The fashion industry and Paris provide the setting for a comedy surrounding the mistaken impression that Joanne Woodward is a high-priced call girl. Paul Newman is the journalist ... See full summary »
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The fashion industry and Paris provide the setting for a comedy surrounding the mistaken impression that Joanne Woodward is a high-priced call girl. Paul Newman is the journalist interviewing her for insights on her profession. Written by
Jeanne Armintrout <jeannee@uwyo.edu>
When his editor tells him he's being reassigned to Paris, "where you'll probably die," Newman replies, "Yeah, but what a wonderful way to go." The line turned out to be prophetic - the very next year, Newman played an American living in Paris in What a Way to Go!. See more »
Goofs
Maurice Chevalier gives a party hat to Felicienne, who puts it on twice. See more »
Quotes
Steve Sherman:
Anyway, that's where I was when the brains were being passed out.
Mimi:
You know where I was? Taking a bath in champagne.
See more »
That quote, uttered by a tearful Joanne Woodward, is the perfect summation of this frothy sex comedy: It gives us a brief taste of something delicious before breaking off and leaving us cold and disappointed. Let's start at the beginning. Paul Newman is at his coolest as a slick swinger, and Joanne Woodward is appealing as the unkempt, androgynous fashion consultant everyone keeps mistaking for a man. There's a terrific opening, followed by some snappy montages and split screens. But then, about halfway through, the fun's over and the frustration begins. Suddenly everything is presented before the camera in a very bland manner as the plot becomes a ponderous romantic chase into nothingness. The characters begin spouting cliches about love and marriage. And to top it off, the film pulls that awful hooker-housewife double standard still widely in use today: If a man enjoys sex he's a playboy, if a woman enjoys sex she's a tramp. The whole thing becomes so obtrusive and heavy handed that not even the charm of Paul, Joanne, and the bubbly Eva Gabor can save it. Despite being set in red hot, exquisitely photographed Paris, A New Kind of Love's traditional, preachy, and ultimately boring sensibilities would be more at home in suburban Iowa.
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That quote, uttered by a tearful Joanne Woodward, is the perfect summation of this frothy sex comedy: It gives us a brief taste of something delicious before breaking off and leaving us cold and disappointed. Let's start at the beginning. Paul Newman is at his coolest as a slick swinger, and Joanne Woodward is appealing as the unkempt, androgynous fashion consultant everyone keeps mistaking for a man. There's a terrific opening, followed by some snappy montages and split screens. But then, about halfway through, the fun's over and the frustration begins. Suddenly everything is presented before the camera in a very bland manner as the plot becomes a ponderous romantic chase into nothingness. The characters begin spouting cliches about love and marriage. And to top it off, the film pulls that awful hooker-housewife double standard still widely in use today: If a man enjoys sex he's a playboy, if a woman enjoys sex she's a tramp. The whole thing becomes so obtrusive and heavy handed that not even the charm of Paul, Joanne, and the bubbly Eva Gabor can save it. Despite being set in red hot, exquisitely photographed Paris, A New Kind of Love's traditional, preachy, and ultimately boring sensibilities would be more at home in suburban Iowa.