Enter Cruella De Vil, and what an entrance.
I have no trouble embracing the studio’s biggest bitch of them all.
Frank Tashlin turns the central conflict into just the sort of half-cocked farce the scenario deserves.
I’d like to presume that Lynde is removing lipstick from his teeth, and not Vaughn’s short curlies.
Unless you’ve got a soft spot for British anthologies with fine, aged hams, you’re better off buying Kiss Kiss in paperback.