Search Results

Tick, Tick… Boom! (2021)   At one point during Tick, Tick… Boom! – which really ought to have been the title of an early ’90s Steven Seagal vehicle – Andrew Garfield’s Jonathan Larson is given some sage advice on how to find success in his chosen field: “On the next, maybe try writing about what you know”. Unfortunately, the very autobiographical, very-meta result – I’m only surprised the musical doesn’t end with Larson finishing writing this musical, in which he is finishing writing his musical, in which he is finishing writing his musical… – takes that acutely literally. Which is to say, Tick,

Meet Me in St. Louis  (1944)   Seasonal fare, in as much as it covers all four of them. Meet Me in St. Louis isn’t the kind of musical designed to win the attention of those, such as myself, already reticent of the genre. Scant of plot, it very loosely follows the dramas – if you can call them that – of the Smith family over the year leading to the 1904 Louisiana Purchase Exposition World’s Fair. I dare say I may have seen the movie before, as a nipper; certainly, many of the songs are familiar, which always helps when a

The Sound of Music (1965)   One of the most successful movies ever made – and the most successful musical – The Sound of Music has earned probably quite enough unfiltered adulation over the years to drown out the dissenting voices, those that denounce it as an inveterately saccharine, hollow confection warranting no truck. It’s certainly true that there are impossibly nice and wholesome elements here, from Julie Andrews’ career-dooming stereotype governess to the seven sonorous children more than willing to dress up in old curtains and join her gallivanting troupe. Whether the consequence is something insidious in its infectious spirit is debatable, but

Hello, Dolly! (1969)   Well, I guess Wall•E liked it, so it must have something going for it. Although, that might be to rate Pixar’s prevailing tastes a tad too high. Hello, Dolly! has, so it says here, become one of the most enduring musical theatre hits evah in its stage form. Perhaps its appeal is all in the live experience, then, because, as a movie, it’s a bust. And not even A, Bust! The origins of Jerry Herman and Michael Stewart’s musical date back to John Oxenford’s 1835 English play A Day Well Spent, then turned into a play by Johann Nestroy and then

Funny Girl (1968)   Some movies lend themselves to instantly facile, derogatory retitling. The Un-Talented Mr Ripley. And this drudge of a musical that saw Barbra Streisand alight on the big screen like an egg-bound duck. Perhaps it takes a Babs fan to see her movies as the produce of golden geese; I’ll own up to having some catching up to do in order to offer a fair appraisal. Perhaps, if Streisand’s your cup of tea, Funny Girl just flies by. Perhaps, to everyone else, this, the most popular film of its year in the US, is endlessly turgid dross, all two-and-a-half hours

Oliver! (1968)   I couldn’t say for certain, not being a staunch devotee of the genre, but I suspect a key ingredient of a great movie musical isn’t only the quality of the songs, but also their presentation. If the latter is distinctive and captivating, the chances surely increase for the movie as a whole to be too. Oliver! has more than its fair share of memorable songs, but what it lacks is their memorable presentation or performance. It arrived towards the end of a glut of 1960s adaptations, during which time studios were keen to milk every last potential property for

The Wizard of Oz (1939)   There are undoubtedly some bullet-proof movies, such is their lauded reputation. The Wizard of Oz will remain a classic no matter how many people – and I’m sure they are legion – aren’t really all that fussed by it. I’m one of their number. I hadn’t given it my time in forty or more years – barring the odd clip – but with all the things I’ve heard suggested since, from MKUltra allusions to Pink Floyd timing The Dark Side of the Moon to it, to the Mandela Effect, I decided it was ripe for a reappraisal. Unfortunately,

Cats (2019)   But not a cute iccle one. There are plenty of allegedly terrible movies whose consensus status I have no strong wish to verify. Nor do I have a particularly yen for the musical oeuvre of Andrew Lloyd Webber. And even less of one for the very existence of portly putz James Corden, let alone witnessing him smugging his way across the big screen. But some car crashes just need to be witnessed first-hand, so the horror acts as a warning to any who’d drive without due care and attention in future. I’d seen the trailers for Cats, so I was

Mary Poppins (1964)   Disney’s unimpeachable – unless you were an unimpressed PL Travers – smash hit, loved by children everywhere… Although, I don’t recall I was ever that enamoured, preferring the similarly themed, just with an overtly identified witch and even whackier animation, Bednobs and Broomsticks (1971). Indeed, Bednobs and Broomsticks was in the running to be an earlier Disney production, when the rights negotiations for Mary Poppins were looking beyond Walt’s reach. Suffice to say, I don’t think my earlier position holds up. Even for one as jaded and cynical as I undoubtedly am – most of all towards the Mouse House – Mary Poppins is an irresistible

