Chanson dans la nuit

This is basically a ninety minute piece of shameful self promotion by 20th Century Fox.

Emery Slade (William Powell) was a great star in films but is now getting on in years and down and out. Nobody wants to work with him because he was always such a self involved jerk and a budget buster when he was on top. Jean Hersholt (as himself) sees Slade on the street one day, and in spite of his bravado, Hersholt sees through it all and can tell he is broke. He brings Slade up to the Actor's Aid society he heads, and this leads to Slade being hired by 20th Century Fox to go to New York and talk the daughter of an old vaudeville partner into coming to work for the studio in their new musical "Bandwagon" (no not THAT Bandwagon). Complications ensue.

The question is - Why is this film here? Fox certainly knew how to make musicals. They made great ones before this and after this movie. This was just not one of them. There is the very odd casting of Betsy Drake as the fabulous new singing sensation. Drake was an OK actress, but she never had much screen presence and was definitely not believable as a musical star. The one musical number is a boring waltz/tableau bit with Betsy Drake's voice obviously dubbed.

What's good about it? Adolphe Menjou as a frustrated Fox producer, Jean Hersholt as himself, and, of course, William Powell in the lead. Powell makes this film with his authentic portrayal of an urbane proud has-been actor whose picture should be next to the word "insufferable" in the dictionary, yet finds himself dropped into the role of righting a past wrong and actually becoming enthusiastic about it.

I have to believe that this was made just to remind the growing TV audience at the time that 20th Century Fox was still out there. You see such rather experimental films at the end of the 1940s that are as ponderous as some of the early sound films were at the end of the 1920s.

I'd recommend this to the William Powell completists out there as his performance was excellent as always.

It must the be the saddest thing in the world to have had it all and suddenly see oneself in circumstances below what one once new. This is the case for Emery Slade, the famous luminary of Hollywood we encounter eking out a life while trying to hold to his dignity. In another medium, the change would perhaps not have been the disgrace it presents this forgotten man, but in the fantasy world of the movies, Emery is a has been and his former nasty self stands in the way as others, more generous people, want to help him come out of poverty.

Irving Reis, presents us a haughty Emery Slade, a man that is easily hated, as he prepares to redeem himself and make amends of his former life. By the kindness of Jean Hersholt, the famous humanitarian of Hollywood, he is connected to the head of the 20th Century Fox studio, who engages him as a talent scout that is sent to New York to audition possible candidates for the female lead of the upcoming "Brigadoon".

Emery is assigned young Bill Davis, who immediately dislikes Slade and his methods. Davis wonders who could have given a job to this man that has no clue as to what has to be done. At the same time, he wants to introduce his former girlfriend, Julie, an aspiring actress and singer, to Slade. Well, he needed not to worry, as Slade meets the young woman on his own and falls under her spell. They both discover how much alike they are. Needless to say, Slade changes for the better in an about face that's hard to believe, but one roots for him and the young Julie.

William Powell plays Emery Slade with bravado. He makes us see why this man is so much hated, until he comes to his senses. Mark Stevens is good as the studio handler. Betsy Drake has good chances as the young Julie Clarke. Adolph Menjou plays the studio head.

While not one of the best William Powell's vehicles, the film is mildly pleasant. It offers tamed fun whenever Mr. Powell is around.

This is a good film for fans of William Powell, Betsy Drake, Jean Hersholt, and/or films about Hollywood or the road to success. Inspirational in that "we're gonna make it" way, however corny that can be. The plot twists are good, if melodramatic, the "schemes" hatched by the characters to achieve their objectives are clever, and there are some good musical numbers, although these are far fewer than in the musical, "Bandwagon," which is based on the same source. I found it a very pleasant evening's entertainment.

I adore William Powell, and while this movie is not one of his best he does a fair job of portraying an unlikeable, self-centered has-been. Unfortunately, Betsy Drake fails to rise to his level, even if it isn't one of the highest of his career. It's difficult to imagine that Powell's character would look twice at someone as non-descript as Ms. Drake, with a personality akin to lukewarm oatmeal. This part would have benefitted enormously from a Barbara Stanwyck, or another actress with strength. As it is, there is no sizzle, no logical motivation for the course of action, and no empathy between leads. I hate to admit it, but I could only hang in there for 1/2 of the film, and if I couldn't watch Mr. Powell for the full length of time, I highly doubt that any but a truly crazed fan could. Give it a miss.

To the person, I think her name was Blanche, who complained in her first sentence posted here that "Dancing in the Dark" was shot in black and white, I think she might want to get her television checked--the version broadcast on the Fox Movie Channel was in Technicolor. Also, I did not think Betsy Drake was that bad. Neither did Cary Grant. He was married to her at the time--and for the ten years after the movie was released. Ms. Drake's singing, on the other hand, was not so good. She was dubbed with someone else's voice, and it looked like they used a double for her in the dancing scenes as well. Betsy Drake is still among the living, by the way. She is now in London having given up acting to become a writer and a psychologist. Cary Grant left Ms. Drake for Sophia Loren, who, as it happened, would not marry him. She preferred Carlo Ponti.