Munster, Go Home!

Review #1727: Munster, Go Home! 

Cast: 

Fred Gwynne (Herman Munster), Yvonne De Carlo (Lily Munster), Al Lewis (Grandpa), Butch Patrick (Eddie Munster), Debbie Watson (Marilyn Munster), Terry-Thomas (Freddie Munster), Hermione Gingold (Lady Effigie Munster), Robert Pine (Roger Moresby), John Carradine (Cruikshank), Bernard Fox (Squire Lester Moresby), and Richard Dawson (Joey) Directed by Earl Bellamy.

Review: 

To crib from cliché, remember The Munsters? Oh, I'm sure at least one of you is familiar with the television show, one that premiered (and ended) over a half century ago. But hey, a recap wouldn't hurt, particularly from someone who found themselves watching each of the 70 episodes of the show a year ago. The show ran from September 24, 1964 to May 12, 1966 on CBS. It was created by Allan Burns and Chris Hayward (who each had served as writers on The Rocky and Bullwinkle Show), who had submitted the idea to Universal Studios; Norm Liebman and Ed Haas were then tasked to write a pilot script, while Joe Connelly and Bob Mosher (creators of Leave It To Beaver) were producers. Perhaps it was a coincidence that a sitcom with tinges of the macabre aired right at the same time as another sitcom involving a family with the macabre aired with The Addams Family. Of course, this is a show involving ordinary folks in suburban life that just happen to look like monsters, so who knows in a decade that had plenty of interesting premises. In any case, right around the time of the second season, plans for a film were begun by Universal, who undoubtedly wanted to cash in on introducing the characters to a wider audience (i.e. folks outside the States that had not watched it yet - by the time the series ended its second and final season there were 70 episodes); production for the film began shortly after the end of the production of the series, and it was shot over the course of a month in Hollywood, complete in Technicolor (perhaps it is ironic that one factor attributed to the end of the show was the arrival of a campy competitor series in Technicolor with Batman). Tasked to write the film was Joe Connelly, Bob Mosher, George Tibbles, and Earl Bellamy (the latter three had written several episodes on the show while the latter directed seven episodes). 

The movie was not a major success at the time, but at least it can be said that the series managed to live on in syndication, and a reunion film and sequel series came about in the 1980s; attempts at re-booting the Munsters has persisted for over a decade (with the latest attempt being one directed by Rob Zombie). Honestly, I have mixed feelings about the show (one that attracted my interest because, well, how many TV shows think to do a sitcom with monster makeup?), one that was mildly effective with its attempts at, well, being a sitcom with campy values that had a bunch of puns and gags that came and went (one involving the only non-monster character being thought of as the ugly duckling, ha-ha, huh?). Honestly, the middling quality of the film is not a surprise to those who had watched the show, as if the only difference is not having a laugh track to help with chuckles. Perhaps comparing it to Batman '66 is unfair, but honestly that show seemed to do better with generating good natured humor in regard to how it took its situations with tongue-in-cheek nature, with its theatrical adaptation being just as interesting to watch on the big screen as it was on TV. To me, this is a thin plot that just happens to be 96 minutes long (weirdly enough, its failure influenced the makers behind Get Smart to not do a feature, instead turning the script into a three-part episode). Of course, this is like criticizing a tree for having a few dead branches - the tree does what it does, and it takes a fair eye to appreciate it. To its credit, one knows that the main group does their finest with keeping things on level, mostly with Gwynne (good natured despite plenty of makeup), De Carlo (the tying force), and Lewis (basically playing himself). There isn't a moment where they seem bored with what they are doing, and they each share little interesting moments that will draw a smile for those familiar with these folks (incidentally, they would reprise their roles one more time together with the TV film The Munsters Revenge 15 years later); the sequence between Gwynne and Lewis bumbling around the house looking for the supposed secret of the house is probably the best part of the film, complete with a quiet De Carlo sharing time with a bucket. Patrick has less to do than usual for the film, unless one counts "sleeping in the cupboard" as a thing. Watson replaced Pat Priest in a move felt to boost the then teenaged actress with the studio. She does okay, mostly because the role is quite ordinary to begin with, sharing time with Pine with very okay qualities. Terry-Thomas does fine as the key new face, making his cad presence known for fair chuckles to go with Gingold. Carradine, who, in a habit of being in anything, had actually appeared on the show a few times before, rounds out the cast with his usual lumbering presence within a face full of makeup that I'm sure folks familiar with him will appreciate in their own way. As a whole, my quibbles on the show should not affect the curiosity one can have with the film as a whole, since anyone who cares for the show will find a worthy time to spend here, one that has a few chuckles with a familiar group of folks that makes for a curious sight. There is just enough to sneak by without too many eye rolls (intentionally, anyway), and I suppose that should be just enough for those who are with what the movie wants to do in simple chuckle times with folks who look like creatures.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars. 

