Hit the Hay

She is the daughter of a renowned opera diva. Ross Hunter -- yes, he did act for a while -- finds her singing Mozart arias while milking a cow at a market. Convinced that she can save his father's foundering opera company, he brings her back and gives her the big build-up, only to discover that she is Judy Canova.

This scattergun lampoon of opera and its backstage politicking was one of the movies Miss Canova made after she made the move from Republic to Columbia. Under the direction of Del Lord, it hits all the tropes that had made her a star on Broadway and the radio: the deadpan hick personality, the real talent, the physical awkwardness, topped off with a burlesque of Rossini's WILLIAM TELL. Its not to my taste, but there is no disguising that this is a well-made vehicle for a star of a type of humor that was very popular at the time. That combination of hick personality and sophisticated vocal ability would find a later expression in Jim Nabors. Is it dead even now?

Miss Canova made one more movie in this cycle, then retired, in favor of a growing family and a popular radio show that ran until 1953. She moved to television, and made supporting appearances in other people's movies, appeared in Broadway shows and road companies. She died in 1983, aged 69.

No survey of "B" westerns worth its salt would be complete without a tip of the sombrero — or kick of the boot — to Judy Canova, hidalga of the hillbillies. This one is well below even Jughead Judy's perennial low standard, with one of the weakest scripts and some of the most ineffectual direction ever seen.

True, Cowgirl Canova makes an admirable stab at a dual role but ruins even that promise by having her voice so obviously dubbed for the operatic excerpts. Nonetheless, it does make for a rousing montage sequence of "Martha", but that's the high point of this low movie.

The support players try valiantly to make some headway against their piffling dialogue, but to no avail.

Behind-the-camera credits, including photography and art direction, are as lackluster as the script.