Way... Way Out

Believe me, any of those French critics who can see this odious mess and STILL consider Jerry Lewis a genius ought to be drowned in their own vichysoisse! Jerry is at his most self-indulgent on this project, and isn't helped by a lot of leering jokes that even a horny twelve-year-old would consider in bad taste. The all-but-incomprehensible plot and sluggish acting don't help, either. Only bright spot about this film is the underrated, under-used Dick Shawn as Jerry's Russian counterpart.

At least a good director experienced in handling Jerry, like Frank Tashlin or Norman Taurog, could have possibly made something out of this, but Gordon Douglas was always a director (?) whose main virtue was that he could bring in films on-time and at or under budget. Douglas' films were successful because of either their stars or stories ("Robin and the Seven Hoods," the Carroll Baker "Harlow"), but he himself was a director of workmanlike competence and no more. It's a reputation he upholds here, with his indulgent direction and sluggish pacing.

All of which proves, once again, that Jerry Lewis' last really good film on his own was "The Nutty Professor." After that, he started believing his press clippings, especially his foreign ones, and, after a while, he wasn't as much funny as downright pathetic. And "Way... Way Out" is a textbook example of this.