Reviews

Superb music, great guitar & banjo playing, beautiful singing, and a quirky little dance number at the finale make for 9 brilliant musical minutes. Released in 1929, "The Opry House" is more hip and modern than anything made today for MTV or VH1. Yet, it has an unpretentious, nostalgic charm that only adds to its luster. A masterwork.

Don't expect "Dave" to be an in-depth satire of the way the American political system *really* works. Despite some nasty stuff in the beginning, the picture quickly goes soft. And no tough questions are asked. (I mean, are Americans such morons that they'll vote for -- and applaud -- a ruthless, corrupt president? Well, that's what "Dave" implies, but it never dares to state that thought out loud.) But one shouldn't blame the producers. Millions were invested into this film. Audiences wouldn't pay their $7 or however much movie tickets cost in 1993 to watch the grim, ugly reality of American politics.

Therefore. . . we have an American president who is ruthless, but whose VP is a conveniently good and honest politician (one whose first job was selling shoes, no less -- only in America!). Now, why the meanie prez picked the goody VP is never explained -- but it doesn't matter, as long as things can fall into place for that tacked-on, absurd happy ending that is so dear to commercial filmmakers.

Yet, despite its many flaws (including some awful, overbearing music), "Dave" is a movie worth watching because it offers Kevin Kline in top form. This brilliant actor has a tough time playing the cold and heartless president (Kline is too warm a performer to be 100% convincing as The Zombie Leader of the Free World -- wherever that world may be). But as the title character, Kline is superb: handsome and goofy, alternately amused and bemused, sometimes both amused AND bemused. The supporting cast is generally capable, especially Frank Langella as the scheming Chief-of-Staff.

In all honesty, this viewer was hoping against hope that Langella would get his way at the end. That would have been a more honest assessment of the political world and a more honest ending for this picture. Even so, considering today's ugly headlines, one laments that life doesn't imitate the movies -- at least as far as the political power game is concerned.

This isn't really a feature film. It's actually an amalgamation of shorts tied together by a flimsy and unfunny storyline about actor Frank Morgan (playing himself) producing his first movie at MGM. There are five shorts in all, four musical vignettes (Eleanor Powell, Lucille Norman & Carlos Ramirez, the King Sisters, and Virginia O'Brien and Tommy Dorsey), a Pete Smith short ("Badminton"), and a "Passing Parade" short ("Our Old Car").

It's hard to understand why MGM would bother doing this, when those shorts could have been shown separately before their feature films. In any case, it doesn't work. None of the shorts are first rate, while the silly Morgan storyline is painful to watch. But not all is lost. "The Great Morgan" allows us to take a rare glimpse at a few behind-the-scenes MGM workers: sound recorder Douglas Shearer (Norma's brother), art director Cedric Gibbons, and costume designer Irene. Too bad Louis B. Mayer didn't play himself (a more dignified movie equivalent is played by Leon Ames). Also, there's a clever (and bizarre) twist at the end involving Leo, the lion, and the ever-befuddled Frank Morgan. That one last minute is worth seeing -- else, you won't believe it.

Superb music, great guitar & banjo playing, beautiful singing, and a quirly little dance number at the finale make for 9 brilliant musical minutes. Released in 1929, "The Opry House" is more hip and modern than anything made today for MTV or VH1. Yet, it has an unpretentious, nostalgic charm that only adds to its luster. A masterwork.

The two most noteworthy things about "I Won't Play" are: It won an Academy Award as the best two-reel short film of 1944; and it was directed by silent-era leading man Crane Wilbur. The plot of this run-of-the-mill short is inconsequential, the dialogue lacks spark, while the acting is no better and no worse than that found in most war-themed Hollywood movies of the 1940s (in other words, it's awful). Admittedly, there are moments when "I Won't Play" is funny -- Janis Paige's totally artificial look and line delivery are precious -- but one laughs AT the picture, not with it.

The issue of divorce and how it affects children is only marginally dealt with in this cloying story of a happy family torn apart by a rotten script. Too much time is spent on the cutesy antics of Shirley Temple, while too little time is devoted to the development of the plot and characters. In this 65-minute programmer, things happen at lightning speed, with little logic or motivation behind them. Thus, the marital split of the two leads comes too suddenly and seems unrealistic. The same can be said about the relationship between the soon-to-be-ex-wife and her wealthy suitor. The adult cast is passable, but Temple is unbearably sugary. Director John S. Robertson, used to handling costume pictures during the silent era, should have realized that less is more when it comes to baby grins and baby pouts. Make sure you check your blood-sugar level after watching this one.

It's a true story -- well, Hollywood style. From the overlong apple-pie shenanigans of the five Sullivan brothers to the last scene -- stolen from the 1929 picture "The Iron Mask" -- "The Sullivans" offers phony dialogue, phony performances, phony characters, and phony situations. On the positive side, Anne Baxter has a good crying scene (though she's wasted elsewhere in this flick), and we're spared the high-mindedness of Steven Spielberg's "Saving Private Ryan," with which "The Sullivans" has one key plot point in common. Recommended for those who think that "Leave It to Beaver" is a true rendition of an American family.

"Three Who Loved" could have been an interesting psychological melodrama in which basically good people do bad or foolish things, while selfish, self-centered individuals are colored gray, not black. But somewhere along the way someone decided that such complexity would be too much for moviegoers to handle. Thus, characterizations are inconsistent and simplistic, while the plot is filled with coincidences and melodramatic cliches (and it's made even worse by an atrocious, absurd ending). Betty Compson was a capable performer, but she's totally lost in the part of the foolish immigrant who exchanges love and security for thrills and good times. An ill-fitting blond wig and a Swedish accent straight out of the Beaver, Utah, School for Actors do not help matters any. Director George Archainbaud, a well-known name during the silent era, apparently slept throughout the production. With movies such as "Three Who Loved," it's no wonder that the careers of popular silent players Compson and Conrad Nagel floundered in the early 1930s.