George Stoll was a long-time utility man in MGM's music department who did a bit of everything: orchestration (to Oscar-winning success), composing (to much less success) and even dubbing the singing voices for the male Munchkins. 'Swing Banditry' was his big attempt at being an on-screen performer. It took me a bit of time to realise that this short film's title is a play on the phrase 'swing band'. I suspect that Stoll's 'orchestra' in this film were merely house musicians under contract to MGM rather than a troupe formed by Stoll.
This 'tabloid' musical was written and directed by Reginald Le Borg, who worked successfully in several film genres but is now remembered (quite fondly, though) only by fans of his low-budget horror movies. For 'Swing Banditry' he comes up with a deeply contrived plot.
SPOILERS AHEAD. After an establishing exterior shot of a skyscraper, a sign informs us that this is the quarters of the Globe Broadcasting Company. We see several men in snap-brim trilbies and trenchcoats, loitering in the lobby. One of them is Stoll, clutching a violin case (hmmm...). The men are accompanied by a pretty blonde in a slouch hat: could she be the Stoll moll? Along comes a weedy little man (Maurice Cass) wearing a pince-nez. When he gets into the lift, most of the trenchcoats jump aboard too, shoving the liveried liftman out into the lobby. 'You're going for a little ride', Stoll tells the trembling pince-nezzed man as the elevator ascends.
The weedy little man is the oddly-named Royal Cummings, head of the broadcasting company ... and Stoll and his musicians (for of course that's what they are) have tried this desperate stratagem because they can't get a chance to audition. They promptly launch into a rendition of 'Sing, Sing, Sing' right there in the crowded elevator. (Acoustics? What acoustics?) The tuba player and the trombonist have to take the stairs. The pretty blonde turns out to be the vocalist; now she unbuttons her coat to reveal her maracas, which she shakes while she warbles.
I really like 'Sing, Sing, Sing' but -- like most big-band fans -- I associate this number with Benny Goodman's arrangement featuring the dynamic drum work of Gene Krupa. Stoll's ensemble in 'Swing Banditry' have got no percussionist at all (except for those maracas), and Stoll's orchestration of this tune is meant to favour his own violin playing. There's simply no way that a violin can outperform a drum in 'Sing, Sing, Sing', a number for which that manic beat is so important.
Stoll and his bandmates continue their strong-arm tactics, abducting a page and stealing his Buttons uniform so they can stitch up the radio company's real orchestra and get them arrested (by an improbably large squad of cops). I was delighted to spot Franklin Pangborn in this movie as the radio announcer, but his role is quite brief. Of course, Stoll and his gang go on the air instead of the house band, and are a huge hit.
It's a shame that Stoll's blonde vocalist is uncredited, as she's quite good. (Though she freshens her makeup just as she starts her RADIO performance.) Here she sings 'My Blue Heaven' with the lyric changed to 'just Georgie and me', implying that she and Stoll are an item.
I try to perceive old movies in the context of their time, but it's sometimes difficult ... such as when they treat racial stereotypes as humour (we get a chucklin' Negro porter here), or when cigarette smoking is romanticised. During 'Swing Banditry', Stoll and his musicians commit several illegal acts which are laughed off as legitimate ploys to obtain an audition. In our post-9/11 world, these antics would have got Stoll locked up toot-sweet. But there's sweet music in 'Swing Banditry', and I even liked the (unlikely but attractive) 1930s typeface on the elevator's dial. I'll rate this unusual short 7 out of 10.
This 'tabloid' musical was written and directed by Reginald Le Borg, who worked successfully in several film genres but is now remembered (quite fondly, though) only by fans of his low-budget horror movies. For 'Swing Banditry' he comes up with a deeply contrived plot.
SPOILERS AHEAD. After an establishing exterior shot of a skyscraper, a sign informs us that this is the quarters of the Globe Broadcasting Company. We see several men in snap-brim trilbies and trenchcoats, loitering in the lobby. One of them is Stoll, clutching a violin case (hmmm...). The men are accompanied by a pretty blonde in a slouch hat: could she be the Stoll moll? Along comes a weedy little man (Maurice Cass) wearing a pince-nez. When he gets into the lift, most of the trenchcoats jump aboard too, shoving the liveried liftman out into the lobby. 'You're going for a little ride', Stoll tells the trembling pince-nezzed man as the elevator ascends.
The weedy little man is the oddly-named Royal Cummings, head of the broadcasting company ... and Stoll and his musicians (for of course that's what they are) have tried this desperate stratagem because they can't get a chance to audition. They promptly launch into a rendition of 'Sing, Sing, Sing' right there in the crowded elevator. (Acoustics? What acoustics?) The tuba player and the trombonist have to take the stairs. The pretty blonde turns out to be the vocalist; now she unbuttons her coat to reveal her maracas, which she shakes while she warbles.
I really like 'Sing, Sing, Sing' but -- like most big-band fans -- I associate this number with Benny Goodman's arrangement featuring the dynamic drum work of Gene Krupa. Stoll's ensemble in 'Swing Banditry' have got no percussionist at all (except for those maracas), and Stoll's orchestration of this tune is meant to favour his own violin playing. There's simply no way that a violin can outperform a drum in 'Sing, Sing, Sing', a number for which that manic beat is so important.
Stoll and his bandmates continue their strong-arm tactics, abducting a page and stealing his Buttons uniform so they can stitch up the radio company's real orchestra and get them arrested (by an improbably large squad of cops). I was delighted to spot Franklin Pangborn in this movie as the radio announcer, but his role is quite brief. Of course, Stoll and his gang go on the air instead of the house band, and are a huge hit.
It's a shame that Stoll's blonde vocalist is uncredited, as she's quite good. (Though she freshens her makeup just as she starts her RADIO performance.) Here she sings 'My Blue Heaven' with the lyric changed to 'just Georgie and me', implying that she and Stoll are an item.
I try to perceive old movies in the context of their time, but it's sometimes difficult ... such as when they treat racial stereotypes as humour (we get a chucklin' Negro porter here), or when cigarette smoking is romanticised. During 'Swing Banditry', Stoll and his musicians commit several illegal acts which are laughed off as legitimate ploys to obtain an audition. In our post-9/11 world, these antics would have got Stoll locked up toot-sweet. But there's sweet music in 'Swing Banditry', and I even liked the (unlikely but attractive) 1930s typeface on the elevator's dial. I'll rate this unusual short 7 out of 10.
