The writer of a remarkable review of "Kiss Me Stupid" is senior Mr. Carlos Valladares, who's bio tells us that Mr. Valladares "is a senior double-majoring in Film and American Studies. He was born and raised in South Central Los Angeles." Valladares wise words on "Kiss Me Stupid" are part of his recent post "Recs from the Vault: swampy sounds, Eugene O’Neill and wild Wilder," that includes "capsule reviews" that Carlos has written on some of the films that have most powerfully affected (him) during (his) time here at Stanford.
Likes while Valladares direct comments on our Dino and his role are right on the mark, "Dean Martin plays an unsavory version of himself," that is the extent of his Dino-reflections. While we would usually be tempted to skip sharin' such a review 'cause there ain't much Dino-praise, we couldn't resist passin' this praiseworthy prose on to all youse Dino-holics 'cause likes we find it so so remarkably refreshin' to find someone of Mr. Valladares youth bein' so so stunnin'ly smitten by this classic sex farce filmed decades before he was born. We are totally totally thrilled to find a learned young man from a powerfully prestigious university like Stanford standin' up for this flick.
We sez our awesome appreciation to Mr. Carlos Valladares for openly and affirmatively sharin' his incredible insights into Kiss Me Stupid" and we plan to check over his other swank scribin's of film reviews to see what other Dino-flicks he has reviewed. To check this post out in it's original source, simply clicks on the tag of this Dino-report.
Yours in Dino,
Dino Martin Peters
Recs from the Vault: swampy sounds, Eugene O’Neill and wild Wilder
April 5, 2018
Senior Staff Writer
Nearing the end of my senior year (tear), I take time to reflect on the movies that have most shaped who I am as a person. This quarter, I’ll be starting a weekly column called “Recs from the Vault.” These are capsule reviews I’ve written on some of the films that have most powerfully affected me during my time here at Stanford.
Kiss Me, Stupid (1964)
A cynical takedown of marriage, a celebration of human frailty and Billy Wilder at his sunny gloomiest. As is typical of a comedy script by Wilder and I.A.L. Diamond (they wrote “The Apartment” and “Avanti!”), summarizing the film is a hopeless effort, for it’s a labyrinthine plot that must unfold before you to be admired. At the start, I was bracing myself for a mediocre Billy Wilder comedy. It’s not talked about as much as other Wilders (“Sunset Blvd.”, “Some Like it Hot”), and Wilder later disowned it. By the end, I was sold and hooked. Why would any artist turn their back on such a glorious work? The women (Kim Novak and Felicia Farr) are the clear highlights. Dean Martin plays an unsavory version of himself. Ray Walston amazingly, gradually, soars; despite the fact that (or rather, because) he is so pencil-necky and unlikeable, he is perfect for the role of the hen-pecked husband. (Jack Lemmon and Peter Sellers, whom Wilder preferred to play the husband, would have been way too charming.) But the most stunning performance is from Kim Novak as the waitress-prostitute Polly the Pistol. With her tender eye-flutters alone and her heart-to-hearts with Felicia Farr, she shows she’s doing much more than just a Marilyn Monroe impersonation. Her performance gives the film existential stakes. It would make a killer double-feature with Hitchcock’s “Vertigo,” two films where Kim Novak is doubled, and she must navigate the tricky grooves of an increasingly fractured personality. Everything builds, and by the end, each new plot twist is giddier than the last. The film was condemned by the Catholic League of Decency — and you can see why, even if Wilder perversely calls it “the most bourgeois picture I ever did.” It’s much less stuffy than that, Billy. The dramatic string score is Andre Previn’s; all the corny songs are actually from the reject pile of George and Ira Gershwin. 125 minutes. Black and white. ZDVD 34814, ZDVD 35145 BLU-RAY.