Cult Movie Project #19 (of 200) :: Sexing Up the War on Higher Education in Henry Levin's Where the Boys Are (1960)

If someone drew a triangle using the bubble-gum pop of Gidget (1959) and the knee-deep cheese of the Frankie and Annette Beach Party movies (1963-1966) as the base angles, and the steamy melodrama of A Summer Place (1959) as the apex angle, and then after adding a little geometry to this triangulum I think we'd find another coming of age flick set against the backdrop of sand and surf right smack in the middle: Where the Boys Are (1960).

While writing novels about people going on a journey, author Glendon Swarthout had himself quite the career in both print and on the big screen. They Came to Cordura, which focused on a ragtag group splintered off from Pershing's expedition into Mexico to hunt down Poncho Villa, for one example. Another, The Shootist, focused on the end of the journey for aging gunslinger, J.B. Books. But his most famous stories usually added a coming of age factor, with the likes of Bless the Beasts and the Children and his wildly popular Where the Boys Are; a "zany satire on the holiday pursuits of the American teenage girl" which provided the first ever insider-look into the annual Spring Break invasion of Florida.

"Why do (college kids) come to Florida?” asks Merrit Andrews in Swathout’s novel. “Physically to get a tan. Also, they are pooped. Many have mono. Psychologically, to get away. And besides, what else is there to do except go home (for Spring Break) and further foul up the parent-child relationship? Biologically, they come to Florida to check the talent. You've seen those movie travelogues of the beaches on the Pribilof Islands where the seals tool in once a year to pair off and reproduce. The beach at Lauderdale has a similar function. Not that reproduction occurs, of course, but when you attract thousands of kids to one place there is apt to be a smattering of sexual activity."

First published in 1958, MGM quickly turned the novel around and made a tidy sum off their minimum budget. However, one should point out that George Wells' screenplay only covers the first half of the book, as the second gets even zanier with the radicalization of Merrit as she tries to help smuggle guns into Cuba to help Uncle Fidel and the Fuller Brush Beard Brigade's revolution that ends in disaster.

No, the film adaptation is more concerned with another revolution. And while Where the Boys Are definitely has the wholesome late 1950's sheen on the surface (-- beginning with Connie Francis' infectious theme song), down below it makes no bones about poking the taboo of premarital S-E-X right in the eye with a very sharp stick.

From the opening scene, Merritt (Hart) is already duking it out with her uptight college professor over the elder's archaic views on sex and the dating habits of the young American female. But as the film plays out, Merritt has some major issues over the practice of what she's preaching – a far cry from the character in the novel, who lost her virginity long before she headed south. Also of note, in the novel Merrit only travels with one companion who basically disappears, leaving our protagonist to sleep with every male character we’re destined to meet in the film, gets pregnant, refuses all overtures of marriage, drops out of school and moves home to regroup.

But Wells and director Henry Levin had something different in mind, basically splitting Merrit into four different characters, giving us quartet of anxious co-eds from a winter-socked mid-western college ready for their own pilgrimage south, to where the boys outnumber the girls 3 to 1. Good odds for these gals, each with their own goal: too tall Tuggle (Prentiss) is on the hunt for a husband, preferably one she can look in the eye without bending her knees both figuratively and literally; Melanie (Mimieux) also has her sights set high, wanting to notch a couple of Ivy Leaguers on her soon to be discarded chastity belt; and while the pugnacious Angie (Francis) will settle for just about anything, Merritt isn't really sure what she's looking for, if anything at all, really, romantically speaking. Kudos to the casting director for filling those roles out, too. These seemingly mismatched puzzle pieces shouldn't fit but they do and the sense of camaraderie found with these girls is one of the film's strongest points.

