Review of The Family Jewels

One has nearly always gotten the impression from watching the antics of Mr. Lewis that the humor is being undermined by a fatal egotism which knows no reasonable or acceptable boundaries. 1965's The Family Jewels marks the beginning of Lewis' long decline--his wish to play seven roles, far from constituting a bravura tour de force, is simply a sign of his nauseating hubris and megalomania. What better way to dominate the proceedings and garner all the attention for oneself than to occupy seven of the eight principal roles? Also, Lewis at this stage is teetering indecisively between being a director of kiddie flicks and turning out films designed to appeal (or at least be tolerated by) a mature audience. Here he fails dismally. The kiddie humor is mostly forced; the adult content betrays Lewis' all-consuming flaws of cloying sentimentality, self-righteousness, and hackneyed plot devices. You KNOW the little girl will pick the chauffeur to be her "father," you KNOW the foppish Brit will turn out to be a pool shark, the thug will have a heart of gold, etc. I get the impression that it is at about this point Mr. Lewis should have sought long-term psychotherapy so that he could have combatted the inner demons built up during the course of his (admittedly harrowing) childhood. Even at the self-expressed risk of losing his sense of humor, this move would have been cost-effective--his film previous to this, The Disorderly Orderly, was, in many respects, his last hurrah. Sadly, The Family Jewels (note the smirkingly referential title; note the poster in which a cloyingly "cute" moppet with a soft fuzzy beret is surrounded by seven phallic Jerry Lewises) deserves its reputation as a flop. But at least it's a very interesting case study.