SOME LIKE IT HOT: Blu-ray (UA/Mirisch Co., 1959) Criterion Collection

If you had to pick only one men-in-drag comedy to define the sub-genre, it would probably be Billy Wilder’s Some Like It Hot (1959), a farce-laden gem that adds the sultry appeal of filmdom’s then reigning sexpot, Marilyn Monroe to an already tantalizing mixture of merriment and mirth. Wilder’s difficulties with Monroe, already on the downswing of her career, were legendary. Reportedly, it took him some thirty-odd takes – with cue cards plastered everywhere – to get Monroe to remember the line, “It’s me…Sugar” and locate the prop bottle of bourbon on the set. Infamous for her personal insecurities, Monroe would also incur the ire of co-star, Tony Curtis, who later suggested that kissing her was like “kissing Hitler”. When asked to explain himself, Curtis back-peddled, adding that the experience of making the movie was rewarding and well worth the delays incurred along the way. Wilder’s masterpiece is such a fun and fleshy rom/com with oodles of charm, capped off by Monroe’s iconic performance of ‘I Wanna Be Loved By You’ it has long since outlasted the memory of its originator, Helen ‘Betty Boop’ Kane.  And Wilder, no stranger to double entendre, peppers the screenplay of Some Like It Hot with about as much raw and scathingly original sexy byplay as that dying strain of Hollywood censorship would permit. Oh well, ‘nobody’s perfect’ – although, in Billy Wilder’s case, I would certainly make the exception as well as the argument, no one came closer to ‘perfection’.

Some Like It Hot co-stars Jack Lemmon, who would become something of a Wilder alumnus in subsequent outings. “There is something richly rewarding about him,” Lemmon once surmised of Wilder, “This crazy man, a bundle of energy who came to me with this insane notion of playing a part in drag for 85% of the picture.” Reportedly, Wilder let Lemmon and co-star, Tony Curtis go off to experiment with their makeups. Lemmon would later speculate his veered uncannily close to what is own mother looked like on any given day, from hairstyle to the bee-stung lips. When Curtis and Lemmon were satisfied with their ‘look’ they came to Wilder’s office for his approval. Instead, Wilder ordered both men to go into the ‘ladies’ room on the Goldwyn lot. “I could feel the flop sweat,” Lemmon later recalled, as he entered a bathroom full of real women who neither discovered their ruse nor even batted an eye at the pair for wearing period 1920’s flapper garb. Amazed, Lemmon and Curtis returned to Wilder. Instantly, he gave his consent. Of Monroe, Lemmon was as laudatory with his comments. “She was a gifted comedienne. She had developed herself, that peculiar…those marvelous mannerisms, what people today imitate but never quite come up to…that was all Marilyn.” Reflecting decades later, Wilder too had softened in his impressions of the challenges Monroe presented. “She was a marvelous girl that…if you could bottle what she had you could sell it to Dupont to make millions. She was so special, because she didn’t alienate the female. She was genuine. One thinks it would be easy to make another, say, Garbo or Monroe. But you see a thousand girls and not one compares.”

In the annals of comedy, Some Like It Hot remains a zeitgeist, as lyrical and sly as any men-in-drag comedy caper ought to be, and yet, with a soft center of respect for its over-the-top characters as real people, however grotesquely unhinged. Wilder’s impressions on human sexual mores and mannerisms has always teetered to the ribald. But in Some Like It Hot, even the concessions made for the sake of its straight-jacketed sexual politics circa the button-down ultra-conservative 1950’s, he gets away with sheer murder, even flirting with the latent tendencies of a homoerotic elderly/closeted queen; the sublime, Joe E. Brown as the lascivious millionaire, who doesn’t much care what sex his paramour occupies.  As co-star, Jack Lemmon once pointed out, a ‘sense of humor’ is not found in one’s ability to laugh at something that is funny; rather, in an appreciation for unearthing something humorous from the everyday and ably exposing this irony to a much broader audience.

