Das verflixte 7. Jahr

Poor Richard Sherman's got himself in such a state, he's been mesmerised and is starting to fixate, a screen goddess lives upstairs, summertime is for affairs, now he's drinking, smoking, getting quite irate; as his wife has left the city for the country, and middle age makes him behave, quite dumbly, it's the itch of seven years, that's interfering with his gears, but just a scratch will turn his world, fragile and crumbly.

Fair play to him though, as I suspect most men in his position wouldn't behave the same way when presented with a new neighbour who's innocent exhibition and confiding character (along with a number of other engaging attributes) are so overwhelmingly enticing, especially to the archetypal 1950s middle aged man.

Something that irritates me about the IMBD is that if you criticise a movie that was made before 1980, a truckload of idiots send you messages telling you how much you hate old movies. Let me say right away, I don't. I like films from pretty much every era of cinema that I've had the chance to see, but, having had common sense recently installed, I've come to realise that age doesn't automatically make a movie great, just as modernity doesn't automatically make a movie bad.

So bearing in mind that I'm talking about this one movie, and not every movie made in the 1950s, The Seven Year Itch is as average as they come. The minimal plot sees Tom Ewell's `summer bachelor' trying to resist the charms of neighbour Marilyn Monroe while his wife and son are shipped off for the season. Very obviously adapted from a play, there are few characters, few sets, and even fewer laughs. That it succeeds at all is due to the charm of the leads and the occasional good joke that sneaks its way into the script.

The film's main problem comes in how it tells its story. First, it depends on Ewell constantly talking to himself, babbling on endlessly about what he's doing, what he might do, what he's never done, and what other people will think he's doing, done and about to do. Secondly, he is constantly daydreaming, the film constantly dissolving into one of his fantasies that are unfortunately no funnier than reality. If you find this storytelling approach irritating, as I did, the film's potential is lost immediately.

You'll no doubt be shocked to learn that in this film Marilyn Monroe is cast as a dumb blonde. Most people in the world seem to immediately pitch a trouser tent at the thought of Norma Jean, but I can't say I count myself among them. The problem with a dumb blonde is that she's dumb, so to find her attractive, you have to be attracted to stupidity. I'm not, so it doesn't matter how much she pouts, or how often we're treated to shots of her hourglass figure; she's as thick as a lobotomised footballer and therefore unattractive. She's basically got the personality and intelligence of a six year old, and, not being Gary Glitter, I can't say that appeals to me.

A comedy with few laughs, a sex symbol who doesn't float my boat, and a classic that just doesn't do it for me. I guess there's another bunch of snide messages coming my way.

Even after sixty years, THE SEVEN YEAR ITCH retains its freshness and bounce - a delightful testament both to the script (by Billy Wilder and playwright George Axelrod) and the quality of the performances.

The story is a simple one: left on his own during a hot New York summer, Richard Sherman (Tom Ewell) tries his best to avoid the temptations of drink, tobacco and an extra-marital affair. However his best intentions are frustrated by the presence of The Girl (Marilyn Monroe), who has moved into the apartment above him. Nothing actually happens, but the promise persists ...

Ewell gives a stellar performance, the best in his forty-five year acting career. In his rumpled gray suit, with tie askew, he embarks on a series of monologues where his better nature competes with his carnal desires. Most of them are shot in single takes in the Shermans' apartment: Ewell's India-rubber face changes rapidly as he debates the morality of inviting The Girl down for a drink. He walks from side to side of the frame, his shoulders hunched, almost as if he is bearing the cares of the world on his back.

The fantasy-sequences are extremely funny, with Ewell imagining himself as the protagonist in a comic reworking of FROM HERE TO ETERNITY, rolling about on the beach with a woman not his wife. Later on he casts himself as a Noel Coward-like figure speaking in a cod-British accent, as he plays Rachmaninov on the piano while trying to seduce The Girl (a reference to BRIEF ENCOUNTER).

When the latter scene is re-enacted for real, The Girl is completely uninterested in Rachmaninov. Sherman tries to embrace her, and the two of them end up falling off the piano bench in an ungainly heap. Although Sherman imagines himself as the Great Lover, he will never be able to fulfill his role.

Monroe is equally memorable in her role as the not-so-dumb blonde from Denver. It's clear she is attracted to Sherman - not because of his physical attributes, but because at heart he is an extremely sweet man. On the other hand she respects his love for his wife Helen (Evelyn Keyes), and thus refrains from making a pass at him. THE SEVEN YEAR ITCH contains the memorable sequence where she stands over a grille and lets the wind from a subway train beneath blow up her white dress. Wilder shoots this sequence very discreetly, leaving everything to the viewer's imagination. Monroe is far more seductive in an interior sequence, where she hides behind a chair and stretches out one leg, and then another. The janitor Mr. Kruhulik (Robert Strauss) witnesses what happens, and promises to leave Sherman alone.

Wilder's and Axelrod's script fairly crackles with one-liners, as well as a series of in-jokes referring to Charles Lederer (Wilder's fellow-scriptwriter), as well as a reference to Monroe herself.

THE SEVEN YEAR ITCH is one of those comedies that never loses its sparkle, even after repeated viewings.

A conclusion I came to some time ago (and that doesn't seem to be reflected in any of the other reviews here) is that the whole story is a dream, a waking fantasy, on the part of Richard Sherman (Tom Ewell). There were no scenes where there is any objective confirmation of the existence of the Marilyn Monroe character, where anyone else could confirm any of the events between them; even the scene where Kruhulik (Robert Strauss) walks in is just the three of them, and Kruhulik is drunk, thus unreliable as a witness. Add to that the fact that Marilyn's character has no actual name, and is only referred to in the credits as "the girl", leads me to believe that the whole thing is Sherman's fantasy, that "the girl" never actually existed, that it's all a guilt-driven fantasy on the part of a 39-year-old middle-class white guy confronted with a "summer bachelorhood" in the City without his family. 🤔😉😊

The film succeeds mainly because of Marilyn Monroe's obvious charisma and appeal - she really shines in this as the dizzy, curvy blonde upstairs. Tom Ewell has been married seven years and has seen his wife and son away for the summer - he determines not to smoke, not to drink, and not to chase women. The moment Monroe wiggles up those stairs all that goes out of the window and he starts fantasising about the new arrival.

There are a lot of funny situations and you're never quite sure what it in Ewell's head and what is real (well, I wasn't anyway). I love the scene where they are playing Chopsticks and of course, that old chestnut the 2nd Rach concerto rears its head! Victor Moore plays a doddery plumber and Oscar Homolka a shrink who advises Ewell not to consider anything as drastic as murder until he can get simple problems sorted out, while Evelyn Keyes makes the most of her few appearances as Ewell's wife (or is she his conscience?!).

The film is fun, the famous skirt and grid scene is now legendary (but quite unlike the often-seen poster shot), and there is much in this bouncy production after nearly fifty years to entertain pretty much anyone.