pening with one of the most suggestive of title sequences, despite its simplicity (the application of nail polish to a foot) – perhaps a striking bit of foreshadowing concerning sexuality and innocence – the introduction of two of its main characters is far removed from such notions. Professor Humbert Humbert (James Mason) arrives at a disheveled mansion to confront a thoroughly soused playwright named Quilty (Peter Sellers). And the ensuing interaction involves donning gloves and drawing a pistol. “No, I’m Spartacus.”

Four years earlier, Humbert arrives in America from Europe, opting to spend the summer in West Ramsdale, New Hampshire. He takes up room and board from the shrill, talkative, gauche Charlotte Haze (Shelley Winters), though he’s initially uninterested in the place until he spies daughter Dolores “Lolita” (Sue Lyon) reclining in the garden in a revealing swimsuit. “What was the decisive factor?”

It isn’t long before Humbert’s attraction and infatuation cross lines – not least of which is the fact that Lolita is extremely young (Lyon was around 16 at the time of filming, playing a 13-year-old) compared to the professor – a concept much less questionable in earlier black-and-white Hollywood, but certainly creeping up on its taboo nature by the ‘60s. Like in “The Graduate” (which this film predates by 5 years), there’s something of a love triangle with mother and daughter, making the scenario considerably more complicated; while the mother practically throws herself at Humbert, the daughter poses a more challenging conquest. “Don’t forget me.”

Based on the novel by Vladimir Nabokov, who also wrote the screenplay, and directed by Stanley Kubrick (whose subsequent works, while surfing through a great range of genres, would return to controversial themes decades later), the aim of this routinely comedic, sporadically uncomfortable drama is evident. Humbert is enthralled with someone forbidden; he’s lusting after a target that couldn’t possibly be less appropriate or equal in lot or intellect. Curiously, the initial elements of seduction are minimized; the power imbalance isn’t amplified, even if it inherently exists (here it’s not sincere love but mere sexual desire). But the intentions are quite improper, especially after ingratiating himself with Charlotte to get closer to Lolita. And, eventually, Humbert gains a scary amount of control.

As a result, tragedies will ensue, along with violence (the opening sequence with Quilty gives away a few too many things, perhaps). The only outcome for Humbert is a downfall – and he’s sure to drag pitiable souls with him. Like in “Diabolique,” a bit of gaslighting, conspiring, and paranoia arise, along with convenient coincidences and a plethora of innuendo (“Camp Climax for Girls” is terribly unsubtle), as well as the pervading sense that every lead character – as well as sleazy supporting roles – is self-aware of the premise (or overly knowledgable about it) and how it could quickly shift into outrageously unseemly ventures. Overly knowing glances are thrown around constantly, while lighthearted music cynically presides over morbid conversations. “Well what should we do now?”

The runtime is much too long, adding a couple of slapstick sequences and other unnecessary scenes (as if to downplay unsuitable concepts with brief but flat humor), spending time on building up Humbert’s opportunities for manipulation and exploitation. Fortunately, Winters is sensational, habitually behaving more jealous and needy and irrational (an emotional arc followed by Humbert), countering how unconvincingly over-the-top Sellers is in his multiple-persona performance. Inexplicably, the subject matter here is danced around to enough of a degree that it might as well have been avoided, thoroughly living up to the novel’s “unfilmable” descriptions (censorship standards of the era undoubtedly stymied the production). In its efforts to tackle taboo topics, it borders on senselessly ambiguous.

Ultimately, “Lolita” has little going for it other than the unmentionable relationships, especially since the various mysteries coursing through the narrative tend to be spoiled before they can be appreciated. And those issues aren’t all that entertaining, especially since there isn’t a moral compass here (despite Lolita’s ability to toy with her guardians, she’s very much a victim). In fact, it steadily becomes aggravating and disquieting as every role grows more erratic, distrustful, deceitful, selfish, predatory, and corrupt; every life involved is twisted and destroyed. In the end, it’s mostly just sad and miserable and lamentable – but rarely engaging.

– Mike Massie