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Let’s Make Love-1960

Director George Cukor

Starring Marilyn Monroe, Yves Montand, Frankie Vaughn

Scott’s Review #1,520

Reviewed February 22, 2026

Grade: C+

Let’s Make Love (1960) is a mediocre musical comedy starring Marilyn Monroe in one of her last film roles. It would be her final musical film performance before she died in 1962.

Ironically, the iconic star plays a strong character, too frequently known for playing dimwits or money-hungry women. While refreshing, her role is almost a supporting turn for the star, playing a love interest to an uninteresting character portrayed by Yves Montand.

A very wealthy businessman, Jean-Marc Clement (Montand), has all the material possessions money can buy, but he has no love life. He seeks someone who loves him for who he is, not for his fortune.

One day, Clement learns that he is the subject of a satirical theater production and visits the set during a rehearsal. Unrecognized, the show’s unwitting producers offer him the part as himself, and he takes the gig to be close to the gorgeous yet down-to-earth actress Amanda Dell (Monroe).

This leads to a series of hijinks, misunderstandings, and, finally, an unfulfilling, predictable conclusion.

Monroe is terrific, of course, playing a character rich with honesty, integrity, and support for her theatre company. Amanda is not looking for a sugar daddy or a meal ticket and is content to while away the days doing what she loves on stage.

The film’s highlights occur when Monroe performs in showy outfits sparkling with glitter and color, oozing with sex appeal. Visually, she does not look as good as she did five years prior, appearing washed out and tired, but this can be attributed to knowing the personal turmoil she was in.

Numbers like the Cole Porter song “My Heart Belongs to Daddy,” and the title track, “Let’s Make Love,” are moderately memorable and, because Monroe performs them, are worth hearing.

It’s also cool to see exterior shots of New York City in the early 1960s grace the screen, and the backdrop of a low-key theatre is appealing.

I couldn’t help but find Clement’s character harshly unlikable and incapable of sympathy. We are asked to root for a rich man who wants a loving woman but doesn’t treat others very well.

When female staff who take dictation are called into his office, he isn’t particularly warm to them. His assistant, Alexander Kaufman, played by Tony Randall in a tepid performance, caters to Clement’s every whim but isn’t treated kindly in return.

In fact, the irritation is increased because the character of Tony Danton, Amanda’s boozy co-star, is very likable and a perfect match for Amanda.

Why the writers decided Clement and Amanda were better suited for each other is a mystery we’ll probably never figure out.

The biggest mistake is the lack of chemistry between Clement and Amanda, who have none. On the other hand, in the few scenes they share, Tony and Amanda have a tremendous connection.

What a missed opportunity.

Besides the main storyline, there is a silly side story about financing the production and a pissing match over who controls the theatre and its show. This was terribly unnecessary and would have been better if Amanda had been given her own side story, or better yet, a triangle between Amanda/Clement/Tony.

Troubles surrounded the production with various starts and stops, restarts, and proposed reshoots. This affects the film’s look and feel, and it’s apparent that the pacing is terribly uneven.

Even the incorporation of big stars like Milton Berle and cameos by Gene Kelly and Bing Crosby does nothing for the film.

It’s hard to believe that, aside from the outfits and musical numbers, George Cukor directed the film, since he would direct the sensational My Fair Lady in 1964.

Since I adore Marilyn Monroe, I desperately wanted to like Let’s Make Love (1960), but didn’t. The misplaced characters, the lukewarm pacing, and missed opportunities for a better story led to boredom and disappointment.

Oscar Nominations: Best Original Score

On a Clear Day You Can See Forever-1970

Director Vincente Minnelli

Starring Barbra Streisand, Yves Montand

Scott’s Review #921

Reviewed July 19, 2019

Grade: B+

On a Clear Day You Can See Forever (1970) is a very obscure film that deserves better than to be relegated to the unknown.

Released during a time when the Hollywood musical had lost its luster, it feels like a last-gasp effort to keep the genre alive, serving as a star vehicle for Barbra Streisand.

The film suffers from severe editing problems with a large portion being cut, so much so that the result is a choppy and disjointed feel, tough to follow as is, but left untouched, the film could have been a creative masterpiece.

In a particularly convoluted plot that spans two time periods, chain-smoking New Yorker Daisy Gamble (Streisand) is convinced by her uptight fiancé Warren (Larry Blyden) to attend a class taught by Marc Cabot (Yves Montand), a psychiatrist.

When Cabot accidentally hypnotizes her, he realizes she speaks in the voice of an early-nineteenth-century woman named Melinda, and he becomes obsessed with her as she teeters between two existences.

The screenplay was written by Alan Jay Lerner and adapted from his book for the 1965 stage production.

Film director Vincente Minnelli fuses fantasy with a musical to create an extremely left-of-center experimental piece; this is not your standard 1950s or 1960s MGM experience with merry or clap-along tunes.

Some of the more memorable numbers include “On a Clear Day,” a reprise at the end of the film, “He Isn’t You,” and “Love with All the Trimmings.”

Casting Streisand is a monumental choice as she carries the film on her shoulders. Belting out numbers is the singer-turned-actress’s forte, and she never disappoints.

She is fascinating to watch in the neurotic role as she smokes and prances around, usually in a tizzy or a state of peril (self-induced).

The performance stands out as a different style from many of her other films, and she has never portrayed a livelier character. Streisand overcomes a few challenges of the film, winning in spades.

She shares little to no chemistry with co-star Montand, who is not only too old for her but also not the greatest actor. If the film’s intent, which I suspect, was to make the pair the main draw, then this failed.

Streisand’s chemistry with John Richardson, who plays Sir Robert Tentrees to her Melinda in the other time period, excites her. The duo smolders with passion, but sadly, most of the nineteenth-century scenes are sacrificed, leaving most of it a jumbled mess.

Much more interesting would have been to leave the entire film intact.

An oddity is Jack Nicholson’s almost nonexistent role as Tad Pringle, a mostly non-described brother of Daisy’s. Is he also her neighbor?

In 1970, Nicholson was only on the cusp of super-stardom, and it is questionable whether some of his parts were left on the cutting-room floor, but the limited character is strange and unsatisfying. In another role, there would have been some possibility of romantic entanglement.

Throughout the film, I wondered how On a Clear Day You Can See Forever might have worked with someone other than Streisand in the roles.

I kept ruminating on how good Liza Minnelli might have been in the roles, given her non-classic looks (like Streisand) and bombastic voice. Her high-drama flair and capable New York style would have made the results enjoyable, but Streisand hits it out of the park.

On a Clear Day You Can See Forever (1970) is a brave attempt at something fantastical, brimming with potential, but ultimately feels cluttered and messy.

With a delicious leading lady whom the camera adores and enough creative sets and rigorous energy to keep one guessing, the film stumbles with many problems and leaves viewers incomplete.