4 July 2019 | Hecate-3
My Friend Irma is one of the worst movies I've ever seen. Diana Lynn, the beautiful lead actress, plays such a gold-digging tart, I was rooting for her to get her comeuppance not the predictable "twist" of her falling in lurve with the guy who was broke. He falls in lurve with her too, and this grand romance kindles in less than a day, even though he spends the entirety of their acquaintance wrecking her plans albeit unintentionally while she spends the entirety of their acquaintance being unkind to him. Irma, played by Marie Wilson, was so stupid that it was impossible to have any sympathy for the troubles she brought on herself and everyone around her by trying to "help". She is one of those characters who truly would have done better for the people around her if she had done nothing whatsoever. One can only pray that such an imbecilic creature is sterile. I shudder to think what she would do with children in her care. Her slimy boyfriend was so appallingly selfish I spent the whole movie wishing I could watch him being beaten to a pulp. The good-looking rich man was far too easily taken in for a man who can manage to keep two nickels together for more than five minutes. And Jerry Lewis spent the entire movie talking in a falsetto voice that's ten times worse than fingernails on a chalkboard. Apparently, Lewis mistook being as irritating as humanly possible for humor. He makes every single one of his scenes constant, cringing, unrelieved agony. I thought this guy was supposed to be a famous comedian. I thought he was supposed to have talent. When people said he killed his audiences, they neglected to mention that the audiences died of aneurysms brought on by the stress of unrelenting idiocy delivered in an excruciatingly noxious voice. Did moviemakers mistake rigor mortis grimaces in their audience for grins of delight? That Jerry Lewis was allowed to make even one movie is astonishing; that he was brought back for another one makes me wonder just how good he was at dispensing sexual favors to studio moguls.
The only bright spots at all in the film are Dean Martin singing, so do yourself a favor and purchase one of his albums rather than forcing yourself to sit through this torturous mess. If I could give this movie negative stars, I would. It's such a bad movie that it will ruin your enjoyment of the last three movies you watched and the next three that you watch.