Don't Make Waves (1967)

This is one of a multitude of sex comedies Tony Curtis starred in around this time in his career; incidentally, I had seen about half of it some years back (also on Italian TV) but had to abort the viewing due to a bad reception! Anyway, if the film is at all remembered today, it is primarily for two reasons: it not only marked the cinematic swan song of a great director, but was also the official Hollywood introduction of the beguiling but ill-fated Sharon Tate. Two more (if lesser) claims to fame should be the undeniably funny Chaplinesque ‘house-teetering-on-the-edge-of-a-cliff’ climax and the fact that leading rock band The Byrds perform the film’s rather charmingly light title tune.Patchy and somewhat hesitant overall, it is nonetheless engaging and occasionally delightful; the satirical barbs aimed at L.A.’s muscle beach mentality (especially David Draper, the amiably moronic blonde hulk who is Tate’s boyfriend), the then-current astrological fad and businessmen indulging in extramarital activities often hit the target – even if with a much blunter edge than in Mackendrick’s previous film with Curtis, SWEET SMELL OF SUCCESS (1957). Two other lively highlights of the film are the initial ‘meeting cute’ between Curtis and leading lady Claudia Cardinale (in which, as he tells her himself, she inadvertently manages to ruin his whole life in 30 seconds flat!) and the potentially disastrous sky-diving stunt performed by Tate and (unexpectedly) Curtis, which ends with both of them landing in his newly-inaugurated pool.The film does benefit from a workmanlike cast: Curtis is in good form as an opportunistic young man who, while being compulsively pursued by the accident-prone Cardinale, becomes hopelessly infatuated with luscious, free-spirited beach girl Sharon Tate (her effortlessly sensual slow-motion exercises on the beach early in the film are quite disturbing to watch now when one realizes that she would die so horribly in less than two years’ time); Robert Webber is a swimming pool company executive driven to his wits’ end by lover Cardinale and the blackmailing schemes of Curtis, who soon shows his salesmanship skills by selling a pool to Jim “Mr. Magoo” Backus (playing himself) and a celebrity fortune-teller with the unlikely name of Madame Lavinia (played by famed ventriloquist Edgar Bergen).While it is undoubtedly Mackendrick’s least (i.e. most inconsequential) film – and could well have been the reason why he left the profession and went into teaching – it’s a tribute to his mostly unsung genius that the film is as enjoyable as it is despite the evident flaws.

This film starts out very promising and had me laughing right away with its long chain reaction sequence of disasters. Carlo, in an unperturbed Tom Hanks manner, stops at a beautiful overlook on the California coast, watches a lady painter lose her temper at her easel, who then flings her painting off the cliff in disgust. Carlo then attempts to take a drink from a defective water fountain that shoots a powerful stream of water at his face. Then the lady drives off, but her fender hooks his VW Bug's bumper, causing his car to roll downhill. Then follows a series of humorous and futile attempts by Carlo to stop his car from rolling, the car finally goes over the cliff, crashes in front of both the lady and an oncoming bus, followed by Carlo rolling down the hill after it. During the ensuing argument with Laura, who is arguing vehemently in Italian, she lights a cigarette that ignites the spilled gasoline, causing Carlo's car to blow up. Carlo's clothes then catch on fire and he has to strip in public while a not-so-helpful bystander pours a bucket of water on his head instead of on his burning pants.After the great opening sequence, however, the film became a little odd. It was humorous, but the humor then had a hard edge to it, something like the style in "Up the Creek" (1984), especially when Carlo is forced to sleep on the beach by a nasty paramour, then suffers a realistic clunk in the head by a surfboard while swimming the next morning. Then the film gets kind of artsy, with slow motion and freeze frame scenes of Malibu in her swimsuit, jumping on a trampoline. It seems to want to turn into a teen beach party type flick then, with lots of scenes of surfers, swimsuits, bodybuilders, and The Byrds playing live, but doesn't quite go in that direction, either. Then it moves back into more hard-edged comedy with Carlo working as a swimming pool salesman, then there seems to be a tacked-on episode at the end with Carlo's house starting to slide down a hill during a rainstorm. When the house finally rolls and slides all the way down to the beach, the film then ends! Yes, the film is odd, but I like it! Although the fundamental problem was probably a poorly planned story, the high quality production caused this problem to manifest itself as a unique style, with hard-edged humor, a mixture of genres, a mixture of cultures, and an overall odd story structure. Technically the details are quite good (other than the slightly weak sliding house effects at the end). The photography is good (other than some grainy and mismatched footage of a little girl surfer), the Southern California coastal scenery is beautiful, the music is lively and good, and the '60s style interior decor is wonderfully retro to behold: tikis, a peacock chair, modern art paintings, an interesting bed with a chain net, wood-paneled offices, and so on.Watch this film if you like the styles and atmosphere of the late '60s, avoid it if you're looking for a clear-cut comedy, clear-cut beach party flick, or clear-cut artsy film.

This movie seems to have a lot going for it. The stunning photography of gorgeous Los Angeles; a charming theme song by The Byrds; two of the most beautiful women you could imagine , Sharon Tate and Claudia Cardinale; plus some funny folk in supporting roles. Strangely it misses. It just goes on and on with no laffs, and no particular purpose. Sharon , As in The wrecking Crew, proves she had great potential in comedy, and is so gorgeous you want to see more of her. So I would recommend this movie only for Sharon Tate fans. If you arent a fan, you will be disapointed as there is really nothing else here worthwhile. I waited to see the movie for a long time, and felt ripped off.

"Don't Make Waves" -- is it an attempt at an mature beach movie? A spoof of beach movies? A midlife crisis movie? A Tony Curtis-as-middle-aged-hustler movie?Tony Curtis plays a not-so-young man whose life is ruined and all his earthly belongings destroyed by an accident prone mistress (Cardinale) of an obnoxious pool magnate (Webber). Curtis worms his way into the pool company -- apparently not to wreak revenge (or is it) but just to get ahead. On the way he picks up a cute sky-diving obsessed young woman (Tate -- who unfortunately has become a curiosity piece in the few movies she lived to make) who was also being sought out by a good-hearted and dull-witted Muscle Beach type (Drake).The characters wind confusingly through each others lives until they come to a climax that needs better special effects than they had in 1967, and then the movie ends abruptly.The movie shows lots of potential trying to get out. There are many good ideas thrown out. Some lie flaccid after being thrown out, others are merely thrown out and left to die.The cast is full of surprises: Mort Sal as a wry house salesman, Edgar Bergen as a fortune teller, Jim Backus (as wife) as themselves, being hustled by Curtis into buying a pool! And this also proves how the movie went wrong. Edgar Bergen had a charming persona in his act, which (for those of you who don't remember) as a ventriloquist -- on the radio, no less. Instead of playing to his charming persona, they cast him as a waspish old man; and instead of playing on his ventriloquism to make the character wacky, they ignore it completely. They shoehorned a man with special talents into a part that could have been played by any competent actor, and which should have been played as a gift cameo part for someone who would pull out all the comedic stops (say,Paul Lynde?)Pluses include the Vic Mizzy sound, and the fact that, and the obvious fact that none of the actors take the material seriously, except for Robert Webber, whom no one seems to have told was in a comedy. It's a movie that one watches the way one eats sour cream and onion potato chips if one doesn't like sour cream. The taste both repels and attracts. It's movies like this that ensured the decline of Tony Curtis' career.