Seriously Texas, don’t you cowpokes down there have anything to do besides dictating every aspect of people’s lives? The ridiculously named business-friendly Texas wants to join their sister Fascist state of Florida in a race to have the populace goose step to the legislation march of dictatorial bullshit.
Think about it. Who would want to be a teacher or doctor in the knuckle-dragging states of Texas and Florida? The fascist Republican state legislators in many states are going out of their way to control the populace as if they are their personal corral of branded cattle. I guess I shouldn’t be giving these mentally deranged GOP Hitler wannabes any ideas.
Now comes the newest thing out of the Lonefart State. A new law that the people of Texas could live without, probably since way before John Wayne, Richard Widmark, and Laurence Harvey took a bullet at the Alamo. They want book manufacturers to rate every book sold in the state because what’s a person to do if they’re left scratching their heads over whether or not books like To Kill a Mockingbird, The Cat in the Hat, Oliver Twist, or War of the Worlds trying to figure out if they have sexually deviant and violent undertones.
And Math books are filled with sexually explicit fractions, additions, subtractions, and divisions, especially for younger students. Will they slap an adult rating when they see that one plus one equals two and think they are promoting sex between two of the citizenry? Or that two plus three is really promoting sex orgies?
Do they think Fifty Shades of Grey might be a coloring book because anything is possible when you live in the dark ages?
I guess the people in the legislature were taking a break from and had gotten bored masturbating to or fellating their head furher, Adolf Abbott.
If HB 900 passes into law, book vendors would have to assign ratings to books based on the presence of depictions or references to sex. A book would get a “sexually relevant” rating if the material describes or portrays sexual activity and is part of the required school curriculum. A book would get a “sexually explicit” rating if the material describing or portraying sexual behavior is “patently offensive” and not part of required curriculum. State law defines “patently offensive” as materials that are an affront to “current community standards of decency.”Books with a “sexually explicit” rating would be removed from library bookshelves. And students who want to check out books with a “sexually relevant” rating would have to get parental permission first.
I suggest the first book with a sexually explicit and violent label be The Bible. It’s chock full of deviant sex, sacrificing newborns, and worshipping Golden Idols. And Lord, the parting of the Red Sea by a warlock sorcerer? Do you really want your children reading that shit?
This idiotic rule was proposed by someone name Cindi Castilla, who obviously leads a very empty life and needs to go out and get laid. Or something. Maybe giving herself the five-finger discount occasionally would ease the tension. There aren’t many left, but a few people in Texas are roaming around with some common sense. This woman has been a librarian for 17 years and has not until now needed the Texas Chapter of Red Cloaked Putrified Handmaidens to tell her how to do her job.
Lucy Podmore has been a school librarian for 17 years in San Antonio. Every school year, she buys more than 1,200 books for her students from multiple vendors. Podmore said the ratings would create “unreasonable obstacles” for book vendors. If HB 900 is passed, she said the bill’s requirements would slow down her book purchases. Librarians like Podmore are at the center of the bill. “How feasible is it for the hundreds of vendors used in Texas to retroactively offer ratings on these items before librarians are allowed to purchase new materials from them?” Podmore asked lawmakers during committee testimony. “I urge you to not impede the ability of school librarians to serve their students.”
I’ll leave with this suggestion for Texas and solve their problems. They want to keep their kids uneducated and never knowing or understanding sex so why don’t they pass a law ordering the boys and girls to be neutered or spaded in whatever manner deemed necessary. Problem solved.
In the meantime, it’s the first anniversary of the shooting in Uvalde where 19 students and two teachers were shot and killed. But at least Texans can feel safe knowing it’s okay to read Green Eggs and Ham.
Many car manufacturers are doing away with AM Radio in their new Vehicles. Some in Congress are up in arms about it, including some Democrats, and I don’t know why. AM Radio became a vast wasteland of bloviating hot air farts for right-wing talk show hosts keeping their audience dumbed down, stupefied, and bigoted so they can make millions off of their idiocy. Rush Limbaugh is dead in his grave, and they should have buried AM Radio with him.
I had to check and see if my Ford Maverick has AM Radio. It does. But I’ll never use it. I haven’t listened to AM radio in decades. It’s like a home for bad audio and the worst of the worst of humanity.
I imagine there may be some progressive talk show hosts somewhere in major cities. But not where I live, as the populace chews up and regurgitates conservative horseshit as a way of life.
I have well over 3000 MP4 tunes on a USB stick plugged into my truck, and I highly recommend it if your vehicle is capable. It’s the music I like, so what do I need the radio for? I don’t.
I’m not buying the idea that you need AM Radio for an emergency. You can get emergency warnings just about anywhere, including on your phone. Besides, there’s only one thing left to do in a nuclear attack. Stick your head between your legs and kiss your ass goodbye.
I saw Shooter in the theater and kind of liked it. I thought it might be good on a 4k disc. I watched The Italian Job some time back, probably on a regular DVD because I didn’t have either one of these on Bluray.
I guess these are my anniversary gifts to myself. Today is my wife and I’s seventh anniversary. I got her something else. Although we were married in Vegas seven years ago, we have been together since September of 2021. We’re also celebrating the day by eating fish sticks. Is there a better way.
We did go see two movies last weekend. Fast X and Guardians of the Galaxy Volume 3. Both movies were fun escapism and the Fast movie was better than number IX.
Mr. Hobbs Takes a Vacation (1962) was a family vacation get-together film long before Clark Griswold (Chevy Chase) gathered up his wife and kids to travel across the country to Disneyland Wally World in National Lampoon's Vacation (1983).
Roger Hobbs (James Stewart) reluctantly gathers his tribe to meet up for a vacation at the beach, thanks to the urging nagging of his wife, Peggy (Maureen O'Hara). He wants them to take a Honeymoon cruise but loses that argument before it begins.
By tribe, I'm referring to his teenage daughter Katy (Lauri Peters), who is away at boarding school, and his young son Danny (Michael Burns). Danny only has eyes for his TV and browsing the pages of Playboy Magazine that his father picks up for him once a month.
I guess that means Roger is a liberal kind of guy for 1962. My father never would pick me up a copy of Playboy every month. But I knew where he kept his stash, so it evens out.
Also invited are Hobb's two married daughters, husbands, and children. Jani (Lili Gentle) is married to pompous know-it-all professor Byron Grant (John Saxon).
They have one child, an infant seldom seen and rarely heard from. Byron wants another one right away before that bit of magic wears off.
The other daughter Susan (Natalie Trundy), is married to Stan Carver (Josh Peine), and they have two of the meanest little children shits ever to inhabit a movie screen. The older child, Peter, spends the vacation telling the world how much he hates Poompah, the name he uses for his grandpa and a term loathed by Roger. Roger to Susan: You couldn't do better for your dad than that?
