S.O.B. (1981)

I never quite figure out Blake Edwards as a filmmaker. He had a side that was as sophisticated and poignant as it was funny. Think "The Party" or the first Pink Panther, the other side was pure commercialism without any regard for its audience. SOB is a blatant example of that. Here he even uses his characters to badmouth "Last Tango In Paris" - The premise is terrific for a biting Hollywood satire but a premise is just a premise. He has to resort to farting during a sequence that should have been a comedy showstopper. Hey he got his wife to go topless and his wife was Julie Andrews - he must have heard cash registers in his mind like Richard Mulligan's character when he decides to put his wife in a porno=erotic something or other to make zillions of dollars. Richard Mulligan plays his suicidal director like he was in a Mack Sennett routine. Outrageous and I'm tempted to say, unforgivable. I must also confess that made me uncomfortable to see William Holden in the middle of it all. Shelley Winter, Robert Preston, Stuart Margolin, Larry Hagman, Robert Vaughn even a glimpse of the very young Rossana Archette keeps the film going. Loretta Swit - of MASH fame - plays a gossip columnist in such a way that may very well explain why she didn't have much of a film career. So, even if I'm aware I've spent a couple of hours with a bunch of characters I hope I never meet in real life, SOB deserves to be seen if only because it is a piece of film history solidly set on its day.