Waltzes from Vienna  aka Strauss’ Great Waltz (1934)   Hitchcock was dismissive of this adaptation of the stage musical of the same name, ironically minus the musical element.  Waltzes from Vienna is a rather low-watt picture, with a rote romance/jealousy plotline running through it (Johann Strauss is offering his services to Countess Helga, much to the dismay of intended Resi). The film comes alive only intermittently with bits of comedy, Strauss’ rivalry with dad, and the central composition. Esmond Knight, later a Michael Powell regular, makes for a slightly sappy Johann the Younger, although that feeds well enough into his living in

Fiddler on the Roof (1971)   When I say the appeal of Fiddler on the Roof is all about Topol’s performance, that’s not to suggest I might not have similarly rated Zero Mostel, had I first seen him as Tevye (although I’m guessing that’s unlikely). And it’s not a slight on Joseph Stein’s adaptation of his stage play, or the clutch of great songs peppering the picture, or Norman Jewison’s unobtrusive direction and Oswald Morris’ fine earthy cinematography. But Topol makes the film, in the same way F Murray Abraham is the pulse of Amadeus. I guess I mention Abraham because both are

Doctor Dolittle (1967)   If there’s an obvious and immediate contender for the crown of least-justified Best Picture Oscar nominee, it’s surely Doctor Dolittle. Infamous for the campaigning this box-office bomb received, leading to nine nominations and two wins, the ignominy is understandable and deserved, even if it’s simply a worst-case and highest-profile example of the kind of behaviour that’s par for the course in the Oscar business. As for the film itself? It isn’t terrible, but it’s so sedate as to be almost inert, a killer for a two-and-a-half-hour family musical. There are all sorts of problems in that regard.

Love Happy  (1949)   And so the Marx Brothers’ (collective) screen career ends with a decrepit whimper. It’s very obvious that Love Happy was initially developed as solo project for Harpo – he falls in love! – since he gets the lion’s share of the scenes. More surprising is that Groucho wasn’t in fact a late-stage addition; he provides the narration, but only really intrudes on the proceedings at the very end. And Chico? He mentions tootsie-frutsie ice cream. Female Client: Some men are following me. Grunion: Really? I can’t understand why. There’s enough plot to be getting on with, some of it quite

The Big Store (1941)   Three go mad in a department store. The results are undoubtedly more diverting than low point Go West, but it feels as if there is even more flotsam to wade through to get to the good stuff in The Big Store. Which is almost exclusively delivered by Groucho as private detective and bodyguard Wolf J Flywheel. Perhaps surprisingly, however, the climax is one of the better ones, an extended chase sequence through the store that is frequently quite inventive. Flywheel: After all, you’re a woman. You are a woman, aren’t you? Margaret Dumont is back, as Margaret Phelps,

Go West (1940)   Comedy westerns were nothing new when the Marx Brothers succumbed – Buster Keaton had made one with the same title fifteen years earlier – but theirs served to underline how variable the results could be. For every Bob Hope (Son of Paleface) there’s a Seth McFarlane (A Million Ways to Die in the West). In theory, the brothers riding roughshod over such genre conventions ought to have been uproarious, but they’d rather run out of gas by this point, and the results are, for the most part, sadly pedestrian. Even Go West‘s big train-chase climax fails to

A Day at the Races (1937)   Very much of-a-piece with its predecessor, right down to the title, A Day at the Races lacks the highs of A Night at the Opera (there’s nothing here to compare to the State Room sequence), but it’s probably more even overall. Certainly, while it’s fifteen minutes longer (and there are about twenty minutes of music), it has a better sense of flow overall, and just the fact of Groucho’s false pretences (Dr Hugo Z Hackenbush, a horse doctor posing as the human kind) gives it a certain distinction. Whitmore: This is absolutely insane! Hackenbush: Yes, that’s what they said

A Night at the Opera (1935)   The Marx Brothers head over to MGM, minus one Zeppo, and despite their variably citing A Night at the Opera as their best film, you can see – well, perhaps not instantly, but by about the half-hour mark – that something was undoubtedly lost along the way. It isn’t that there’s an absence of very funny material – there’s a strong contender for their best scene in the mix – but that there’s a lot else too. Added to which, the best of the very funny material can be found during the first half of

