Playing Sat Sept 24 at 4:00 at Film Society of Lincoln Center [Program & Tix]
Shame on the Film Society for sticking this underseen curio in a single afternoon slot in their series “American Girl: Tuesday Weld.” It really has to be seen to be believed, particularly the scene where Weld takes her father on a cashmere sweater shopping excursion that is downright orgasmic. More on those shenanigans later, when Dan Callahan profiles Weld for Alt Screen. Stay tuned.
In the meantime, Andrew Sarris for The Village Voice:
Lord Love A Duck marks the directorial debut of George Axelrod with a bang rather than a whimper. Not only does Axelrod turn out to be his own best director but his script for Lord Love A Duck is by far the best thing he has ever done. Tuesday Weld, Roddy McDowall, et al and a bevy of blank bikini belles make up the funniest comic ensemble since the palmiest days of Preston Sturges. Comparisons have been made with Dr. Strangelove and Lolita and What’s New Pussycat? and The Loved One, but Lord Love a Duck has them all beat by miles on the laugh meter. In fact, the cavernous guffaws tend to tear apart the flimsy fabric of Axelrod’s satiric conception of sun-kissed Southern California, where even God has been converted to a drive-in. The characters and their jokes tend to transcend even their contexts. For example, spoofs of psychoanalysis would seem to be automatically mirthless at this late date. Nevertheless Axelrod disproves Seneca’s aphorism about there being nothing new under the couch by counterpointing a surly lady psychologist with Roddy McDowall’s impishly innocent Rorschach reactor. From then on, Axelrod consistently hits higher notes of hilarity than Kubrick-Nabokov, Kubrick-Sothern, Donner-Allen, Richardson-Sothern-Waugh, etc.
I'm happy again and like myself: 100 years of Gene.
The decadent realism of Hollywood's favorite sadist.
Traveling through time and space at NYC's upstart experimental film fest.