Advertising man makes publicity deal with voluptuous Hollywood star.
Hilarious spoof of the mammary-worshipping 1950's. The innuendos fly fast and furious so keep an ear cocked. Sure, viewers see much racier material now on TV. Still, the dialog's clever, the visuals inventive, and the cast superb. Director Tashlin's satiric eye is penetrating and years ahead, as the 1960's-like ending suggests.
That spoof of TV advertising is especially funny and still timely. Keep in mind that the TV medium was still new and so was making fun of its life-blood commercials. I love it when the jalopy crumbles under the salesman's boastful pitch. Corporations were also growing, laying out a new yardstick for success. So, Hunter's ecstatic delight with a symbolic key-to-the-washroom is not far off. And, of course, there's Rita's (Mansfield) low-hanging sex appeal, doubly emblematic of the time.
But Mansfield's also an adept comedienne. Catch how well she spoofs her own role. And were there two more droll characters than Randall and the underrated Henry Jones. Their little tete-a-tete's fairly ooze with actors' delight. Good also to see that great brassy dame Joan Blondell pick up a payday. (Catch the rather humorous shot of her coming rump-first out of the sleeping berth, which seems Tashlin's style, even with minor details.) Looks like someone also threw her the big dramatic grieving scene, maybe out of respect for her veteran status.
Anyway, the movie's a delightful glimpse of that strait-jacketed decade's more vulnerable absurdities, and in Technicolor's brightest candy box colors. Arguably, it's Tashlin's best.
