The Iron Petticoat

Until ironically both stars of The Iron Petticoat died within a month of each other in 2003, this film may have had until June 29 of that year of holding the record for having its two co-stars survive the longest. That was the day Katharine Hepburn died and Bob Hope died on July 27 and between them they had 196 years on earth. That's the only distinction The Iron Petticoat has.

Ben Hecht got on Bob Hope's case for allowing his gag writers to intrude in on his screenplay and story. Personally I can't believe they could have loused it up as bad as what his idea originally was. Katharine Hepburn is a female Russian jet ace who defects from the Soviet Union, not because of any disagreement with Communism, but because she was passed over for promotion in the Russian Air Force.

But the Americans still think they can convert her for propaganda purposes and who do they assign to the task? Not real life American air war hero James Stewart, but Bob Hope who plays the jet pilot who forced Kate's jet down. Who here really believes Bob Hope as a war hero pilot?

It's obvious Hope did interfere and it probably cost Hepburn some of her scenes, but the premise was so ridiculous I can understand why he thought the film needed help. As for Hepburn she throws on an accent that might be described as Maria Ouspenskaya on crystal meth.

Even such fine players as James Robertson Justice as the KGB man assigned to kidnap Hepburn back are wasted here.

The Iron Petticoat was a terrible idea made even worse in the execution. No wonder it's never shown in revivals of either Hope or Hepburn.

The late Hepburn and Hope were an odd coupling, but they did manage to generate a certain amount of chemistry.

Hepburn's interpretation of a Russian aviatrix is nothing more than a caricature, and the script presents a view of Russia and its people in line with the anti-Soviet sentiments of the McCarthy fifties. However, Kate does look great in her military uniform, and she is also woman enough to make you believe that Hope would fall for her. There was always something about the way Hepburn looked at a man that led you to believe he was in for a truly joyous experience.

This isn't a great film, but it passes the time.

I was born too late to appreciate Bob Hope, since his talent showed mostly in presenting and stand-up. He has mostly left behind a less-than-stellar movie career, as evidenced by his highest rated movie (in IMDb) being The Muppet Movie, and even that's not nearly high enough to be in the Top 250. I enjoyed his Fancy Pants, but I have to say that was largely due to the presence of Lucille Ball.

I am, however, a mad fan of Katharine Hepburn and eagerly devour all of her movies. But great as she is, she still has some clunkers in her repertoire, and unfortunately this is one of them.

Egads, the Russian accent. I think that once she realized how bad it sounded (not for lack of trying), she just went all out to ham up the performance. There's chemistry between the two legends that are Hepburn and Hope, but the script lets them down, and the lines mostly fall flat. It doesn't even venture into camp, in which the movie's worth a watch just because you want to see Hepburn play Chinese (Dragon Seed) or a mountain girl (Spitfire). I would pretty much only recommend this for die-hard Hope or Hepburn enthusiasts (like me).

Bland cold war comedy was a rare British effort for Hope who was teamed for the first (and last) time with Hepburn. Hope was coming off his best film ever (THE SEVEN LITTLE FOYS) so he was in his prime as an actor, but poor dialogue and little happening on screen gave him and his co-star little to do except react to each other. These two pros acted very well together but too fews laughs and no big ones (I begged for even the lamest of pratfalls) made for a murky and unrewarding effort. For die-hard fans of the stars only.

What was Hepburn thinking? This is a really poor film that goes nowhere and feels like it takes a long time doing it. Bob Hope relies, as ever, on the knowing side-glances but hasn't anything funny to say to justify them, whilst Hepburn spends the whole film doing a dreadful Russian accent to no purpose other than to annoy. It's a clumsy, stereotyped and frankly disturbing film that says much about the paranoia of the times. For the film's publicity to rave about the chemistry between Hepburn and Hope is laughable....their only chemistry is of the kind that brews sleeping potions.

Is there anything to salvage 87 minutes that feels like 200? Absolutely, the great Richard Wattis makes an appearance just as you are reaching for the remote. It's only a brief moment as he tries to sell sexy under-ware to Hepburn, but it's an oasis worth waiting for.

Bottom line....dreadful nonsense that never raises a smile