Both little horrors also spend some time trying to destroy every object in sight. To make matters worse, Stan and Susan seem on the verge of slitting each other's throats. One gets the impression that Stan doesn't go along with Susan's method of child upbringing: Let the little monsters do what they want and never say no to them.
To add fuel to the fire, their cook and housekeeper, Brenda (Minerva Urecal), tags along for the ride but doesn't last long when the kitchen sink explodes in her face. It's time to pack your bags and head back to civilization.
If you've seen The 7 Faces of Dr. Lao, you'll instantly recognize Brenda as the shrewish wife who gets turned into stone when she gazes into the eyes of Medusa. That was an improvement.
The other star of Mr. Hobb's Vacation is the Beach House. You'll instantly recognize it as something imported from movies such as The Haunting or the house formerly owned by Norman Bates and his Mommy Mummy in Psycho. Upon entering the home, Hobbs turns on a light and calls it a dark because if you switch it on during the day, the room grows darker. Then there's his attempt at conquering the water pump, which is more like fighting a dinosaur.
But without trying very hard, Hobbs manages to make things work for his very dysfunctional family. It does look iffy when he gets lost in the fog with his son, the TV addicted Danny, gets locked in the bathroom with the wife (Marie Wilson) of Stan's possible future weirded-out boss, Martin Turner (John McGiver), then proceeds to finish that escapade off by punching a drunk Turner (although they claim earlier they never touch the stuff) in the nose. But some things work out with relative ease, like what he does to hook up daughter Katy with Joe Carmody (Fabian) so she'll quit walking around in a zombie state because she's wearing braces.
And it only takes one warning to stop yacht owner Reggie McHugh (Reginald Gardiner) from hitting on Peggy, who also isn't happy about beachcomber and millionaire seeker Marika (Valerie Varda) who hits on both Roger and Stan.
You won't even sniff that here if you are looking for the over-the-top vulgar antics of Chevy Chase's Vacation. After all, this is 1962, and I don't think audiences would have been kind if Danny was bopping his bologna and Katy was smoking a shoebox full of weed.
But it is about the family dynamic and how they cope despite being drawn apart over the years. Most of the humor comes from the dialogue and the messy relationships of the family members.
The interplay between Stewart and O'Hara alone makes the film worthwhile. It's worth watching, although I wish somebody would sock him in the kisser if Peter yelled, “I hate Poompah” one more time. Brat.
If you want to see the movie it is available in HD on some of the streaming services like VUDU or Amazon. You can still buy the regular DVD, but who wants that these days? Back when Twilight Time was originally selling the Blu-ray, I passed on buying it because I was stupid and thought the DVD was good enough, especially since the Blu-ray even then was $30. Now it’s way more than that but there is an overseas English language version available on Amazon from third party sellers if you want to take that risk. Frankly, I’d just settle for the HD streaming version because the movie now rests in the vaults of Disney where it will slowly over the years crumble into nothingness just like most of the films Disney acquired from 20th Century Fox that are wasting away.
I suddenly have this thing about Horror movie T-Shirts, especially since there are a few companies who sell them so that they fit or are oversized enough (as is the case here). If they shrink, you don’t have to worry about it. This is my newest:
And I got this one a couple of weeks ago:
And I have one more I got the same time as The Thing. All these shirts are from a place called Gutter Garbs. The very large Jaws shirts are sold out already.
I also have several Stranger Things shirts which I got elsewhere, and I have a Sports one coming although I’m not sure about the size. But I bought it anyway. I guess I should link to Gutter Garbs and I will do that: As soon as they offer me a commission. These shirts do not come cheap and Blogging doesn’t pay a whole lot.
Less than half the population are not certain that a god exists according to this survey. Is the general population finally getting a clue? Not fast enough to save us from ourselves. Religion is a crutch to excuse your prejudicial oppressive desires. Click the bible to get the full story.
One of the possible reasons for it dropping is the total lunacy of the religious right nutcases worshipping the likes of Trumpenstein.
Starring Fabian as Jody Wallis
Shelley Fabares as BrieMatthews
Peter Brown as Chase Colton
Barbara Eden as Augie Poole
Tab Hunter as Steamer Lane
Susan Hart as Lily Kilua
James Mitchum as Eskimo
John Anthony Hayes as Frank Decker
Roger Davis as Charlie
Catherine McLeod as Mrs. Kilua
We all have our guilty film pleasures. You may have watched these movies at one time or another that the critics have, for the most part, trashed, or films that you should not view with any relevance if you consider yourself a real film connoisseur. You know, a snob. They are not films you would typically bring up in a public forum or brag about in too many private conversations.
It’s not that you watched these cinematic exercises that make them a guilty pleasure; it’s that you have probably wallowed in them several times over the years.
I have quite a few movies like this that I generally don’t own up to as being favorites. But I have decided to cleanse my soul, not only by admitting that I have actually seen Ride The Wild Surf but that I relish the time spent watching it and will probably watch it many times before it’s time to go to movie heaven where St. Peter will scornfully cast me aside for daring to advocate for you to partake in this epic tale of fun in the Hawaiian Sun.
Now don't get me wrong. Most Surfer Movies that starred Frankie Avalon, Annette Funicello, and the dumbest group of overage 25 to 30 year old's pretending to be teenagers ever to hit the big screen are painful film experiences. But things were a bit different in the sixties when these films, strictly a product of their time, caught a wave -into the local neighborhood cinema.
We had TVs, but only about three channels one could view for entertainment. There were no iPhones, DVDs, PCs, or PS5s. How did we ever survive? It wasn't all that bad. If you think we had it rough, let me tell you about this guy named Lincoln and his log cabin.
We had other options, though. You could put some 45's on the record player and twist the night away. You could even get the 60's equivalent of an iPod, a portable one-speaker a.m. transistor radio bringing you the top forty hits through your two-inch speaker or an earphone. No, that's not a typo. It was one single earpiece with a very shitty sound. You wanted stereo sound? You had better have the big bucks, and it went in your living room, not in your car. The car generally had a better speaker, but the a.m. sound still was shit.
You could also head downtown to the theater and catch a movie. If you were lucky enough to have wheels, you might even catch a double feature at the drive-in or go there and not watch the film at all. What? Do you mean you still haven't seen Grease?
Most young guys like myself went to films like Beach Party and Beach Blanket Bingo to ogle at the female flesh shoved inside some rather flimsy material, except for Annette.
Her bathing suit was always very chaste, and so was she, which probably made her seem hotter than she was. Although, by her last beach movie, she finally dipped herself into an actual honest-to-goodness bikini. I guess when Uncle Walt wasn't looking.
