A lot of famous actors have ended their careers with atrocious movies, and this would have to be the high water mark. As a friend said, Mae must have been senile to agree to appear in this, otherwise how could she have let people put her through this?
The plot, for what it's worth, involves Mae's wedding night to a British noble young enough to be her grandson (played by Timothy Dalton) interrupted through the machinations of her agent by some of her ex-husbands, such as Ringo Starr, George Hamilton and Tony Curtis (who plays as if he truly appreciates the absurdity of the venture being undertaken), the search for a tape of her memoirs, and Mae somehow salvaging global peace at a diplomatic conference held at the hotel in London she is staying at. Cameos from others such as Rona Barrett and George Raft (Mae's first screen co-star in 1932, who grimaces through his scene with Mae in the elevator as though he regretted agreeing to do it) abound.
The story though is the least reason to watch. Rather, watching a mummified 86 year old hobbling her way through double entendres, holding herself up against candelabras during musical numbers and being treated by all and sundry as if she were Venus de Milo herself beggars description. A subplot concerning doubts about the sexuality of her new husband seems to miss the fact that doubts about any of the performers' sexuality would have to exist, not least a ludicrous number where members of the American athletic team cavort adoringly around Mae.
The director seems to have made a conscious decision to film scenes in such a way as to minimise Mae's screen time, and when she is in view of the camera it makes sure that it never gets too close. The fact that Mae appears to have dunked her head in a bowl of make up and is filmed through what appears to be guaze seems to indicate that all others concerned were at least trying to take pity on the poor woman while at the same time humoring her.
The musical numbers themselves are side splittingly funny (it's hard to pick a highlight, but one number which could best be described as Mae West does disco would have to take the cake!), Mae's costume changes look like an expensive Edith Head designed drag show, and Mae cracking unabashed double entendres while staring cross-eyed through heavy lids ("I want them to say the British are coming") is mind boggling. Mercifully the audience are spared a sex scene, or even a kiss between her and Dalton, which would have crossed the boundaries of good taste.
I can't begin to comprehend who thought this could be a good idea (if Mae wasn't senile, let's hope she was extremely self-deprecating) but I honestly can't understand why this movie isn't more of a cult classic. I gave it one star but it is so bad it's good. It's like watching a train wreck - no matter how bad it gets, you keep watching because you know it's going to get worse! I need to watch it again this time looking for the evidence of Mae using a cane and having an ear piece through which her lines were fed to her.
The plot, for what it's worth, involves Mae's wedding night to a British noble young enough to be her grandson (played by Timothy Dalton) interrupted through the machinations of her agent by some of her ex-husbands, such as Ringo Starr, George Hamilton and Tony Curtis (who plays as if he truly appreciates the absurdity of the venture being undertaken), the search for a tape of her memoirs, and Mae somehow salvaging global peace at a diplomatic conference held at the hotel in London she is staying at. Cameos from others such as Rona Barrett and George Raft (Mae's first screen co-star in 1932, who grimaces through his scene with Mae in the elevator as though he regretted agreeing to do it) abound.
The story though is the least reason to watch. Rather, watching a mummified 86 year old hobbling her way through double entendres, holding herself up against candelabras during musical numbers and being treated by all and sundry as if she were Venus de Milo herself beggars description. A subplot concerning doubts about the sexuality of her new husband seems to miss the fact that doubts about any of the performers' sexuality would have to exist, not least a ludicrous number where members of the American athletic team cavort adoringly around Mae.
The director seems to have made a conscious decision to film scenes in such a way as to minimise Mae's screen time, and when she is in view of the camera it makes sure that it never gets too close. The fact that Mae appears to have dunked her head in a bowl of make up and is filmed through what appears to be guaze seems to indicate that all others concerned were at least trying to take pity on the poor woman while at the same time humoring her.
The musical numbers themselves are side splittingly funny (it's hard to pick a highlight, but one number which could best be described as Mae West does disco would have to take the cake!), Mae's costume changes look like an expensive Edith Head designed drag show, and Mae cracking unabashed double entendres while staring cross-eyed through heavy lids ("I want them to say the British are coming") is mind boggling. Mercifully the audience are spared a sex scene, or even a kiss between her and Dalton, which would have crossed the boundaries of good taste.
I can't begin to comprehend who thought this could be a good idea (if Mae wasn't senile, let's hope she was extremely self-deprecating) but I honestly can't understand why this movie isn't more of a cult classic. I gave it one star but it is so bad it's good. It's like watching a train wreck - no matter how bad it gets, you keep watching because you know it's going to get worse! I need to watch it again this time looking for the evidence of Mae using a cane and having an ear piece through which her lines were fed to her.