One Paragraph Movie Review: Artists and Models

Twenty-second film: Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis in 1955’s Artists And Models. Whaaaaat a stinker. I don’t know if I’m getting tired of casual naive 1950s sexism or if it’s only just dawned on me that Lewis’s entire schtick is being cross-eyed, but after the gloriously, gratuitously technicolour opening credits everything goes sharply south. Dumb plot, clunky editing, bad performances, ham-fisted Shirley MacLaine slapstick, forgettable songs, irritating brats in the unnecessary children’s roles — I couldn’t wait for it to be over. Okay, Anita Ekberg is just unbelievably beautiful and Dorothy Malone looks a lot like old mate Simone Holtznagel in some bits, but why are Dean Martin’s man-boobs utterly hairless or visible (twice) at all? I don’t know why it’s in a book of 1001 great movies — it’s not even the best movie made that day. One papier-mache mouse mask out of five.