You know that feeling when you're watching a movie and you realize the actor isn't just "playing" a jerk, but might actually be purging something dark from their own soul? That is the exact vibe of Jerry Lewis in The Nutty Professor (1963). Specifically, it’s the vibe of Buddy Love.
Most folks today know the title because of Eddie Murphy’s 90s remake, which was great for a laugh. But the original? It’s a different beast entirely. It’s a Technicolor nightmare disguised as a screwball comedy. When Lewis, playing the buck-toothed, nasal-toned Professor Julius Kelp, drinks that bubbling blue serum, he doesn't just get handsome. He turns into a monster.
He becomes Buddy Love.
He’s suave. He’s slick. He's also a complete and utter "bastard-mogul," as critic Alan S. Dale once put it. People often think Buddy Love was just a parody of Dean Martin. Honestly, that’s the most common misconception out there, and it’s way too simple.
The Dean Martin Rumor That Just Won't Die
Look, if you've ever seen a clip of Buddy Love leaning against a piano, glass in hand, mocking a bartender with a razor-sharp tongue, you’re going to think of Dean Martin. It’s unavoidable. The hair is coiffed to perfection. The suits are sharkskin sharp.
For years, critics and audiences swore Jerry was taking a public swipe at his former partner. Remember, the Martin and Lewis breakup in 1956 was brutal. They didn’t speak for decades. So, when Jerry shows up in '63 as a booze-swilling, arrogant lounge singer who treats everyone like dirt, the math seems easy.
But Jerry Lewis always denied it. Loudly.
He claimed Buddy Love was based on "every obnoxious, self-important, hateful hipster" he’d ever met in Hollywood. Think about the guys who run the rooms at the Sands or the Sahara—the ones who think the world stops because they walked in. That was the target.
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If Buddy Love was Dean, he was a version of Dean that only existed in Jerry’s darkest moments of resentment. It was less of a parody and more of a rejection of that "hyper-masculine" archetype. In the old act, Dean was the "handsome man" and Jerry was the "monkey." By creating Buddy Love, Jerry was finally playing the handsome man, but he made sure to show just how ugly that guy could be on the inside.
Why Buddy Love Is Actually Jerry’s "True" Self
Here’s the part that gets kinda uncomfortable.
Many film historians, like Danny Peary, argue that Buddy Love wasn't Dean Martin at all. He was the real Jerry Lewis. Not the "Kid" persona who squeaked and tripped over his own feet, but the Jerry who directed the movies, controlled the sets, and had a reputation for being a demanding, often abrasive perfectionist.
Kelp is the man Jerry wanted people to love—vulnerable and sweet. Love is the man Jerry feared he actually was—powerful, talented, but fundamentally cold.
When you watch Buddy Love perform "That Old Black Magic" at the Purple Pit, it’s not a joke. He’s actually good. He’s charismatic. He’s got the pipes. You can see the audience in the film (and the one in the theater) getting caught in the web. We want to like the cool guy, even when he’s being a total prick to the waitress.
Lewis was exploring the "phallic allegory" of success. To be the "man," Kelp has to give up his kindness. He has to become a "model of over-compensatory behavior." It’s a heavy theme for a movie that features a scene where a guy gets flattened like a pancake.
The Transformation: More Horror Than Comedy
If you haven't seen the 1963 transformation scene recently, go find it. It’s genuinely unsettling.
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Lewis directed it with a series of subjective POV shots and jarring colors. It feels more like The Fly or Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (which, obviously, was the primary inspiration). There are no fart jokes here. Just the sound of bones shifting and a man screaming in a lab.
- Julius Kelp: Nasal voice, forward-combed hair, lab coat, socially paralyzed.
- Buddy Love: Throaty baritone, slicked-back hair, flashy jackets, sociopathic confidence.
The costume choices weren't accidental. Buddy’s clothes are loud—meant to dominate the room visually before he even opens his mouth.
The Stella Stevens Factor
We have to talk about Stella Purdy. Stella Stevens played the coed who catches the eye of both the Professor and his alter ego. Her performance is the anchor of the movie.
There’s a weird tension in her scenes with Buddy. She’s clearly repulsed by his arrogance, yet she can't look away. It’s a commentary on how society rewards "bad boys" and bullies while treating the "nice guy" as a door mat.
Interesting side note: Stevens and Lewis actually had an affair during filming that lasted about two years. Knowing that adds a layer of "real-world" complexity to their on-screen chemistry. When she looks at Buddy Love with a mix of annoyance and genuine attraction, she might not have been acting all that much.
The Legacy of the "Jerky" Alter Ego
Buddy Love didn't just stay in 1963. He changed how we look at the "transformation" trope in comedy.
When Eddie Murphy took on the role in 1996, he pivoted the character toward a high-testosterone, insult-comic version of his own stage persona. It worked, but it lost that "confessional" darkness that Lewis brought to it.
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Even The Simpsons owes a debt here. Professor Frink is basically a permanent Julius Kelp, and they’ve done several episodes where he transforms into a Buddy Love-style charmer.
What We Can Learn From Buddy's Ego
Buddy Love remains a fascinating character because he’s a warning.
The film ends with Kelp giving a speech about self-acceptance. It’s a bit sappy, sure. "You might as well like yourself. Just think about all the time you're gonna have to spend with you."
But the real insight is in the trade-off. Kelp realizes that the "confidence" he bought with the serum came at the cost of his humanity. Buddy Love didn't have friends; he had fans. He didn't have a connection with Stella; he had a conquest.
Actionable Takeaways from the Nutty Professor's Journey:
- Check Your Alter Ego: We all have a "Buddy Love" version of ourselves—the one we put on for LinkedIn, for dates, or for job interviews. It's the "optimized" version. The trick is making sure that version doesn't eventually swallow your actual personality whole.
- Confidence vs. Arrogance: Buddy Love is the perfect case study in the fine line between the two. Confidence is being comfortable in your skin (Kelp at the end). Arrogance is needing to be better than everyone else in the room to feel okay (Buddy).
- Watch the 1963 Original: If you've only seen the remake, do yourself a favor. Watch it for the cinematography alone. Lewis was a master of the "long take" and used color in a way that would make Wes Anderson jealous.
Jerry Lewis was a complicated man. He was polarizing, brilliant, and often difficult. But in Buddy Love, he gave us one of the most honest depictions of the "dark side" of stardom ever put on celluloid. He didn't just play a character; he showed us the man he was afraid of becoming.
And honestly? That's way more interesting than any parody of Dean Martin could ever be.
To really appreciate the craft, look for the scene where Buddy first walks into the Purple Pit. Pay attention to how the camera follows him. He doesn't just enter the room; he owns the space, the people in it, and the audience watching. It's a masterclass in screen presence and a chilling look at what happens when an ego is given total, unchecked power.
Next Steps:
If you want to dive deeper into this era of film, I recommend looking into the "French New Wave" critics' obsession with Jerry Lewis. They viewed him as a "total filmmaker" (auteur) long before American critics took him seriously. You might also check out the 2005 documentary Method to the Madness of Jerry Lewis for more behind-the-scenes context on his directing style.