Dalbert Pringle No offence intended here, f-f-folks, but I seriously think that the only sort of person who could ever possibly get any kind of real enjoyment out of this completely contrived, suburbanized piece-of-fluff would be a total square.This film's unfunny, badly-conceived story-line is, in a sense, very much in tune with its time (the early 1960s). In other words, it's a prime example of an over-long TV Sit-Com/Soap Opera at its absolute worst.This is the kind of story that's teaming with despicably boring, suburbanized couples where the dreary housewives (in their teased-up hairdos and fluffy slippers) get their daily fix of local gossip from Ernie, the milkman, who never fails to have some juicy bit of dirt to stir up their interest and liven up their horrendously drab, little lives.This movie, whose story gets more and more moronic by the minute, is overflowing with whining, snivelling characters and really terrible attempts at slapstick comedy.And, in order to hopefully generate some much-needed laughs, this film's story actually stoops to getting Rock Hudson's & Tony Randall's characters into bed with each other. Of course, this business is all done very innocently, but, now that we are all very aware of what Hudson's sexual preference was, I take this dumb scene as being something of an in-joke that clearly went right over the heads of the movie-audiences back in 1964.In my opinion, Doris Day & Rock Hudson made for a totally unconvincing on-screen couple. There was no chemistry, whatsoever, happening between these 2. And I would never, ever believe in a million years that a man of Hudson's good looks would ever find anything attractive or marriage-worthy about the likes of that annoyingly-stunned, super-flake, Doris Day. (Sheesh! Like, hey, give me a break, already!)This film's wafer-thin story about George Kimball, a hypochondriac pain-in-the-neck, who tells everyone else, except his nagging wife, Judy, that he believes he's only got 2 weeks to live, literally hangs onto its wits by a single thread. And, with that, it milks this stupidest of situations right to its very last drop. (Ho-Hum!) *Trivia note* - This film's title song, which was sung by Doris Day, was written by Hal David & Burt Bacharach.

Robert J. Maxwell If this movie had been a one-shot deal, standing by itself, instead of third in a series of fluffy domestic comedies starring Doris Day and Rock Hudson, it might have been more appreciated. After all, what is it except an unusually good example of what might be called neo-screwball comedy? Make it in black and white in 1941, put in Cary Grant and Irene Dunne, call it "My Favorite Hypochondriac", and you've got a hit on your hands.Rock Hudson is no Cary Grant. Nobody is, although Grant was to replace Hudson in a later entry in the series. But Hudson had a modest flair for comedy. And here, in this context, his stupefaction and self pity are handled very well, an ironic contrast to his masculine frame and heroic features. Doris Day is no slouch either. She was no longer a spring chicken but she's cute, sexy, and a more accomplished performer than Hudson. Tony Randall provides excellent support for the third time, though his constant drunkenness doesn't provide his character with the inventiveness of his earlier two roles. It isn't funny to simply see a man drunk. He must do or say something funny. Paul Lynde is superb as the avaricious cemetery owner. Edward Andrews is funny for a change, instead of being slimy and underhanded. He's always grumbling about how the specialists like cardiologists are making a fortune and the allergists manage to keep bankers hours because they never deal with emergencies.The script is quite good too. Not only is the main theme ridiculous -- a hypochondriacal husband tricked into believing he's dying and trying to hide it from his wife while fixing her up with a new husband -- but the situations are studded with gags, as in a superior TV situation comedy. Just one example: Andrews is a doctor who's spent the weekend fishing. He removes his hat and reveals a sharp line across his forehead separating his blazing red features from his pale brow. Nothing is made of it. It's just there.The dialog is keen as well. Another example: Hudson is recording a tape to be given to his wife after his demise. The farewell address sparkles with unintended jokes and ironies. (1) "Yes, I'm dying. My hypochondria finally paid off." And (2) "When I am gone, I would like you to remarry after whatever your bridge club considers a decent interval." The movie is dated of course. All movies are dated the instant they're in the can. Nobody drives jumbo American convertibles anymore. Nobody lives in houses that might charitably be described as Modern Colonial Hideous. Milkmen don't deliver milk. Doctors don't make house calls. And nobody lives on a Universal back lot with fake houses, plastic shrubbery, and astroturf lawns. And the mores are different too. Somehow, even adultery has lost the kick it used to have. But so what? We need more successful comedies. Laughter is the best medicine, although Prozac helps too.

