Rating summary

Movie		3.0
Video		3.0
Audio		3.5
Extras		0.0
Overall		3.0

Who's Minding the Store? Blu-ray Movie Review

Jerry vs. Endora.

Reviewed by Jeffrey Kauffman March 31, 2012

A whole generation grew up knowing Agnes Moorehead only as Endora, the mother-in-law from hell on Bewitched. Moorehead’s trenchant delivery and repeated pronunciations of son-in-law Darrin’s name are indelibly imprinted on countless Baby Boomer minds, so much so that when Moorehead is seen in any number of her notable film appearances, there can be a certain disconnect, as if Frank DeVol’s catchy Bewitched theme music should be playing. Of course Moorehead had a long and remarkable screen career before she migrated to the small screen, having made her film debut in no less a film than Orson Welles’ Citizen Kane. Watching her restrained, tamped down performance as the young Charles Foster Kane’s mother is a fantastic glimpse into just how versatile Moorehead was, especially when compared to her outrageous turn as Endora. Like many stars who had been working since the Golden Age in Hollywood, Moorehead found her film opportunities diminishing in the late fifties and early sixties, and she, like many others, began working in television (including in one of the best remembered Twilight Zone episodes of all time, “The Invaders”), ultimately leading to her Emmy winning turn as Endora in Bewitched. But just a couple of years before Moorehead settled down into regular sitcom work, she essayed a sort of Endora-lite performance as the haughty, uptight mother of a gorgeous woman with a nerdish suitor. Sound familiar? There aren’t any witches in Who’s Minding the Store?, but as with many of Jerry Lewis’ early sixties efforts with writer-director Frank Tashlin, the film often plays like a slightly gussied up sitcom itself. Lewis once again is the bumbling but well meaning hero, in this case one Norman Phiffier, who is in love with the pulchritudinous Barbara Tuttle (Jill St. John). Barbara is of course the daughter of imperious Mrs. Tuttle (Moorehead), and the Tuttles are owners of a fabulously successful department store. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that Norman will soon be working at the store, mayhem (and hopefully hilarity) will ensue, and ultimately Norman and Barbara will toddle off to their own happily ever after.

It must be understood that in Jerry Lewis’ heyday as a solo performer, roughly from the late fifties to the mid sixties, he turned out a series of films that were enormously popular at the time, but which play to contemporary eyes more like ninety minute sitcom episodes. And in fact when taking Lewis’ oeuvre as a whole from that era into account, a cogent case could be made that the films were like a sitcom, albeit an anthology series where Jerry played the fumbling schlub thrust into an unaccustomed environment with expectedly uproarious results that more often than not involved some kind of mass destruction of personal property. Usually along for the ride was a gorgeous young female who for some unknown reason was hopelessly in love with our hero, and also more often than not the girl had some disapproving family members who didn’t exactly understand what their precious little girl saw in a klutz like Lewis’ character. And that in fact is exactly what happens in Who’s Minding the Store?, with a couple of slight alterations.

Who’s Minding the Store? is frankly one of the lesser Lewis Paramount vehicles, one which ambles by on a couple of agreeable enough set pieces (including a recurring motif of a hapless policeman getting bonked on the head by all sorts of items that come into contact with Lewis), but which never really clicks into high gear like a number of other Lewis properties. Similarly, there’s little of the typical Lewis schmaltz in this outing, which may in fact endear it to some fans who aren’t particularly fond of that mawkish side of the Lewis persona. The film is pretty much a straightforward quasi-farce that has Norman, unaware of Barbara’s heiress status, working alongside her in her family’s department store, causing havoc as store manager Mr. Quimby (Ray Walston) repeatedly gives him impossible assignments at the urging of Mrs. Tuttle. Actually on the side of the young lovers is Mr. Tuttle, played by the always delightful John McGiver. (In the kind of interesting trivia department, McGiver would matriculate over into another department store sitcom—this time, a real one on television—directly after Who’s Minding the Store?, as the manager of the Complaints Department of a large retailer in the short-lived CBS comedy Many Happy Returns.)

