Well, not really. But, nevertheless, there seems to be quite a traffic jam snaking its way through Dick Powell's life and apartment. Does anyone knock? Or call ahead? In Mr. Powell's last appearance on the silver screen (he would soon slide over to the small screen), the former juvenile crooner turned hard-edged gumshoe actor, finds himself entangled in one of the most bizarre babysitting assignments ever. Debbie Reynolds plays the swooning teenager placed in the charge of bachelor Powell. He's a screenwriter and she's a piece of work. Incorrigible, really. Also on hand is the Amazon-like, Anne Francis--all 5'8" of her. She's his fiancé and is striking to look at: her famous facial mole comfortably in place, face impeccably made up and her blue eyes popping like fireflies kissing an electric bug zapper. She's definitely a sight for sore eyes. The plot, as it is, revolves around Debbie trying her best to break up the upcoming marriage between Dick and Miss Francis, and steal Powell for herself. Nothing new. But expertly rendered off. Oh, did I mention that the proceedings occur between Christmas and New Year's Eve, the twelve days of Cristmas falling firmly into play. Director Frank Tashlin has the seasonal colors lords-a-leaping off the screen. I love the fake white Christmas tree adorned with blood red balls. All of the apartment's holiday decorations signal a sobering degree of suburban chic. There's a wild dream sequence involving Debbie trapped in a bird cage and Anne spinning a spider's web. Have I mentioned how lovely Anne Francis was? She's a knockout. In the end, the movie is pure farce and slightly perverted. Otherwise, this film might be the perfect package to open up on a Christmas morning. The RKO logo is in color and the film is narrated, strangely, by an Oscar statuette. So enjoy. Pass the eggnog and light the yule log, please.
Review of Susan Slept Here
