ARTISTS AND MODELS

In the 1950s, America became convinced that comic books were corrupting the minds of its young people, filling their heads with violence, perversion, and dangerous fantasies. Director Frank Tashlin took one look at this national emergency and decided to make a movie about how great all that sounded. Jerry Lewis plays a comic book addict whose feverish dreams of the voluptuous Bat Lady keep his roommate Dean Martin awake at night—until those same nocturnal ravings become the inspiration for a bestselling comic strip. Add Shirley MacLaine and Dorothy Malone as a pair of suspiciously gorgeous upstairs neighbors, a few Communist spies, and a government investigation, and you've got a movie that makes a pretty convincing case for the pleasures of having your brain permanently destroyed by pop culture.

A former cartoonist himself, Tashlin transforms Cold War paranoia, sexual repression, and the American publishing industry into a delirious explosion of Technicolor lunacy, with enough outrageous sight gags, shameless innuendo, and exposed thighs to warrant an investigation by the Senate. Admired by Jean-Luc Godard and celebrated as a precursor of Pop Art, Tashlin makes the whole world look like a Looney Tunes cartoon that has recently gone through puberty. But beneath all the hysteria, ARTISTS AND MODELS is also one of the great movies about goofing off with your roommate, making art with your friends, and finding happiness in a country that would very much prefer you stop doing all three.