Jerry Lewis in another service comedy and it’s pretty terrible. He plays a pathetic GI who just can’t make a success of things, so we’re meant to feel sorry for him. An army psychiatrist uses him as a patient – the shrink is a woman (Phyllis Kirk) giving rise to much agonisingly unfunny reactions from the men soldiers.
She’s also sexually harassed by a soldier who befriends Lewis – you might have gone along with it had that role been played by Dean Martin, as it was clearly intended, but instead we have David Wayne, an actor with major stage credits but who I always found off putting in his film roles, normally support bits in romantic comedy (he was meant to be keen on Katherine Hepburn in Adam’s Rib but just came across as camp). He’s smarmy and dislikeable, and, to be blunt, too old and not very handsome – Dean’s presence is badly missed in this one.
To be accurate, Jerry has two side kicks in this film – there’s Wayne and this other guy, but he hardly does anything distinctive, he just tags along. The three of them go through some adventures together but at the end Wayne and his mate are still annoyed by Lewis – which gives the movie a yucky emotional core.
The film improves markedly around the half way mark when all three get assigned to Morocco to guard a base -there’s been some pilfering – and wind up fighting some Arab bandits (including Peter Lorre). This is silly, and racist, but at least it’s lively – bazaars, cafes, lounge singer, escapes from tents, the French army, etc. – so you don’t mind so much that basically it’s a whole separate film. (Kirk’s character disappears for this bit until she appears at the end.) The funniest joke is where Jerry speaks to a Moroccan in Arabic and realises he’s accidentally made him the local distributor for Paramount Pictures.
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