Hook, Line and Sinker: A Real Kebabmiddag of a Comedy

So, “Hook, Line and Sinker”, right? Can we talk about Jerry Lewis? Honestly, Jerry’s got that fidgety slapstick going full speed here, like he’s forgotten he isn’t at Gröna Lund trying all the rides at once. The guy basically carries the film on his wobbly shoulders, and you can feel the sweat. The director, George Marshall (yeah, the ‘Destry Rides Again’ dude), brings out that sort of pastel, 60s sitcom vibe you’d get if you mixed an American dental commercial with a slow Thursday at Hemköp.

I might be showing my age, but I saw this at Göta Lejon back in ’78, when they screened old classics for 10 kronor. My dad spent the better part of the film thumping his knee and mumbling about “American hysteria”, but secretly he was giggling whenever Lewis started panicking about his fake diagnosis. There’s something very svenskt about being afraid of being sick, faking you’re calm, and then exploding into total chaos… like when you try to fix a leaking tap at 11:30 at night and end up with water everywhere and the cat covered in shampoo.

Granted, the plot’s a bit bonkers. Jerry thinks he’s dying and basically goes full YOLO – I mean, watches him skip out on work and burn some bridges with all the subtlety of a hockey brawl in Norrland. Anne Francis pops up with her icy-glam vibe, which, honestly, makes me think of midsummer nights that never get dark. Priscilla Lane, not getting enough to do, but she shines when she’s on.

Not every joke lands, though. Some scenes are as flat as a three-day-old Semla. But when Lewis hits, it’s like winning two free turns at Liseberg. It’s very much a product of its era, and maybe that’s half the charm.
Would I watch it again? Maybe if the rain won’t stop in July and I need something easy, goofy and a bit nostalgic. Give it a go if you don’t mind getting your hands sticky with old-school laughs.

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