The Music Man.

Review #1410: The Music Man.

Cast: 
Robert Preston (Harold Hill), Shirley Jones (Marian Paroo), Buddy Hackett (Marcellus Washburn), Paul Ford (Mayor George Shinn), Hermione Gingold (Eulalie Mackechnie Shinn), Pert Kelton (Mrs. Paroo), Ron Howard (Winthrop Paroo), Susan Luckey (Zaneeta Shinn), Timmy Everett (Tommy Djilas), Harry Hickox (Charlie Cowell), and The Buffalo Bills (Vern Reed, Al Shea, Wayne "Scotty" Ward, Bill Spangenberg as The School Board) Produced and Directed by Morton DaCosta.

Review: 
Showmanship can go a long way when it comes to musicals, for better or worse. This film was adapted from composer/conductor/bandleader/playwright Meredith Willson's Broadway musical of the same name, which he co-wrote the book (alongside Franklin Lacey), music and lyrics for based on his boyhood in Mason City, Iowa. After years of trying to get producers on board for it and revisions and cuts to songs, the production premiered on Broadway in 1957, running for four years with stage and film actor Preston (chosen after numerous others rejected it, such as Gene Kelly) in the lead role, and it would garner Tony Award wins the following year, winning awards such as Best Musical and Best Actor for Preston. Further productions have been done in London alongside revivals, with one being planned for later in this year on Broadway. When Warner Brothers bought the screen rights for the play, they wanted a prominent figure for the lead role, with the first choice being Frank Sinatra and another consideration being Cary Grant. Willson held firm to his preference for Preston, and he prevailed eventually in this regard; DaCosta, who had directed the play on Broadway, would serve as director and producer with the intent of being as faithful to the original as possible, which is reflected in its 151 minute run-time.

When it comes to grand old musicals, this is one firmly in the middle of average and great, fairly memorable in its rendition of songs and its Americana spirit that makes for a pleasant time for those who are into that sort of thing. On the one hand, I applaud the efforts to maintain the spirit of the play into a film with plenty of design and beat, complete with having Preston helm the ship as lead. On the other hand, it generally seems to hit its mark only just enough to make it worth one viewing and that is it. The enjoyment of said film rests on one's patience for its matter of singing and its small-town trappings and humor, which do fine in parts. If one desires songs and plenty of people to go along with it and inspire jokes that hit with that sensibility of a folksy spring, this will likely pan out. Preston is the best aspect of the whole film, relentless in his façade with plenty of charm and capability to sing and talk as well as anyone. Jones (a trained singer who was the only person signed to a personal contract by Rodgers and Hammerstein) accompanies him with her own share of pragmatic grace that makes for a capable chemistry with Preston to go with fine singing. Hackett makes for a capable comic relief and a decent dancer (despite my reservations about "Shipoopi" as a whole). Ford and Gingold each contribute a few courtly laughs, while child TV star-turned-future director Howard makes a fine bright presence. There are quite a few highlight moments and songs, with "Seventy-Six Trombones" being a particular entertaining one to listen to, and the film does land itself with fair rallying spirit that entertains its audience without drowning in too much sentimental hokum to wither the fun. This is a fair show to seek out for those who like some Americana spirit from way back when that entertains to this very day.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Gigi (1958).

Review #1397: Gigi.

