‘We almost didn’t do it because it was too dirty’: Doris Day and Rock Hudson on Pillow Talk, the risqué romcom

Released in this week in 1959, Pillow Talk challenged Hollywood’s conservative morality, cleverly navigating restrictions on how bedroom activities could be portrayed. In the 1980s its stars talked to the BBC about how the film mirrored the attitudes of a nation on the cusp of sexual revolution.

“It seemed risqué, but isn’t it funny when you think what they’re showing now?”

Doris Day’s playful observation in a rare 1989 BBC interview perfectly encapsulates a film that once pushed Hollywood’s boundaries of acceptability. Released in 1959, Pillow Talk flirted with the themes of modern romance and desire in ways that now feel almost quaint, but were daring at a time when the movie business was bound by strict moral codes. It went on to have an impact on the romantic comedy genre as a whole, establishing tropes and archetypes that are still used today.

Directed by Michael Gordon, Pillow Talk follows Jan Morrow (Doris Day), a successful interior decorator, who unwillingly shares a telephone line with a charming yet womanising composer, Brad Allen (Rock Hudson). While Jan attempts to use the line for business, Brad hogs it for some business of his own, crooning serenades to countless women. The demand for phone services had surged in the US following World War Two, and so companies supplied multiple people with shared telephone connections. While cost-effective, these “party lines” meant that privacy was often compromised. In Pillow Talk, the party line is a playful tool for romantic entanglement and sets up the characters’ “meet-cute”, just as emails, text messages and apps would in the decades to follow. Similarly, the film’s use of mistaken identity, romantic deception and eventual reconciliation became foundational tropes for the genre.

The film proved to be a turning point for both of its stars, transforming Doris Day from giddy girl-next-door to sophisticated sex symbol, and Rock Hudson from a dramatic leading man to a romcom regular. “Ah, I was crazy about that script,” Day remembered. “And I loved the clothes, and I loved working with Rock for the first time. He and I were very good friends. We loved working together. We respected each other. And I think that came across.” Pillow Talk earned Day her only Academy Award nomination, and was followed by two more romantic comedies that paired her with Hudson, Lover Come Back (1961) and Send Me No Flowers (1964).

As clean as the film might seem when seen through modern eyes, it was considered quite racy in the safe, sanitised cinematic landscape of the 1950s. In a period when even subtle suggestions of sexuality were censored, it treated dating, seduction and pre-marital sex so casually that Hudson turned down the script three times because of how lewd it seemed. “We almost didn’t do it because it was too dirty,” he confessed on the BBC’s Wogan chat show in 1984.

“Were those the days you had to keep a foot on the floor?” Terry Wogan asked, the audience responding with laughter. The idea of such delicacy and censorship was already absurd just a few decades after Pillow Talk was released.

Wogan was referring to the Hays Code: “A Code to Govern the Making of Talking, Synchronised and Silent Motion Pictures.” The Hays Code, first shared in 1930 and implemented in 1934, was a set of strict moral guidelines governing Hollywood films. Named after the president of The Association of Motion Picture Producers at the time, William H Hays, the code promoted traditional values, and sought to censor content relating to sexuality, violence and anything else considered outside the boundaries of decency. While films could be released without a certificate of approval, it would heavily impact the number of cinemas willing to run them. Even cartoon flapper girl Betty Boop had her skirt lengthened, curls tamed and movements minimised to avoid any suggestion of immorality.

To stay in line with the code, many portrayals from the time showed married couples sleeping in adjacent single beds, or had one spouse keep a foot on the floor at all times to avoid them being shown lying down together. In particular, the code stated, “The treatment of bedrooms must be governed by good taste and delicacy,” and warned: “Certain places are so closely and thoroughly associated with sexual life or with sexual sin that their use must be carefully limited”.

Pillow Talk came teasingly close to crossing these ideas of decency, pushing the boundaries of what could be shown on screen without actually breaking the code’s rules. A split-screen effect was used to show both sides of a phone conversation, giving the risqué impression of Hudson and Day lying side-by-side. The effect both drove the plot and heightened the couple’s sexual tension, all the while sidestepping censorship.

By the end of the film, conventional values prevail, with Hudson’s Brad ultimately reforming his womanising ways, falling in love and seeking a committed relationship. And yet, Pillow Talk still mirrors the evolving attitudes of the late 1950s. Day’s portrayal of Jan as a professional woman not defined by her relationship status connected with audiences who were starting to embrace women’s independence in a post-World War Two US. Jan is successful, confident and in control of her personal life – a departure from the more domesticated female roles seen in some earlier Hollywood films.

While Pillow Talk signalled a shift in cultural attitudes towards love and relationships, it also underscored the limitations of that progress. At the height of his career, Hudson kept his sexuality hidden, a necessity in an era that did not fully accept LGBTQ+ identities. “Nothing was ever talked about as far as his private life,” Day explained in her 1989 television interview, “And I must tell you that many, many people would ask me, you know, ‘Is Rock Hudson really gay?’ And I said, ‘It’s something that I will not discuss.'”

Hudson’s sexuality remained shrouded in secrecy and rumour until his Aids diagnosis was made public in 1985. He was one of the first celebrities to be publicly diagnosed and to die from an Aids-related illness. The disclosure of his condition helped to change public perception of Aids, which at that time had not even been publicly acknowledged by then-US president Ronald Reagan. Day would go on to raise awareness and fundraise for Aids research throughout her life.