Jolanda e il re della samba

If Yolanda and the Thief isn't the damnedest thing ever committed to film, it's hard to say what is. Vincente Minnelli took a wisp of whimsey from Ludwig Bemelmans and turned it into this overblown fantasy musical that pushes the flap of the envelope wide open.

Most musicals – the best of them, anyway – grow out of show business lore and derive their pluck and sass from the raffish traditions of show-must-go-on troupers. But Yolanda and the Thief invents a Latin-American Ruritania (called Patria, or fatherland) out of stereotypes which verge on the offensive but stay simperingly coy. It's a kind of squeaky-clean utopia of the clueless Lost Horizon sort run by a benevolent family of oligarchs called the Aquavivas.

Their only daughter (Lucille Bremer), having reached her majority, leaves the convent school where she is allowed to wear full Hollywood makeup. The vast family fortune becomes hers to administer with the help of a dotty aunt (Mildred Natwick, and the best thing in the movie). Alas, the good sisters have not equipped her to cope with the wicked ways of the world, as personified by a couple of American con-artists (Fred Astaire and Frank Morgan) who arrange an introduction and plan to abscond with a sizeable chunk of her assets. Astaire poses as an angel for the impressionable girl, and almost gets away with it, except he – inevitably – falls for her. Plus, on the fringes of the action, a real angel operates....

Harmless enough piffle, but get a load of the musical numbers. Full-tilt phantasmagorias that look like Busby Berkeley on acid or crystal or absinthe, they get bigger and more grandiose and ever loonier, with colors so brash that sunglasses are in order (was this the first head movie?). The set and costume designers must have had field day, what with Minnelli extending them a carte blanche they certainly never had before and would never have again until the debut of the music video. But the songs stay resolutely uninspired, which takes the starch out of the dancing (even much of Astaire's). It's safe to say nobody strode out of the theaters in 1945 whistling snappy tunes from Yolanda and the Thief.

It's not exactly fun to watch but you can't take your eyes off it, either. A one-of-a-kind Technicolor extravaganza, it makes you wonder how – not to say why – it ever got made. Astaire's reputation must have taken a nosedive after its release, and as for Bremer? She makes you long for Ginger Rogers – even the very late Ginger Rogers.

This is a totally misconceived musical fantasy that never knows what direction it's heading in. Parts of it are sticky-gooey religious drek with heiress Yolanda Aquaviva (Lucille Bremer) graduating from a convent to take her place at the head of the country's richest family. The other story thread concerns grifters (Fred Astaire and Frank Morgan) entering the country (it looks like Bolivia) to escape the American police. With assistance from an archangel (Leon Ames)the stories meet.

Mildred Natwick, as the loony aunt, comes off best in a delightfully comic performance. Ames and Morgan have almost nothing to do. Astaire, with his worst toupee in a major film, seems bored. Bremer (of the twitchy eyes) has almost zero acting talent. The color cinematography and set decoration will knock your eyes out, but as the scenes run from obvious artsy sets to real back drops, there seems to be no consistency or authorial vision.

Aside from a few comic moments (which belong to Natwick) the only things that saves this film from total failure is the musical number "Coffee Time." The set up is a carnival where Astaire and Bremer get pushed into doing a dance together. The oddly syncopated "Coffee Time" catches the viewer off guard because it's so damned good and quite arresting.

The number is introduced by three girls who clap in counter beat to the slightly South American sounds of the main melody. Then swirls of dancers join in, also clapping their four-beat counter tempo. Finally Astaire and Bremer take the spotlight and for a few moments they both come alive as they dance across the amazingly psychedelic floor of black and white wavy streaks. This is a great song/number stuck in a lousy film.

After the song, we resume the dreary narrative. I have no idea what director Vincente Minnelli was trying for, but nothing works. It's not a fantasy, it's not funny, and the religious angle is a total dud. Thank heaven for Mildred Natwick, the color cinematography, and "Coffee Time."

