Mary, Mary

The merit of this film is that it preserves for posterity one of Broadway's longest running comedies, with only minimal changes from the stage version. That is not an insubstantial contribution, and the movie deserves credit for letting us experience much of what 1,572 Broadway audiences witnessed.

That said, there is something impenetrable about watching Debbie Reynolds looking positively gorgeous as she tells Michael Rennie of the trials and tribulations of being a "plain" girl and woman. The part of Mary was written for Barbara Bel Geddes, who fit that dialogue perfectly (see her Midge in "Vertigo"). Debbie, on the other hand, was simply too radiant to give credibility to a character who supposedly compensated for insecurity about her looks with unceasing wit.

As a child who preferred to watch television by the hour, this & other old movies still hold my attention. The quick wit, the substance, never disappoints. The characters were well rounded, the cast drew you into the humanity of the mores of the time before the Beatles. Before America lea-pt into the more modern age of color and a loosening of morals. The quote I remember Barry Nelson uttering the morning after a night of too much drinking, "Now that's real coffee." The reason I found it funny is the fact he was referring to the cigarette he was smoking. The movie was fast paced with good continuity. It was the humor of the day--not crude--and it was swell.

Although Mary Mary could have used a bit of editing, it's about a half hour too long in its running time, the wit of Jean Kerr's Broadway hit is kept over for the film version. The major player cast of five starts running on fumes at the 3/4 pole.

Playwright Jean Kerr was married to Walter Kerr the New York Herald Tribune drama critic and their married life was told in Please Don't Eat The Daisies. What can be better than a writer married to a critic. You can always get expert help to smooth over the rough spots. And you are guaranteed a good review in the Herald Tribune.

Mary Mary hadn't finished its Broadway run of 1564 performances when it was filmed and released. Barry Nelson who repeats his role from Broadway is a publisher who has divorced his first wife and about to marry rich debutante Diane McBain. He may be divorced in the eyes of God and the divorce court, but getting untangled tax wise is another matter. He's in a huddle with his accountant Hiram Sherman who took the liberty of inviting ex-wife Debbie Reynolds for help in separating their finances and figuring out the proper deductions.

Also arriving is Hollywood actor Michael Rennie who's taken an interest in Debbie. Nothing like that to get the ex-husband jealous even though he's the publisher of Rennie's spicy memoirs. I think Rennie is somewhat based on the late Errol Flynn. Certainly his memoirs might also have been called My Wicked Wicked Ways. Rennie also repeats his role from Broadway.

Mervyn LeRoy gets the best he can from his cast and certainly no complaints here about replacing Barbara Bel Geddes from Broadway with Debbie Reynolds for some box office insurance. Debbie is at her perkiest and matches wits with the rest of the cast including her rival McBain.

Though it's not mentioned it's no accident that Nelson is ready to marry McBain who comes off like a rich younger version of Debbie Reynolds. Might have been nice to have a musical number for Debbie in the film.

Not a great film, but Mary Mary is good version of an early 60s Broadway hit.

Jean Kerr, whose husband, Walter, was a preeminent New York theater critic, enjoyed quite a success on Broadway with the play on which Richard L. Breen's tidy little script is based. (Jean had previously had a big best-seller with her "Please Don't Eat the Daisies!", a highly fictionalized tale of her married life, filmed at M-G-M in 1960, starring Doris Day and, in my view, a miscast David Niven. M-G-M's coffers enjoyed a handsome refilling when that audience-pleaser rang boxoffice bells.) It was said that a negative word from Mr. Kerr sounded the death knell for a play that had made its way to the Great White Way, and a glowing review under his byline was jubilantly good news for a show's backers. He, no doubt, passed on reviewing "Mary, Mary" when it came to Broadway, but his wife's sophisticated, for its day, comedy-of-manners didn't need his praise.

When Warner Brothers gave Mervyn LeRoy the directorial reigns on their Burbank soundstages, Debbie Reynolds was awarded the title role, co-starring with Barry Nelson who had appeared in the stage version. It was always the way, when the studio system still held sway, that the obvious and only choice was a bonafide Hollywood movie star to headline a project such as this, and so the very appealing Barbara Bel Geddes, who had played Mary McKellaway on the stage to excellent notices, was not to repeat her role before the Technicolor cameras. Debbie, as she had in her previous M-G-M starring roles, didn't disappoint, however, and she was ably supported by Mr. Nelson, the gorgeous Diane McBain, and, in a witty turn (and a departure from the usually more serious roles assigned to him), Michael Rennie.

An acquaintance of mine worked in the sound editing department at Warner Brothers when this was being filmed and he confided to me that Ms. Reynolds played an anxious visit to a screening/editing room during filming, somewhat concerned that her performance wouldn't strike just the right comical note. I seem to recall that she was reassured by that technician and his coworkers and the reviewers and the film's audiences were eventually in agreement.

Recently-divorced couple in New York City, he a book publisher and she a magazine column editor, are reunited for tax reasons and find that old spark still burning beneath the constant insults. Freely adapted from Jean Kerr's popular play, this trite material relies heavily on the dropping of famous names and places to help fill in the backgrounds of these otherwise-unreal characters (as soon as Debbie Reynolds enters, we learn that she shops at Schraff's and spends endless hours at Elizabeth Arden). This is the kind of 'cozy' movie wherein everybody has money and free time to spare, but no looming work schedule. Reynolds breathlessly keeps pace while seemingly channeling Bette Davis; it's not a bad performance, however the clucking, one-dimensional writing leaves Reynolds without the shape or the semblance of a real woman to play. The male suitors on hand (Barry Nelson as the former hubby and Michael Rennie as a movie idol) do what they can, though neither seems particularly well-suited to Debbie, and their constant back-and-forth verbal bouts are tiresome. The film is dizzyingly claustrophobic, while the few funny bits are almost buried by the plastic set-up and inert direction. ** from ****