But Annette was the girl you would marry, so it was okay that she was as chaste as Doris Day in a movie with Rock Hudson. You didn't want her to be just another stray bimbo on the beach with a name like Sugar Cane, and she had nice cute little names like Dee-dee.
As to why any teenage girls went to these movies, you may have to ask one of them because I don't know and have never asked, although I have my suspicions. Those swim trunks were always tight.
Even at thirteen and fourteen, I knew these films were idiotic and was bored with anything that happened plot-wise when the music quit and the jiggling stopped. Eric Von Zipper (Harvey Lembeck), the worst motorcycle gang leader in history, would show up for some dysfunctional slapstick while the girls and guys took a break to replenish their suntan lotion supply. I wanted to kick Zip and his motorcycle gang of nincompoops off a cliff, preferably above the Grand Canyon. I wanted to yell at the screen, “Just show us some wiggly butts and bouncy boobs!. “
Yeah, you know. Teenage boy talk. Except we didn’t put it quite that nicely. I can’t bring myself to say ass and tits now that I’ve grown up and am a responsible adult.
But nothing is etched in stone, and there are, in fact, a couple of these surfing-type movies that I enjoyed. Technically, you can’t call the two I like Beach Movies because neither fit the criteria, even if they were directed at that particular audience. Of those two movies, the one that serves our purposes for this review is Ride the Wild Surf.
Ride the Wild Surf was a cut above the norm because instead of third-grade-level comedy capers, it decided to go in the opposite direction. The producers, directors, writers, and powers above chose to turn the genre upside down by featuring a bunch of people who could act (somewhat) and several romances that didn’t rely on anyone being kidnapped by a klutzy motorcycle gang. Instead of third-grade comedy, you get fourth-grade dramedy. An improvement is an improvement, so don’t be judgmental.
Ride the Wild Surf also has a lot of something else. It has a whole bunch of surfing in it, which the Beach Party movies never had much of. The participants spent about 90 percent of their time on the beach in those films. It is why they probably have titles like Beach Blanket Bingo and How to Stuff a Wild Bikini instead of Surfer Board Parchisi or How to Wax a Wild Surfboard.
In this film, sometimes you get the actual kind of surfing, but about half the time, you get the phony type of surfing which takes place in front of a vast green screen with waves projected onto the background. The rule is, if it’s a close-up of a member of our all-star cast, they are on the studio back lot. If you watched the video at the top, you don’t need me to explain that. If you didn’t watch it, why not? It wasn’t easy putting that thing together. Have a little respect. Just kidding.
Please put on your thinking caps and try to keep up as I give you the plot synopsis. Three surfers, Jody (Fabian), Chase (Peter Brown), and Steamer (Tab Hunter), travel to Hawaii to surf the huge waves there that you can’t seem to find on the shores of California. Sort of the last big thrill before they move on with their sad and wretched lives. And, of course, it doesn’t take long for our three heroes to get connected with their love interests.
Steamer meets his gal pal when she rides a horse on a beach because where else will you straddle a pony? He finds out later that her name is Lily Kilua (Susan Hart) and that she lives on a farm with her mother (Catherine McLeod), who hates surfers. She hates them because her husband decided to get on his surfboard and catch a wave down to Borneo. When you meet Mrs. Kalua, you’ll understand why.
Speaking of the luau, Chase watches as Augie Poole (Barbara Eden) does hand-to-hand combat with one of the guys. She loses that match but then goads Chase into a wrestling match after he calls her a girl nut. Since Augie is a black belt, she quickly pins Chase and demands that Chase say, Uncle. Being a stuffed shirt, Chase says nothing and shows us what a sore loser and male chauvinist he is. Later, Augie tracks him down and apologizes for having the audacity to kick his ass in a fair fight. This was the sixties, and women hadn’t even burned their first bra yet, so please make allowances. We find out that Augie is an adventurous, fun-loving gal, and Chase is just an old stick in the mud wanting to do nothing but spoil her fun.
As for Jody, his gal is Brie Matthews (Shelley Fabares), whose other career consisted of playing Mary Stone on the Donna Reed Show, Francine Webster on One Day at a Time, and Christine Armstong on Coach). They get paired up when Jody volunteers to take her to Augie, who is with Chase. Jody’s big hang-up is phonies, and he hates phonies, and since Jody thinks everyone is a phony to some extent, I guess he hates everybody.
Later, Brie tries to convince Jody that he shouldn’t have dropped out of college and could return and make it if he tried. After that bit of friendly persuasion, Jody decides to go for the King of the Surf title, which will get his name on a Surfboard by Phil and some cash to obtain his Ph.D. in the many uses of surfboard wax.
To do so, he must be the last surfer surfing at Waimea and outlast the previous year’s winner, Eskimo. (James Mitchum, one of the begotten sons of Robert) But before that can happen, Jody faces a couple of problems. He accidentally tries to take another surfer’s nose off with his surfboard, and that surfer is now out for revenge. To add to his misery, poor old Jody suffers a wipeout, and instead of wanting to conquer the waves some thirty feet high, he becomes Mr. Chicken. Plus, he still has to deal with his “Everybody’s a phony” psychosis. What can I say? Life’s a beach, I guess.
And that pretty much sums it up. In the middle of this high-concept drama, we get a lot of surfing as the guys surf this beach and that beach while they wait for the waves at Waimea to come up. You might get confused at one point, thinking they are at the same beach on the same day, but they are not. I figured this out by listening more closely to the narrator and noticing that Brie and Augie’s bathing suits kept changing colors as they sat in the sand, ogling their surfer guys with whom they had fallen madly in love in 24 hours or less.
As for actual surfing, it is done by stunt doubles, but what makes these scenes a considerable cut above what you generally see in these types of films is that a real effort was made to show us some pretty good surfing. And they ensured every real-life surfer wore the identical bathing suits as the stars. And just so they didn’t get messed up on which swimming trunks were worn by who and on what day, actors and stunt doubles wear identical bathing suits throughout the film. Of course, it could be that since the only thing these guys do is surf and that holding a job might be a strange concept for them, they could only afford one pair of trunks.
But either way, you'll like the surfing scenes, and if not, you can admire the beefcake if you are a genuinely red-blooded American gal (or any gal from anywhere), or even if you're just another guy if that's your preference.
If you are a guy (Or even a gal if that's your bag. We are all-inclusive here.), you can stare at Barbara Eden's navel she was never allowed to expose during five seasons of I Dream of Jeannie but would uncover her belly button in all its glory fifteen years later.