And the resulting chemistry with their respective beaus-to-come is just as wonderful as the film follows them through the entire week of Spring Break, where the girls move from one bizarre locale to the next, taking in the sun, the suds and the scenery. Along the way, Tuggle falls for the lanky TV Thompson (Hutton), and Angie finds romance with Basil, a myopic bass player (Gorshin), whose experimental combo-band pays the audience to listen to them, dig? The brainy Merrit also finds her match with Ryder Smith (an eerily untanned Hamilton), as they hurl intellectual barbs at one another over the "Stud / Slut Dichotomy" to keep him at arm’s length, allowing the reluctant Merritt to ease into the relationship.

And as TV's police-band radio constantly updates us on the collegiate shenanigans erupting around them (-- a favorite being a live shark reported in a hotel swimming pool), the couples schmooze, snog, bicker over commitments, fight, break-up, make-up, snog some more, culminating in climactic calamity at a fancy dinner at a fancy seafood restaurant, where the whole gang winds up in a giant aquarium with the showcase aqua-bat, leading to a mass arrest.

To make matters worse, the overly naive Melanie has taken her best friend's Kinsey-backed advice to heart. And while the film's overall tone is comedic, it can also be downright brutal at times, with poor Melanie usually taking the brunt of it, serving as an abject lesson for the others when she's suckered to a private motel party by a couple of no-goodniks posing as Yale students. When she finally susses out the ruse and tries to leave, it's too late. What happens next is only implied, but there is no mistaking the devastating final result once the motel door slams shut.

The other girl's relationship problems pale in comparison, but they are the bumps along the way just the same. TV wants to knock-boots with Tuggle but she's determined to wait until she's married. TV takes the hint, and the specter of a long term commitment frightens him off. And knowing that once Spring Break is over means the probable end of their relationship, a conflicted Merritt's hot and cold act is wearing awfully thin with Ryder, resulting in a similar nasty spat. And then things get really twisted when everyone's relationships are saved or cemented as a direct result of Melanie's sexual assault.

And this is why I'm just as conflicted about my feelings for Where the Boys Are. On the surface, it's beautifully shot, filled with adorable characters, who we openly root for to make it work, and so immersive in the chaos of one raucous week I could almost enjoy it unconditionally -- almost. Because underneath, it's mixed message of saying sex is OK but the only one who actively engages in it winds up raped, brutalized and in the hospital is a pretty twisted way to moralize away it's all fun and games until somebody gets hurt. And, well, I kinda have a problem making all of that compute while trying to laugh at an aquarium full of goofballs.
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“I don’t want to give the impression that Where the Boys Are should be taken all that seriously. After all, any picture about the students who migrate to Spring Break in Fort Lauderdale is bound to be somewhat stupid and junky, even if it cost a lofty $2 million, was made on location, and was filmed in CinemaScope … But I do think it is above being enjoyed only on a camp level. There is much to appreciate … George Wells’ script may be about sophomores but it never becomes sophomoric like most college sex comedies; it is surprisingly intelligent, contains unexpected insights into the coed condition, smoothly blends serious moments into the comedic framework, strives for the offbeat, and features a lot of clever dialogue.”
 
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXxxxxxxxxxXXXXXXX-- Danny Peary 
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The Fine Print: Where the Boys Are was watched via a digital rental through Amazon Prime's streaming package. What's the Cult Movie Project? That's 19 down, with 181 to go.

Where the Boys Are (1960) Euterpe :: MGM / P: Joe Pasternak / D: Henry Levin / W: George Wells, Glendon Swarthout (Novel) / C: Robert Bronner / E: Fredric Steinkamp / M: George Stoll / S: Dolores Hart, Paula Prentiss, Yvette Mimieux, Connie Francis, George Hamilton, Jim Hutton, Frank Gorshin, Chill Wills

Netflix'd :: Clearing Out the Instant Que :: Gone Fishing with Howard :: Man's Favorite Sport? (1964).