Wilder’s film certainly does this. Despite changing times and tastes, Some Like It Hot continues to enthrall and inspire generations of film makers and movie goers alike. In accepting the Irving G. Thalberg Award for Excellence in 1985, Wilder mused about the journey that had brought him to such accolades and success; describing an incident that bears mentioning herein. Having left Nazi Germany in haste, he arrived in America without the necessary documentation to become a naturalized citizen. Pleading with the American consulate’s emissary for his very existence, Wilder was asked point blank what he hoped to gain by remaining in the country. “I want to write for the movies,” Wilder nervously explained. The emissary removed his stamp of authority from his desk drawer and green lit Wilder’s passport, adding, “Write some good ones.” Again, in reflection from the vantage of many years and many pictures later, Wilder concluded, “I’ve been trying to do just that ever since.”  Naturally prone to acidic wit and exploring risqué situations, Wilder and his longtime co-writer, I.A.L. Diamond (who loosely based their screenplay on 1935’s French Fanfare d’Amour) charted new territory in Some Like It Hot. Upon its release, the film quickly incurred the wrath of the Catholic League of Decency, who felt it was a salacious exposé celebrating lesbianism, homosexuality and transvestites – all rather ludicrous claims then, inadvertently to help sell the picture to audiences eager to see what all the fuss was about.

And while Wilder had contemplated several names in preparing his movie, today, it seems quite impossible to imagine anybody but Tony Curtis, Jack Lemmon and Marilyn Monroe as the triumvirate of sillies chasing after each other in Some Like It Hot. As far as Wilder was concerned, Tony Curtis was the only star etched in stone by the time Wilder approached the Mirisch Company to pitch his idea. Wilder had desperately wanted Jack Lemmon, then a fledgling in the industry. Rather shortsightedly, Walter Mirisch informed Wilder that Lemmon lacked box office cache. He could have Frank Sinatra and Mitzi Gaynor instead.  Mercifully, Sinatra failed to show for a prearranged luncheon date, souring Wilder’s interests on working with the actor. When Monroe expressed her desire to reunite with Wilder (the pair had made The Seven Year Itch in 1955), both Harold and Walter Mirisch agreed to Jack Lemmon’s casting as the picture’s ‘lesser’ third wheel, thereby affording Lemmon his breakout role. We pause a moment herein to extol the virtues of Jack Lemmon – both actor and the man; a truly gracious and legendary talent un-equaled in the top-tiers of Hollywood stardom. Lemmon’s approach to Jerry (a.k.a. Daphne) is two-parts bombast to one-part utter insanity. Lemmon once explained, “He (Jerry) didn’t act on anything. He just reacted to everything. You could tell him to go jump in the lake and he probably would.” And it is precisely this spontaneity that lends Lemmon’s naïve his core of vulnerability, as well as his humanity – qualities, I might add, that encompass Lemmon’s persona too.

As Some Like It Hot was always a period piece it really has not dated in the interim since; the spangles, heavy beading and sequined dresses, draped in weighty fringe, look as fresh and inviting as a soft breeze blowing off the sunlit porches at the Hotel del Coronado. Wilder’s original concept for dressing Lemmon and Curtis in drag was to use actual vintage costumes worn by some of Hollywood’s leading ladies back in the 1920’s. It is rumored he even tried to squeeze the 5ft. 9inch Tony Curtis into a Chanel once worn by diminutive 4ft. 11inch Gloria Swanson. However, such aspirations quickly proved an ill fit. Lest we forget, there are certain allowances that need to be made for the beefier male body. As such, designer, Orry-Kelly was hired to reproduce the vintage look with embellishments made to accommodate Curtis and Lemmon’s more ample measurements. Reportedly, after stretching his tape measure across Marilyn’s bottom, Orry-Kelly told the actress, “Tony has a better ass than yours,” to which Marilyn lifted up her top and replied, “But I’ll bet he doesn’t have tits like these!”

