Quem Era Aquela Pequena?

I'd always wanted to check out this well-regarded if rarely-seen comedy – for the record, some years back I missed out on its sole Italian TV screening (that I know of). For Tony Curtis, it meant something of a follow-up to the classic SOME LIKE IT HOT (1959) – where he's forced, with his co-star (in this case, Dean Martin), to pass himself off as something he isn't (an F.B.I. agent), leading to misunderstanding, various complications and imminent danger.

Similarly, a female is involved in the shenanigans (Curtis' on and off-screen wife Janet Leigh) though, here, the whole ruse starts off because of her: Chemistry Professor Curtis' fling with a female student is discovered by his jealous wife, so he turns for help to his best pal – TV writer Martin – who procures him with papers (and a gun) denoting his Bureau affiliations; Leigh is finally convinced of this and, soon after, is contacted by a real F.B.I. operative (James Whitmore) who uses her to keep track of just what Curtis and Martin are up to!

One of the highlights of the film is the extended yet splendid incident in a restaurant: Leigh accepts Curtis' excuse to go on the town with Martin, believing it to be another federal job – but, in her over-eagerness to help, effectively blows his cover…which then lands the F.B.I. itself in hot water! The biggest trouble, however, is that enemy agents take the two men to be the real deal and kidnap them (and Leigh) in order to extract vital information they believe Curtis is in possession of! The aftermath of this sequence is again hilarious as, dazed by the drug he's been given, Curtis thinks they've been taken to a Russian sub and persuades Martin to flood it…but it transpires that they're in the basement of the Empire State Building!

The script (adapted by Norman Krasna – who also produced – from his own play) balances witty dialogue with inspired zany situations, which are then delightfully put across by an excellent cast. Both male stars, in fact, were already adept at this type of thing (crooner Martin also sings the title tune), but Leigh surprisingly proves a fine comedienne in her own right: it's a pity that her marriage to Curtis was crumbling by this time which is doubly ironic given the film's plot, but they were professional enough not to let the real cracks show in their performances.

"Who Was That Lady?" has no deep theme underlying the comedy, but neither do many of the best comedies. This one begins as it ends, with laughter. It's not belly laughs all the way through, but even the laughless parts consist of plot mechanisms that are per se at least amusing and serve as set-ups for later guffaws. There are moments when you'll feel as if you're about to split with laughter.

A summary is in order, although it will sound silly. An assistant professor of chemistry at Columbia (Curtis, who lives with his wife, Janet Leigh) in a pad no assistant professor would allow himself to dream of, is caught being kissed by one of his students. Leigh enters his office at the wrong moment, turns on her heel and walks out to go home and begin packing. (All we see of this opening scene are the legs of the three participants.)

A desperate Curtis calls his old pal Martin, a writer of TV mysteries, to help him figure out a way to keep his wife. Over drinks of lab alcohol Martin comes up with something like, "I've got it. You know why you were kissing that girl? Because you're a secret agent in the F.B.I. and she's a Russian spy." Curtis believes this is the dumbest story he's ever heard. But Martin pulls down the shades and locks the doors and tells him that he, Martin, is himself an F.B.I. agent, having been trained at Quantico while Curtis thought he was on duty in the Army. Martin even pulls off his sock and shows him four dots tattooed on his heel, the sure sign of a secret agent. "J. Edgar Hoover has five."

Curtis is convinced. And Martin begins tattooing his heel with a pen and an electric fan. Queried by a still puzzled Curtis, Martin tells him, "Me? In the F.B.I.? I couldn't even get to be an eagle scout, you jackass." As far as the dots go, Martin doesn't know about Hoover but everybody in his fraternity at Cornell has them.

I'm going to avoid going into this because it would spoil things. Suffice it to say that in order to convince Leigh that Curtis really is an F.B.I. agent, Martin goes to his prop department at CBS and has a fake F.B.I. ID card printed and requisitions a pistol. The F.B.I. gets wind of the fake card. So does the C.I.A. So do the Russians. In the end, a drugged Curtis and Martin wake up in the basement of the Empire State Building, believing they've been kidnapped and are aboard a Russian submarine. I swear I'm not making this up. They decide to sacrifice their lives and sink the submarine, which they attempt to do by hugging each other, then turning every valve and faucet in sight, pulling levers, releasing cascades of water, until they short out the electrical circuit of the Empire State Building.

I'm going to leave it there, I think. It hasn't appeared much on TV lately, and that's the only reason I can think of why there aren't any previous comments on this hilarious comedy. Really, folks, it doesn't deserve to pass unseen. Everyone in it is at his/her comedic best. Even James Whitmore manages to evoke a sympathetic smile or two. And Barbara Nichols in a small but important role has never been funnier. In a Chinese nightclub, Martin and Curtis promise her a job on TV, a proposition which they argue should be discussed over the course of a weekend at the shore. Nichols excuses herself and phones her agent: "They're talking' about a job," she tells him, "but now they're throwin' in Atlantic City." She and Joi Lansing are the prey in this scene. "Get a load of the way these gals are assembled," Martin mutters to Curtis. And adds: "They sing and dance -- like rabbits."

It's not sophisticated but when you come right down to it comedy doesn't really need elegance to be funny. Was Feydeau sophisticated? Was Aristophanes? Was Daffy Duck?

The movie defines the word "farce."

Tony Curtis and Dean Martin are good performers, but the characters they play are pathetic. The FBI "thing" gets tiresome. Janet Leigh looks great, as usual. There are few really funny lines throughout the movie, but the viewer can easily get distracted during "dead zones" of absurd planning and plotting.

The highlight of this movie occurs when the Coogle sisters (Barbara Nichols and Joi Lansing) enter the restaurant. The movie is worth watching if only for this one memorable and provocative scene.

I have rated this movie a 6, but I almost gave it a 5.

This is a fairly well made comedy; engaging and fairly lightweight, it would be quite forgettable were it not for Janet Leigh's somewhat animated performance. It is not that the other leads did anything bad, they just didn't do anything exceptional here. Janet Leigh was at the time married to Tony Curtis and this would be the last of five films they made together. In a case of art imitating life (or vice versa) her marriage was almost certainly in trouble by this stage; she was divorced from Tony Curtis about two years later.

I'm just watching this film again on UK TV, broadcast on 'Sony Movies Classic'. The transfer from celluloid to video is mostly OK, but my enjoyment is marred by the sound quality; they appear to have used some kind of auto-sound level control in the transfer somewhere, which has the effect of amplifying every tiny sound even when it is meant to be quiet. Another good film wrecked for posterity then...? Not quite, but almost.

When Janet Leigh interrupts assistant chemistry professor husband Tony Curtis at work she finds him in the arms of a female student ,and promptly sets about leaving him and petitioning for divorce .He turns in desperation to his friend -a TV scriptwriter played by Dean Martin.Together they concoct a story that he is an FBI agent whose romantic activity was all in the line of duty .Somewhat implausibly she believes the far fetched tale and the marriage is once again set fair.Or it would be but for unexpected complications--the real FBI are not amused by the deception;Martin siezes upon the deception as a cover for his serial womanising and some foreign spies believe Curtis and Martin may have secrets they can use.It builds to a frantic climax deep in the bowels of the Empire State Building, The movie has pace and this is what sustains interest for the script is pretty feeble -thin to the point of anorexia.The movie zips along briskly enough to paper over the cracks in the script and while rarely laugh out loud this is a genial and engaging comedy very much of its period in its attitudes to women who are here confined to domesticity and looking good.

Strong performances all round with James Whitmore especially good as an ulcer ridden FBI man and John mcIntyre as his superior.