This set is going to look awfully smart on the shelf next to Criterion’s forthcoming release of Pink Flamingos.
One of the greatest of American satires finally hits high-definition video with an okay transfer of an inferior source.
List-making is an exercise in futility, but as futile exercises go, it’s one of the best.
Though this disc bereft of supplements, this silly star showcase would be described by videophile Lester March as “like brand. New.”
As barren as an octo-dad’s bank account, the disc at least preserves the otherworldly density of Tashlin’s VistaVision canvas.
This is a supplement-free but reasonably spiffy presentation of a mid-career comedy star’s effort to grow up just a little.
How many readers have heard of Atlântida Cinematográfica?
It’s hard to look at Tuesday Weld’s career without feeling a tiny pang of regret for what could have been.
Be crazy. And by crazy, I mean unhinged, unpredictable and inspired.
The film is a joyous and rambunctious series of mad-hatter schemes that occasionally transcends its childish roots.
No gravy or pasta fagiole? Maybe next time.
Frank Tashlin fashioned a blend of joyous abandon and trenchant nihilism that continually undercut laughter with despair.
People in Frank Tashlin’s movies often become extensions of their material possessions, and the irony of the merchandising cuts both ways.
The film functions as both an exultant example of American vulgarity and a leveling thrashing of it.
Every decade has the icon it deserves.
Add this black sheep to your Looney Tunes Golden Collection family.
I’d like to presume that Lynde is removing lipstick from his teeth, and not Vaughn’s short curlies.
Frank Tashlin turns the central conflict into just the sort of half-cocked farce the scenario deserves.