bkoganbing For the last film of Rock Hudson-Doris Day-Tony Randall, Rock and Doris are already married so it's not like Rock is in hot pursuit of our all American virginal goddess. Instead they seem like a typical suburban couple of the early sixties except for one problem, Rock is an obsessive compulsive hypochondriac. Another visit to Edward Andrews the doctor and a big misunderstanding convince Rock he's a terminal case and he starts making preparations both to meet his Maker and make sure about Doris who he leaves behind. That causes all kinds of funny situations that Rock and Doris muddle through with the fumbling help of a lot of people.Hudson and Day did three films together and by rights they should be listed as a trio with Tony Randall because he was in all three of the films and added so much to them as Hudson's comic foil. Of course this was in the day much before he became TV's most famous fuss budget, Felix Unger. Still you can see traces of Felix in all three of Randall's roles with Rock and Doris.Send Me No Flowers is the weakest of the three comedies I feel because the Hudson-Day team works so much better with Rock trying to grab a little nookie from Doris and getting hooked for his troubles. Still the film has some really nice moments. All three of their films were well cast with some of the best supporting players around.My favorite in Send Me No Flowers is Paul Lynde as the cemetery director who just loves his job. He has two scenes, one with Rock buying a cemetery plot and a second with Doris where he inadvertently solves the problems Rock's hypochondria works them into.Rock and Doris surely made one wonderful movie screen team.

mrsastor While not terribly well received here on IMDb, this is in my opinion the best of the three Hudson/Day/Randall teamings. While Pillow Talk remains fresh and sharp fifty years later (with Lover Come Back being a rather unfortunate and less enjoyable recycling of the same script), it is Send Me No Flowers that gets the most air-play of the three in our home video library.From the superb opening theme song performed by Doris Day, we are transported into the beautiful suburbia of yesteryear. Rock Hudson's George Kimball is absolutely hilarious as the king of all hypochondriacs (if you've ever known such a person, you'll die laughing). And for 1964 it makes some rather amusing and insightful observations into the nature of medicinal advertising. Ms. Day plays wife Judy Kimball; she is a delight as always and it's perhaps the most satisfying aspect of the screenplay that at last Hudson and Day are married and thus involved in a relationship that extends beyond never-realized innuendo. Randall plays the usual right-next-door character attached to Hudson's, Arnold Nash, and again this is the best of the virtually identical characters he plays in the three movies they made together.Being the hypochondriac that he is, Kimball misinterprets a conversation he overhears at the doctor's office and subsequently believes he is dying. Once he and his accomplice Arnold absorb the blow, they set about to find a suitable replacement husband for Judy to marry once George is gone. It's really a rather touchingly honorable intention and also generates the bulk of the misunderstandings that constitute the remainder of the film.There are some negatives, these are things we see through our 21st century eyes and were certainly never intended to be offensive at the time. These mainly revolve around Day's character; Judy Kimball is a beautiful and intelligent woman, but is given no other pastimes in the entire course of the film other than playing golf and preparing her husband's breakfast. And despite being beautiful and intelligent, George apparently considers her to be too big of an idiot to ever possibly survive without him, and thus he must find a man to take care of her once he is gone. She has no children, no occupation, doesn't understand a mortgage, can't write a check to the gas station correctly, her greatest interest is in the impending divorce of a neighbor she doesn't even know and she apparently doesn't even know what she pays for groceries. We are clearly shown George's greatest dread as he imagines a number of scenarios in which Judy evidently has no judgment whatsoever and is easy prey to any slick con artist that should come along once she is widowed. It might also be said that this is absolutely typical of the way virtually all women are depicted in movies and television of this era.Like all three of the Hudson/Day/Randall comedies, this one is lush and colorful, with exquisite sets and wardrobe. The supporting cast are excellent, particularly Paul Lynde as the cemetery proprietor and Edward Andrews as Kimball's exasperated physician. This film carries a warm, comfortable feel of a happier bygone era and packs lots of laughs. Highly recommended.