Duck Soup (1933)   Not for nothing is Duck Soup acclaimed as one of the greatest comedies ever, and while you’d never hold it against Marx Brothers movies for having little in the way of coherent plotting in – indeed, it’s pretty much essential to their approach – the presence of actual thematic content this time helps sharpen the edges of both their slapstick and their satire. Trentino: There is a machine gun nest near Hill 28. I want it cleaned out. Chicolini: All right, I’ll tell the janitor. It is stretching things a bit to characterise Duck Soup as one of the great war satires,

Animal Crackers  (1930)   The Marx Brothers’ second feature, and like The Cocoanuts, adapted from their stage musical. Also like its predecessor, Animal Crackers very much wears its origins, unadorned, on its sleeve, but that barely matters when the japes, wit and reigning anarchy are as unfettered and firing on all cylinders as they are here. Spaulding: One morning I shot an elephant in my pyjamas. How he got in my pyjamas, I don’t know. The musical was written by George S Kaufman, Morrie Ryskind, Bert Kalmar, Harry Ruby, the former two also credited for The Cocoanuts, with Ryskind adapting both for the screen; all

The Cocoanuts (1929)   The first Marx Brothers movie proper – Humour Risk appears to be forever lost – and an adaptation of their 1925 Broadway musical, with music and lyrics by no less than Irving Berlin. The Cocoanuts is serviced with a fairly no-frills approach by directors Robert Florey and Joseph Santley (their only work with the brothers: “One of them didn’t understand English and the other didn’t understand comedy” quipped Groucho). Groucho, Harpo and Chico arrive on the big screen fully formed, as does Margaret Dumont’s Mrs Potter (Groucho would no doubt make a gag there), while Zeppo’s Jamison is as shapeless

White Christmas (1954)   White Christmas is one of those beloved Christmas “classics” that gets its prescribed seasonal screening(s), but I doubt most people have watched all the way through. I certainly hadn’t. Having remedied that, I’m very doubtful you’ll have gained anything by giving it your full attention, rather than having it on the background while you put your decorations up. And then wondering, when you do occasionally give it your attention, why it’s still on and nothing of consequence whatsoever appears to have happened. It seems Paramount couldn’t get Fred Astaire back with Bing Crosby following Holiday Inn, so eventually

Holiday Inn (1942)   A slender premise that sustains itself surprisingly well, most obviously because, unlike the later White Christmas, which reuses Bing Crosby and the famous song first sung here and that more-dependable-than-the-real-stuff asbestos snow, there’s a degree of conflict. Which ensures Holiday Inn isn’t just a collection ineffectual interludes between Irving Berlin numbers. Linda: I don’t know. It sounds like something you’d dream about at night and it would be wonderful. And then you’d wake up in the morning and realise it wouldn’t work. Much of the effectiveness of Holiday Inn comes from Fred Astaire’s willingness to play such a louse; on such grounds,

West Side Story (1961)   Why the hell is Spielberg remaking this? Does he somehow think that, from on high in his Hollywood ivory tower, he has the keen insight to imbue some of the realism lacking in the Robert Wise/ Jerome Robbins Best Picture Oscar winner (I mean, it is a musical)? Or that, with today’s marginally keener eye for ethnicity-appropriate casting – if you aren’t Ridley Scott – this alone is good enough reason to retread ground where there’s no earthly justification (this at least appears to be part of it; that and he loved it as a teen, the soft-headed

Aladdin (2019)   I was never overly enamoured by the early ’90s renaissance of Disney animation, so the Beauty and the Beast and Aladdin raves left me fairly unphased. On the plus side, that means I came to this live-action version fairly fresh (prince); not quite a whole new world but sufficiently unversed in the legend to appreciate it as its own thing. And for the most part, Aladdin can be considered a moderate success. There may not be a whole lot of competition for that crown (I’d give the prize to Pete’s Dragon, except that it was always part-live action), but this one sits fairly comfortably

Rocketman (2019)   Early on in Rocketman, there’s a scene where publisher Dick James (Stephen Graham) listens to a selection of his prospective talent’s songs and proceeds to label them utter shite (but signs him up anyway). It’s a view with which I have a degree of sympathy. I like maybe a handful of Elton John’s tunes, so in theory, I should be something of a lost cause with regard to this musical biopic. But Rocketman isn’t reliant on the audience sitting back and gorging on naturalistic performances of the hits in the way Bohemian Rhapsody is; Dexter Fletcher fully embraces the musical theatre aspect

