Despite Sellers, Hawn,
‘There’s a Girl in My Soup’ drowns
By Julie Brown-Micko

Remember when Graham Kerr was still doing first-run episodes of The Galloping Gourmet? How about a time when swinging bachelors used to make coq au vin with the same savoir faire as they made love? How about mod clothes, hot pants and cool drinks that were shaken, not stirred? This mythical time—London, circa 1970—is alive but barely kicking in the screwball comedy, There’s a Girl in My Soup.

Peter Sellers plays television chef Robert Danvers, a notorious womanizer and gourmet. Able to mix drinks with one hand, cook with the other and seduce women with a single, surefire line (“My God, you look lovely!”), Danvers is living the high life. Until he meets doe-eyed Marion (Goldie Hawn), that is. Sparks fly, insults are exchanged and before you know it, the old dog is falling in love. Most of the fun and games involves Marion cutting the conceited Lothario down to size. But soon Marion’s ex-boyfriend, ne’er-do-well Jimmy (Nicky Henson) is back in the picture and dashing Danvers is on the outs. Who will win Marion’s love (or at least a place in her bed)?

Well, there is not much mystery to this paper-thin comedy. The fun is in a few—very few—scenes. Danvers’ over-the-top bachelor pad, complete with round bed, fully stocked wet-bar and remote-control operated sound system, is the ideal setting for his amorous adventures. But one of the better comic moments takes place at a wine tasting in the French countryside where Marion gets drunk because she is unfamiliar with the “spit don’t swallow” format. She wobbles and giggles while Danvers delivers the punch lines with a dry-as-good-sherry voice and straight face. Clearly Hawn and Sellers have comic talent to spare. The physical comedy and timing are spot-on—if only there were a better script for them to work with.

It’s fun to watch Hawn and Sellers in younger days, but sadly, the film has not aged well. It was a bit of fluff in the ’70s, and is now a dusty, dated wisp of nothing. The constant parade of lithe young women may temporarily entertain, but in the end there aren’t enough workable gags. Plenty of jokes don’t work. One particularly painful set-up involves Danvers watching his own television show as he makes love to a young woman. He smiles as his small-screen self gushes over food and drink with sexually charged language. It could have been funny with a lighter touch, but the sex-and-food comparison is dropped on us like the anvil on Wiley E. Coyote’s head—it’s a tired old joke.

There’s a Girl in My Soup provides a few savory nuggets of nostalgia, recalling the ’70s when the sexual revolution was going strong, bachelors had well-stocked wet-bars and there were few hangovers. But this aging turkey will leave you looking for some cinematic antacid. Unless you are a die-hard Peter Sellers or Goldie Hawn fan, leave it on the shelf.