NF09

I am fifteen years old and have seen thirty-three of Sinatra's films (not counting videos of TV shows and documentaries) and have been unimpressed by only two of them. ''Till the Clouds Roll By," and "The Miracle of the Bells" don't really count, however, considering that in the first all he does is sing a magnificent "Ol' Man River," and in the latter he's not half bad-only the picture is pathetic. My favorite records, radio shows, TV shows, and movies concerning Sinatra change virtually every day-everything taking on a different connotation at each viewing and occasionally seeming the best thing he ever did and occasionally the worst until the cycle comes around again, but there are a couple things that are beyond comparison. When it comes to movies, "The Man with the Golden Arm" heads that list. Everybody who knows anything about Sinatra knows he thought this was his best-ever performance; he was Oscar-nominated; it was the first serious look at drug addiction; etc.,etc. The jazz score is unforgettable, Kim Novak's likable despite a ludicrous accent, Eleanor Parker is annoying and waaaay too dramatic, the turtle-like Arnold Stang is amusing the first time but more embarrassing every time out, and Darren McGavin makes a wonderfully slimy drug dealer, the sets are unconvincing - at first glance it seems a peculiar mixed bag tossed together by the great Otto Preminger with an off-center charm.

Then you come to Sinatra. Like everything else in his life - other than music - reports of his acting are alway divided in half. Directors like Fred Zinnemann, Frank Capra, Billy Wilder, Stanley Kramer, Martin Scorsese, Peter Bogdanovich, and Otto Preminger, all agreed that had Sinatra worked as hard on his films as he did on singing, he'd have been among the greatest actors in the world - if not THE greatest. Humphrey Bogart even said,"This guy has the most natural acting talent I've ever seen." Not bad for a man who never took an acting lesson in his life, was at the same time producing the discography that would make him "the greatest singer of the 20th Century," and did almost all his scenes in one take.

In direct conflict with all of this are those other reviews and biographies that sniff haughtily about what a lousy actor was this Mr.Sinatra, and how many "bad" movies he made. The question will never be answered to everyone's satisfaction because controversy was among Sinatra's greatest assets, and both arguments were in a sense playing into his hand. In any case, at this time, in this role, Sinatra is magnificent. A reviewer said in the late fifties,"Sinatra may not be the greatest actor in the world, but there is none more fascinating to watch." No matter what Sinatra is doing in a film, it's hard to take your eyes off him. This, of course, is a "charisma," that I've only seen in a handful of other people-Orson Welles, Richard Burton, Marlon Brando, Montgomery Clift-perhaps James Cagney. There's no real definition for it and it often makes it hard to figure out whether you're really enjoying a performance or just spellbound, but that quality on display here is what makes the movie. Sinatra is downright riveting, real, intense - transcending decades and thousands of paper-doll pop stars with something called quality. Like it or not, this is a one-man show with a few character actors hanging around in the background. He covers every emotion with remarkable subtlety, from sweet, lonely tenderness with Kim Novak to the terrifying shock of Frank Sinatra (Frank Sinatra!) whimpering and screaming in the agony of "cold turkey." Sinatra was right - this is his best performance. No question.

I was eight when Frank Sinatra died. I wasn't around for all the years of bobby-soxers and ''Anchors Aweigh,'' Mr. Ava Gardner and ''From Here to Eternity," albums with lamp posts and ''swingin' lovers," Kennedy, Vegas, ring-a- ding ding. Basie and Mia and Reagan and concerts from Madison Square Garden to South Africa to the White House to the Sands. I can't say I like Sinatra because I heard him at the Paramount or because I hear "September of My Years" autobiographically-the usual excuses. And my excuse? When I was eleven I watched a movie called "On the Town"...

Two years ago, when I was twelve years old, I watched a video called On the Town.Uneducated little dunce that I was, before that I'd known only vaguely of Francis Albert Sinatra. And after spending half the movie trying to figure out which of the three sailors WAS the Sinatra of whom I had heard vaguely, I finally decided correctly on the adorable, skinny one with blue eyes. And promptly after that, I announced to several uninterested audiences that I was a fan. I am now fourteen. I have read 60 or 70 biographies on him and his contemporaries, have seen approximately 25 of his sixty movies, have heard and memorized a sizable amount of his complete discography, have written quite a few essays and reviews, and would be more than happy to recite to you a detailed account of his career, life, and the tremendous gossip and legends that followed it about.

I think those uninterested parties are starting to believe me.

In any case, I am a definitive Sinatra adorer writing a review for one of his movies, so I'll warn you before hand: it may be a little bit biased, but I'm going to be as honest as I can. All right. You've been warned. Carry on then.

The main problem I've read about in these ''instructive criticism reviews,'' is that this movie moves much too slowly, meaning that for the first hour or so the picture is about Frank and company, not about eleven guys holding up a couple of casinos. I readily admit that, and so much the better. If you expected to see the latter when you saw the posters proclaiming FRANK SINATRA!! DEAN MARTIN! SAMMY DAVIS JR.!!, you are extremely dense and certainly deserve your disappointment. Yes, believe it or not, this is a RAT PACK movie, and as such it happens, by a strange twist of fate, to be about the Rat Pack. Elementary, my dear Watson.

Another complaint involves severe lack of plot.(See above inscription.)

