Not Your Mother’s Pillow Talk

Writing about Pillow Talk for a sea of movie writers and readers is like telling a chicken how to lay eggs. I doubt I would have facts, traviata or stories to tell about this classic film that haven’t been offered already. But I do want to talk about it, primarily because it was my mother’s favorite movie and I heard about it most of my life.

My mother was fascinated with film stars, and she had a drawer full of signed pictures of the stars, some of which are in tatters, because she got them as a child and did not save them as museum pieces, but as beloved friends. One of her favorite actors was Rock Hudson and another was Doris Day. She talked about Pillow Talk in particular A LOT. Often, usually in terms of how this country would be so much better if we could just go back to the 50’s.

What you don’t know about my mother–oh, this is my mom–isn’t she beautiful? This
picture was taken in 1963–prior to assassination of John F. Kennedy and the U.S. deploying troops to Vietnam–and she looks a little like Shirley MacLaine to me.

I am fairly certain that is my little arm crawling in the lawn. My mother was in love with the 1950’s. The war was over, the states were thriving, if not everywhere, at least in appearance, and particularly to military families like ours. We were never rich. But we were free. Barbecues were all the rage. If one looked only at the surface,  or the covers of magazines, they might think the only food anyone ate was Spam and Jello. There was a lot of this, and this, and this, at least in my neighborhood:

If it sounds as if I am making fun of her, I am not. I am just reminiscing. But, there was a time after I grew up that I was not taking her seriously. Namely, this was due to what I perceived was her Pollyanna-ish view of the world of 1959.

She wasn’t perfect. She didn’t always go to church despite her 12 years of Catholic school. She was not always on her knees praying, despite her devout mother and grandmother. And life wasn’t perfect growing up either. Grandpa was an alcoholic. He lived hard and he was not always home. She was an only child and she was loved and doted on by her mother. When things were hard, she, my mother, tended to coat them with a candy coating. Again, I won’t mock her. But my own gray, pessimistic attitude sometimes made hers unbearable. Did she really think that no one had sex outside of marriage in the 1950’s? This is what I thought that she was telling me.

And sometimes, often, let me tell you–her optimistic spirit gave me hope. As I grew up some, and listened, and gave her a chance, she made me laugh, often. And now, when I find reasons to laugh, it helps the pain. It laughs it away. It doesn’t change the way things are though, and I do think sometimes she wanted to shut off that reality.

Enter Pillow Talk, and other such bright films. Now she couldn’t do what I do, turn on a DVD and listen to a black and white movie while I houseclean. Keep the background gray and even, the music, even the shooting all staying at reasonable sound levels. Shooting? Shooting in Pillow Talk? Ah, I have digressed.This is the pink and blue, poofy world that my mom happily subscribed to.

I hope you won’t be offended that I am portraying this, and other such movies as ‘escapism’. I don’t mean that in a broad term, but in terms of my home and my folks, that is exactly what it was. And maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing, to want to drift off on a satin pillow and daydream for a while. After all, who could afford to do that in 1944? There was too much to be done to keep the country rolling. To keep the world from tumbling off its axis entirely.

So I found Pillow Talk at my library, popped some popcorn, and sat down to an afternoon that Mom would approve of. I couldn’t help but smile and look upwards and think of her that day. Okay, Mom, let’s see what was so great about this movie you watched over and over and over.

And oh, it was marvelous. So well cast. Thelma Ritter is a dream in everything. She and Tony Randall both make the dialogue pop.

Thelma Ritter as Alma: If there’s anything worse than a woman living alone, it’s a woman saying she likes it.
and later:
Alma: If you have to ask, you’re missing it!

Tony Randall as Jonathan Forbes: Brad, she is the sweetest, she is the loveliest, she is the most talented woman I have ever met.
Rock Hudson as Brad: That’s what you said when you married that stripper.
Jonathan: She wasn’t a stripper. She was an exotic dancer — with trained doves.

The apartments! The gowns! The music! All fun and bright and lovely. I really did enjoy this movie, though not as a big thinking movie, it was still fun.`

But Mom–can you hear me Mom, where you are? This movie was anything but innocent and sex-free. Didn’t you say that those movies were superior because there was no sex in them? I can see the censors now, scrambling.

“Did you hear that? Can they say that on the screen?”
“Yep, they can, it is 1959.”

So was she pulling one over on me, or did she really not see it? My mom was a lovely, optimistic woman with a great sense of humour. But when it came to television and movies, she saw what she wanted to see. Romance meant kissing and her head on his shoulder. That’s what it meant in high school, and that’s how she preferred to look at it years and four children later. Subtleties, innuendo, show a little leg, but don’t show or tell it all. Let all that stay behind closed doors. I can respect that.

Pillow Talk is slick and fuzzy, and like most fuzzy memories, there is more to see than can be seen. The dialogue is funny, so funny, and though not always believable, it is fun to go along for the ride for the duration. But don’t think it will come to its logical conclusion. Expect to be eating popcorn when the lights fade to black.

Considering the last month, and watching people with their pop-up concerts online, comedy stand-ups from their basements, and a very interesting trend going around, with folks putting their Christmas trees and lights back up, even though it is a week before Easter. We all want to escape sometimes, in one way or another. A good friend has been binge-watching Live PD and NCIS since our isolation and shut-downs started.

For my mother, that escape meant going back to high school prom and the drive-in movies. Dances and elopements and dark corner whispering instead of flat out sex and violence. That was what she needed and wanted her world to look like. Women in peignoirs and  pink fuzzy mule slippers that kissed goodnight at the door and went to bed alone.

Oh, and from where I’m sitting, it’s not a romance, it is a comedy! Enjoy this scene, watching Thelma Ritter drink Rock Hudson under the table. Funny!

Thanks for letting me wax nostalgic about my mother who’s been gone since the 90’s and old movies that make me feel like I am sitting in the living room with her once more. One more share–Doris Day on her balcony on her birthday. We lost her last year at the age of 97, and this moment was truly lovely, calling the serenaders her ‘friends’. A beautiful lady, inside and out.

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This post is part of the Fourth annual Doris Day Blogathon hosted by Love Letters to Old Hollywood.