Demasiadas muchachas

Too Many Girls is an interesting film for the above reason and is worth the look also. But while a long way from the worst film musicals, it is not a particularly great film either. There are definitely things that do salvage it. Desi Arnaz is very charming in his role and gives it his all, though his singing can sound strained because of the register. The songs make for very pleasant listening, I Didn't Know What Time It Was is the best number and is a classic, though other than that none really are among Rodgers and Hart's best. Hal LeRoy beguiles with his dancing and toe-work, and you have to love the comedy comebacks of Eddie Bracken as well as the vocal talents of Frances Langford and the dancing of Ann Miller. The football footage is interesting too, the film does look nice if not quite audacious and look out for Van Johnson. Too Many Girls has all those good things but is for me a very flawed film. When there aren't any songs, much of the film is weak with draggy pacing, a pretty dispensable story and stilted dialogue. The direction and choreography are definitely competent- the Conga at the end is an absolute riot and anything danced by Ann Miller is fun enough- but are not particularly memorable and could have had more passion. Lucille Ball's Connie is too exaggerated, and while the singer providing her singing voice has a beautiful silky voice- much better than Ball's, whose I can't stand, especially in the dire Mame- it is one of those instances where you can actually tell it's not the actor/actress singing. And Richard Carlson is unbearably wooden here too. Overall, not a bad film, not a good one either, kind of a difficult one to judge actually because there is some entertainment value there are a lot of noticeable bad things too. 5/10 Bethany Cox

You can't really appreciate the pace and style of the great movie musicals until you've seen some lousy ones like this. A really awful 1930s or 1940s musical movie can induce a sort of restful trance, and take you into another world of stunned tedium. If you know only Rodgers and Hart's great songs which survived shows and became standards, you'll be astounded by how many strained and stupid ones come in between them in the course of a plotted show. The story-scenes are acted in a stiff and disinterested style. Actors seem just to be waiting for others to stop speaking so they can say their lines, rather than actually listening to each other. And why should they listen? What they say is overwritten, repetitious, and yet often indirect and incomplete as far as telling the story is concerned. The plot manages to be both contrived and clumsy, unlikely to the point of being fantastic--yet who would fantasize such dreariness? This effect is probably partly the result of prudish Hollywood trying to adapt a supposedly "spicy" script direct from supposedly "wicked" and "sophisticated" Broadway, and therefore inserting or deleting lines to keep the script "clean" but still leave the impression that it's "daring." But the prudishness seems hypocritical, and the sophistication way, way overestimated. Trying to convey both attitudes, yet neither, the actors become robotic and stressed. And the sets are so stagy that it's a shock when suddenly one scene is played on a real ball-field. Perhaps the most characteristic moment comes when Lucille Ball makes a remark about a boyfriend which is clearly the lead-in for a song, and then, as mechanically as a wind-up toy, while the other actors in the room watch helplessly, with nothing to do, crosses a whole room, goes out onto a porch, hits a position, stares into a light, and lip-syncs woodenly to a voice obviously not hers. Another: after what seems an endless discussion of the troubled finances of a college (which turn out to have nothing to do with the story at all), one boy donates the three hundred dollars (?) that's needed, and the college is opened, at which point for some reason everyone participates in a production number called, "Cakewalk, 'Cause We Got Cake," possibly left over from some other situation in the Broadway original (some of its lyrics seem to relate to Depression optimism), and performed not as a cakewalk, but a swing number. Also, as is to be expected in a "college musical" of the time, the main characters are far past college age, so their sexual coyness seems retarded. The ultimate effect is one of dreamlike slowness and isolation and illogic, making this trivial nonsense seem related to the existential sadness of De Chirico's paintings or Kafka's novels. The movie may be even more bewildering to younger viewers today because of changed social attitudes. A long scene among four boys is oblique to the point of mystery because in 1940 none of them could actually say that certain girls wearing certain "beanie" caps are virgins (there are a couple of incredibly labored attempts later at jokes about these caps). Lucille Ball, giving an old Native American man a letter to carry for her to a lover, calls the messenger, "Boy," and Latino Desi Arnaz not only has an awkward gay joke early in the film, but later performs a song called "I'm Spic and Spanish."

My mother and father were often on the set of Too Many Girls before they got married. My father was a dancer/extra on the film, as was Van Johnson, who he was buddies with at the time. My mother, who was working in Los Angeles at the time, would go to the set just to watch.

My parents often told the story of how my mother would come visit the set and would sit with Lucille Ball and chat with her on the sidelines when she was not being filmed.

Once, it came time for a new scene and George Abbott yelled for everyone to get on the set. When my mother remained seated at a table he turned around and yelled at her when he said everybody, he meant everybody! My father had to step out of the chorus line and explain she was his girlfriend and just there to watch. I've not yet gotten the DVD but hope to soon.

Some movies become important, not because of their subject or their cinematic relevance (or irrelevance in some cases), but because of other circumstances.

In this case, it's the film that brought together two of television's greatest personalities and business people: Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz. Both were struggling actors trying to make their images a commodity in the Hollywood of the late Thirties and early Forties. Arnaz, however, was less an actor than a musician so he had material on which to fall back on. Ball, on the other hand, was today's Parker Posey -- you always saw her star in B-movies and rarely, if ever, in "major productions". Back then, though, such a thing was looked down upon and Ball in this vehicle didn't fare better: she remained rooted in the B's.

So with Ball and Arnaz coming together in 1940, it is reported that the sparks were loud and clear and despite their personality and racial differences, they were to begin an alliance which would legally last 20 years, but emotionally, a lifetime. Neither of them share scenes together other than the ones in which their characters happen to appear on screen simultaneously, which would have been great in order to capture what they were about to experience (much in the style of Hepburn and Tracy, and Bogart and Bacall), but that's okay. We know the history of Lucy and Desi and if anything, this movie is the catalyst for their union.

Great dancing by Ann Miller and some fellow; Langford looked kind of puffy; Desi was cute and so was Bracken. All the cast seemed energetic and there was good ensemble choreography. Wish it was in color! The surprise was Richard Carlson who looked really hunky in those days...Lucille Ball was great from the beginning...really a beautiful woman with plenty of comic talent!