Reviving ‘Kiss Me, Stupid’ Is a No-Brainer

Somewhere Billy Wilder and his writing partner Izzy Diamond must be having a good laugh right now, because “Kiss Me, Stupid,” the late pair’s most maligned comedy, a 1964 meltdown of the American Dream and the Rat Pack mystique starring Dean Martin as a version of himself, is making the retro rounds with great success.

The film screens tonight through Thursday at the Nuart Theater after being held over for more than a week in New York this summer. The print then travels to Chicago this weekend before moving on to Berkeley, Detroit and Austin, Texas.

The good news is that the print contains a once-censored seduction scene that MGM recently discovered when comparing the international and domestic versions. This crucial scene, which takes place in a trailer, had been re-shot by Wilder for domestic release in an attempt to appease the then-influential Catholic Legion of Decency, which had threatened to condemn the film for lewd sexuality and marital infidelity. It’s been reinstated with the approval of Wilder’s widow, Audrey.

In many ways, “Kiss Me, Stupid” was jinxed from the start. First, original co-star Peter Sellers had a heart attack four weeks into production and was replaced by “My Favorite Martian’s” Ray Walston. Next, co-star Kim Novak sustained a painful back injury. Then the Legion of Decency condemned it despite the re-shoot.

Meanwhile, “Kiss Me, Stupid” flopped with American viewers and critics, with the notable exception of the perceptive Joan Didion, who heralded “Wilder’s world ... seen at dawn through a hangover.” As far as Wilder was concerned, the film did not translate well from the Italian costume farce “L’Ora della Fantasia,” even though he loved working with Martin.

It’s taken nearly 40 years and the death of Wilder to rehabilitate this unappreciated gem, though Andrew Sarris and a few other contemporary critics have been singing its praises for quite some time. In fact, when Sarris wrote a tribute to the legendary writer-director this year in the New York Observer, he included “Kiss Me, Stupid” among his 10 Wilder favorites.

Seeing “Kiss Me, Stupid” today makes one wonder what all the censorship fuss was about. It’s almost quaint compared to the mean-spirited and gross-out comedies made today (Wilder predicted the coming of a more vulgar trend right after he made the film). But it’s important to remember that in 1964, sexual mores were just beginning to change on screen as a result of best picture winner “Tom Jones” (1963) and such popular imports as “Divorce, Italian Style” (1961).

At the height of their popularity with a string of hits that included “Some Like it Hot” (1959), “The Apartment” (1960) and “Irma la Douce” (1963), Wilder and Diamond wanted to experiment with something more hip and daring. What they didn’t realize was that people in this country were not quite ready to watch such a sordid comedy about America. They not only demystified the Rat Pack at the peak of its popularity but also debunked marriage and middle-class virtue.

Walston and Cliff Osmond play a couple of aspiring songwriters in godforsaken Climax, Nev., who try to hustle Martin into buying their lousy songs (which in reality are unpublished works by George and Ira Gershwin, so the joke’s on us) by stranding him for the night and setting him up with a waitress-prostitute (Novak).

Novak is supposed to pretend to be the wife of the insanely jealous Walston, who meanwhile picks a fight with his real wife (Felicia Farr, Jack Lemmon’s wife in real life) and sends her packing to mother to get her out of the way. In a delicious twist of fate, when she realizes the ruse, Farr can’t resist pretending to be Novak, seducing Martin in Novak’s trailer when he comes looking for “action.” She not only fulfills her own personal fantasy but tries to seal the deal for her husband.

Seeing the original trailer scene makes all the difference in the world. It’s funnier, sexier and far more satisfying. “Kiss Me, Stupid” may be more painful than funny to watch, with its nasty setup and sadistic husband, but as with Wilder’s earlier flop, the acidic journalistic critique “Ace in the Hole,” the audience is glued to the dreary black-and-white display (in Panavision, no less).

One can only imagine what Sellers might have brought to the role of insecure piano teacher Orville J. Spooner, who is married to the prettiest woman in town; more of a madcap innocent, no doubt. But we’re stuck with the awkward Walston, who does grow into the role in the second half, when his sweet romanticism first comes through with the help of the melancholy Novak (as Polly the Pistol). Dreams really can come true in Wilder’s world, if only for an instant and when one least expects it.

There’s also the added pleasure of watching Martin as Dino. At first glance, he appears to be doing a caricature, but don’t be fooled by his ease. Martin is more intoxicating than intoxicated, a lothario lounge act who is at peace with his own weaknesses and the most honest character in the film.

Cameron Crowe likes to call Wilder the master of the bittersweet. It’s hard to find a more literal example than “Kiss Me, Stupid.” It may not be up there in the pantheon with “The Apartment,” “Some Like it Hot” and “Sunset Boulevard,” but it’s not far below other Wilder favorites.