A New Kind of Love (1963)

Purely Joyful Movie!

Pretty Good

It’s sentimental, ridiculously long and only occasionally funny

It is an exhilarating, distressing, funny and profound film, with one of the more memorable film scores in years,

Writer/director Shavelson treads Billy Wilder territory with this Paris-set romantic comedy; nevertheless, he’s more successful penning witty dialogue (making him something of an underrated figure in this genre) than concocting funny situations (which, in spite – or because – of their satirical/fanciful bent come across as heavy-handed most of the time).Still, it was refreshing to watch the Newmans letting their hair down (incidentally, the couple’s previous stint in the French capital – in Paris BLUES [1961], with which I actually preceded this viewing – had been of a more serious nature): Joanne Woodward, especially, demonstrated a lighter side which has rarely been exploited (and earned a Golden Globe nod in the process)…though she seemed much more at ease playing the tomboyish fashion designer than the tale-spinning high-class ‘broad’.At 110 minutes, the film eventually wears thin – but the colorful scenery, a nice title tune (sung by Frank Sinatra, no less) and the supporting cast (including Thelma Ritter, George Tobias and Marvin Kaplan, not to mention a fun guest appearance by Maurice Chevalier as himself) ensure that a generally pleasant (albeit forgettable) time is had by all. For what it’s worth, looking up the film in a book my father has on Newman (written by Michael Kerbel), it’s stated that A NEW KIND OF LOVE was “Newman’s worst film” and his career nadir; while that might be too harsh a judgment, I have to say that I am quite fond of Newman’s previous and subsequent comic efforts – respectively Leo McCarey’s RALLY ‘ROUND THE FLAG, BOYS! (1958) and J. Lee Thompson’s star-studded WHAT A WAY TO GO! (1964) – both of which I’ve just acquired following the actor’s demise…

I'm shocked to see all of the negative reviews for this movie.Newman was in his prime, Woodward was sexy and funny, the supporting cast was beyond compare.The split screen of the fashion show and burlesque show remains a classic.This is good ole fashioned G rated 60's sex farce in the same vein as all those Doris Day - Rock Hudson/James Garner/Cary Grant/Rod Taylor films.Roamance without getting your hair mussed.One of my favorite comedies.I'm not sure what the other reviewers were expecting from this.True, Newman and Woodward have been in some dramatic classics, but that shouldn't deny them the right to a bit of fluff and fun, LIGHTEN UP !The story goes that Woodward had to talk Newman into making this and supposedly he never liked it but you wouldn't know that from his performance."There will be no further bulletins"9 out of 10 - never fails to cheer me up.

The first five minutes were clever and funny, giving me high hopes, but it went downhill after that--down a very steep hill. Joanne Woodward's wardrobe was atrocious, even when she was supposed to have dolled up! Thelma Ritter had nothing to do but whine and certainly deserved better. Woodward, Newman, Ritter--so much talent given so little to work with! The whole sequence with Maurice Chevalier and the parade in the streets made me feel embarrassed for the writers and for Chevalier. The attitude toward women (marriage is what every woman really wants) was very annoying, but given the era, I could have overlooked that if there had been something entertaining somewhere in the move. Don't waste your time.

That quote, uttered by a tearful Joanne Woodward, is the perfect summation of this frothy sex comedy: It gives us a brief taste of something delicious before breaking off and leaving us cold and disappointed. Let's start at the beginning. Paul Newman is at his coolest as a slick swinger, and Joanne Woodward is appealing as the unkempt, androgynous fashion consultant everyone keeps mistaking for a man. There's a terrific opening, followed by some snappy montages and split screens. But then, about halfway through, the fun's over and the frustration begins. Suddenly everything is presented before the camera in a very bland manner as the plot becomes a ponderous romantic chase into nothingness. The characters begin spouting cliches about love and marriage. And to top it off, the film pulls that awful hooker-housewife double standard still widely in use today: If a man enjoys sex he's a playboy, if a woman enjoys sex she's a tramp. The whole thing becomes so obtrusive and heavy handed that not even the charm of Paul, Joanne, and the bubbly Eva Gabor can save it. Despite being set in red hot, exquisitely photographed Paris, A New Kind of Love's traditional, preachy, and ultimately boring sensibilities would be more at home in suburban Iowa.