Song of Norway

Critically-lambasted musical adaptation of the successful play regarding the early years of Norwegian pianist/composer Edvard Greig (played by Toralv Maurstad, a Bruce Davison lookalike with oddly shaped eyes). Grieg--initially a rowdy scamp in the 1860s who pined after a lovely girl from a prominent family while trying to get his sonnets published--found himself frustratingly without a benefactor or any professional engagements in which to showcase his work, later marrying his cousin and barely scraping by giving piano lessons. For the most part, writer-director Andrew L. Stone has crafted a not uninteresting, frequently engaging romp with several intentionally funny asides and endearingly klutzy musical numbers. The on-location shooting in Norway and Denmark is lovely, even if the cinematography in general is poor and the editing mediocre. Frank Porretta is a robust presence as fellow composer Richard Nordraak (who sings to the heavens and, at one point, directly to Edvard while seated in a restaurant!). Yet, just about the time Grieg is gaining some prominence for his hard work, the narrative (loose to begin with) gets all balled up, with too many tragedies coming to a head at once. This patchy third-act, punctuated by a myriad of nature shots and sunsets, doesn't allow the viewer any emotional satisfaction, and the finale is flat. More genuine style and gloss was required, and classical purists will probably scoff, however the picture has a lively beginning. Results are far from terrible. ** from ****

The team of Robert Wright and Chet Forrest adapted the music of Edvard Grieg into a biographical operetta as they later did for Alexander Borodin in Kismet and it ran on Broadway for 860 performances in 1944-46.

In many ways the film shows imagination. The location cinematography in Norway and Denmark is spectacular and obviously influenced by the Sound Of Music as are the musical numbers. There's an animated sequence involving In The Hall Of The Mountain King that is most imaginative.

But the pace is that of escargot. The actors get no real direction at all. Some movie scene stealers like Edward G. Robinson and Oscar Homolka and Robert Morley have their own bag of tricks which are used.

The plot is simply promising composer Edvard Grieg is forbidden marriage to Christina Schollin by her rich dad Robert Morley. He marries Florence Henderson who sings well and probably was hoping she'd break into the big screen stardom after years on the Brady Bunch. The bad reviews Song Of Norway got killed any chance of that. Schollin who never married becomes Grieg's patron instead.

Toralv Maurstad is a big name in Norwegian cinema. But this also killed his career for international stardom.

But if you like the music of Grieg, Song of Norway is for you.

Ignoring the scathingly critical reviews for this bomb, I paid admission to the Cinerama Dome Theater in Hollywood, California during its first-run engagement because I knew that the 70mm/stereo presentation at that theater, especially designed for the viewing of big-screen extravaganzas, would be optimal. Norway is a country I have always wanted to visit and the agony of viewing this film was insufficient to lessen that lifelong dream. But what a nightmare it was! I note that Frank Porretta, listed in the credits, had appeared in a stage production of "The Song of Norway" in Los Angeles and he had received special praise for his expressive singing and masculine stage presence. But you will note that his filmography consists of just this one title. Talk about the proverbial "Kiss of Death"!

The only clear memory I have of that evening's experience at the Cinerama Dome were the loud and ecstatic exclamations emanating from some poor soul in the audience, unprovoked, as far as I could tell, by anything happening on the massively curved screen. She sat off to the side and her outbursts were the prime source of entertainment as the film's lengthy reels unspooled. Management did not eject her, perhaps because she sat through every showing, considerably boosting the meager box-office receipts. Her overwhelming pleasure, I shall always prefer to think, was, perhaps, due to her longing to revisit (I'm presuming here) her native Norway, this film's handsomest attribute.

Florence Henderson's karma must have been extraordinarily good, since her role as the matriarch on TV's long-running and insanely popular family sitcom, "The Brady Bunch," began its hold on the hearts and minds of so many American moppets while coinciding with the theatrical release of this surefire career-killer. She must be a tolerant soul for, were I to enjoy the residuals which must flood her bank account year after year during the syndication of "The Brady Bunch," I'd have long ago investigated the cost of permanently suppressing all evidence of this turkey.

I had great expectations when this film opened with beautiful scenery and masterful cinematography. Norway is truly spectacular. I thought it would be very refreshing to watch a film that didn't rely on special effects, but sorrowfully my expectations soon gave way to mind boggling reality.

The pacing was slow, the dialogue was forced, "real" reactions were practically nonexistent, even from the stand-ins, kids, dancers and supporting actors who were used more like set pieces than human beings. The directorial style was old fashioned Rome opera. Traditionally in Rome, the singers rarely move. They just plant their feet and sing, and the chorus is draped around them. The sound is great, but the dramatic elements are totally sublimated to the music. I think they tried to do the same here, but what's good for Rome sure ain't good for the movies! Frank Porretta as Richard Nordraak touches me with his gorgeous voice, and he reads well on screen, but his character, like the rest, lacked any depth.

Once footage was "in the can" scenes were chopped up like confetti. Smooth transitions, probably 86'd for the sake of the score, were the first to go. Our "suspension of disbelief" was shattered continually. The sound was also very uneven, and the choreography was quite stilted and cloned from just about any Rogers and Hammerstein film. "Production numbers" just meant more people on stage, crammed into boxcars if necessary, and "don't let them move around too much". oi. They even teamed Florence Henderson up with a gang of "cute kids" who had absolutely no personalities, and had her stomp through the town singing ala "Sound of Music". Nothing worked.

How Edward G. Robinson managed to retain his dignity in this horrible flick is a total mystery. The leading men might have done well as characters in "Mr. Ripley" if only their makeup had been feathered into the hairlines. Florence was lovely and animated and saved the day as best as she could. The costumes were obviously high budget as was the film itself, but budget alone could not save this unfortunate disaster.

I saw this one when I was in high school. I had been warned ahead of time, but I liked classical music, including Grieg, and ignored the warnings. I remember several things about it that really sum the film up, in my opinion.

1. The photography was stunning. Snow, fjords, and Norwegian towns and scenery were really pretty, as were the folk costumes.

2. Grieg's music was nice to listen to, though as in all films about composers, they only give samplings.

Those are the good parts. The bad parts were what sank the boat. There wasn't much of a story. Greig's life wasn't as exciting as many other composers lives, and a lot was padded to keep the story going for 2 or 3 hours. I remember a lot of overacting as well. But the worst part of all was the directing. Forever emblazoned upon my memory is the hideously clichéd scene where Grieg, his wife, and someone else spread their arms and run across a green field, stop on a hillock, and spin around to face the audience. Then they do the same thing again - and again! If that's not enough to make you give up, then nothing is.