Even before production on Some Like It Hot began, critical backlash had begun to build. To many in the industry, it seemed Wilder was stretching a four-minute burlesque into a two-hour movie. That was the least of Wilder’s concerns. The Production Code kept a watchful eye on Wilder’s endeavor to use overt sexuality and blue humor to sell the gender-bending aspect of his story. Circumspect, but determined to find new ways of circumventing these age-old prejudices, Wilder resisted his naysayers. Even better for Wilder, the entire cast had fallen in love with the screenplay, treating it as reverently as the Bible. Such attention to detail did have its drawbacks, particularly for Marilyn. Prior to committing to the project, Monroe had suffered a miscarriage – the latest in a series of personal disappointments. Worse, despite her best intentions, her marriage to Arthur Miller was falling apart. Already plagued by insecurities about her talent, unabated by constant meddling from her acting coach, Paula Strasberg, Monroe grew anxious and occasionally tearful, leaving Wilder drained and more than a little worried the picture’s greatest asset might not be able to complete her performance.

His fears were hardly quelled when a reporter asked Tony Curtis what it was like to kiss Marilyn Monroe. Put off by the question, Curtis glibly replied, “It’s like kissing Hitler,” a comment that ruffled Strasberg’s feathers and went instantly viral in the press. It is unclear whether the remark ever made its way back to Monroe’s ears. But its sting continued to linger on the set. Decades later, Curtis suggested his words were meant more to dissuade the reporter from asking other ‘stupid questions’ rather than to indict either Monroe’s sex appeal or her other formidable talents. It is common knowledge that Monroe’s frequent delays and/or absences from the set created minor friction between she and Curtis. Thankfully, none of this brewing animosity shows up on camera. In fact, in viewing their scenes together, one senses nothing but undiluted sexual energy roiling between the pair – Curtis, perhaps, re-channeling his on-set frustrations into the character’s itchy urge and impulse to play a seduction for all it is worth. And in Monroe we sense something of a hopefulness to be seduced, affording her co-star every opportunity to fall in love with that trademarked bubbly blonde whom gentlemen en masse undoubtedly preferred.  

Some Like It Hot opens with a bang – literally – when struggling musicians Joe (Tony Curtis) and Jerry (Jack Lemmon) inadvertently witness 1929’s Valentine’s Day Massacre orchestrated by Chicago gangster, Spats Columbo (George Raft). Fleeing for their lives, the boys beg their booking agent for a gig that will get them out of town – fast – only to learn the only audition currently available is for a bass and clarinet player in a travelling ‘all girl’s’ band. Joe gets a brainstorm. Why not? Boy will be girls. So, Jerry and Joe dress up and audition for Sweet Sue (Joan Shawlee). They land the job no problem and board a train bound for Florida where the band is already booked to headline at the Seminole Ritz (actually the Hotel de Coronado near San Diego). Joe and Jerry – newly rechristened Josephine and Daphne – immediately fall for sultry ukulele player, Sugar Kane (Marilyn Monroe). It is a problematic lust, since neither can confess it outwardly without either blowing their cover or inferring lesbianism.  Sweet Sue’s strict set of rules precludes any gentlemen callers. Oh, no. What is a self-respecting guy in love to do?

Sugar has a minor drinking problem.  Sue knows this and even threatens to let Sugar go if she finds a hint of booze on her person. At the hotel another series of complications ensue when Shell oil millionaire, Osgood Fielding III (Joe E. Brown) becomes infatuated with ‘Daphne’. During his time away from the band, Joe adopts the persona of a distinguished Commodore, complete with fractured Cary Grant accent. He passes himself off to Sugar as a wealthy patron of the arts, inviting her to his yacht (actually Osgood’s) to go sailing in the moonlight, while Daphne entertains Osgood on the mainland. Returning to the suite he shares with Joe, Jerry informs Joe that Osgood has proposed and that he – as Daphne – has accepted. Joe tries to explain to Jerry why such a marriage can never take place. Of course, the real conflict of interest comes by way of an even more immediate confrontation. It seems Spats and his cronies have decided to host a gangland convention at the hotel. The boys attempt to disappear but are spotted by Spats. In their getaway, Joe confides to Sugar he is not a millionaire. To his amazement he is told by her that it does not matter. In fact, it never did. Sugar loves Joe anyway. Jerry, still dressed as Daphne, hops into a boat with Osgood. En route to the yacht, Jerry tries to explain why they can never be married. To any and all of his excuses Osgood is dismissive, forcing Jerry to reveal his true identity. “I’m a man!” Jerry declares, tearing off his wig. “Well,” replies Osgood, “Nobody’s perfect!”

