Irma la Douce is not much at all like The Apartment. I feel that should be emphasized if anyone, like me, is drawn to it because of the fact it is a reunion of that films’ lead stars and director. But Billy Wilder and Jack Lemmon were a pair established through several movies by this point and the title character was originally written for none other than Marilyn Monroe -meaning this was conceived as more of a Some Like It Hot reunion. But tragically, Monroe would not live to partake in it, so Wilder cast Shirley MacLaine instead, and I expect the part was tweaked somewhat to better suit MacLaine’s sensibilities.
Curiously though, Irma seems like both an extension of the kind of parts MacLaine had been playing, but also unlike anything she’d done yet. Compared to Fran Kubelik of The Apartment, then and arguably still her most acclaimed role, Irma is similarly defined by adulterous sexual activity, but far more open and proud than the sad and emotionally unfulfilled Fran. She is a sex worker and not at all ashamed of it -one of several astonishing details to this movie that caught me off guard. The very fact that sex is such a prominent theme of the movie and not obscured like in The Apartment or Breakfast at Tiffany’s is pretty impressive and brazen. For a movie that tips its’ hat to the makeshift curtain of It Happened One Night, a scene made necessary by the Production Code, Irma la Douce flaunts Production Code violations left and right -basking in its’ early 60s limited power.
It’s an exciting movie to watch for this reason, but it’s also not so ahead of its’ time as it might be, falling back on particular moralities, stereotypes, and patterns as it concerns the depiction of sex work in the movies. But it is fascinating for these juxtapositions.
Certainly the movie starts from a refreshingly humane place, opening on a whimsical impression of Irma’s day-to-day routine, coloured by some great post-coital banter with clients. Before the opening credits are even through, the movie is incredibly upfront about her profession, and it does treat it like a profession. Though sex work is never quite equated to a business outright, Irma’s attitude to it and the one taken by the film is very nondescript. It’s simply what she does to make a living, and she’s happy with that -resistant to any men who want to “change” her. I daresay the movie even normalizes sex work a tad by this open sentiment towards it. But it does have to contend with and give credence to some stigma, which is where Lemmon comes in as Nestor Patou, a policeman newly transferred to Les Halles, the market district of Paris that makes up the films’ principal setting. Pretty immediately he leads a raid on the neighbourhood that goes badly and is shortly kicked off the police force by a flummoxed inspector for an apparent bribery charge.
All through this the tone is distinctly silly and Nestor is clearly characterized as an uptight doofus authority figure not to be taken seriously at all. This is in line with Lemmon’s type at the time, but it can’t help feel a little rebellious as well. The anti-authority, sexually liberal spirit of the 1960s can be detected in how ridiculous the efforts to police sex work are played, and especially in how quickly Nestor’s tolerance grows in their presence afterwards. He ends up right back in Les Halles by that evening, homeless and down on his luck; and in spite of his earlier arrest of her, strikes up a swift yet cute romance with Irma after comically beating up her abusive pimp (Bruce Yarnell). It perhaps sounds dry and reductive, but it’s executed with such a self-aware corniness that it plays as mildly charming -especially around Nestor’s caginess in Irma’s apartment where she invites him to stay (curious that this time it’s Lemmon who is the unexpected guest in MacLaine’s apartment).
But it’s here where there’s some backtracking on some of the progressive ideas set up initially. In an interesting attempt at a role reversal Irma endeavours to “support her man” by earning enough money for him to live comfortably without having to seek a job himself. But this, Nestor privately can’t abide because while his moral objections to sex work in general may have subsided, he is hung up on the idea of Irma sleeping with other men. So he resorts to the ludicrous ploy of disguising himself as a rich British gentleman styled “Lord X” who will pay her handsomely to be her only client -and then not even have sex with her but engage in conversation and games. It’s played with that same affable silliness, especially in Lemmon’s performance as the Lord X persona, in which he dons a fake moustache, teeth, and an appropriately goofy posh accent; but it does come from a place of judgement and an effort to still police one’s sex life, though through more elaborate means. For as frank as the movie is, it still treads carefully over its’ taboo subject, endeavouring too to keep its’ characters chaste for as long as possible -even while they share a bed that Irma sleeps naked in. It ultimately does allow them to make love (though through the Lord X persona), which itself is ballsy -but it’s as though to get there Wilder had to make concessions towards the overarching moral attitude around sex -make space for male entitlement.