A two-piece flowered bathing suit trumps a harem outfit on any old day of the week. And there's something about Shelley Fabares's very, very bleached blonde hair that always has me debating whether she should have gone with that color for the rest of her career. Who knows, if she had, she could have been the next Marilyn. No, I'm just kidding.
And where else do you get authentic surfer local color such as a big fat guy named Phil chewing on a cigar while he waxes surfboards and gives out truly authentic surfing commentary and advise? Heck, this movie is worth tuning into just to see Surfboards by Phil in action.
I think the thing about Ride the Wild Surf is that when you put it up against crap like Bikini Beach, Muscle Beach Party, Beach Blanket Bingo, or even How to Stuff a Wild Bikini, it comes off looking like a much better film than it probably is.
Although the various romantic entanglements are no more compelling than a daytime soap opera, the actors involved do a pretty good job working with very little.
Fabares also made films with Elvis and played Brian Piccolo's wife, Joy, in the much-acclaimed TV movie Brian's Song. Eden did the film version of Harper Vally PTA based on Jeannie Riley's hit song. Still, her most memorable film role for me was playing the sexually suppressed but hotter-than-a-firecracker Angela Benedict in 7 Faces of Dr. Lao. This after having made an impression as "playing hard to get" but very hot nurse Laura Rogers in The New Interns. After playing Jeannie, though, it was pretty much a wrap for Eden's theatrical film career, but she did do a beehive full of TV weepers.
Tab Hunter had some decent film roles over the years, including a pretty good one as a baseball player in Damn Yankees, and made a comeback in the John Waters film Polyester.
James Mitchum, who inherited his father's looks, made many films after this one, but none that made an impact. He kept company with Mickey Rooney and Hugh O'Brian in a movie called Ambush Bay.
Susan Hart takes home the honors if there is a weakest link in this ensemble. She seems to sleepwalk through the movie with two expressions: glum and glummer. And we will not forgive her for taking up so much screen time doing that crappy dance at the luau where a case of arthritis seems to have descended into her hips. She went on to appear in Dr. Goldfoot & The Bikini Machine, which only proves one thing: Quit while you're behind.
Except she didn't. Ms. Hart was more intelligent than all of us. She married the producer and president of American International Pictures and teen filmmaker connoisseur James H. Nicholson, thus coming out better than just about anybody else involved in this film.
Peter Brown would later star in the hit TV series Laredo. But he didn't stop there. There are not too many TV shows before 2005 that he didn't make at least one guest appearance.
Now I know that despite what I say here, you’re not about to rush out and rent or buy this film, although you may find it an excellent addition to your DVD library as a historical reference. Maybe your kid can even take it to school for show and tell.
Maybe the reason I like the film and watch it is because I have this fantasy that in one of my viewings, Augie’s big rocket will somehow magically fly after all, and we’ll get to see it in all its glory instead of what happens thanks to shmuck face Chase. And no, I won’t tell you what I’m talking about.
So, all in all, not a terrible way to go. You might even find yourself humming along to the catchy end title theme song by Jan & Dean. What, you haven’t watched the top video yet? Note that’s not Jan and Dean’s original recording. I had to use a later version with just Dean and some unknowns. I was informed of it on YouTube more than once. I’m just shocked the thing is still there, although the usual pock of dipshits did make a copyright claim and added a commercial. But if I were to grade Ride the Wild Surf film on Clyde’s sixties surfing movie curve, I would have no choice but to give it my B-. Until next time, Be Here, Aloha.
Good or bad, you had to love seeing these full-page ads for movies in the Sunday Paper. Browsing the entertainment section when I was young was my favorite thing to do. There were often full-page ads like this one for Song of Norway or other big bombs like Lost Horizon. I was thoroughly convinced that Lost Horizon was going to be a massive hit.
Speaking of Lost Horizon, here's an ad for its exclusive showing in Dayton, Ohio, at the McCook Theater. Once a showcase for oversized 70 MM Films, it would later become a showcase for porn movies, live nude girls, and sex toys aplenty. Eventually, the city moved to shut it down, and the property was sold at auction and later demolished. When I moved to Dayton for a while in the 80s, I never saw it as anything but a porn haven and didn't know it had been a showcase at one time. You learn something new every day.
Still, I miss those days of browsing the newspaper ads. The internet is a glut of first trailers, second trailers, teasers, and other crap. I guess it serves today's audiences just fine, but it'll never be as much fun as reading the Sunday Newspaper ads for all the movie theaters.
For fifty weeks of the year, Fort Lauderdale, Florida is a small corner of tropical heaven, basking contentedly in the warm sun. During the other two weeks, as colleges all over the country disgorge their students for Easter vacation, a change comes over the scene. The students swarm to these peaceful shores in droves, twenty thousand strong. They turn night into day, and a small corner of heaven into a sizeable chunk of bedlam. The boys come to soak up the sun, and a few carloads of beer. The girls come, very simply, because this is where the boys are.
In 2003 Turner Classic Films had a poll where fans could vote for films they would like to see on DVD. The top five vote getters would be the films to get a DVD release. Surprisingly, Where the Boys Are was one of the five films that voters preferred along with Days of Wine and Roses, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, The Postman Always Rings Twice, and The Wind and the Lion. It is a testament to how well this film has held up for the past 60 years.
Glendon Swarthout, who wrote the novel upon which the film was based (and that you can read about here) sold the rights to Joe Pasternak before the book was published. The basic plot resembles the novel in that a few of the characters take the bus trip over to the big screen. But the biggest and most important change is that we have four female protagonists instead of the whole film centering around one college know-it-all and her viewpoint of everything going on around her during a weeklong getaway in Fort Lauderdale.
Four college girls escape the freezing north during spring break and head to Ft. Lauderdale because as the title says, and the opening narration tells us that's where the boys are. The narration also mentions that the boys go to Florida to drink beer and soak up the sun. Left unmentioned is that they also go in the hopes of getting laid by some naïve unsuspecting college girl, an underlying theme that runs rampant through the film while trying not to be openly in your face about it.
Producer Pasternak was smart enough to leave some gory details of the novel back where they belonged. In the book section of the local book store. You couldn’t hardly put the story of one girl’s trifecta on the big screen as a lightweight comedy in those days.
He also assembled an up and coming young cast, including Paula Prentiss who had never acted in films, and Connie Francis, who was known for her singing and didn’t particularly want to act in anything. She had to be talked into it. On the other hand, she shanghaied Pasternak into letting her use Howard Greenfield and Neil Sedaka to write the title song. A good choice and there is a funny story about how they ended up using which you can find out about in the retrospective I’ll post at the end of this article. The title song became one of Connie’s biggest hits. Have a listen to find out why.