Yet another of the whiners has pouted that none of the cast appears to have much interest in what they're doing. I would like to mention here that, like they themselves modestly pointed out in a gag used frequently on various Vegas stages, they could do this kind of stuff anytime they wanted to. At this moment in time Frank Sinatra was the #1 singer in the country, the #1 box office attraction in the country, one of the highest paid individuals who ever won an Oscar or a Grammy, the biggest draw in Las Vegas, or anywhere else for that matter, had more power than all the Harry Cohns and Louis B.Mayers put together, and was on his way to Camelot with Senator John Fitzgerald Kennedy. The Rat Pack playing at the Sands was such a gigantic draw they were having to turn down thousands of reservations, and when Ocean's 11 was released it immediately made the list for the biggest box office smashes of all time.

In other words,even if the whiner's complaint is true, (and I don't think it is) it's laughable to imagine that the Clan's not especially caring whether or not they won Academy Awards would stop either the success of the movie or (ha) their careers.

Anyway, if they are blasé in the picture, they are the coolest not-caring actors in show business.

There is also a much more serious accusation that many people actually believe. And I honestly believe that this accusation is not true. This rumor involves the color conscious sixties, some allegedly racist jokes, and Sammy Davis Jr.

Yeah, the Rat Pack told some jokes about Sammy. On the Copa Room stage

many an audience would roar at stupid gags like ''Keep smilin' Smoky, so everyone knows where you are" and '' Nat King Cole was a merry old soul.A merry old soul was Nat King Cole.... A merry old COLORED soul,'' and ''Have you noticed how much better it sounds when he does his own people rather than our people?'' And, of course there were the times when Dean would scoop little Sammy up in his arms, waltz forward, and say ''I'd like to thank the NAACP for this trophy.''

Sam, for his own part, would come on after Dean sang ,''Did you ever see a Jew - jitsu? Well, I did.'' and complain on cue ''How would you like it if I said,' Did you ever see a wop-SICLE!!!''

It didn't mean a thing. It wasn't cruel. It was corny, hilarious chatter between three grown-up boys who treated each other - and kidded each other- like brothers. It's only since then that the situation has been contorted into a racial injustice by idiots who are looking for a fight. That's all.

I guess that about sums up the Defence's case, unless the Prosecution has anything it wishes to add. No? All right then.

I love this movie. I'll admit that. I know there is probably a grand total of 3 critics out there who agree with me, but I'm not a critic. I'm a fan. I'll never tire of watching Sam dancing on garbage cans as he sings Ee-o-eleven, or be bored watching Dean, with his nonchalant cool, croon about you-know-what being a kick in the head, and I can't watch that last scene enough where Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, and Sammy Davis Jr. stroll past The Sands' sign that advertises.... I'd better not give it away. Watch it yourself.

There are plenty of better movies out there- but there was only one Rat Pack.

And, no matter what anyone say's- They were magic. This is magic.

Ring-a-ding ding.

In 1960, when Can-Can was released, Frank Sinatra was at the top of his game-most powerful performer in Hollywood, #1 box office draw, (with Elizabeth Taylor) at the dawn of his Rat Pack Leadership, and he was making the best and some of the most popular records around. Those were truly Ring-a- Ding days, and Sinatra, as he stated in song, had the world on a string. And it was then that Can-Can came along.

When you take a huge star, hunt around for some little property that at least loosely fit's his screen persona, put his name up in colored lights, and try to make a lot of money by shouting '' Frankie's in this!!!!'', you have made what is known as a VEHICLE.

Like there are good and bad authors, insurance salesmen, and hula- hoop instructors, there are both good and bad vehicles. This, I am very happy to say, is NOT a good vehicle. It is a MAGNIFICENT vehicle.

The reason for it's greatness does not lie in Shirley Maclaine, Louis Jourdan, or even Maurice Chevalier, although they are all quite good and entertaining.

No. The real magic in Can-Can comes from what Frank Sinatra can do with a Cole Porter song. Even though they stuck him in France in the 1800's, he's still Sinatra, the incomparable ring-a- ding ding cool, the essential charm and star quality, the cocky grin and blue eyes, and, of course, that voice. THE Voice.

Never would that voice be more perfect than in that scene in Can-Can where he put away that lovable arrogance and gave one of the finest performances of his career with the aching tenderness of '' It's All Right with Me."

It's no wonder Juliet Prowse, who he sang it to, proved it was certainly all right with her as well. Although that little romance, (like most of Sinatra's) was not long to last, the song's magic will last forever.

Over-all, if this film did not star Sinatra, it would still be fairly good. Shirley would be as cute and nutty as ever, Louis Jourdan elegant, though not amazing in either the vocal or ''cool'' departments, and Maurice would be Maurice- charming, talented, timeless. Then, of course, there are the Can-Can numbers, fabulous Cole Porter tunes, and an entertaining story.

WITHOUT Sinatra I would probably rate this about 8 and a half. But with the magic of IL' Blue Eyes making an unforgettable classic out of a pretty good picture, Can-Can get's an easy 10... and then some. Highly recommended.

P.S- For those of you who believe it's impossible to find a Sinatra fan under the age of forty, I have just turned fourteen, and have loved his music, his movies,etc. for years. That's not surprising when you think about it. Why settle for today's idiotic trash when you can have the best? And that's all I've got to say.