This final line of dialogue was written on the fly by I.A.L. Diamond at the eleventh hour of production, under great duress to come up with a suitable ending. Wilder loved it, but others – including Wilder’s wife – were certain it was too weak to sustain a laugh. Nevertheless, the line stayed in, its piquant reference to homoerotic proclivities on Osgood’s part miraculously overlooked by the censors. Interestingly enough, the first preview of Some Like It Hot at the Bay Theatre in Pacific Palisades was a disaster – perhaps because audiences were unprepared for the raucousness in the comedy. After some minor editing, Wilder held a second preview in Westwood. This came off without a hitch. And audiences have been roaring with laughter ever since. Viewed today, Some Like It Hot has lost none of its timeless allure. Despite two very fine performances from Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon, virtually every frame of the picture undeniably belongs to Marilyn Monroe. Whether shimmying against her fellow band members during the rehearsal ‘Running Wild’ or seductively cooing ‘I Wanna Be Loved By You’ to an adoring crowd inside the del Coronado’s majestic ballroom, Monroe – poured into translucent Orry-Kelly costumes that leave very little to the imagination - dominates with her flashy allure. Even though Monroe was only 33 at the time the picture was made, her status as a sexpot is just slightly past its prime. Ironically, this helps as her knock-out ranking has weathered a huskier resolve to become a very fine actress: the ‘knock about’ gal with a body still suited for sin, yet possessing a real woman’s heart of pure gold.

Criterion’s reissue of Some Like It Hot on Blu-ray is overdue. It also rectifies a lot of sins earlier committed on the MGM/Fox Blu-ray from 2011, thereafter endlessly regurgitated with different cover art, but the same sincerely flawed 1080p image. The 1.85:1 image has been remastered in 4K and is completely satisfying.  Fine details advance from the previous release. The image sports a crispness that does not appear to have had any untoward digital tinkering or artificial sharpening applied. This just looks better – more refined, and with brighter contrast. The old Blu-ray just seems darker and softer by comparison. One oddity persists – minor age-related damage. Was it really impossible to eradicate these brief, though nevertheless obvious, ravages of time?  Was it just too expensive? Hmmmm. Not going to poo-poo the effort. This disc is head and shoulders above the old Blu-ray and very welcome indeed. You are going to love what you see…or rather, what you haven’t seen until now, given the advanced remastering effort put forth herein.  We get a PCM 1.0 mono track here, and it sounds crisp.

Supplements are a mixed bag, including previously released materials and a few new to Blu goodies worth mentioning.  The intermittent audio commentary hails all the way back to 1989’s LaserDisc release from Criterion, as film scholar, Howard Suber dishes with Jack Lemmon – a priceless look back. Newly produced is a barely 20 min. featurette on Orry-Kelly’s costumes, hosted by costume designer and historian, Deborah Nadoolman Landis and costume historian and archivist, Larry McQueen. From 1982, we get almost an hour of Billy Wilder’s appearance on The Dick Cavett Show, plus, the half-hour conversation between Tony Curtis and film critic Leonard Maltin that was a part of the 2001 DVD extras. Also, in line with the ‘everything old is new again’ philosophy afflicting a lot of Criterion’s most recent releases; 3 featurettes on the making, memories and legacy of Some Like It Hot. Cumulatively, these add up to roughly an hour. Finally, we get a 10-minute interview with Jack Lemmon, recorded for French television, and, an all too brief radio spot with Marilyn Monroe from 1955. Author Sam Wasson provides some interesting liner notes. Bottom line: highly recommended!

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

5+

VIDEO/AUDIO

5+

EXTRAS

3.5