Even by delving into fantasy for its wildly implausible premise this picturization of George Axelrod’s not-so-successful 1960 Broadway play doesn’t come off as anything but the mildest type of entertainment.
A joint effort of Curtis’ indie Venice banner and 20th-Fox, story framework of the David Weisbart production takes form when a hot-shot Hollywood-writer Lothario named Charlie is thoroughly punctured by a gun-wielding Hungarian producer after catching him vis-a-vis with his wife, and writer is reincarnated as a luscious babe.
Debbie Reynolds takes on the task of creating an offbeat character as the reincarnated late-departed who combines the lecherous mind and mores of her former male self with a sexy exterior and newfound femininity while announcing to the world she is the writer’s widow.
Tony Curtis plays another writer, victim’s best friend who arrives from his Paris home to deliver the eulogy and finds himself saddled not only with a debt-plagued estate, as executor, but this reborn pal as well, now a blonde who decides to cash in on former affairs with filmdom wives and plays cozy with the producer who shot Charlie.
Pat Boone is an over-rich boy with a mother complex who falls for Debbie and wants to marry her, while Walter Matthau puts goulash in the producer role.
