That Touch of Mink: Relentlessly Retro Romance
By Amy Rambow
The sexual-revolution did not burst fully-formed from the prefeminist fifties, not even when the US Food and Drug Administration approved the birth control pill as we know it (albeit in dangerously high doses) in 1960. Morals and mores move more like glaciers than avalanches. Delbert Mann's Oscar-nominated romantic comedy That Touch of Mink (1962) slips and slides through that shifting sexual terrain with steady smiles and flawless acting, but little comprehension that its simple alternatives had already begun to fracture and multiply for its audience.
Starring Doris Day at the height of her popularity, and reinvigorating Cary Grant's career, That Touch of Mink grinds in Day's reputation for stubborn innocents. Her poor small-town virgin, Cathy Timberlake, faces not only Grant's rich big-city playboy, Philip Shayne, but inappropriate attentions from her own boss, her roommate's boss, and an astonishing little sleazeball delightfully played by John Astin (best known as Gomez on The Addams Family). Cathy's environment is a constant barrage of dire sexual harassment by twenty-first century standards, but the advice she receives on navigating it is to dress dowdily and not brush her hair -- the ancient canard that it's somehow her responsibility that these men have no self-control.
The Cinderella plot naturally, if mind-bogglingly, resembles Pretty Woman (1990). Bachelor tycoon secures temporary companion, hilarity ensues, they live happily ever after. The difference, of course, is sex. When playboy Philip propositions good-girl Cathy, she thinks he's proposing. When she fully grasps his expectation, she breaks out in hallucinations and hives, positively allergic to what she believes people will think of her if she has sex outside marriage. A subplot about a home for unwed mothers -- or "unfortunate girls," as the movie says is the polite term -- repeatedly raises pregnancy as an unavoidable consequence of sex. Today, of course, the social stigma of premarital sex has vanished (and even reversed: try to recall the last time you saw an adult virgin besides Steve Carell's on the big screen) and contraceptives are readily available. So would that mean Cathy should have sex if she lived now? Should the world of the aspiring matron succumb to that of the eternal playboy? Having raised no ethical, religious, health, psychological or even sentimental concerns alongside those two practical qualms, the movie would seem disarmed by history, which is disappointing. That Touch of Mink comes tantalizingly close to worries with which individuals will always wrestle, but finally taps out as an amusing artifact of a baffling bygone age. We live now in the world of the playboy, for better or for worse.
Still, the movie boasts some timeless wisdom. No one goes from schoolgirl to sex goddess in one date, or even with the acquisition of a ring. That absurd notion is jauntily mocked and gently dismantled. And though such a thing never happened to the breezy bachelor, on his wedding night he breaks out in hives with worry over what his new wife will think of him. Satisfying as comedic reversal and gender justice, this hint that marriage reveals another emotional dimension in sex also undercuts his previous lifestyle, suggesting the launch of a greater adventure. That Touch of Mink is classic Day and Grant, archetypal romantic comedy, and just a touch off from the march of time.
Posted by Amy Rambow at December 7, 2006 6:25 PM
Comments
Thanks for reminding us of the potential pitfalls of small or intentional communities. Lars von Trier's discomfiting, small-scale Dogville does something quite similar, and is worth a viewing.
Posted by: Paul M. at November 17, 2006 9:04 AM
Could you elaborate on the idea that the stabbing committed by the character with a profound intellectual disability constitutes a sin? The culpability of those with cognitive limitations has obviously remained a big issue in American legal circles for some years now.
Posted by: Paul M. at November 17, 2006 9:12 AM
At a very early age, my mother stressed the importance of family and community. I was taught that "blood is thicker than water" and that no matter what happens in life, I should always support my family/community. In 5th grade, my grandmother died and my world seemed as if it was completely ruined. I can relate very well to the lies and untruthfulness of the elders in the Village because many of family members were similar to them. After her death, many members of my family that I thought I could trust begin to tell lies, so that they could benefit and obtain more from my grandmother's estate. During this time, the relationships and bonds between my family were tested and I begin to wonder if forgiveness and love was going to solve the problems of my family. However, over time, my family worked out their situation. Even though this was not an easy task to accomplish, my family/community understood the importance of forgiveness and love. I understand that people can not take up for someone when they are in the wrong, although I believe that a community should stick together and encourage the person to either tell the truth or try to get them on the right track. The elder in the Village did not want Ivy to go into the woods, but he knew that she was the only one in the village that had the determination and actual will power to complete the task. Communities must learn to gain that determination that Ivy possessed, stick together, forgive, and most importantly, love.
Posted by: Hameka Canady at November 25, 2006 12:02 AM