On the other hand the point could be made that a lack of sexual intimacy is detrimental to a relationship as the wedge that forms between Irma and Nestor comes out of his lack of affection and attention in the pursuit of this scheme. He secretly takes a job down at the docks in the early hours of the morning to pay for the lavishness that Lord X is required to bestow on Irma -in the process growing too tired to pay her much mind and convincing her that he has lost interest and is having an affair, while she grows ironically closer to Lord X. The farce, though it plays her for an arguably condescending naivety, clearly emphasizes his hapless ignorance and woeful neglect. But of course regardless of what the text may say, the tone, the execution is another matter. Wilder employs a generally playful atmosphere here, which has the effect of neutralizing some parts of commentary and not others. As in the case of Nestor’s possessiveness, it’s hard to be offended when illustrated through such a consciously goofy prism. But bits that are clearly meant to be taken seriously, such as the insinuation that Irma was driven towards this life through a poor upbringing that commenced by being born out of wedlock -it’s less easy to overlook.
Yet the movie deserves credit for some of the originality to its’ silliness -Lemmon’s Lord X performance lands on just the right side of camp and is a fun primer for his full screwball turn in The Great Race two years later. Of the side characters the stand out is bartender Moustache (Lou Jacobi), Nestor’s one-time partner in crime, with a funny running gag of offhandedly referencing several past adventurous careers that often contradict one another. And MacLaine, without having to carry the pathos in this film, gets to let loose her inner comedienne with some sharp deliveries and comic beats. While the last act isn’t my favourite, I commend Wilder’s direction of the “fight” between Nestor and Lord X, when the former finally decides to kill off the latter; and just ahead of the finale is a great routine where the cops are searching Irma’s apartment for Nestor (who just broke out of jail) whilst he cunningly blends in with them in his old uniform -left in her closet. It’s some of Lemmon’s best comedy work here.
It’s also MacLaine at perhaps her most consciously sexy –betraying that the part was written for Monroe, but taking to the eroticism with finesse. It’s in more than just the plot that this film pushes the envelope, there’s a lot of open sexuality and several snippets of near nudity –Irma being very casual in her own space. And it’s all done in a way that showcases the women (though specifically Irma, as few others have more than a couple lines) are in control of their sexual agency –in spite of the stigma of their profession. In fact, that may be what allows the film to portray them as such. There’s a tangible sense of thrill that radiates from the movie at what they are getting away with in an era where Hollywood censorship was fading but still held some power. It’s clear that Wilder and co. felt liberated by the opportunities to have fun with sex. In the same scene that Irma is at her most sensual, seducing Lord X through an erotic (and problematically exoticized) story, we see Jack Lemmon act out an orgasm.
But this lighthearted sexual spirit doesn’t last, as the ending makes sure to set things straight by having Irma get pregnant and leave the profession off-screen. The baby of course is Nestor’s, though through Lord X, to make sure the adultery doesn’t stand. It’s weak and incredibly forced, Irma forgives Nestor his dickishness and his apparent murder of Lord X by being convinced it was all out of hopeless infatuation with her –which strains the films’ abject hacky tropes and makes her out to be so easily manipulated. And it of course ends in a wedding interrupted by a sudden birth. There are some solid jokes in these last parts of the movie, but the sourness of dull moral mandate hangs over its’ ultimate choices too prominently –especially viewed now so removed from the period.
Irma la Douce is almost a good movie. It comes awfully close to breaking some ground, and does to its’ credit do so in some curious regards. But it holds back from fully committing, either due to outside pressure or the particular unmoving stigmas of the people involved –or both. It dips its’ toes into a more layered and respectable conversation around sex work and that might be enough for a small place in film history –well that and a twenty-two-year-old James Caan showing up for a hot second. It’s tolerable, it can be an entertaining, occasionally exciting watch for sure, but outside of some of its’ gags and affection for the team from The Apartment, it’s probably not worth seeking out for its’ own sake.
Support me on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/JordanBosch
Follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/Jordan_D_Bosch
Letterboxd: https://letterboxd.com/jbosch/
Comments
Post a Comment