Sense-memory time: Close your eyes and inhale through your nose, remembering the scent of mothballs. Old clothes someone thought they wanted to keep for another day... a memory with which you have no attachment... a garment that hasn't aged well. Welcome to "Three On A Couch."
Jerry Lewis' psychiatrist girlfriend (Janet Leigh) won't accompany him on his sabbatical to Paris because she's so humorless and self important she refuses to abandon her practice until she "cures" her three female patients with man troubles. The nutty director (and star) decides if HE can cure these three girls behind Leigh's back by assuming multiple comic personalities then she'll surely join him for crepes in the City of Light... maybe Jerry feels that only the French will truly appreciate him ;)
It's a decent setup... but the problem is the movie doesn't feel like a farce. It's heavy, moldy, and slow where comedy is usually light, crisp, and fast-paced. Leigh is stuck with dreadful dialogue proclaiming her sacred obligation as a doctor, while her MD friend sympathizes, explaining "I am a doctor too." I don't know if I've ever heard a real doctor insist they were a real doctor. Lewis achieves moments of insanity masquerading as a Southern belle AND her nebbishy geek of a brother- the scene in which he changes out of a dress and into man's clothing while loudly projecting "both" sides of the conversation is classic. Sadly, this is the movie's only highlight.
An outlandish script like this should never be directed in this leaden, self-important style... its a shame but not a surprise because Lewis at this point had become a leaden, self-important man. His brilliance in early comedies like "The Errand Boy" and "The Bellboy" was eclipsed by his ego and desire to direct himself... it was more important to look cool than be funny. It's the death of the comedian, and unless you're into autopsies you won't want to linger here. Better to air out the attic, and forget the smell of mothballs.
GRADE: C+
Jerry Lewis' psychiatrist girlfriend (Janet Leigh) won't accompany him on his sabbatical to Paris because she's so humorless and self important she refuses to abandon her practice until she "cures" her three female patients with man troubles. The nutty director (and star) decides if HE can cure these three girls behind Leigh's back by assuming multiple comic personalities then she'll surely join him for crepes in the City of Light... maybe Jerry feels that only the French will truly appreciate him ;)
It's a decent setup... but the problem is the movie doesn't feel like a farce. It's heavy, moldy, and slow where comedy is usually light, crisp, and fast-paced. Leigh is stuck with dreadful dialogue proclaiming her sacred obligation as a doctor, while her MD friend sympathizes, explaining "I am a doctor too." I don't know if I've ever heard a real doctor insist they were a real doctor. Lewis achieves moments of insanity masquerading as a Southern belle AND her nebbishy geek of a brother- the scene in which he changes out of a dress and into man's clothing while loudly projecting "both" sides of the conversation is classic. Sadly, this is the movie's only highlight.
An outlandish script like this should never be directed in this leaden, self-important style... its a shame but not a surprise because Lewis at this point had become a leaden, self-important man. His brilliance in early comedies like "The Errand Boy" and "The Bellboy" was eclipsed by his ego and desire to direct himself... it was more important to look cool than be funny. It's the death of the comedian, and unless you're into autopsies you won't want to linger here. Better to air out the attic, and forget the smell of mothballs.
GRADE: C+