The last Jerry Lewis film directed by Frank Tashlin, the end of what had been a highly profitable association for both men. It’s bright, colourful and satirical as you would expect; the hospital setting allows scope for Tashlin to poke fun at doctors, nurses, patients, administrators… as well as engage in plenty of slapstick involving plaster casts, bandages and the like.
The problem is there are two films here. One is a completely bizarre comedy which consistently breaks the fourth wall and is extremely cartoon like – Jerry clicks his fingers and a flame lights up; TV snow turns into real snow; patients dressed up like a mummy unravel going down a hill, etc. The second one is more serious – Jerry falls for a patient, an old flame of his from school who has tried to kill herself and is going to be kicked out of the hospital because she can’t pay her bills. Those are serious issues (even if they’re not particularly well done – that long monologue from the suicide girl to a shrink is painfully OTT) and don’t quite mesh with the other stuff. And besides, Jerry running riot in a hospital isn’t that funny – it’s not like a department store or navy, he’s hurting patients who are sick and trying to get better.
Tashlin repeats himself from Rock a Bye Baby by having Lewis be masochistically in love with a girl who doesn’t deserve him, even offering to work additional shifts to pay her bills – ignoring the hot girl (a nurse) who loves him for himself. Chaplin’s disease had hit him well and truly by this time. Some of it is hilarious, though, such as the patient who can’t resist talking in excruciating detail about her ailments. And the slapstick chase at the end is well done.
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