I just love this movie. Granted, a little too much time and space is given to Ray Walston early on as he over reacts and overacts to the idea that his wife might be deceiving him, but then filming began with Peter Sellers in the role and nobody would have complained then. Apart from that all is very good, turning brilliant as the grossly underrated Felicia Farr shines and the golden boy himself arrives playing a parody of himself. And if all that was not enough, with the edgy storyline developing and the jokes and dialogue crackling we get a bonus - Kim Novak. She is sensational here, utilising the dialogue and situation to give a marvellous performance of great depth. The film is intelligent, daring (for the time) very likeable and best of all, actually very funny. Great!

Some Like It Hot may have all but dismantled the Hays Code with its rapturous drag comedy, Marilyn Monroe sashaying around with one shoulder bare and its iconic final lines, but the reception of Kiss Me, Stupid was far from warm five years later. It was denounced by critics for its smutty vulgarity, leading to the film's release under their foreign distribution subsidiary. Although Wilder was persuaded to leave a little of Zelda and Dino's tryst to the imagination, the intent is clear: she has committed adultery, and her husband has very likely done so too. Who has committed the bigger sin? Maybe Zelda didn't know whether or not Orville had already done the deed, and simply jumped the gun on a chance with her longtime idol. You could also argue that Orville's incessant jealously and actions had practically closed the door on their marriage - the night was a free for all. But all this moralising and outrage is placed into perspective when we hear it from Wilder's himself. He argues that there was just as much, if not more infidelity in The Apartment, yet little of the same complaints. He has a point; in that film, one of Wilder's several masterpieces, Lemmon's love shack was not only a major plot point but wielded for personal gain, for ascending the corporate ladder. The film handles it all with a cheery tone, and although in the end he rejects the idea, there are plenty of other apartments available. To look for logic and reason in the crazy affairs of Kiss Me, Stupid is to deny that these characters are already a little stir crazy. Audiences weren't quite prepared for the radical notion that a marriage could be put on hold, or that a night of adultery could improve it. While that may not be emphatically true, the stars certainly aligned for the Spooners. The most obvious perpetrator is Orville, who has a gorgeous wife but sees opportunities to lose her around every corner. The part was originally filmed for Peter Sellers, but Ray Walston fits it better. Even with the Golden Age standard established by ageing leading men like Stewart and Grant, he looks on the elderly side. The wrinkly Orville is so awestruck at having landed Zelda that he is forever fretting on having her stolen away. Sellers would have fluffed the role of the commoner, stole the screen from Martin, and been too good a match for Farr. One running gag sees the soundtrack whipping up a cyclone of strings and a ticking time bomb whenever he gets an inkling of infidelity - Walston matches this with the uncanny ability to suddenly gain tunnel vision, his face frozen in an agitated trance of jealousy. At every turn Wilder underlines the character's psychological impotence by turning his well-intentioned menace into pathetic fumblings; Orville is so much of a joke he can hardly even level a decent insult towards his wife. Initially he formulates a devious plan to shove a grapefruit into Zelda's face. That bit is a homage to Wellman's The Public Enemy, a pre-code gangster flick where James Cagney does the same to his girl. But Orville is not nearly as menacing, or competent. He holds the grapefruit half nervously behind his back, undecided on whether to shove it or eat it. A pious minister catches sight of it, and mistakes it for a tasty snack. Later the now eaten fruit is placed harmlessly onto the table. Wilder's winking at us - just because he can, doesn't mean he will, and all the more opportunity to tease Orville for it. Dean Martin plays himself, unimpressed by dopey baguette odes, only seeking a lecherous night out. The setting is Climax, Nevada, although Wilder has some fun by concentrating all of the title's bawdiness into one grimy bar just out of town. That's also the home of the best 'waitress' available. To say that she is a cliché is an understatement. She looks like she has just walked out of a smutty B-movie western. She's called Polly and has a matching parrot, and her television constantly replays scenes from that genre, going 'bang bang!' - no prizes for guessing that double meaning. Yet Novak manages to firstly revel in the Polly's trashiness, and then lift herself out of it (with some financial assistance from Zelda). Hitchcock's icy, alluring blonde is disarmed by a cold, and Novak hams it with her nasally dialogue, all while hobbling around in high-heels and a ridiculously tight dress. What Orville gradually realises is what we also see: no women should be treated like this, fake wife or not. Novak earns our sympathy through attempting to fit the role of a lonely, mistreated wife, slowly taking the farce at face value and being seduced by the domestic comforts she never had. The script is as densely packed as any that Wilder and I.A.L Diamond wrote together, filled to the brim with double entendres, classic misunderstandings and racy innuendos. Barney just happens to deliver the most phallic bottle of wine there possibly could be, and the centrepiece of the living room is a 'love chair' so inexplicable it must have been fashioned for that exact scene and nothing else. The house is fashioned to provide maddening barriers for Orville's maneuvering of wife and guest, and then there is that reveal of he and Polly's decision of a first impression: neither can knit or read convincingly, so they end up in some sort of lustful entanglement, him in her lap, rocking ever so slightly, lips glued together as if their lives depended on it. Kiss Me, Stupid may not be Wilder's best, but it's a good enough comedy. The film's reputation precedes it, perhaps unfairly - it's not nearly as cynical as it sounds, and there's a heart in there somewhere. The most important thing is not to take it too seriously.

