La joyeuse parade

When Darryl F. Zanuck virtually forced exhibitors and most of his fellow studio mogul rivals to adopt CinemaScope as a panacea for TV's devastation of Hollywood's weekly box office bonanza, he dictated that virtually all of Twentieth's output was to be filmed in that eye-stretching process. "There's No Business Like Show Business," directed by that old pro, Walter Lang, seems to be the prime example of Darryl's minions saying to their boss: "You want wide? We'll give you W-I-D-E!!"

Everything about it was designed and lensed to emphasize the original ratio of the CinemaScope process and viewing it on a video that isn't letterboxed must look like what a one-eyed person must experience in everyday life. I never did see it in a theater but I have seen it on a TV broadcast which more-or-less recreated its widescreen ratio. It's a glorious mish-mash. Every Berlin tune that could be stuffed into it is given at least one run-through; John de Cuir's production design must have occupied every inch of several of Twentieth's West Los Angeles soundstages; Ethel Merman, after her terrific movie repeat of her Broadway success in "Call Me Madam" for Fox (and now, as of 2005, available on video), trumpets away in number after number (Must have been an ear-rending experience over those original four-track stereophonic sound systems.); Dan Dailey, Donald O'Connor and Mitzi Gaynor give it their energetic best; and then there's Marilyn. What can we say, with all that so sadly, in her personal life, came after she reluctantly fulfilled her contractual obligation in this one? She dazzles in, let's face it, a rather vulgar way, and seems shoehorned in to boost the potential box office. And they even added Johnnie Ray, a huge jukebox success at the time (and, due to his hearing deficiency, performing his songs at an even greater volume than La Merman.)

All in all this one shouldn't be missed if you want to view an example of Hollywood at its brassiest, in a production fairly bulging with elements that may not coalesce very harmoniously but which was, no doubt, worth the price of admission to those movie palaces before they were carved up to become the precursors of today's sterile multiplexes.

The first time you watch this movie, you'll think it's long, boring, and stupid. The second time you watch this movie, you'll love it. I can't begin to tell you why, but it's the truth. (I had the chance to show this film to an audience during a Donald O'Connor film festival. People came up to me weeks later to say that they had caught it again on cable, and loved it the second time through.)

Marilyn is definately "ehh". This movie was filmed during her worst years of personal abuses, and it shows all over her face and her work, lending a shadowy sadness to her character for modern audiences. Donald O'Connor's character also takes on a new depth for modern viewers familiar with his own life's history, oftentimes with a sharp poignance that helps him grab control of so many scenes, and turn his character's story into the strongest sub-plot of the film.

Merman is BRILLIANT as the real head of this family, giving us a wonderfully unique character. Her role as the strong, smart, powerful, and loving mother is truly a standout for the 50's in general, and musicals in particular.

This CinemaScope musical follows the lives and loves of the Donahues, a family of vaudeville performers: father Terrance (Dan Dailey), mother Molly (Ethel Merman), elder son Tim (Donald O'Connor), daughter Katy (Mitzi Gaynor), and younger son Steve (Johnnie Ray). They persevere through changing tastes, the stock market crash, and the start of WW2. Tim falls for co-star Vicky (Marilyn Monroe), while Katy finds romance with writer Charles (Hugh O'Brian), and Steve pursues a different calling.

The threadbare story merely serves to connect a series of elaborate musical numbers designed to make the best of the new widescreen CinemaScope format. Director Lang and choreographer Robert Alton turn in some excellent work, and Donald O'Connor reportedly called this his favorite of his films (over Singin' in the Rain?!?). I watched this for Monroe, who doesn't impress much here. She supposedly didn't want to appear in this, but did so in order to win the lead in The Seven Year Itch. This was one of Fox's most expensive productions to date, and despite selling a lot of tickets, it ended up being a money-loser. It earned Oscar nominations for (inexplicably) Best Story (Lamar Trotti), Best Score (Alfred & Lionel Newman), and Best Color Costumes (Charles Le Maire, Miles White, Travilla).

Two scenes surprise, both with Marilyn Monroe: her singing of the "After You Get What You Want..." number in a ultra-tight, combination flesh-colored/white gown. It's obvious that the image portrayed is that she could be nude, with the frilly white covering her talents. The second is the famous "Heat Wave" number, in a skimpy outfit, with her navel appropriately covered, yet below is a flesh-colored "window" for more erotic symbolism. In 1954 nudity could NOT be shown, but those scenes probably BARELY squeaked by the censors. The film depicts the traveling, singing/dancing Donahue Family, headed by brassy Ethel Merman and Dan Dailey, with sons Donald O'Connor, Johnnie Ray (who wants to be a priest), and daughter Mitzi Gaynor. It's obvious the Monroe character was an afterthought to boost the film's success; the actress really didn't want to do the part, the studio allegedly counteracted by upping her salary and promising her the lead in "The Seven Year Itch" (1955). Nevertheless, Monroe looks great and is unforgettable, comedically, dramatically and musically. O'Connor is great fun and Gaynor is a knockout dancer. Between some slow stages, musical numbers are expertly staged, with magnificent sets and superb color schemes all throughout. The finale is surprisingly touching with a rousing title tune reprise by all; only way to watch this is on the pristine-restored widescreem (2:55 to 1) DVD.

"There's No Business Like Show Business" was never intended to be great film-making or storytelling, so please do not watch it with those things in mind.

Sure, it was over-staged, over-produced, in some cases over-acted and any other "overs" you can think of, but it's just fun to relax and watch and listen to. I've seen the film maybe dozens of times (I own the DVD) and it's obvious to me that despite a few on screen gaffes and off-screen problems for at least a couple of the actors, Hollywood had a whale of a good time making it. Some of the characters are unrealistic and I'm sure if you could ask the actors, all would say it was by far not their best work.

Furthermore, if we didn't know it before, "Show Business" proved that Johnnie Ray, the part crooner, part rock belter of the era, couldn't act his way into or out of a paper bag. But so what?? This ain't Hamlet. Ray was cast to do here what he did best: sing the heck out of a couple of songs that were arranged precisely to suit his performing style. And he also just managed to pull off an unusual plot twist that I'm sure audiences of the era did not expect.

We're all asked to suspend temporarily all logic and reason when we turn on our TVs or go to the movies. Why stop with "There's No Business Like Show Business"? So grab the munchies, sit back and let Ethel Merman and Gang entertain you for a couple of harmless, gaudy hours.