The cast is headed by Dolores Hart as Merritt Andrews. Despite having a high I.Q., Merritt is not exactly excelling in college. She has a tendency to say what's on her mind, and what’s on her mind must have sent a shiver down the spine of many parents way back in 1960 because what Merritt is thinking about is S-E-X. If the movie scandalized 60’s parents, one has to wonder what Ma and Pa thought of the novel when they found it in their college student’s night stand. Better to leave that thing back in the dorm, young ‘uns.
Wanting to escape the blizzard conditions at their nameless “U” along with Merritt are Tuggle Carpenter (Paula Prentiss), Melanie Toman, (Yvette Mimieux), and Angie (Connie Francis). Merritt begins to have second thoughts about heading to Florida. Her grades are abysmal despite her high IQ. Time to study, times a wastin’.
Tuggle, sensing Merritt’s mind set could be problematic and put a damper on their trip, enlists Melanie to “work on her” during the next class. Melanie doesn’t have much of a chance to change Merritt’s mindset, but Dr. Raunch does.
Merritt dares to suggest to stodgy old Professor Dr. Raunch (Amy Douglas) that premarital sex might not only be OK, but should almost be a prerequisite for marriage.
Raunch: For many freshman women college provides their first experience in an adult heterosexual society. Their first unrestricted contact with members of the opposite sex. This sudden freedom may give rise to problems of interpersonal relationships. Today we discuss two of those problems: Random dating among college freshmen and premature emotional involvement. (Notices that Merritt is passed out at her desk). Suppose we begin with you, Miss Andrews. Miss Andrews? (Melanie gives Merritt a slight shake to wake her up0,
Merritt: Oh! Uh-yes-yes, Dr. Raunch.
Raunch: Have you any comment to make on what our text terms “Random dating?”
Merritt (standing up): Well, it, uh it certainly is random sometimes. (Class laughs)
Raunch: And have you arrived at any other world-shaking opinions?
Merritt: Dr. Raunch, I really don’t feel very well today.
Raunch: None of us do, I’m sure. Answer the question, please.
Merritt: Well, frankly, I thought the text was a little old fashioned. It didn’t have much to do with modern college life as far as I could see.
Raunch: And just how far is that?
Merritt: Well, take the discussion on emotional involvement on the first date. In this day and age, if a girl doesn’t become a little emotionally involved on the first date, it’s gonna be her last with that man anyhow. (sneezes) Honestly, doctor if a girl doesn’t make out with a man once in a while, she might as well leave campus cause she’s considered practically antisocial.
Raunch: But, you have used the term “Make out”. Define that please.
Merritt (realizing that Raunch must have been born some time in the mid 16th century): I-I beg your pardon?
Raunch: I should like to know what making out means and so would the class.
Merritt (as all eyes are on her now): Well, I-uh..Dr. Raunch I think they know already. (Laughter from the class and myself every time I watch this scene) Uh! Ma-making out is what used to be called necking. Before that it was petting, and going back to early American days it was also known as bundling. It’s all the same game.
Raunch: I’m sure this game of yours is not mentioned in the text.
Merritt: Well, that’s exactly the point I’m trying to make. Dr. Kinsey says…
Rauch: We are not discussing Dr. Kinsey. We are discussing interpersonal relationships.
Merritt: Well, what could be more interpersonal than backseat bingo? (heavy laughter from the students and yours truly) Raunch: Just what do you consider suitable subject matters for discussion in this course?
Merritt: We’re supposed to be intelligent. So why don’t we get down to the giant jackpost issue like should a girl or should she not under any circumstances play house before marriage? (at this time Melanie seated next to Merritt is hanging on to her every word).
Dr. Raunch: I’d be afraid to ask your opinion on such a subject.
Merritt: Don’t be afraid. My opinion is yes.
Raunch: Miss Andrews, report to the dean.
Merritt decides the sun and fun of Florida is a lot more inviting than the gloomy halls of currently unnamed “U” and the tight-assed thought processes of Dr. Raunch and the Dean. Besides, she can always study while sunning and funning on the beach. Yeah, right. After the meeting with the Dean, Melanie asks Merritt if she meant what she said in the class, but Merritt is too distracted to answer. Too bad, so sad. Merritt, you should have been listening.
They head down to Florida excited at the prospect of meeting boys, preferably from the Ivy League. Tuggle just wants to find a guy with feet as big as hers.
As movie coincidences have it, the girls come across a tall lanky skinny guy in a straw hat hitchhiker who wears a size 13 shoe hiking his way to Fort Lauderdale.
“You’ve just saved the life of TV Thompson, junior class of Michigan State. For the privilege of a ride, I stand ready to amuse you with interesting anecdotes for 310 miles. I’m also an expert driver. Besides which, I can sing and play the accordion except I haven’t got one.”
While the rest of the girls sleep, TV lectures Tuggle about his philosophy of life. The best thing you can do is to let people be charitable. They feel better, you feel better.
TV: Take the way I got into college. There I was all set to enter Michigan. Not a cent to my name. What to do? (Takes one hand off the wheel, the car swerves)
Tuggle: For one thing, you can put both hands on the wheel. Do you mind?
TV: So, I’m sitting around one-night reading in the papers about Miss Barbara Smith Holms Von Haversack, Jr. and her fourth divorce. Miss Moneybags claimed she’d led a very tragic life. Well this ticked me off, so I wrote her a nasty post card. “Dear Miss Barbara Smith Holmes, et cetera,” I said. You and your very tragic blah. With your kind of collateral, you should beef. Here I am, a kid who can’t even swing one year’s college tuition, let alone four divorces.”
Tuggle: Don’t tell me she answered it.
TV: A month later comes this from some secretary stating that Miss Barbara et cetera was deeply touched by my note. And hopes the enclosed will enable me to enter college. The enclosed was a check for $2500. You see? I let her be charitable.
Tuggle: You didn’t keep it?
TV: No. I paid one term’s tuition and plunked the balance on a second-hand Porsche, a red one, a real bomb.
Tuggle: Where is it now?
TV: Lauderdale. I rented it to a couple of guys from school. That’s how I financed my trip.
Tuggle: Uh huh. You don’t mind if I don’t believe this?
TV: I don’t ask for your belief, just your attention.
Melanie wastes no time in sniffing out three guys in the lower part of the Fairview, Apartments which by the way is charging the gals the astronomical sum of $22 a day to stay there. (Angie: There goes a hole in the budget). Just wait, in sixty years a “cheap” hotel room during spring break will cost you about $180 a night and then rise quickly from there. Whomever inherited the Fairview Apartments from this old fart, is probably making a fortune.
Melanie is positive her new found boy toys are Yalies or Harvards because of their accent. When they get back to the frozen north, I suggest Melanie take a course studying dialects. Two other girls from Ohio State are invited to share the apartment because they could not afford the rates. They will not be the last to intrude.