From the time to film opens to the end credits; it oozes with the Wilder touch. The plot of this '60's picture was very edgy for it's time...and it turned out to be rather edgy for me too. It has a deeply cynical aspect to it; making it a little hard for me to take in. Dean Martin's performance was very Rat Pack-y and plays up the swinger image to quite an extreme; "...there couldn't be enough of you...baby." Novak, who was planning on a retirement, took a part in this picture for the sole purpose of being able to work with Wilder; I'm glad she did. Her character made me want to crawl up in a ball and cry my eyes out, all the while remaining delightfully funny. In a nutshell? It's really a rather vulgar film. It has moments of brilliance...yet, doesn't even start to compare with Wilder's own "The Apartment." Yes, it deals with basically the same subject matter, but the writing was more brilliant and much more subtle. I recommend only if you are a Wilder fanatic (like myself) or a Novak connoisseur. I enjoyed the film overall; I just felt that the writing was lacking.

When this was released in 1964 it received a loud and hearty round of indifference from the critics. I don't know why. It's hard boiled, amusing, romantic, and ironic. It's not Wilder and Diamond's best work but it's a satisfying blend of funny incidents, single entendres, and moments that almost approach drama.I'd guess there are at least two important reasons for the general lack of enthusiasm. One is that maybe Billy Wilder should never have directed such successful works as "Some Like It Hot" and "The Apartment" in the previous few years. He got too many awards. The bar was lifted. After his great successes, everything had to be a masterpiece. His critical S&P rating underwent what's called a "correction." Another reason is that this is, after all, a movie in the classical style appearing in 1964. That's the year of the Beatles and Richard Lester and "A Hard Day's Night" and Carnaby Street and LSD and Timothy Leary. (Kids, you'll have to Google all that.) Wilder always had his actors stick to the script. (He wrote it.) And the camera wasn't carried by some guy on roller skates. Wilder's comedy, while always a little vulgar and often biting, demanded the viewer's attention. It was grounded, while much of pop culture was becoming absurd. I mean, here is Wilder, grinding out a more ribald version of the delicate Ernst Lubitsch type while critics are gobbling up Andy Warhol's "Sleep", an hour-long movie of John Giorno sleeping for five hours.The story itself, though derived from an Italian play, is the kind that would interest Wilder. An ambitious, small-town song writer (Walston, my co-star in the excellent and under-appreciated "From the Hip") manages to trap pop singer Dean Martin in his house overnight. Walston tries to palm off a cheap local whore (Novak) as his wife (Farr), so that Martin doesn't wake up with a headache from lackanookie. Instead, Walston winds up spending the night with Novak and Farr spends the night with Dino. It all ends happily.True, it's not that well written. Walston is overwrought. He's jealous of his wife, okay, but in fact he's unbelievably jealous and it's not particularly amusing when he tears the shirt off a fourteen-year-old piano student and throws him out of the house -- just for LOOKING at Farr. And the rest of the plot does have its longueurs. But none of these flaws torpedo what is basically a mildly diverting piece of entertainment. Dean Martin is especially enjoyable as his narcissistic self. Novak's coarse accent sounds more like Chicago than Jersey City. And Cliff Osmond, as a co-conspirator, isn't funny just because he's tall and fat and has a flat facial plane. So what? Even the silly songs (from an early Gershwin flop) are enjoyable, although they are no good. I'm qualified to make that judgment since I'm an expert musician, once having played the hydrocrystalophone in the Short Hills, New Jersey, Marching Band and Perloo Society.You know, it's really a sin to expect too much of a movie or anything else.