Live a Little, Love a Little

February 11, 2013 § 2 Comments

Elvis and Michele Carey in Live a Little, Love a Little

Maybe it’s a stretch to call Live a Little, Love a Little a departure from the usual Elvis fare. After all, it’s a light comedy with a love triangle, wacky hijinks, plenty of beaches and a couple song breaks. On the surface, it doesn’t seem to deviate from the formula all that much. Elvis plays a photographer, Mike Nolan, who meets an unpredictable gal who:

  • a) tells him her name is Alice, then Susie, then Betty, and finally Bernice
  • b) is incredibly devoted to her Great Dane, Albert
  • c) drugs Elvis after he comes back to her house, leading to a surreal dream sequence set to Elvis’s song “Edge of Reality”
  • d) while he’s passed out, moves him out of his apartment and gets him fired from his job
  • e) isn’t exactly over her ex . . .

Somehow, despite his near-constant exasperation with her, Elvis is won over. (It doesn’t hurt that Michele Carey, who plays “Bernice,” is gorgeous. Sadly, that’s her character’s only redeeming feature.) In order to maintain the lifestyle that Bernice expects, and the swingin’ pad she’s set him up in, Elvis has to balance two photography jobs: one for the Playboy parody Classic Cat (where the receptionists wear cat ears) and another for a buttoned-up advertising firm (where the boss insists Elvis iron his slacks before he can proceed with the job interview). The comic plots that ensue are . . . well, exactly the plots you’d expect when you read that storyline.

But it was 1968 and the winds of change were in the air. Robert Kennedy was shot, black power was on the rise . . . and only thirty years after Rhett Butler, Elvis was allowed to say “damn” in a movie! Not only that, but after approximately 26 films consisting of us getting all talk about Elvis’s skills in the romance department, this one finally allowed him to deliver on those promises. (In the tamest sense of the word–he and Bernice are shown sleeping in the same bed.) This is still a romantic comedy, but it’s one that moves the emphasis from the (increasingly unromantic) romantic scenes of Elvis’s recent films to the screwball side, allowing Elvis to show off his comedic chops. But maybe Live a Little‘s biggest deviation from the Elvis movie norm is that it switches up his position in regards to the  pursuit of passion: the hunter becomes the hunted.

In real life, of course, Elvis was the prey as often as he was the predator. Girls tried to climb on stage at concerts, threw underwear at him, dressed up as maids to sneak into his hotel rooms. After he’d reached a certain point in his stardom, Elvis never had to be the sexual predator–he had the Memphis Mafia to personally pick out girls for him and bring them back to his room. While he engaged in no shortage of make-out sessions, many women complained that their encounters with Elvis hadn’t gone much further than that–and when they did, the women usually ended up disappointed. (“He can sing,” said Natalie Wood after a brief fling, “but he can’t do much else.”) With that in mind, the love triangles and rectangles of Elvis’s earlier films can be read as an attempt to sell an image in which he never felt entirely secure. Live a Little instead allows him to drop the international heartthrob mask and play a role seemingly much closer to reality: that of a man exasperated by an unwanted and never-ceasing onslaught of feminine attention. It’s through this swap that Live a Little gives us its most interesting twist on the traditional Elvis flick.

Baby step by baby step, Live a Little, Love a Little pulls away from the formula fare, beginning to forge a new prototype for an Elvis comedy. It’s not all there, but you can see where it might have led. Unfortunately, we never got to see that evolution play out. With only three films left before Elvis’s retirement from the silver screen, this was the last romantic comedy he ever made.

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