven. If Jack Oakie, as Mac the bartender, was any more avuncular it would have launched me into a series of clonic spasms. But when Kanin gets the right actors in the right scene, he wins every time. Take Don Rickles, as Reynolds' boss at the dance hall. Kids, a dance hall is a place where you can pay to enter and where lonesome men go to buy tickets to dance with the ladies. The most famous of them was, and maybe still is, Roseland, where I took an attractive young lady named Rose Brown. I don't remember what she looked like but who could forget that name -- "Rose" "Brown." Anyway, Reynolds doesn't make much money dancing with the drunks and the goaty customers, and she's in debt to Don Rickles, who is constantly urging her to "have drinks and a dinner" with a nice rich customer. Just be accommodating. In a completely unnecessary scene, Rickles forces her to remove most of her clothing.
Best scene in the entire film: Tony Curtis gets a chance to audition for a famous combo called The Red Peppers. He shows up, bringing all his four reed instruments, eager for a job. The group is a phony. After a bit of practice, they send Curtis out for beer and pretzels, steal all his instruments and his seersucker jacket, and exit through the window. It's heartbreaking but it's hilarious. The dialog is exquisite. The cynical leader of the group is played by Ed Bushkin, a well-known pianist and composer ("Just Look At Me Now"). And when the saxophonists toot, they really toot, making Curtis look like the tyro he is. Elmer Bernstein, who wrote the musical score, is a group member. Later on, Gerry Mulligan makes a brief appearance.
Both Curtis and Reynolds are professional performers and it shows. But they're miscast. Tony Curtis, born Bernie Schwartz in the Bronx, is a naive youth from Milwaukee? And Debby Reynolds is sexy in a dramatic role but she's too girlish. She has a piping high voice. She's just not convincing as a tough New Yorker, not here and not in "The Catered Affair." Somebody attractive but deeper could have handled it better, maybe someone like Patricia O'Neal.
It's not badly done, not insulting in any way, although it would have been nice to have more than just a few second-unit shots of Jack Dempsey's and the Port Authority Bus Terminal. The comic interludes alone make it worth catching.
Curtis manages to find a room for a few dollars a night in a boarding house run by a tough old broad. Oh, she's crust on the outside. But underneath that, she's a real softy. And underneath THAT, she's a real MEAN barracuda.
She finds a shabby room for Curtis by the simple expedient of throwing Debby Reynolds out because she's in arrears. But Curtis, a gentleman of the Midwest, offers to share the room because Reynolds has no other place to go and is one step away from becoming a working girl. Do they fight, you ask? Do they argue? Do they trade favors? Do they fall in love? You're kidding.
It was written by Garsin Kanin who knows the tough underbelly of the city. It began as a play and maybe that accounts for the extended talk fests involving Curtis and Reynolds. The viewer already knows what's going to happen the moment they meet. Neither is going to wind up in the booby hatch. This is not Tennessee Williams.
The writing is uneven. If Jack Oakie, as Mac the bartender, was any more avuncular it would have launched me into a series of clonic spasms. But when Kanin gets the right actors in the right scene, he wins every time. Take Don Rickles, as Reynolds' boss at the dance hall. Kids, a dance hall is a place where you can pay to enter and where lonesome men go to buy tickets to dance with the ladies. The most famous of them was, and maybe still is, Roseland, where I took an attractive young lady named Rose Brown. I don't remember what she looked like but who could forget that name -- "Rose" "Brown." Anyway, Reynolds doesn't make much money dancing with the drunks and the goaty customers, and she's in debt to Don Rickles, who is constantly urging her to "have drinks and a dinner" with a nice rich customer. Just be accommodating. In a completely unnecessary scene, Rickles forces her to remove most of her clothing.
Best scene in the entire film: Tony Curtis gets a chance to audition for a famous combo called The Red Peppers. He shows up, bringing all his four reed instruments, eager for a job. The group is a phony. After a bit of practice, they send Curtis out for beer and pretzels, steal all his instruments and his seersucker jacket, and exit through the window. It's heartbreaking but it's hilarious. The dialog is exquisite. The cynical leader of the group is played by Ed Bushkin, a well-known pianist and composer ("Just Look At Me Now"). And when the saxophonists toot, they really toot, making Curtis look like the tyro he is. Elmer Bernstein, who wrote the musical score, is a group member. Later on, Gerry Mulligan makes a brief appearance.
Both Curtis and Reynolds are professional performers and it shows. But they're miscast. Tony Curtis, born Bernie Schwartz in the Bronx, is a naive youth from Milwaukee? And Debby Reynolds is sexy in a dramatic role but she's too girlish. She has a piping high voice. She's just not convincing as a tough New Yorker, not here and not in "The Catered Affair." Somebody attractive but deeper could have handled it better, maybe someone like Patricia O'Neal.
It's not badly done, not insulting in any way, although it would have been nice to have more than just a few second-unit shots of Jack Dempsey's and the Port Authority Bus Terminal. The comic interludes alone make it worth catching.