I'd always been curious about this one, especially considering its rather unhappy reputation as a major disappointment in the Fred Astaire/Vincente Minnelli canon, and it's fairly easy to see why. Turner Classic Movies scheduled it recently and I tuned in to watch something that certainly made me glad Technicolor was invented but which fell somewhat short of its intended mark.

The story is absolute piffle, almost redeemed by Mildred Natwick's genuinely funny portrayal of a dotty aunt. (Check out the sequence where she welcomes Yolanda home from her years at a convent school.) M-G-M stalwarts Leon Ames and Frank Morgan (Was he in every single class "A" Metro production from the late Thirties through the early Fifties?) lend reliable support with the little they're given to do. And Fred Astaire and Lucille Bremer get (only) two opportunities to display their dancing compatibility. Astaire, of course, managed to complement all of his dancing partners with his patented style and grace (even the miscast Joan Fontaine in "A Damsel in Distress") but, as a matter of personal opinion, I think that Ms. Bremer runs a very close second to the gorgeous Cyd Charisse as one of his most elegant and beautiful co-stars. She's too old for her role in this one, admittedly, but she's nevertheless quite charming and a prime object for the luscious Technicolor cinematography of Charles Rosher.

The real star of this misbegotten show, however, is the opulence of the very artificial art direction, set decoration, and costuming. It's Hollywood at its most baroque and Minnelli keeps his cameras gliding through it all as if on angels' wings. If you're not looking for one of the Arthur Freed's unit's bona fide musical classics, this one will provide a phantasmagoria of color and motion that's rarely been equaled.

Imagine if Pufnstuf married Mary Poppins at MGM in 1945. Hmmm. This eyegoggling Technicolor extravaganza set in South America is basically the movie version of the box of chocolates Forrest Gump's Mum warned us about. Unsuspecting viewers might be initially puzzled at the setting and the ideology of the characters. But if you are willing to be patient and be generous about the casting and look forward to a sumptuous feast of color MGM musical effervescence... Well YOLANDA is possibly one of the three top visual treats from that studio. WIZARD OF OZ and THE PIRATE are my votes for the other two. This puts us firmly in a fantasy mode of dreamy musicals with some bitter edges and sexual undercurrent. Read the other comments on this site for YOLANDA they quite well describe some odd things and mostly agree on the film's triumphs: the art direction and the 'Coffeetime' dance number. For me there is an extra musical bonus: The song called "I've An Angel": its breathtaking romantic excitement, the swoon-worthy sexual beauty of Lucille Bremer emerging from her bath to dress in ultra sheer imagery of famed Vargas Girl style.. and the song itself hummed and sung as she bathes, dresses, leaves the house and rushes through the night for a possibly breathless encounter. YOLANDA has many delights, like that chocolate box itself, and it is over ripe and heady. But I am so happy it exists, so delicious a cinematic fruit salad. It cost a mammoth $4million dollars in 1945 and did not return its cost. Made in the days when 'Art for Arts sake" the MGM motto on the ribbon over the growling lion logo, actually meant what it said. YOLANDA (and THE PIRATE) are both genuine art musicals. Know that and you will enjoy.

This one is a strange one. Set in a fictional South American Country, Fred Astaire plays a con man who impersonates a guardian angel to Lucille Bremer's innocent, convent raised character. While he is trying to get to her vast fortune, he of course falls in love with her.

The story is over-shadowed by the bizarre musical numbers. There is a dream sequence which is one of the longest, most mesmerizing musical numbers ever put on film (eat your heart out Salvadore Dali). The number `Coffee Time' looks like it was fun to film and the dance floor will cause you to,have optical illusions.

The sets are very opulent and the Technicolor is breathtaking. Over-all I rate this film highly because it is so off-beat. I read that this film cost 6 million dollars to make, and was a huge box office failure, and that Fred Astaire nearly retired because of his experience with it.