Across town, a police captain played by Chill Wills prepares his troops.
Police Captain: Gentlemen, the city of Fort Lauderdale is once again under fire from the north. We've survived it before and I reckon we're gonna survive it again. To you newly installed officers on the force, I'd to give you a little rundown on what to expect. Expect anything. Anything and everything cause that's what you're gonna get. Now, Fort Lauderdale is not the only city to be invaded at this time. In Palm Springs and in Newport, from the beaches of the Mid Atlantic to the snows of Colorado, the students of America are gathering to celebrate the rites of spring. And, if you pardon a pun, you've got that right. They're our future voters, their citizens of our country, and they're our responsibility. But how the hell to handle them, that's a different manner. (Laughter from the officers) Now these kids didn't come down here to break the law. They'll break it for sure, but that's not their main objective. And remember that they are our guests. So, I want every man on the force to try his best, his level best, to try to avoid arresting anyone. I know that this is going to take great will power but try. And, above all preserve your sense of humor. Cause you're gonna need it if you want to survive. And... God bless you all.
Could you imagine Donald Trump giving that speech? Nope. He’d be going “shoot the bastards! Shoot those thugs on site.” Oh wait. These are white kids so he probably would not say anything. And maybe if a few of them put on pointed hoodies, he’d seek them out and give them the medal of honor.
While the gals figure out how to budget their money (a bottle and a half of suntan lotion a day and a steak pact) Melanie makes the scene at the swimming pool with Dill and Franklin. Dill invites her for a private love fest on the beach. Unbeknownst to Melanie but not to us, Dill won the opportunity to get in her pants by winning a coin toss with Franklin.
Heading to the beach, the girls run into TV once again, who is pretending to be blind to get around in traffic. He reminds Tuggle of their date to have beers and they head to a dark crowded bar known as the Elbow Room. Called that because there isn’t much room for anything except breathing and sweating on each other.
At the beach, Angie and friend watch a tall handsome guy they immediately nail as an Ivy Leaguer slowly make his way around the live bodies littering the Florida coast. We will find out who this permanently suntanned lass with dark hair and Ivory White teeth is later on.
Living it up at another part of the beach, Melanie asks Dill why he picked her when he could have any one of the other girls in Fort Lauderdale. Although she seems unsure of herself, she agrees to go with him to find a nice quiet place perfect for screwing your new found fortune. He does not say the screwing part out loud. Just use your twenty first century imagination like I just did.
Over at the Elbow Room we find out that TV got his first
name because he intends to go into television as a career move. Thank God we do not have to deal with the
name baggage from the novel. Thank you,
screenwriter George Wells for kicking that shit to the curb. See my review of that book for some horror
story details.
TV wants to talk about nothing else but sex and Tuggle wants to talk about
everything except sex. Later, she
suggests they leave the bar so she can get some sun, but when they get outside,
the sun has already set.
Back at the Fairview apartments, TV still has a one-track mind focused squarely
on Tuggle’s Honey Pot. Tuggle does her
best to avoid the subject as she has taken a vow of chastity. After a little making out in a lounge chair
built for two, TV asks her the million-dollar question.
TV: Do you think you could like me.
Tuggle: I think I already do.
TV: A lot? Tuggle: Uh huh..
TV: Tuggle?
Tuggle: Uh huh?
TV: Are you a good girl?
Tuggle: Please, I don’t wanna disillusion you or disappoint you.
TV: Oh, no, no, no, I won’t be disillusioned or disappointed. Are you a good girl, Tuggle?
Tuggle: Mm-hmm TV (disappointed): Oh. Tuggle: I knew it. Well, so long, TV.
Good Girl is a way to ask if a girl is a virgin without using the word virgin. Seven years before this movie, the director, Otto Preminger, and the producers of a film called The Moon is Blue went to war with the censors because they dared to use words like virgin, seduce, and mistress. That film was banned in Boston because everybody who was living in that city would be scandalized. Easier to avoid that hassle in a film this light weight.
As for Tuggle, she sees her chastity as the end of her relationship with TV. Dill returns home with Melanie and there are no words needed to deduce what they have been up to.
Melanie asks him if he would ever say anything or tell anyone, but he does not answer. He just kisses her. So, points in his favor, at least he did not lie. Just kidding. He is an incredible sleazy asshole.
The next morning Melanie goes looking for Dill, but he got called away on business by his daddy. I always figured being called to help his father out whose business just happens to be in Fort Myers, Florida was the first clue that these twerps were not from Yale or anywhere close to an Ivy League school. But Melanie has had her heads in the clouds from the moment she laid eyes on her first palm tree. Or maybe she has lost it in a cloud of tar and nicotine since she has taken up smoking because, “Dill smokes, I thought I would give it a chance. But I don’t inhale though”
Tuggle: It’s the tropics, everybody goes to pieces in the tropics.
Melanie: A girl from U got married down here last year. Did you know?
Tuggle: What brought that on?
Melanie: Well, nothing, I just heard about it. A sophomore from Swanson Hall. She met this real nice boy. The next thing, they were married.
Merritt: You’ve got your calendar a little wrong. She met this boy here in March and they got married in October two jumps ahead of the obstetrician.
?-Merritt Andrews
?-Penmore U (Finally after one book and a little over a third of the movie, someone decided to give the college a name.)
?-Frosh
?-19
Ryder: How about a cocktail.
Merritt: I didn’t know they served them in the Elbow Room.
Ryder: Well, I was thinking of a place called The Sheik’s.
Time to gather up the school books and head for the bar. Angie is left alone to fend for herself which is kind of rude I guess but it’s time to move the story along.
After having waded through the heavy nonsensical dialogue of the novel recently, the conversation here is a joy to behold in its simplicity. It is sophisticated in a 1960 sort of way, and unlike Merritt from the book, this Merritt from the movie is nobody’s fool.
As Ryder and Merritt leave the lounge on their way to the Smith Family Estate, who do we see sitting at a nearby table. Why, could it be Melanie and Franklin? You remember Franklin. He is the one who lost the coin toss and is pumping her with screwdrivers but I’m only guessing. It could just be orange Kool-Aid or maybe Tang, the drink of Astronauts.
The Smith dwelling comes complete with fountains, swimming pools, a yacht tied up to the pier and a lawn that looks like it was manicured by the ground crew at Yankee Stadium. Little House on the Prairie it ain’t.
Everything is owned by Ryder’s grandfather, but it will be his someday as soon as he figures out a way to bump the old guy off.
Merritt is well tuned into Ryder’s attempts to seduce her. On board Grandpa Jed Clampett’s putt putt, he offers her another drink
Merritt: No thanks. I’m not much for the drinking bit.