It's a familiar story: Boy meets girl. He's oil. She's water. He's ... Nah. Hold up. He's the water, and she's the oil. Anyways ... He works at a sporting goods store. She works at a hunting and fishing lodge. He's an expert fish angler. She needs to wrangle an expert fishermen. He's written a best-selling book on the art of catching a fish, earning him much publicity in such circles. Thus, she, through his fudd of a boss, has entered him in her lodge's annual fishing contest, hoping for more of the same. He thinks that's a terrible idea. She thinks it's a no-brainer. He adamantly refuses. She can't understand why. He puts his foot down. She proceeds to stomp on it until he relents. And so, our hero is in the contest. But, our heroine still has to overcome one major obstacle:


Her fishing expert has never, ever fished in his life. In fact, four out of his five senses can't outright stand the cold, slimy buggers; with only hearing getting a pass. Nope. Can't stand 'em. Revolted, even. Apparently, seems our boy became an expert behind the sales counter, milking his clientele for all their secrets; a bizarre ponzi scheme of advice on lures, rods and reels. Stuck and thus, taking pity on the poor fraud (-- after using it as leverage to hammer on him until he agrees to take part, 'natch), she has one week to turn this armchair angler into an ersatz Virgil Ward.


But he's kind of a hopeless dope. And she has the mutant ability to trigger a chaos effect on those within her reach. His world is falling apart. She is the root cause of it. He's infuriated by her. She's infatuated with him. He's engaged to someone else. She couldn't care less. Now just stuff all of that into a test tube, and then sit back and watch how these elements react. Will they explode? Or will they gel into some cohesive compound of co-existence?

And so, some ten years after Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, the stage is set for Howard Hawks' triumphant comedic comeback, Man's Favorite Sport?. And the stage is set-up beautifully, right out of the gate, with some spiffy animated collage and stencil credits, courtesy of Wayne Fitzgerald:


Originally intended as a remake of the director's screwball classic, Bringing Up Baby, Hawks wanted to reunite stars Cary Grant and Katherine Hepburn for this whopper of a fish tale. Obviously, that didn't pan out. Grant was game, but felt he was far too old for co-star Paula Prentiss and gracefully bowed out. Luckily, Hawks found a suitable replacement with Rock Hudson.


Hudson had already flexed his funny-bone in several light romantic comedies, but here proved he was also a very gifted physical comedian that could- and probably should have been explored and exploited more in future projects. And that, with Prentiss' help, makes all the pants-on-fire wackiness to come go down smooth. And speaking of the adorable Prentiss ... as a friend of mine commented upon first seeing Olivia Wilde in TRON: Legacy dudded-up in her digital spandex glory, and how it made her aware of a fetish she didn't even know she had, here, when Prentiss (and co-star Perschy) show up in those skin-tight rubber diving suits, well, lets just say my personal Comics Code rumbled and shifted. Noticeably. Very noticeably...


Now, normally, I'm not a big fan of this kind of third-wheel romantic plot: a seemingly happily engaged man meeting up and falling in love with another woman. And what I object to is how the films usually make the fiance, male or female, an irredeemable ass of the highest order. To me, that's just lazy scriptwriting and makes the decision to dump one for the other so easy one can hardly believe the hero got engaged to them in the first place.


Here, it's kind of reversed. Tex Connors (Charlene Holt), the fiance, seems nice enough but barely shows up long enough to say hello and goodbye. She's so incidental, and with the coming twist that sets up the third act, her character really wasn't even necessary. So one has to ask, Why bother? On the other hand, I freely admit I felt the urge to strangle Abigale Paige (Prentiss) on several occasions as she spastically blusters her way into bowling over Roger Willoughby (Hudson). In short order, in a flurry of stuck zippers, torn dresses, and one disastrous dose of sleeping pills, Paige falls in love, breaks up Willoughby's marriage, attacks him with a circular saw when another one of her hair-brained plans goes awry (-- okay, okay: I thought I was gonna die laughing at that scene), exposes him as a fraud, gets him fired, and then has the temerity to tell him it will never work and runs away once he expresses mutual feelings for her.


