Screenplay by Billy Wilder and I.A.L. Diamond; Story by Robert Thoeren and Michael Logan; Directed by Billy Wilder; Cinematography by Charles Lang; Edited by Arthur P. Schmidt; Complete Credits. 120 min. 1959.
Since Some Like It Hot is on most of the Best Lists in existence, I don’t have to waste any time raving about it. I’ll just say: the film really deserves it. Really really.
The plot alone would have made Shakespeare’s mouth water: Chicago, 1929. Prohibition is in full swing; so are all the speak-easies and bootleggers. Two broke musicians, Joe (Tony Curtis) and Jerry (Jack Lemmon) have the misfortune to witness the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre committed by “Spats” Colombo (George Raft) and his thugs. Don’t let the gangster stuff fool you. Here’s where the comedy kicks in: Joe, the sharper of the dynamic duo, decides he and Jerry won’t be found if they masquerade as female musicians. One dissolve later, they’re in full makeup, wigs, dresses, and high-heels, getting ready to board a train for Miami with Sweet Sue (Joan Shawlee) and her Society Syncopaters, and Beinstock (Dave Barry), their bespectacled and befuddled manager. (The setup is actually a lot more complex than that, but I’m simplifying for the sake of brevity.)
“Josephine” and “Daphne” (he never did like the name “Geraldine”) just have to keep as low a profile as they can among a dozen or so attractive 25-year-old blondes until they get to Miami and can blow the scene. But wait! Look out kids, here comes the love-interest: enter Sugar Kane (Marilyn Monroe), the singer in this female jazz outfit, and probably the sweetest dumb blonde you’ll ever meet. She’s dressed like a bombshell, but she’s really cotton candy. (Notice, by the way, that they only introduce Sugar about 25 minutes into the film. That’s pretty risky, but there’s so much content in those 25 minutes that you never feel like you’re waiting for something to happen.)
Pretty soon Josephine and Sugar are practically best friends. Josephine gets the inside scoop on Sugar’s unhappy love-life and hatches a plan to disguise himself as her dream man – once they reach Miami. As if that wasn’t enough to complicate things, in Miami Daphne catches the eye of Osgood Fielding III (Joe E. Brown), a middle-aged playboy millionaire – and that’s all I’m going to say about that. You have to see it for yourself.
There’s so much to say that I’m forcing myself to stick to two main points: the complexity of the characters and the disguise device. Tony Curtis plays three characters – Joe, Josephine, and Junior (Sugar’s dream man), while Jack Lemon plays two characters – Jerry and Daphne. Josephine, Junior, and Daphne begin as superficial disguises, but they gradually take on their own identities. Now, I’m going to be really annoying and say that Josephine, Junior, and Daphne aren’t only separate characters but Joe-playing-Josephine, Joe-playing-Junior, etc. Why am I getting so pedantic? At first, when Joe and Jerry are only using the female disguises to get away from the mob, they’re just two guys impersonating women. Later, when they get more into character, we see them morphing into these alternate personas until finally the line becomes totally blurred. With Joe, it has a serious transforming effect; with Jerry it’s pure comedy.
Joe, as Josephine, realizes what a heel he’s been to women all these years. As Junior, the gentlemanly millionaire, he becomes the best version of himself. (Not surprisingly, he adopts a Cary Grant accent – but I’m a wee bit prejudiced here…) When Jerry chides him for wasting time saying goodbye to Sugar – wouldn’t you know it? Spats and his thugs turn up in Miami and recognize them – claiming that he never left women with anything but a kick in the teeth, Joe corrects him, “That’s when I was a saxophone player. Now I’m a millionaire.”
The story plays the disguises to the hilt – Junior forgets to take off his earrings before his date with Sugar, the mobsters don’t recognize Josephine and Daphne in the elevator. Later, when Joe and Jerry make a quick switch to male clothing, Jerry gives them away because he forgot to take off his high-heels. By the end, Joe and Jerry don’t even have make-up on. Joe is at his most stripped-down version of Josephine when he kisses a tearful Sugar for the last time (at least he thinks it’s for the last time). After which he utters a crucial line: “None of that, Sugar. No guy is worth it.” The line is crucial because it neutralizes Sugar’s likely anger at “another one of those no good saxophone players” she’s been running away from. In a moment, she realizes what’s been going, and can go after Joe without a moment’s hesitation.
And one other thing – since I can’t help myself: I’ve mentioned before that I’m a big lover of economy – as in never letting a single thing go to waste – and Some Like It Hot is brilliantly economical. Not a character or reference is thrown away: the blood type O, Cape Hatteras, the joke about the one-legged jockey, Rigoletto, the bullet holes in Jerry’s bull-fiddle, and so many more. There are also repeated visuals like Colombo’s spats and repeated dialogue like “Never heard of him,” “Goodbye Charlie,” and Sweet Sue shrieking “Beinstock!” Also notice the way they keep using Beinstock’s glasses and the diamond bracelet Osgood gives Daphne.
Next week… Ninotchka, yet another romantic comedy, and the last in this extended rom-com festival.
Since Some Like It Hot is on most of the Best Lists in existence, I don’t have to waste any time raving about it. I’ll just say: the film really deserves it. Really really.