Ryder: Good Girl
Merritt: I’m not being prudish. I just don’t believe in getting smashed. (As Ryder gets ready to pour himself another drink) It’s sort of juvenile.Not really worth the effort. (Ryder sets the bottle down.)
Having been thwarted in his attempts to get Merritt plastered, he offers her dinner instead and calls the Cook to have it sent down. Merritt is impressed.
Ryder: Would you like to stay aboard tonight?
Merritt: Where will you be?
Ryder: Oh, not far.
Merritt: That’s probably about the coolest approach I’ve ever had.
After telling Ryder her different classifications for men, Merritt tells him she’ll have to come up with a new classification for him.
Merritt: I divided boys into three types: sweepers, the strokers…
Ryder: Educate me. What's a sweeper?
Merritt: The ones that sweep you off your feet - or try to. Often leaving large bruises.
Ryder: The, eh, judo experts?
Merritt: Right! Then, there are the strokers. They use the soft caress, usually accompanied by the soft words, the soft lighting and soft music.
Ryder: They, eh, set the stage, huh?
Merritt: Um-hum. And if a girl gets too interested in the drama, act three is over before she even knows the curtain is up.
Ryder: What's that, eh, third classification?
Merritt: Aw, the subtles. The ones with the subtle approaches. They have a lot of different techniques: discussions of erotic literature, Freud, the coming of age in Samoa.
He asks her about his original question in regards to spending the night, and her answer is what amounts to “not tonight, maybe not tomorrow night or even the night after.” At least it’s not a flat out no, and Merritt does get to take home part of her dinner because she has a poodle.
On the way to the beach the next morning the girls are nearly run over by the Basil Demetomos (Frank Gorshin) Quintet, purveyors of dialectic jazz. He invites everyone within earshot to the Elbow Room to listen to some dialectic while the band pays for the beers.
Let’s just stop for a minute so that I can nitpick and you know how much I love to nitpick. Upon issuing his invited several thousand kids begin pushing their way to the bar with Merritt, Angie and Tuggle way behind the pack. Yet, somehow they get a prime location right next to where the band is playing, even though there’s no way all those kids could have even fit into that bar. I can guess that maybe Basil gave them a front row seat as reparations for almost killing them. It’s the only explanation I can think of.
Inside the bar, by the process of elimination, Basil hooks up with Angie.
Later that evening while preparing for their dates, we find out that Tuggle and TV are still sparring over whether he will be able to loot her bounty.
Merritt: How are things going between you two.
Tuggle: Oh, about the same. He hints what he wants, I hint about Matrimony And while each of us is hinting the other isn’t listening. He certainly is persistent though. He keeps knocking on the door. It’s just a question of how long I can keep it locked.
Merritt and Ryder are no different. He keeps trying and she keeps saying, “nah baby nah”. This is where Ryder imports Glendon Swarthout’s bullshit philosophy from the novel when he takes her for night time ride (although it looks like broad daylight to me) on Grandpa’s Put-put.
Merritt: No girl enjoys being considered promiscuous, even those who might be.
Ryder: Now, that's a pretty old fangled notion, Merritt.
Merritt: Oh?
Ryder: Sex is no longer a matter of morals. That idea went out with the raccoon coat. Sex is a part of personal relations.
Merritt: Oh, really?
Ryder: It's a pleasant, thrilling thing. Like, like, like shaking hands! Or, making sure you'll catch a person's name when you're introduced.
Merritt: I hadn't realized.
Ryder: It's like contributing to a charity or working on a civic committee. As a matter of fact, it's actually serving your fellow man.
Merritt: Uh, uh, what about the, this old-fangled notion called love? Shouldn’t that figure somewhere in the proceedings?
Ryder: Later, after we become better acquainted. More marriages go on the rocks just because people aren’t better acquainted.
Merritt: Uh uh. It’s talk like this that may get me bounced out of school next week.
Ryder: Well, nice to know we agree on something.
Merritt: Well let’s see if you can agree on what time you take me home.
Melanie comes home to the Fairview in a state of drunkenness that Arthur Bachwould be proud of. (Google it) Or maybe she saw Pink Elephants on parade.
Merritt (trying to get Melanie’s clothes off): Did Dill arrange for this party?
Melanie: Dill! No, not Dill. I was with Franklin. Franklin! Mer, you wanna know something? I’m in love with Franklin and Franklin’s in love with me. Isn’t that the most wonderful thing you’ve ever heard Mer?
There’s an old saying that if you mix screwdrivers with grasshoppers, your odds of getting impressionable college girls in the sack increase dramatically Melanie, in her record setting state of Fort Lauderdale Inebriation, tells Merritt she was right about everything. We, being the intelligent movie viewing creatures know exactly what Melanie is referring to, even if Merritt does not.
The next morning, Melanie is nursing her hangover which leads to an argument with Merritt about Merritt’s classroom preaching the day before. After Franklin stands her up, Melanie heads out on the S.S. Ryder Seducing Machine at Merritt’s invitation. Something Ryder isn’t too happy about and gets in a pouting snit figuring that Merritt brought her friend along as a chaperone. As for Melanie, she’s in full blown pity party mood.
Angie finally finds her way into Basil’s heart when she bursts into song while the Dialectic Quartet are performing at a nightclub. It’s also an excuse for Connie Francis to sing another ditty by Sedaka/Greenfield and we can never get too much of that.
Meanwhile, Franklin comes around to take Melanie out for his nightly round of Hide the Salami. Melanie hints at him with her girl who got married last year story and Franklin makes it clear that’s not where they are headed and seems to be annoyed with the subject matter.After realizing that there are only two days left in their vacation, Ryder and TV impart typical male wisdom to each other while the gals go for a swim.
TV: Nice kids, aren't they?
Ryder: Yeah, maybe a little too nice.
TV: Yeah, funny thing about women, if you don't make a big pitch for them, they get mad. If you do, they get mad. How can you win?
Ryder: You can't, they’re not playing for the same stakes.
TV: Boy, I know what you mean. While you're seeing stars, they see a wedding ring. They're so darn, practical.
Ryder: You know something? I don't think they realize what a risk marriage is for men.
TV: Well not so much for a rich guy like you. You can afford to be wrong. I can't even afford to be right.
Don’t you just love that bit about, “They’re not playing for the same stakes?” Or the “I don’t think they realize what a risk marriage is for men?” Do you think things have changed much in 60 years? Not for a lot of men who still think women were put on this earth to be at their beck and call. Worse, there are women who believe they are here for the same thing. Ask any female Trump supporter.
