“The Seven Year Itch” (1955)
There’s little doubt that “The Seven Year Itch” is a minor entry from Billy Wilder. The director himself was dismissive of the film, telling Cameron Crowe in “Conversations with Wilder” that “I never liked it,” and that “it was just a play.” And it’s undoubtedly dated and problematic. It’s a comedy about adultery that’s unable to show adultery thanks to censorship by the Hays board, never feeling more than half-achieved as a result, while lead Tom Ewell, who’d played the same part on Broadway, never feels particularly comfortable in the lead (Wilder had wanted to cast a then unknown Walter Matthau, who tested opposite Gena Rowlands, and watching the screen test, found on the film’s DVD, it’s hard not to imagine what might have been). But there’s one great trump card up the film’s sleeve, and that’s Monroe. Playing a part so archetypal that she’s known simply as The Girl (although it’s suggested, in one ill-advised piece of in-jokery, that the character might be Marilyn Monroe herself), it’s the lighter flipside of her part in “Niagara,” and she’s marvelous at it. there’s an inherent comic grace to her turn that’s impossibly winning, and it’s hard to watch anything else when she’s off screen. And that’s without even mentioning the iconic image of Monroe’s dress being blown up by an air vent — an image which, despite being one of the most iconic in cinema, doesn’t actually feature in the film. Again, Wilder and Fox had to use it only for publicity thanks to censorship. The director swore afterwards that he’d never work with the actress again, but when it came time for their greatest collaboration, he realized there was only one choice…
“Some Like It Hot” (1959)
It is a mark of the pop-cultural status that Monroe attained (especially posthumously) that so many of her films seem retrospectively to sink under the sheer weight of her legend. And so it is a mark of the utter brilliance of Billy Wilder’s “Some Like It Hot” that it absolutely does not. Whether it’s Monroe’s best performance is debatable, but that it is the best film she was ever in is unarguable. It is after all simply one of the greatest Hollywood films ever made (and, for what it’s worth, probably this writer’s gun-to-head all-time favourite, so expect no objectivity here). Of course, it still comes with plenty of Monroe baggage, if you care about that stuff: the notorious 50+ takes it took to get her to deliver a single three-word line (“Where’s that bourbon?”), the miscarriage she suffered which she blamed on running repeatedly down that jetty, the since-recanted/denied “kissing Hitler” comparison from co-star Tony Curtis. And yet exactly none of the blood, sweat and tears leave even the tiniest mark on the final film. As all great comedies should, it feels effortless. Monroe never looked lovelier and among superb performances from her co-leads (Curtis and Jack Lemmon), as well as the inspired supporting players, her turn is still special. Yes, she plays the archetype of the sexy naif whose good heart is as open as it is frequently broken, but she does so with such an extraordinary sweetness that, even as Sugar throws herself headlong into another unwise love affair with another sax player, we can’t help but believe this time it’ll work out, because how could anyone, properly knowing her, not love her? From the opening frame to the absolutely brilliant final gag (sorry, “Casablanca,” fans, but this is the best last line ever) this is a Monroe film that actually manages to transcend her stardom through the kinetic power of joyous silliness and really, really great jokes.
