A second remarkable coincidence places Day and Hudson at adjoining nightclub tables, where he overhears her name, and decides to date her (despite her hot temper and prudish nature) under the assumed identity of a Texan, perhaps his character from Giant. He even gives up his several more attractive and friendly girlfriends for her, but once she finds out that Tex is her party line serial dater, the romance is over, until he carries her kicking and complaining from her bed through the streets of New York City.
How others will see it. There are admittedly a few entertaining moments, mostly when alcoholic Thelma Ritter or wide-eyed Tony Randall are around. The script finds the occasional irony in Day's thoughts concerning her new beau (he's not so honest after all, but then all's fair in love, business, war, and let's face it, practically anything else.)
Mostly, though, the humor will fall on deaf ears. Try this for size: A man follows his girlfriend, who's trying to shake him, into the woman's bathroom. A scream is heard behind the door. (Such an original scene.) The man exits, mildly embarrassed, only to meet a doctor's secretary who thinks that he thinks he's pregnant. No part of this is funny, though, and as sex comedies go, Woody Allen certainly made better ones.
Those old enough to know that Hudson was the homosexual roomie of Jim Nabors/Gomer Pyle might snigger at all the women falling for tall, dark, deep-voiced, and dreamy, when he probably preferred Tony Randall. Those even older might enjoy the movie, simply for its cast, and its colorful evocation of 1959. People sure drank a lot then. And no one had a cell phone.
How I felt about it. In real life, if Tony Randall indeed had eight million dollars in 1963 money, and was eager to spend it on Doris Day, she would take him up on the offer. Once the ring is on her finger, then she could chase Rock Hudson all she wants. She can even pretend that her own records aren't vapid. "Que Sera Sera" indeed.
In Pillow Talk, of course, she wants to keep Randall only as a friend, rather than a sugar daddy. She's not going to sleep with Hudson either, even to prove to herself that he's not gay (good luck with that one.) And she's certainly not going to fire her maid, Thelma Ritter, even though she is an admitted alcoholic, and spends her day listening to Hudson seduce women over the party line. On Day's dime.
Most curious of all, though, is Randall's sudden loss of interest in Doris Day. Perhaps the punch he took knocked some sense in him. (Or he heard her sing.) But after going to great lengths to win her from Hudson, he seems delighted to play matchmaker for our quarrelling leads (who do actually love each other, since it is a movie.)
I give the marriage two years. Hudson is trained to seduce women, and they are eager to oblige. Day's too clever not to wise up.