Canción del sol de medianoche

Ignoring the scathingly critical reviews for this bomb, I paid admission to the Cinerama Dome Theater in Hollywood, California during its first-run engagement because I knew that the 70mm/stereo presentation at that theater, especially designed for the viewing of big-screen extravaganzas, would be optimal. Norway is a country I have always wanted to visit and the agony of viewing this film was insufficient to lessen that lifelong dream. But what a nightmare it was! I note that Frank Porretta, listed in the credits, had appeared in a stage production of "The Song of Norway" in Los Angeles and he had received special praise for his expressive singing and masculine stage presence. But you will note that his filmography consists of just this one title. Talk about the proverbial "Kiss of Death"!

The only clear memory I have of that evening's experience at the Cinerama Dome were the loud and ecstatic exclamations emanating from some poor soul in the audience, unprovoked, as far as I could tell, by anything happening on the massively curved screen. She sat off to the side and her outbursts were the prime source of entertainment as the film's lengthy reels unspooled. Management did not eject her, perhaps because she sat through every showing, considerably boosting the meager box-office receipts. Her overwhelming pleasure, I shall always prefer to think, was, perhaps, due to her longing to revisit (I'm presuming here) her native Norway, this film's handsomest attribute.

Florence Henderson's karma must have been extraordinarily good, since her role as the matriarch on TV's long-running and insanely popular family sitcom, "The Brady Bunch," began its hold on the hearts and minds of so many American moppets while coinciding with the theatrical release of this surefire career-killer. She must be a tolerant soul for, were I to enjoy the residuals which must flood her bank account year after year during the syndication of "The Brady Bunch," I'd have long ago investigated the cost of permanently suppressing all evidence of this turkey.

I had great expectations when this film opened with beautiful scenery and masterful cinematography. Norway is truly spectacular. I thought it would be very refreshing to watch a film that didn't rely on special effects, but sorrowfully my expectations soon gave way to mind boggling reality.

The pacing was slow, the dialogue was forced, "real" reactions were practically nonexistent, even from the stand-ins, kids, dancers and supporting actors who were used more like set pieces than human beings. The directorial style was old fashioned Rome opera. Traditionally in Rome, the singers rarely move. They just plant their feet and sing, and the chorus is draped around them. The sound is great, but the dramatic elements are totally sublimated to the music. I think they tried to do the same here, but what's good for Rome sure ain't good for the movies! Frank Porretta as Richard Nordraak touches me with his gorgeous voice, and he reads well on screen, but his character, like the rest, lacked any depth.

Once footage was "in the can" scenes were chopped up like confetti. Smooth transitions, probably 86'd for the sake of the score, were the first to go. Our "suspension of disbelief" was shattered continually. The sound was also very uneven, and the choreography was quite stilted and cloned from just about any Rogers and Hammerstein film. "Production numbers" just meant more people on stage, crammed into boxcars if necessary, and "don't let them move around too much". oi. They even teamed Florence Henderson up with a gang of "cute kids" who had absolutely no personalities, and had her stomp through the town singing ala "Sound of Music". Nothing worked.

How Edward G. Robinson managed to retain his dignity in this horrible flick is a total mystery. The leading men might have done well as characters in "Mr. Ripley" if only their makeup had been feathered into the hairlines. Florence was lovely and animated and saved the day as best as she could. The costumes were obviously high budget as was the film itself, but budget alone could not save this unfortunate disaster.

A horrible biography of composer Edvard Grieg's early life. It was shot on location in Scandanavia. The scenery is just beautiful and the music is fantastic--even the songs (based on Grieg's music) aren't bad. The problem? Everything else. The story is just non-stop clichés; the movie is way too long (2 1/2 hours); the dance numbers are badly staged and hysterically lousy and the acting...let's put it this way...Florence Henderson gives the best performance! Grieg himself is played by Toralv Mausted. Ever hear of him? Didn't think so. There's a reason for this. Also there are over FORTY songs shoved into this movie. Like I said, they aren't bad, but it gets to be a bit much after a while.

I'm giving this a 3 for the scenery and music but everything else is hopeless. Easily one of the worst musicals ever made. Too bad--the scenery is truly gorgeous.

Critically-lambasted musical adaptation of the successful play regarding the early years of Norwegian pianist/composer Edvard Greig (played by Toralv Maurstad, a Bruce Davison lookalike with oddly shaped eyes). Grieg--initially a rowdy scamp in the 1860s who pined after a lovely girl from a prominent family while trying to get his sonnets published--found himself frustratingly without a benefactor or any professional engagements in which to showcase his work, later marrying his cousin and barely scraping by giving piano lessons. For the most part, writer-director Andrew L. Stone has crafted a not uninteresting, frequently engaging romp with several intentionally funny asides and endearingly klutzy musical numbers. The on-location shooting in Norway and Denmark is lovely, even if the cinematography in general is poor and the editing mediocre. Frank Porretta is a robust presence as fellow composer Richard Nordraak (who sings to the heavens and, at one point, directly to Edvard while seated in a restaurant!). Yet, just about the time Grieg is gaining some prominence for his hard work, the narrative (loose to begin with) gets all balled up, with too many tragedies coming to a head at once. This patchy third-act, punctuated by a myriad of nature shots and sunsets, doesn't allow the viewer any emotional satisfaction, and the finale is flat. More genuine style and gloss was required, and classical purists will probably scoff, however the picture has a lively beginning. Results are far from terrible. ** from ****

This wretched film was inflicted upon me at a weekend house party, when the hosts insisted that we all watch this "absolutely lovely movie" together. Imagine being trapped for 2 and a half hours with a VIDEO of this travesty, on a small TV screen, seeking brief respites ("could you pause it while I visit the 'facility'?"), having to mumble polite monosyllables of assent in response to the hosts' appalling praise of what turned out to be absolute drivel. The film does have exquisite scenery...Norway's a beautiful country! It has lovely music...Grieg was a decent enough composer! It also has the most atrociously awful acting (the lead is one Toralv Maurstad, who has mercifully vanished from sight, Florence Henderson is in this, for Pete's sake---and what on earth are Robert Morley, Edward G. Robinson, Oscar Homolka, and Harry Secombe doing in this?), a sophomoric (or worse) script, amateurish direction, incompetent film editing. And it is SO BORING!!!! No, it's worse than boring, it is profoundly IRRITATING in its boredom.