Will t'woo wuv win in the end? Usually, I wouldn't give a feh or rat's ass either way, but thanks to the leads I was hooked, and I laughed, a lot, all the way to the not-so-bitter end -- though most of the throwaway bits prove funnier than the overtly staged comedy. (Loved that running gag with the boss's errant hair piece.) Hawks helps, too. And all of his usual staples are there: strong female characters, sharp and overlapping dialogue, an obsession with gadgetry, characters always moving, and using the sets to dictate his scenes instead of the other way around. Add it all up and this one's a definite keeper.


Man's Favorite Sport? (1964) Gibraltar Productions :: Laurel Productions :: Universal Pictures / P: Howard Hawks / AP: Paul Helmick / D: Howard Hawks / W: John Fenton Murray, Steve McNeil, Pat Frank (story) / C: Russell Harlan / E: Stuart Gilmore / S: Rock Hudson, Paula Prentiss, Maria Perschy, John McGiver, Charlene Holt, Norman Alden

Spring Break, 1960's Style :: A Beer-Gut Reaction to Where the Boys Are (1960)

"Gentlemen, the city of Fort Lauderdale is once again under fire from the north. We've survived it before and I reckon we're gonna survive it again. To you newly installed officers on the force, I'd like to give you a little rundown on what to expect. Expect anything. Anything and everything 'cause that's what you're gonna get. Now, Fort Lauderdale is not the only city to be invaded at this time. In Palm Springs and in Newport, from the beaches of the Mid-Atlantic to the snows of Colorado, the students of America are gathering to celebrate the rites of spring. And, if you pardon a pun, you've got that right. They're our future voters, they're citizens of our country, and they're our responsibility. But how the hell to handle them, that's a different manner. Now these kids didn't come down here to break the law. They'll break it for sure, but that's not their main objective. And remember that they are our guests. So, I want every man on the force to try his best, his level best, to try to avoid arresting anyone. I know that this going to take great will power but try. And, above all, preserve your sense of humor. Cause you're gonna need it if you want to survive."

If someone drew a triangle using the bubble-gum pop of Gidget and the knee-deep cheese of the Frankie and Annette Beach Party movies as the base angles, and the steamy melodrama of A Summer Place as the apex angle, and then after adding a little geometry to this triangulum, I think we'd find another coming of age flick set against the backdrop of sand and surf right smack in the middle: Where the Boys Are.


Set in the spring of 1960, as 20,000 college students prepare to descend upon his town, the Ft. Lauderdale police chief (Wills) briefs his men on their upcoming war against "higher education." Meanwhile, four anxious co-eds from a winter-socked mid-western college start their own pilgrimage south, to where the boys outnumber the girls 3 to 1. Good odds for these gals, each with their own goal:


Too tall Tuggle (Prentiss) is on the hunt for a husband, preferably one she can look in the eye without bending her knees both figuratively and literally. Melanie (Mimieux) also has her sights set high, wanting to notch a couple of Ivy Leaguers on her soon to be discarded chastity belt. And while the pugnacious Angie (Francis) will settle for just about anything, Merritt (Hart) isn't really sure what she's looking for, if anything at all, really, romantically speaking.


The film then follows them through the entire week of Spring Break, as the girls go from one bizarre locale to the next, taking in the sun, the suds and the scenery. Along the way, Tuggle falls for the lanky TV Thompson (Hutton), and Angie finds romance with Basil, a myopic bass player (Gorshin), whose experimental combo-band pays the audience to listen to them, dig? The brainy Merrit also finds her match with Ryder Smith (an eerily untanned Hamilton), as they hurl intellectual barbs at one another over the "Stud / Slut Dichotomy" to keep him at arms length, allowing the reluctant Merritt to ease into the relationship.


And as TV's police-band radio constantly updates us on the collegiate shenanigans erupting around them (-- a favorite being a live shark reported in a hotel swimming pool), the couples schmooze, snog, bicker over commitments, fight, break up, make up, snog some more, culminating in climactic calamity at a fancy dinner at a fancy seafood restaurant, where the whole gang winds up in a giant aquarium with the showcase aquabat.

