The Grass Is Greener (1960) - film review

Unable to keep themselves in the manner to which their noble ancestors had grown accustomed, Victor and Hilary Rhyall are forced to open the doors of their stately home to the fee-paying general public, whilst running a mushroom business on the side.    One day, a brash American named Charles Delacro strays from the guided tour and talks his way into Hilary’s living room.  He wastes no time working his oily charms on her – which is appropriate, given that he is an oil tycoon.  Despite her better judgement, Hilary allows herself to be whisked off her feet by the stranger, and the next time she is in London she cannot resist starting an affair with him.  Victor quickly realises what is going on and contrives an elaborate plan to win back his wife...

Stanley Donen, the man who directed such enduring classics as Singin’ in the Rain (1952) and Funny Face (1957), somehow failed to work his magic on this adaptation of a popular West End play by Hugh Williams and Margaret Vyner.  That he manages to do this with a cast that included four of the biggest names in Hollywood is all the more incredible.  Anyone who can sit through this unedifying heap of drawing room dross without falling asleep deserves a medal of some kind, or at the very least a regular prescription of sleeping tablets.

Limper than a lettuce that has been left out in the sun too long, The Grass Is Greener is a plodding talkathon which feels like one of those drawn-out jokes which sends the listener into comatose oblivion way before the punch-line is reached.  The fault lies not in the performances, which are beyond reproach, but in the excessive verbosity of the screenplay and the totally uninteresting way in which the film is staged, shot and edited.  If the combined talent of Grant, Kerr, Mitchum and Simmons cannot save this film, just think how much worse it could have been with a less distinguished cast.

© filmsdefrance.com 2009

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