There are some funny scenes, like the Mom alone in her sons' apartment. But this is one of those films that even those of us men who aren't wild feminists are embarrassed to watch. That whole ring-a- ding-ding Sinatra cool where his dames are little more than sexual toys is not hip or appealing -- it's just creepy.
But the thing that I hate most about this movie -- and some of the movies from that era -- is how we're supposed to be completely oblivious to the actors' real ages. Sinatra was more than old enough to be his kid brother's father -- hell, in another few years, he could have been his grandfather. We're supposed to ignore that because he's Frankie -- just like we're supposed to ignore age gaps in Fred Astaire movies of the Fifties, or Bogart and Hepburn in Sabrina.
I love the feel of Fifties/Sixties New York movies, like Breakfast at Tiffany's, where you can see the unrealized potential of the women, some of whom seem more confident in their place than their current counterparts. But this movie isn't one of them.
But the thing that I hate most about this movie -- and some of the movies from that era -- is how we're supposed to be completely oblivious to the actors' real ages. Sinatra was more than old enough to be his kid brother's father -- hell, in another few years, he could have been his grandfather. We're supposed to ignore that because he's Frankie -- just like we're supposed to ignore age gaps in Fred Astaire movies of the Fifties, or Bogart and Hepburn in Sabrina.
I love the feel of Fifties/Sixties New York movies, like Breakfast at Tiffany's, where you can see the unrealized potential of the women, some of whom seem more confident in their place than their current counterparts. But this movie isn't one of them.