This is a movie, like "The Great Dictator" or "Birth of a Nation," that more people _know_ than have _watched_. Everyone is familiar with the scene in which Marilyn Monroe stands over the subway grate, but how many people have actually seen this film? Well, for all those people, the answer is: don't bother. The problem with this film isn't Monroe, who turns in one of her best performances this side of "Some Like it Hot," but rather with Tom Ewell. He is annoying, irritating, and an absolute vacuum at the dead center of this film. Unfortunately, Ewell is on screen about twice as long as Monroe, and he spends most of the time talking to himself, which is just cruel. His is a role that, in the hands of someone like Jack Lemmon, could have been terrific. Ewell, however, supplies an obtrusive, boring narration to a leaden, plodding performance. In the end, I didn't want Ewell's wife to catch him in his tentative indiscretions, I wanted a meteorite to hit him.
Review of The Seven Year Itch
