The Bell Boy: A bit of slapstick, a touch of strangeness

So, let’s talk *The Bell Boy* from way back in 1960, directed by none other than Jerry Lewis, who for some reason decides he’s just gonna do *everything* himself. Lewis plays Stanley, a, well, bellboy, who almost reminds me of that one useless cousin you only invite to midsommar because he brings decent sill. Stanley’s basically mute, wandering the halls of this fancy hotel, getting into trouble without uttering a word. There’s something cozy and strange about the whole thing, like having filmjölk with cinnamon – you know it shouldn’t work, but maybe it does?

Look, for me, Jerry Lewis always had this weird uncle energy. Half genius, half “should we call someone?” And here he’s surrounded by a wild group of hotel guests and staff – you even get a cameo from Milton Berle just hanging about like he got lost between studios. The producer is Jerry Lewis himself too, which you kinda feel, cause it’s got this chaotic, thrown-together energy – like Vasaloppet but everyone forgot their skis.

Personal Bit: Summer at Grand Hotel

Now, I gotta mention, watching *The Bell Boy* at age eleven with my mormor, who never laughed at comedies, was something. She actually started cackling when Stanley stuck a telephone receiver in the fishbowl. It was the first time I realized silent acting can be, well, bloody hilarious. Reminded me of Swede slapstick from the 40s. It’s that sort of physical nonsense anyone could get a kick out of, even if most Swedes raised on Ingmar Bergman might have snorted at the lack of angst.

Sometimes I think maybe the film’s too simple or, I dunno, shallow? But then when I see the pure, stupid joy on someone’s face, maybe that’s enough. Would I watch it every week? No! Maybe once every five years, when you need a break from all the brooding dramas and just want to see a pratfall done right.

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