Cast: 
Leslie Caron (Gilberte "Gigi"), Maurice Chevalier (Honoré Lachaille), Louis Jourdan (Gaston Lachaille), Hermione Gingold (Madame Alvarez), Eva Gabor (Liane d'Exelmans), Jacques Bergerac (Sandomir), Isabel Jeans (Aunt Alicia), and John Abbott (Manuel) Directed by Vincente Minnelli (#405 - The Reluctant Debutante, #510 - Father of the Bride, #620 - Lust for Life, #878 - The Long, Long Trailer, #986 - An American in Paris, and #1031 - Meet Me in St. Louis)

Review:
"I feel that a picture that stays with you is made up of a hundred or more hidden things. They’re things that the audience is not conscious of, but that accumulate."

Style can come in many forms, particularly when it comes to film. Vincente Minnelli was a director noted for his style when it came to film, even if his first directorial effort there was when he was already 40 years old. Minnelli's first job after graduating high school was as a window dresser in a department store, but he later jumped to photography an assistant, which helped him spark interest in the theater due to the work being to photograph actors of the theater district of Chicago. In the theater, he started as a designer for costumes and sets before gradually rising to director and moving locations to New York City, and it was his work there that led to a brief and uneventful time with Paramount Pictures in 1937 and a fruitful chance in 1940 with Metro Goldwyn Mayer that lasted for the next two decades. The person credited with discovering and luring him to MGM was lyricist and producer Arthur Freed, who let his directors have mostly free rein while making musicals for the studio for over two decades, with this being the fourth-to-last film from his iconic Freed Unit. It had a considerable amount of hits and attention, with Freed winning two Academy Awards for Best Picture for this and An American in Paris, while Minnelli won an Academy Award for his direction in this film. In a career that spanned from Cabin in the Sky (1943) to A Matter of Time (1976), he had a style to him that served him well in numerous musicals alongside a few comedies and melodramas over the years, which served him significantly well with this film, so who better to accompany a stylish production like this than French ballerina-turned-MGM musical star Leslie Caron, who had starred in Minnelli's An American in Paris earlier to accompany fellow French actors in Jourdan and cabaret singer/entertainer Maurice Chevalier in a production with a good deal of shooting in Paris.

This was an adaptation of the 1944 novella of the same name by Colette, which had already been turned into a film in 1949 in France along with a stage adaptation two years later (which had a young Audrey Hepburn in the role). Alan Jay Lerner wrote the screenplay for the film along with the lyrics while the music was done by Frederick Loewe and arrangement/conduction by Andre Previn. Lerner and Loewe were known already for their collaboration together on theater productions such as Brigadoon, Paint Your Wagon, and My Fair Lady. These three, alongside Minnelli and Freed, would contribute to the film winning nine Academy Awards (which also included wins for art direction, costume design, cinematography, and editing), while Chevalier received an honorary award. For a film that was found to be appreciated by audiences, it was one that had tinkering before it went into general release, since Lerner and Loewe felt that the pre-screening was a bit too slow with creamy ill-defined music despite audiences rating it favorably. Their appeals to producers for $300,000 to improve the film (with a bluff offer to buy the print for $3 million) led to reshoots (including a re-orchestration), most notably with the "I Remember It Well" number, which was directed by Charles Walters. One also can't forget that the filmmakers had to make sure to approach the subject of courtesans (a word I confess to having to search up) with subtlety. It certainly goes to show the amount of craftsmanship and care it can take to make a grand musical worth viewing, with this being a capable dazzler with something to show for everyone that works itself out effectively enough. Caron excels with charm and innocence, a presence that invites one further without seeming graceless, which also goes to the singing for the character (done by Betty Wand, much to Caron's disappointment) in making these songs come together with warmth. When he is present on screen, Chevalier makes quite an impression on you, a confident and seasoned performance through and through. Jourdan does well in an aimless (or at least bored with a twinkle) but pleasurable balance to Caron, filled with debonair attitude that makes for interesting chemistry. Gingold and Jeans lend a dignified hand in their manner that makes for a few humorous moments (such as during "I Remember It Well", for example). There is a warm quality to the atmosphere of this film, where one almost seems to feel like they are really in Paris with these quirky characters for 115 minutes, from its wonderful costumes to its camerawork. It has endured for over six decades without seeming to require an updated version, timeless in its own right as a key hurrah for musicals in its era and for MGM as a whole for its irresistible charm.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.