Though Jill St. John isn’t quite the sexpot yet that she would later become in several films, the imbalance between her glamour and Jerry’s nerdy proclivities is more marked than that between Lewis and whatever female co- star he had in a number of his other films. While co-writers Frank Tashlin and Harry Tugend try to make a case that Barbara loves Jerry because he’s so decent and hard working, and isn’t out to land her just because of her money, there’s something so distinctly unbelievable about their pairing that it gives the central conceit of Who’s Minding the Store? an unreal ambience that sets the entire film off kilter. That said, there’s an undeniable sweetness to a lot of this film, a sweetness not totally upset by the vinegar of Moorehead tramping around bitching loudly about everything that goes wrong. In a weird kind of way, Jerry is actually relatively restrained in this film, at least compared to the once and future Endora, who simply chews the scenery with aplomb.

The clock was winding down on the long collaboration between Tashlin and Lewis by the time Who’s Minding the Store? premiered in late 1963, and the fact is the film just seems a little tired a lot of the time, despite the manic efforts of its star. There are still some great gags to be had here, typical prop-based humor at which Lewis excelled and which Tashlin always knew exactly how to stage, but there’s a sort of “been there, done that” feeling to much of this film that keeps it from ever achieving a uniform sense of energy and momentum. The film still has some appealing performances, and it’s fun to see a slew of performers who were either just becoming or would later become television staples (everyone from My Favorite Martian’s Walston to The Beverly Hillbillies’ Nancy Kulp) in a variety of supporting roles. But this is one store that needed a little bit more minding in its screenplay stage before the front doors were opened for the paying public.

Who's Minding the Store? Blu-ray Movie, Video Quality 

Who's Minding the Store? is presented on Blu-ray courtesy of Olive Films with an AVC encoded 1080p transfer in 1.78:1. Olive's press materials state that this was mastered from an archival 35mm print, though others have indicated that all of these licensed Paramount titles have been culled from interpositives. One way or the other, this is one of the less appealing looking Olive Paramount titles, at least by degree. The elements (whatever they were) seem slightly faded, with some odd orange tints to a number of scenes and slightly off looking flesh tones, and there's a bit more damage in terms of flecks and specks than what has been on display on other recent Olive Lewis titles. The opening sequence is pretty shoddy looking, no doubt due to the opticals (and what is up with the anamorphically squeezed shots of Manhattan that play under Lewis' name and the film's title?). Once we get past the titles sequence and are post-opticals (at the first edit that cuts to Agnes Moorehead by the desk), clarity and sharpness improve dramatically, but they are still not quite at the level that has been seen in some of the other recent Olive releases. In fact in several midrange shots the film has a pretty gauzy appearance, with negligible fine detail and a lack of precision and clarity. By contrast, close-ups do pop quite nicely quite a bit of the time, with much improved clarity and fine detail. All of this said, the bulk of the film looks at the very least acceptable, if not stunning, and if expectations are set appropriately, most videophiles will at least be able to tolerate this high definition presentation, if not get very excited about it.

Who's Minding the Store? Blu-ray Movie, Audio Quality 

Who's Minding the Store? features a perfectly fine lossless DTS-HD Master Audio mono track the suffices quite well for the film's limited sonic ambitions. The bulk of this film is simply dialogue scenes, with of course manic sound effects sequence when mayhem breaks loose. Fidelity here is fine, with a nicely full midrange that supports the swingin' brass based score by Joseph J. Lilley. Some rather noticeable boxiness does creep in with regard to some of the sound effects, notably some dog barks that were obviously ported in, probably from some sort of sound library, and which do not have the same reverb or sonic characteristics of the general soundfield. There's no damage to report here, and even hiss is kept at a minimum, with clear and consistent high end frequencies.

Who's Minding the Store? Blu-ray Movie, Special Features and Extras 

As with most Olive Films releases, no supplements are included on this Blu-ray disc.

Who's Minding the Store? Blu-ray Movie, Overall Score and Recommendation 

Jerry Lewis had been churning out Frank Tashlin written and directed features for years by the time Who's Minding the Store? came along, and there's just a slightly tired feeling to this outing, despite the game attempts of a fun and obviously competent cast. There are some good set pieces here featuring everything from an out of control golf ball to an out of control vacuum cleaner, but the bulk of this film is curiously lacking in energy and consistent comedic impact. This release has just a slightly less agreeable video quality than some other Lewis films released on Blu-ray by Olive, but the mono soundtrack sounds great for the most part. This should be a worthwhile time killer for Lewis fans; others may want to consider a rental first to see how much they like this particular iteration of time honored Jerry Lewis tropes.