___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

"Why do they (college kids) come to Florida? Physically to get a tan. Also, they are pooped. Many have mono. Psychologically, to get away. And besides, what else is there to do except go home (for spring break) and further foul up the parent-child relationship? Biologically, they come to Florida to check the talent. You've seen those movie travelogues of the beaches on the Pribilof Islands where the seals tool in once a year to pair off and reproduce. The beach at Lauderdale has a similar function. Not that reproduction occurs, of course, but when you attract thousands of kids to one place there is apt to be a smattering of sexual activity."

-- Merrit Andrewsxxxxxx
Where the Boys / Glendon Swarthoutxxxxxx

___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

Author Glendon Swarthout had a steady career writing novels about people going on a journey. They Came to Cordura focused on Pershing's expedition into Mexico to hunt down Poncho Villa, for one example. Another, The Shootist, focused on the end of the journey for aging gunslinger, J.B. Books. But his most famous stories usually added a coming of age factor, with the likes of Bless the Beasts and the Children and his wildly popular Where the Boys Are, a "zany satire on the holiday pursuits of the American teenage girl," which provided the first ever insider look into the annual Spring Break invasion of Florida.


All those books I've mentioned were adapted to the big screen, too, obviously. First published in 1960, MGM quickly turned it around and made a tidy sum off their tiny budget. However, one should point out that George Wells' screenplay only covers the first half of the book, as the second gets even zanier with the radicalization of the group as they raise money to buy guns, with every intention to smuggle them into Cuba to help Uncle Fidel and the Fuller Brush Beard Brigade's revolution.

No, the film adaptation is more concerned with another revolution. And while Where the Boys Are definitely has the wholesome 1950's sheen on the surface (-- beginning with Francis' infectious theme song), down below it makes no bones about poking the taboo of premarital S-E-X right in the eye with a very sharp stick.

From the opening scene, Merritt is duking it out with her college professor over the elder's archaic views of sex and the dating habits of the young American female. But as the film plays out, Merritt has some major issues over the practice of what she's preaching. To make matters worse, the overly naive Melanie has taken her friend's Kinsey-backed advice to heart. And while the film's overall tone is comedic, it can also be downright brutal at times, with poor Melanie usually taking the brunt of it, serving as an abject lesson for the others when she's suckered to a private motel party by a couple of no-goodniks posing as Yale students. When she finally susses out the ruse and tries to leave, it's too late. What happens next is only implied, but there is no mistaking the devastating final result once the hotel door slams shut.


The other girl's relationship problems pale in comparison, but they are the bumps along the way just the same. TV wants to knock-boots with Tuggle but she's determined to wait until she's married. TV takes the hint, and the specter of a long term commitment frightens him off. And knowing that once Spring Break is over means the probable end of their relationship, a conflicted Merritt's hot and cold act is wearing awfully thin with Ryder, resulting in a similar nasty spat. And then things get really twisted when everyone's relationships are saved or cemented as a direct result of Melanie's sexual assault.


Which is why I'm just as conflicted about my feelings for Where the Boys Are. On the surface, I could almost enjoy it unconditionally -- almost. Because underneath, it's mixed message of saying sex is OK but the only one who actively engages in it winds up raped, brutalized and in the hospital is a pretty twisted way to moralize away it's all fun and games until somebody gets hurt. And, well, I kinda have a problem making all of that compute while trying to laugh at an aquarium full of goofballs.


Where the Boys Are (1960) Euterpe~MGM / P: Joe Pasternak / D: Henry Levin / W: George Wells, Glendon Swarthout (Novel) / C: Robert Bronner / E: Fredric Steinkamp / S: Dolores Hart, Paula Prentiss, Yvette Mimieux, Connie Francis, George Hamilton, Jim Hutton, Frank Gorshin, Chill Wills