A Verdade não Se Diz

This movie is based on a very contrived plot device. Van Johnson plays a man who has a peculiar sort of reaction to alcohol--the type you'll only see in movies and I doubt if anyone on this planet does what his character did. While the IMDb summary says he passes out when he drinks, this is NOT the case. Instead, even the smallest taste of alcohol sends him into a fit where he behaves roaring drunk for several minutes--afterwords, he has no clear recollection of his behaviors. As I said, it's contrived--but also odd because the film really isn't exactly a comedy--in fact, much of it is VERY serious. In fact, with a subplot involving racism, the mix is uncomfortable and bizarre to say the least.

On the plus side, the film has very good acting. Van Johnson, despite the material, is excellent and he's given tons of support from the likes of Liz Taylor (who is at her radiant best), Leon Ames (whose speech at the end is terrific), Gene Lockhart (June's father) and Edgar Buchanan--among others. It is clearly filled with quality actors. It's just too bad that the script itself isn't high quality. In fact, it could clearly have used a re-write. It's a B-movie script with A-list actors and production values. Not a bad film but not at all a good one either.

Plot--A top-notch law student is courted by a powerful legal firm. Trouble is the budding legal eagle gets silly drunk on just a taste of alcohol. Of course, that creates problems in the boozy world of formal dinners. And, oh yes, something about a Chinese man losing his apartment because of discrimination gets dropped in.

I was curious. The production has two of MGM's brightest young stars, Taylor and Johnson, yet I'd never heard of the movie. Now I know why. It can't make up its mind what it is— comedy, social conscience, drama. Okay, some movies manage to combine the three into a luminous package, like The Apartment (1960). But that film benefited from the versatile Jack Lemmon in the lead. Now Van Johnson could do light comedy, especially with engaging dialog. And that's the trouble here. In a difficult role that calls for traversing from bibulous one-liners to sober righteousness he looks dour throughout, turning many of his sudden inebriated moments from humor to confusion. I'm not sure what the cause was, but the results look like miscasting. Trouble is that his is the central role, and thusly the movie as a whole is compromised.

Not that the script is any help, especially the fancy dinner scene that's almost painful in its misplaced humor. Then too, the pregnant premise—getting drunk on a mere whiff of alcohol —is a tricky one that might work in a different context, but not here. Anyway, Taylor's gorgeous, while about every middle-aged actor in Hollywood picks up a payday. But whatever impresario Krasna was reaching for just doesn't come off. Good thing both stars went on to bigger and better things.

This Big Hangover gives the audience a big hangover. There are several problems with this film.

First, with a title like "The Big Hangover" you would normally think that this is a comedy. There are no big laughs.

Next, the Hair of the Dog is significant because there is a talking dog in the movie. Once again, no laughs.

Next, in 1950 Van Johnson was 35 years old, and Elizabeth Taylor was 17.

Next, while always beautiful, Liz Taylor at 17 is completely unconvincing as an adult psychologist.

Finally, the concept of PTSD was not yet recognized in 1950. Obviously, many WW II veterans were suffering from PTSD and this movie does not take that seriously. If you want to see a good movie about WW II PTSD watch "The Best Years of Our Lives."

"The Big Hangover" is a rather unpleasant film that seen today doesn't play well. Acting-wise, the cast is very attractive: a gorgeous Elizabeth Taylor, then 18 years old, Van Johnson, Leon Ames, Rosemary DeCamp, Percy Waram, and Edgar Buchanan. Johnson plays a law student on the GI bill who's about to graduate. He has an embarrassing problem with alcohol: one taste and he's plastered. He talks to lamps; he thinks his dog is talking to him; he sings loudly at a formal alumni dinner. His boss' daughter, Taylor, who once worked for a psychiatrist, wants to cure him.

All of this has the makings of a comedy, except the film takes a turn with the introduction of a subplot where a Chinese man and his wife are denied an apartment. Johnson believes the matter to be resolved in the man's favor, and then learns that the law firm he works with has lied to him. This has the makings of a good drama, with Johnson having to face some cold facts of life and decide what he wants to stand for in his career.

But as neither comedy nor drama, the film ends up as not much. There's an aggravating scene where one of the good old boy attorneys spikes Johnson's food at the alumni dinner to watch him get plotzed. It's mean-spirited, and it makes you wonder why the other people at the table are laughing.

Despite its excellent cast and good performances, The Big Hangover is more of The Big Waste.

Nineteen-fifty can't have been an accommodating year for a drama with a `progressive' axe to grind, so writer/director Norman Krasna opted for stealth: He wrapped it in a simple-minded screwball plot. Alas, the comedy takes an offensive, loutish turn while the social commentary ends up trivialized, an afterthought.

Van Johnson, valedictorian of his law school class, interns at a white-shoe firm but hides an awkward secret. In France during the war, a bombing raid on a monastery almost caused him to drown in Napoleon brandy. Ever since, he has zero tolerance for booze, in a way that's different (but not entirely so) from abnormal drinkers who sometimes refer to their `allergy' to alcohol; even a whiff sets him off into sustaining conversations with floor lamps and sheep dogs, like another inebriate of that year, Elwood P. Dowd. But pains are taken to stress that he's not `an alcoholic.' Luckily Elizabeth Taylor, daughter of the firm's head, rescues him from embarrassment and sets out to `cure' him.

In the Scotch-and-martini days of post-war drinking, maybe audiences swallowed the fallacy that Johnson's aversion to spirits was a crippling obstacle to his happiness and success; at one juncture he even laments, `Why couldn't I just have been shot in the war?' (The unthinkable is never proposed – that, like millions of others, with and without problems, he simply abstain.)

Then, about halfway through, the movie suddenly springs its `serious' theme. Johnson is lied to about an incident of anti-Asian discrimination in which his firm is involved (this seems courageous until it dawns that a Jim Crow incident could never have been used). Everything comes to a head at a self-congratulatory banquet where the partners – with the connivance of their wives – become merry old pranksters, spiking Johnson's soup in hopes that he'll discredit himself. But, Taylor at his side, Johnson surmounts his disability and blows a clarion call for truth, justice and the American way.

Appealing performances by Johnson, Taylor, Leon Ames, Gene Lockhart and many others help the movie go down rather smoothly. But then The Big Hangover lives up to its title: afterwards, It's foolish, unpleasant and regrettable.