They decide to go out in style making a night of it by getting all fancied up and hitting only the best places. Melanie decides to stay behind for two reasons: A. Franklin might call and B. She can help take us into our big dramatic flourish at the end.
As for the four explorers of the Lauderdale nightclub scene, they manage to get blottoed. There’s an underwater show that totally fascinates a very drunk TV Thompson, who with a little alcohol in his system (okay, a lot of alcohol) proves to Tuggle and us that underneath that goofy exterior lies a total jerkoff.
The show is called Lola ‘the sea nymph of the Tropical Isle!’ Barbara Nichols plays Lola, who is supposed to be funny but I mostly find the character to be annoying not to mention that she has a voice that makes Fran Drescher seem like a great orator. And TV doesn't help the medicine go down either as he makes his play for Lola, the Scylla of Sex (as Merritt called her in the book and it's stayed with me ever since) in the presence of Tuggle whom he treats like a shit rag.
Basil drops his glasses, somebody steps on them, and he is blind for the duration aka the rest of the movie. We wrap this party up, with some slapstick before heading to the beach and switching on the romantic tragedy dramatic mode.
Will TV dump Tuggle for the “amazing lungs” of Lola Fandango? Will Ryder finally get lucky with Merritt? And will Melanie find true love with Franklin?
You can probably guess some of the answers. Good girls get rewarded in the 60’s while bad girls must undergo excruciating punishment.
I really like Where the Boys Are. I’ve seen it many times and although the plot may seem simple and mundane reading about it, there are some great things that make it better than the average movie of this genre.
First and foremost is the cast. Pasternak knew what he was doing when he got this group together. They are all so damn likable and can let loose with a one liner as if they were born to do so. The plot to find guys to marry is straight out of the 50’s and 60’s or in 2020, on the Hallmark Channel. But so, what? There’s a chemistry among all the actors that you won’t find in too many films.
The other thing that the film has going for it is the snappy dialogue thanks to the script by George Wells and the decision to drop a major amount of dead weight from the novel. Director Henry Levin knows how to do this sort of film, having also directed the musical April Love that I reviewed a few months back. He would meet up with Dolores Hart once again when he directed Come Fly With Me which is one of those films I keep meaning to watch but haven’t as of yet.
Dolores Hart is exceptional as Merritt. She is the center of our attention from the beginning of the film to the end. Her character is the gravity that keeps things interesting. Her back and forth with George Hamilton as Ryder is intelligent and witty.
Too bad she would eventually drop out of Hollywood. Good for her since that was what she wanted to do, bad for us because we’ll never know what direction her Hollywood career would have taken.
Using the stage name of 'Dolores Hart', in 1956 she was signed to play a supporting role as the love interest to Elvis Presley in the 1957 release Loving You. After this appearance, Hart was in frequent demand, and she made two more films before playing with Presley again in 1958's King Creole. She has denied ever having had an 'intimate' relationship with Presley off-screen. Hart then debuted on Broadway, winning a 1959 Theatre World Award as well as a Tony Award nomination for Best Featured Actress for her role in The Pleasure of His Company.
In 1960, Hart starred in Where the Boys Are, a teenage comedy about college students on spring break which developed a near cult-like following. In the film, Hart plays a co-ed who struggles to define herself when confronted with her newly-discovered sexuality and popularity with the opposite sex.
She went on to star in four more films, her last opposite Hugh O'Brian in 1963's Come Fly with Me. At this point she had made up her mind to leave the film industry, and a ter breaking off her engagement to Los Angeles businessman Don Robinson, the twenty-five-year old actress became a Roman Catholic nun at the Benedictine Abbey of Regina Laudis in Bethlehem, Connecticut, ultimately becoming the Prioress of the Convent. She chants in Latin eight times a day.
Paula Prentiss makes her big screen debut as Tuggle and has a natural flair for comedy. She would go on to star in many films of this type, probably my favorite being Man’s Favorite Sport with Rock Hudson, a film I also reviewed a while back. She was paired up in a lot of films with Jim Hutton because he was tall, she was tall, and they seemed natural together just like they are here. She also bared it all full frontal for the original film version of Catch-22, a strange movie based on an even stranger book. I haven't watched the George Clooney remake.
Yvette Mimeaux plays naive freshman Melanie. She has a tough job in this movie. She must bring gravitas to the scene while not putting too much of a damper on the rest of the proceedings. She pulls it off, but still, we know where her character is headed early on.
Connie Francis is a revelation as girl hockey player, Angie. For some reason (I guess because she is a hockey player) she has trouble getting a guy. I seriously doubt someone who looks like her would have that kind of a problem, but Francis plays the role in a ditsy kind of way. Angie is one gal just about anybody would like to have hanging around just for laughs. Her most memorable scene was the one in the diner where her and Merritt eat on the cheap.
Add to this the fact that the girl can sing up a storm and is given two opportunities to let loose over the title credits and later as a plot device. It's too bad that films never capitalized on her comedic capabilities and most of her films after this ranged from so-so (Follow the Boys) to downright awful (When the Boys Meet the Girls).
Jim Hutton plays TV Thompson and his hook up with Tuggle is a match made in movie heaven. Their on screen chemistry blends together like peaches and cream or “peas and carrots”. If there’s a down side, his drunken obnoxiousness showing an evil side of his character suddenly makes us wish he would take a long walk off a short pier. What would that accomplish? Everything. He can’t swim. At least he’s not totally despicable like the character in the book.
George Hamilton was chiseled by the gods of suntan and sophistication to play Merritt's love interest, Ryder. His scenes with Merritt are very cleverly written with some good give and take. If you need someone to play a college millionaire who's all glamour and no depth, Hamilton is your guy which made him perfectly suited for this role.
Frank Gorshin portrays the nearly blind dialectic narcissist jazz musician named Basil. But he’s likable because he’s just plain goofy, even more so when he’s nearly blind at the end of the film. Dialectic Jazz provided by the great Pete Rugolo.
Yes, the film is dated with its premise that all the girls in the world are looking for a rich guy to march down the aisle with. But nothing wrong with that I suppose. Normally, all this would seem kind of shallow but you just have to go with it and roll with the punches. It’s a light weight entry into the romance/comedy genre. There’s no mistake about that. But it’s one of the better ones. It may not be Romeo and Juliet and Heathcliffe and Catherine, but 60 years after the fact, Where the Boys Are is still and enjoyable diversion. And for that we score you with a straight arrow B.
In the video below, Connie Francis and Paula Prentiss take a look back at Where the Boys Are. Just like I promised. You'll have fun. You can buy the bluray from either Amazon (click on the bluray picture above) or from Warner Archives. The bluray transfer gets by but should have been much better. It's obvious no care was put into this release, as the audio could use a boatload of cleanup but the picture quality is fine.
