For some, the concept of domestic bliss is an ideal to which they are willing to work, while for others, it is nothing more than a myth perpetuated by decades of cultural lecturing and blatant marketing, which the nuclear family was seen as the ultimate aspiration, and anything less was seen as a sign of failure to pursue the proverbial “perfect” life. Regardless of where you stand on the subject (with the likelihood being that most of us are more central in the matter), it is clear that it has pervaded the global culture in a way that has become deeply ingrained in our psyches, to the point where anything that even vaguely questions such a rigid structure is seen as either appropriate or revolutionary, depend on our standpoint. This is something we find lingering throughout a lot of films, particularly those made towards the middle of the past century, where more open discussions were had about these issues, which were certainly not always viewed entirely favourably by audiences that preferred to keep a more elegant, conservative mindset, rather than having their perspective challenged. One of the more intriguing cinematic curios on this topic to be produced at the time was His and Hers, in which acclaimed director Brian Desmond Hurst (who had his roots in the earliest days of British cinema) tells the story of a world-renowned explorer that returns home to suburban London, having been radicalized by a Bedouian tribe with whom he lived, to the point where his every waking moment is spent attempting to replicate their way of life, but to the chagrin of his long-suffering wife, whose patience wears thin after a short while, leading to her efforts to take matters into her own hands, leading to the formerly happy couple to test the boundaries of both their marriage and their sanity. Designed as an irreverent, off-the-wall comedy that captured the spirit of the era through the story, His and Hers is a slightly questionable film in terms of both narrative and execution, succeeding in some areas and faltering in others.

The 1960s are often regarded as perhaps the most influential decade in terms of laying the foundation for what we refer to as the modern age – it is distant enough that we can look at it as an entirely different time, but it still exists in proximity to our own era. It was during this period that a substantial amount was done in terms of redefining society, with many groups (mostly those radicalised by the post-war period) questioning the system and set out to dismantle those principles that defined society for no reason other than because they were how life was always lived, without any real concern in the past. Gender roles in particular proved to be quite a notable issue – feminism was not a new concept, but rather one that had existed in various forms over the years, each “wave” bringing about substantial change. His and Hers was clearly derived as a response to the growing incredulity towards domesticity and the belief that women occupy one social position, and men another. Whether or not it does so effectively (or even if it actually lives up to its socio-cultural aspirations) is a matter of individual interpretation entirely, and the film is ambiguous enough that we can’t honestly assess it in its entirety, leading to some difficulty in discerning exactly what it wanted to say. Constructed as a wacky comedy in which a husband and wife engage in an increasingly hostile game of cat-and-mouse, thwarting each other’s efforts to succeed in their respective endeavours, its easy to understand the appeal of the film at the time, but His and Hers still has too many vague content to be entirely effective, with its perspective being murky at the best of times. This is where the film gradually starts to become more unhinged, correlating with the increased efforts of the two main characters to assert dominance, hoping to answer the age-old (and franly very sexist) question of “who wears the pants in this relationship”, made even more peculiar by the presence of some cultural commentary that feels frankly out of place, even when the film does hit the comedic mark.

It’s somewhat wonky and inconsistent politics (the most polite way to describe it) are not the only area in which His and Hers falters, and it actually proves to be one of the many aspects that prevent the film from achieving even an iota of effectiveness, primarily because it doesn’t know how to handle its material beyond hoping that audiences will share their myopic views and not at all be interested in resisting some of the often atrocious commentary. The intentions themselves are beyond questionable, but this was far from the only comedy at the time to weaponise an arbitrary and meaningless division between gender roles as a source of comedy. Instead, it’s a halfhearted attempt at satire that never once sets out to say or do anything that can be considered even slightly above outrageously lazy and predictable. This isn’t a film that aims for the low-hanging fruit, but which builds itself from the ones that have already fallen and have begun to ferment, not adding a single bit of nuance to something so extraordinarily obvious in its intentions and style. We can’t even scrounge up the slightest praise for a film that simply never amounts to anything. If you are going to create a work that questions gender roles, a very important topic, at least do so in a way that gives the audience something to ponder. His and Hers consists of nothing more than ninety minutes of poor, obvious jokes in which the humour is surface-level, to the point where it fails to develop an identity of its own. Absolutely nothing in this film is anything more than a paper-thin attempt at satirising domesticity, being as weak and flaccid as the supposedly happy marriage that is corrupted in the opening scenes. The writing itself is extremely lacklustre and leaves so much to be desired, and the stilted, lacking direction feels like it was cobbled together in a hurried haze, never growing into anything more than a misguided jumble of bad ideas and even worse execution.

If there is one component that has kept His and Hers even marginally in the cultural consciousness is the presence of Terry-Thomas, who has lingered as one of the most beloved and acclaimed actors to even emerge from Great Britain, his unique style of comedy and magnetic screen presence making him a truly iconic figure. I’d imagine anyone drawn to this film would do so as a means to see the actor in his prime – so imagine the disappointment when it is revealed that absolutely none of his distinctive charms or skills were on display here. Suddenly, he’s the straight man that has comedic scenarios occur around him, and his unique wit is almost entirely extinguished, replaced instead with the most heavy-handed, dull attempt at going against the image he had spent years cultivating. In a better film, playing against type would at least make sense, but in the context of His and Hers, where just about everything else is deeply flawed and outrageously bland, his performance is not at all enough to salvage whatever minuscule amounts of promise it had. It doesn’t help that he’s paired with Janette Scott, who is serviceable at the best of times, but lacks the grit and gravitas needed to play the part. It doesn’t help that he’s hopelessly miscast, being in her early twenties while acting across from the fifty-year-old Terry-Thomas (which not only feels deeply questionable on a moral level, but prevents her from being even slightly believable as this long-suffering housewife), and lacking any real depth or nuance to the role. She doesn’t do anything particularly interesting or compelling, and the chemistry between the leads is lacking to the point where we cannot imagine how these characters could have feasibly been considered a couple in the first place, every choice made throughout being uninspired and lacking in even the most simple of elements, becoming as frustrating as everything else in this film.

Defenders of His and Hers (which are mercifully very few) have proclaimed it a product of its time, and a film that should be viewed within the context of when it was made. Not only is this a profoundly lazy defense – a good satire should be timeless, even when provoking the most uncomfortable and disconcertion of reactions – but it overlooks that this is just a poorly-made film in both story and style, neither one of which is all that entertaining or nuanced, despite the film masquerading itself as some off-the-wall, ingenious comedy about gender roles and their subversion. Nothing in this film captures our attention, and it doesn’t even present itself as a mildly amusing novelty, instead being as boring and pedestrian as a film like this could be, which is extremely disappointing considering the potential for genuinely intriguing commentary, none of which can be found anywhere in this atrociously misguided film. Hurst had made many great films in the years preceding this, so the laziness in the direction is inexcusable, and the lacklustre performances are the result of both the poor writing and lack of effort from the actors, who seem to just be going through the motions. His and Hers is a dull, paper-thin satire with humour that is unfunny, social commentary that borders on regressive and a blandness that prevents us from forming even the most marginally meaningful relationship with these characters, which ultimately all becomes the foundation for a true misfire of a film in both form and style.