The plot alone would have made Shakespeare’s mouth water: Chicago, 1929. Prohibition is in full swing; so are all the speak-easies and bootleggers. Two broke musicians, Joe (Tony Curtis) and Jerry (Jack Lemmon) have the misfortune to witness the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre committed by “Spats” Colombo (George Raft) and his thugs. Don’t let the gangster stuff fool you. Here’s where the comedy kicks in: Joe, the sharper of the dynamic duo, decides he and Jerry won’t be found if they masquerade as female musicians. One dissolve later, they’re in full makeup, wigs, dresses, and high-heels, getting ready to board a train for Miami with Sweet Sue (Joan Shawlee) and her Society Syncopaters, and Beinstock (Dave Barry), their bespectacled and befuddled manager. (The setup is actually a lot more complex than that, but I’m simplifying for the sake of brevity.)
“Josephine” and “Daphne” (he never did like the name “Geraldine”) just have to keep as low a profile as they can among a dozen or so attractive 25-year-old blondes until they get to Miami and can blow the scene. But wait! Look out kids, here comes the love-interest: enter Sugar Kane (Marilyn Monroe), the singer in this female jazz outfit, and probably the sweetest dumb blonde you’ll ever meet. She’s dressed like a bombshell, but she’s really cotton candy. (Notice, by the way, that they only introduce Sugar about 25 minutes into the film. That’s pretty risky, but there’s so much content in those 25 minutes that you never feel like you’re waiting for something to happen.)
Pretty soon Josephine and Sugar are practically best friends. Josephine gets the inside scoop on Sugar’s unhappy love-life and hatches a plan to disguise himself as her dream man – once they reach Miami. As if that wasn’t enough to complicate things, in Miami Daphne catches the eye of Osgood Fielding III (Joe E. Brown), a middle-aged playboy millionaire – and that’s all I’m going to say about that. You have to see it for yourself.
There’s so much to say that I’m forcing myself to stick to two main points: the complexity of the characters and the disguise device. Tony Curtis plays three characters – Joe, Josephine, and Junior (Sugar’s dream man), while Jack Lemon plays two characters – Jerry and Daphne. Josephine, Junior, and Daphne begin as superficial disguises, but they gradually take on their own identities. Now, I’m going to be really annoying and say that Josephine, Junior, and Daphne aren’t only separate characters but Joe-playing-Josephine, Joe-playing-Junior, etc. Why am I getting so pedantic? At first, when Joe and Jerry are only using the female disguises to get away from the mob, they’re just two guys impersonating women. Later, when they get more into character, we see them morphing into these alternate personas until finally the line becomes totally blurred. With Joe, it has a serious transforming effect; with Jerry it’s pure comedy.
Joe, as Josephine, realizes what a heel he’s been to women all these years. As Junior, the gentlemanly millionaire, he becomes the best version of himself. (Not surprisingly, he adopts a Cary Grant accent – but I’m a wee bit prejudiced here…) When Jerry chides him for wasting time saying goodbye to Sugar – wouldn’t you know it? Spats and his thugs turn up in Miami and recognize them – claiming that he never left women with anything but a kick in the teeth, Joe corrects him, “That’s when I was a saxophone player. Now I’m a millionaire.”
The story plays the disguises to the hilt – Junior forgets to take off his earrings before his date with Sugar, the mobsters don’t recognize Josephine and Daphne in the elevator. Later, when Joe and Jerry make a quick switch to male clothing, Jerry gives them away because he forgot to take off his high-heels. By the end, Joe and Jerry don’t even have make-up on. Joe is at his most stripped-down version of Josephine when he kisses a tearful Sugar for the last time (at least he thinks it’s for the last time). After which he utters a crucial line: “None of that, Sugar. No guy is worth it.” The line is crucial because it neutralizes Sugar’s likely anger at “another one of those no good saxophone players” she’s been running away from. In a moment, she realizes what’s been going, and can go after Joe without a moment’s hesitation.
And one other thing – since I can’t help myself: I’ve mentioned before that I’m a big lover of economy – as in never letting a single thing go to waste – and Some Like It Hot is brilliantly economical. Not a character or reference is thrown away: the blood type O, Cape Hatteras, the joke about the one-legged jockey, Rigoletto, the bullet holes in Jerry’s bull-fiddle, and so many more. There are also repeated visuals like Colombo’s spats and repeated dialogue like “Never heard of him,” “Goodbye Charlie,” and Sweet Sue shrieking “Beinstock!” Also notice the way they keep using Beinstock’s glasses and the diamond bracelet Osgood gives Daphne.
Next week… Ninotchka, yet another romantic comedy, and the last in this extended rom-com festival.
2 comments:
Since you're not saying much about Osgood I won't either other than to add that he gets to utter the final line of the play and it is one the all time great punchlines. I've seen so much about the making of this film I have to say I would have been hard pushed to be this concise.
I can't say it wasn't a challenge, Jim. The original post ran almost four pages in Word. So I just took a (metaphorical) hatchet to it. Part of it was rambling about the film's brilliant last line. The movie is one of the best written that I've ever seen. That bar is pretty damn high...
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