Occasionally biting, sometimes off the mark with cornball sight gags, but solid for the most part. You can see Tashlin's cartoon background with some of the visual gags and sound/sight cues, but there's just a distance here that doesn't really work. Randall has no chemistry with his best girl and it's hard to buy that angle, but for a spoof movie, you can overlook stuff like that. Overall it's pretty funny, dated in parts for sure, but still watchable.

source: Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter?

..I'll watch it again, and again, and again. Jayne Mansfield is da bomb of the blonde bombshells. There are plenty of gorgeous actresses, but this film expresses all of what makes this woman what she is. She is obviously an intelligent and talented woman, but she also totally exudes sensuality. I am never more jealous of anyone than I am at two points during this movie; first, of Joan Blondell, as she massages those tender feet and those oh-so-shapely calves while Jayne's Rita Marlowe lies and squirms and rolls on the massage table teasing her boyfriend over the phone. The next time comes later on when Groucho Marx, looking, acting and sounding just like Groucho Marx, gets to lay a big, fat kiss on Jayne's big, juicy lips, and it lasts, and lasts, while Jayne's fingers caress Groucho's neck like I wish some sensual babe would for me. Whoops! Time to hit the rewind button again.

Frank Tashlin's brilliantly sardonic romantic satire remains his best film, one of many forgotten Tashlin masterpieces of the 1950s. Jayne Mansfield shines as the larger-than-life comic relief, Tony Randall is Tashlin's troubled alter ego, torn between corporate "success" and personal satisfaction, Henry Jones is his tragic, pill-popping, excessively phlegmatic executive co-worker , Joan Blondell a washed-up, lovelorn, milk-obsessed (!) variation on the Mansfield-type. The color, the Cinemascope, the set design all produces a cartoon-like visual magic which makes the deeply serious subject matter not only palatable but highly entertaining. Never mind Tashlin's mastery of Brechtian distanciation...

Advertising man makes publicity deal with voluptuous Hollywood star. Hilarious spoof of the mammary-worshipping 1950's. The innuendos fly fast and furious so keep an ear cocked. Sure, viewers see much racier material now on TV. Still, the dialog's clever, the visuals inventive, and the cast superb. Director Tashlin's satiric eye is penetrating and years ahead, as the 1960's-like ending suggests. That spoof of TV advertising is especially funny and still timely. Keep in mind that the TV medium was still new and so was making fun of its life-blood commercials. I love it when the jalopy crumbles under the salesman's boastful pitch. Corporations were also growing, laying out a new yardstick for success. So, Hunter's ecstatic delight with a symbolic key-to-the-washroom is not far off. And, of course, there's Rita's (Mansfield) low-hanging sex appeal, doubly emblematic of the time. But Mansfield's also an adept comedienne. Catch how well she spoofs her own role. And were there two more droll characters than Randall and the underrated Henry Jones. Their little tete-a-tete's fairly ooze with actors' delight. Good also to see that great brassy dame Joan Blondell pick up a payday. (Catch the rather humorous shot of her coming rump-first out of the sleeping berth, which seems Tashlin's style, even with minor details.) Looks like someone also threw her the big dramatic grieving scene, maybe out of respect for her veteran status. Anyway, the movie's a delightful glimpse of that strait-jacketed decade's more vulnerable absurdities, and in Technicolor's brightest candy box colors. Arguably, it's Tashlin's best.

Hilarious.....hilarious....and can I say.....hilarious.......the perfect smut laden 50s farce if ever there was one....and there was one........and it's this one....!..greater than THE GIRL CANT HELP IT and equally demented. For sheer vulgarity I have NEVER heard such Farrelly-esquire risqué rudeness in a 50s or even 60s film: Joan Blondell says whilst making a cocktail: "I had a boyfriend once, he was a milkman, I used to get a lump at the back of my throat when I knew he was coming. But it didn't last, I guess he found a girl who liked his brand of cream more than me". There is half a dozen censorship busters like this too.......all thanks to Frank Tashlin. This is as fresh and funny as it was in the 50s and deserves a higher profile in the annals of REAL funny films. My videotape is in cinemascope too so try and see it that way if you can.

This is, in my opinion, Tashlin's best film... also the best of Randall and Mansfield I've seen. Randall's television interlude is a classic, the opening credits, executive washroom scene and Bobo Branigansky interview are also fun. Wonderful sets and Technicolor cinematography rivaling Douglas Sirk in garishness. I showed clips from the opening credits for a class presentation and someone was surprised they had such biting social satire back in the 50s. "Nick at Night" and "Pleasantville" the 50s weren't...

This is brilliant film-making. Romantic and subversive at the same time. Randall and Mansfield were never better and Henry Jones is brilliant as always. Tashlin skewers 50s America but it still works 40 years later. I give this movie my highest possible recommendation. See in widescreen if possible.

It's a super-dated fluff story about an ambitious advertising man named Rock Hunter (Tony Randall) who finds a way to climb the corporate ladder with the help of a bleach-blonde bimbo with big lips named Rita Marlowe (Jayne Mansfield). She coos and squeals, and poses in front of a camera, on her way up Hollywood's stardom ladder. I have seen silent-era films that had more depth, entertainment value, heart, and contemporary relevance than this atrocity. Characters are as shallow as they are silly, as superficial as they are stereotyped. The only thematic message is contained in the film's title. And guess how the film defines "success"; materialistic values, here we come. Aside from this odious theme, there is no message. Viewers back in 1957 must have been easy to please and free from the burdens of critical thinking to enjoy such a nothing movie. Each main actor gets his or her own long monologue, no doubt a selling point to lure in the principal performers. I didn't like the way Tony Randall breaks the fourth wall and talks directly to viewers, corn pone savoir-faire straight from Hollywood. Script dialogue lacks subtext. And the plot flows straight from point A to point Z with nary a zigzag to interfere with viewers' minimal comprehension skills. Background music is standard 1950's nondescript. Casting is acceptable except for Tony Randall, a mouse who couldn't fight his way out of a paper bag, much less able to take on the rigors of cold, in-house corporate politics. The one really fine performance is from reliable Joan Blondell, as companion to dimwit Rita Marlowe. Joan Blondell and a few funny lines save this antique from being a total cinematic misdemeanor. Apparently aimed at an audience of giggly 16-year-old females, this popcorn and candy flick is pure diversionary fluff, and embarrassingly dated, a time capsule of horrid mainstream American pop culture during the stodgy Eisenhower era. No wonder juveniles back then were driven into delinquency.

Watching this movie, I thought about the television series Seinfeld. This movie too is an offbeat version of mainstream humour and both are set in New York. More pertinently though, both rely on contemporary references to be funny. For their times, both seemed fresh and cool. Well, taken out of its 1950s period, this movie is not funny. The humour is grotesquely lame. (I have a suspicion that in 40 years, people will not find Seinfeld funny either.) Jayne Mansfield is probably more famous for her death than anything else. Tony Randall desired to be a stage actor but ultimately was successful in a TV series. If you like either, you should see this movie. Groucho Marx has a cute cameo at the end. His presence reminded me that good comedy is not dated.