Don't Make Waves

When it comes to movies, I can B.S. my way through a lot of different films, westerns, war, action, adventure, and comedy to sound remotely intelligent. Then there's those genres that I've never really had much of an interest in and typically avoid the bubonic plague, stuff like musicals, horror, musicals, torture porn, and even musicals. One I've always been aware of but had no real interest in investing any time was a staple of the 60s (so I hear) was the beach/surfing movie. My previous knowledge extended to a Family Guy spoof so really involved as you can see.

Not having ever sought out a beach movie, I stumbled across one on TCM last night called 'Don't Make Waves' released in 1967. The listing sounded stupid enough -- a swimming-pool salesman gets mixed up with beauty queens and bodybuilders when he falls in love -- and the cast didn't sound half bad so I gave it a shot. That's not fair I guess, the two leads sounded interesting, Tony Curtis who I wouldn't typically associate with a light-hearted beach movie, and Italian beauty Claudia Cardinale, an actress I often associate with darker, more serious movies. So with little expectations, I jumped right in.

Traveling to California in his beaten-up, broken down VW Bug, Carlo Cofield (Curtis) pulls over at a hillside rest stop overlooking the Pacific for lunch, only to have his car roll down the mountain and blow up when a woman's car's bumper hooks his and carries it away. The woman, Laura Califatti (Cardinale) offers to bring Carlo to her apartment while she finds the insurance papers. Of course, she can't find the papers so he stays over that night and is woken up by some incessant knocking at the door. Laura opens the door for Rod Preston (Robert Webber in top form a-hole mode), the married man she's having an affair with.

Rod wastes little time kicking the half-naked Carlo out of the apartment, forcing him to sleep on the beach. He wakes up early the next morning and decides to go for a swim, only to be knocked out by a surfboard belonging to a bikini-clad skydiver, Malibu (Sharon Tate). Waking up to see her, Carlo is quickly head over heels and decides he's got to break Malibu and her bodybuilding boyfriend, Harry (David Draper), up so he can swoop in. Carlo's best option? Blackmail Rod into giving him a job with his swimming pool company and begin to woo Malibu. That enough for you? I just wrote two whole paragraphs about the plot in a beach movie, and I'm pooped.

That's just skimming the surface of what's going on in this always entertaining and often ridiculous 97-minute beach movie. Director Alexander Mackendrick made some good movies in his short career, Sweet Smell of Success and The Ladykillers among others, but this one is all over the place. The first 30 minutes are a good start that provides some actual laughs, but once Carlo's plan goes into action the story goes all over the place. Famous ventriloquist Edgar Bergen makes an odd appearance without his dummy as an astrologist going by the name Madame Lavinia, and then Joanna Barnes pops in here and there for a few scenes as Rod's ignored wife.

There are some genuinely funny scenes, but the story bounces around so much it's hard to remember them. Everything leads up to an uniquely bizarre ending as the various storylines come together to be resolved, in where else? A seaside house about to slide down the hill end over end into the ocean. Let's face it, you get some good thinking done in a situation like that. With all this craziness going on, it would have been nice for even a little background. Curtis' Carlo goes from down on his luck dupe to a sophisticated con man in the matter of a scene or two, no explanation given. What gives?

As for what pulled me in, Curtis and Cardinale are good leads. I've always been a fan of Curtis as a comedic actor, and he doesn't disappoint here. Cardinale is drop dead gorgeous, and this is one of the few early movies where she wasn't dubbed so you get to hear her heavily accented English. Mackendrick also displays Cardinale in various stages of undress throughout, but one-ups himself with Sharon Tate. Almost always in a bikini, Tate gets an extremely subtle trampoline jumping scene that goes on for nearly two minutes. Before her career was tragically cut short when she was murdered by the Mansons, Tate clearly made an impact judging just by the amount of fan videos put up on Youtube for her part as Malibu.

Now with all this said, complaints, bitching, criticisms, I was entertained from start to finish. It's a stupid movie with so much going on that a fair share of things gets lost along the way. Come on now, there's Tony Curtis, Claudia Cardinale, gorgeous southern California locations, body builders, bikini-wearing skydivers, Edgar Bergen 'playing' a girl, and Jim Backus playing himself. How can you lose? Scary thought, this was based on a book which I might just have to check out. If curious at all about this odd little gem, here's Part 1 of 10 at Youtube with the Byrds singing the theme.

Don't Make Waves <----trailer (1967): ** 1/2 /****