The Greatest Showman (2017)   I can see why The Greatest Showman was such a big hit, but largely, I still have to side with the critical drubbing it received. As a patchwork of infectiously catchy songs (all with the same effusive crescendos to get you properly emotionally uplifted) it has a certain appeal, in an extended pop-promo sense. As a movie, it’s barely coherent. It’s also one that largely dispenses with characterisation, assuming audiences will get the gist of the fundamentals, knowing that all you really need is an intermittent belter to fill in the fine detail. And I guess director

It Couldn’t Happen Here (1987)   “I think our film is arguably better than Spiceworld” said Neil Tennant of his and Chris Lowe’s much-maligned It Couldn’t Happen Here, a quasi-musical, quasi-surrealist journey through the English landscape via the Pet shop Boys’ “own” history as envisaged by co-writer-director Jack Bond. Of course, Spiceworld could boast the presence of the illustrious Richard E Grant, while It Couldn’t Happen Here had to settle for Gareth Hunt. Is its reputation deserved? It’s arguably not very successful at being a coherent film (even thematically), but I have to admit that I rather like it, ramshackle and studiously aloof though it is. Lowe: Where are

Scrooge (1970)   The most charitable thing one can say about Scrooge the musical is that it was bound to happen at some point. It isn’t even necessarily a bad idea. It could work. Indeed, it did work two decades later when the Muppets tried it. Which rather highlights the big problem with this picture: it’s no fun. As taglines go, “What the dickens have they done to Scrooge?” is laying yourself open for invective, but the film was an easy sell to awards ceremonies, inclined as a matter of course towards sumptuous musicals. It was nominated for a BAFTA, gathered a handful of Golden Globes

Trolls (2016)   I keep having to remind myself that DreamWorks Animation occasionally delivers the goods. Shrek (the first), How to Train Your Dragon (both), Mr Peabody & Sherman (no, really). When they first appeared on the scene, I rooted for them as the underdog to Pixar’s uncontested champ, and when they got that Shrek Oscar even more so. But since then, they’ve done their best – even though Pixar’s quality control has slipped, sequels and all – to erode any good will. Trolls is just the latest deficit, a musically facile Day-Glo assault on children everywhere’s senses that somehow slipped through the net to garland critical approval, despite the

Beauty and the Beast  (2017)   Eh, uh. Okay. I was never that taken with the ’90s Disney animation renaissance. There were a few exceptions (Hercules, The Emperor’s New Groove – the atypical ones, basically), but mostly, they seemed overly concerned with distilling the classic era pictures in a staid and respectful, rather than inspired, manner. Formulaic, basically, and a formula they stuck to for half-a-dozen pictures that yielded tidy financial dividends. I can quite understand their appeal, but for me it was the Wolfgang Reitherman era, increasingly short-changed as it was, that was where it was at. This live-action remake does

All That Jazz (1979)   I recall being very impressed by All That Jazz when I first saw it, which must have been in the mid-to-late-80s, all the more so as I’m not an enormous fan of musicals (I may have mentioned this before); it takes something distinctive to do it for me, and I don’t mean distinctive in the Baz Lurhmann sense. Its impact is, I have to admit, somewhat diminished upon revisit. It’s probably stating the bleeding obvious to suggest that Bob Fosse’s highly autobiographical movie is indulgent, but the last half of the picture, an extended, hallucinogenic hospital bed

How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying (1967)   I can probably count the musicals I really like on the fingers of one hand that has lost several digits in a dreadful viola accident. How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying is one of those, however. A satire very much of its era (leaving stage remounts the option of ill-advisedly attempting to update it or looking dubious in intent), infused with commentary on sexism in the workplace that may now seem outmoded (but, in some respects, has simply become less overt), David Swift’s adaptation of Frank Loesser’s 1961 musical, adapted

La La Land (2016)   La La Land is very likeable, which is surely why it has been embraced so rapturously, as if it represents the second coming of Gene Kelly. It isn’t that, but it’s backward-looking take on old-school musicals, with a twist of sobriety, has made it seem fresh and distinctive in an increasingly homogenous (mainstream) landscape. It does make me wonder, though, whether director Damien Chazelle has a one-track mind. He can make a film about anything. As long as it involves jazz. And additionally, when positioned alongside Whiplash, it’s suggestive of an unsettlingly uncompromising temperament. Whiplash justified its teacher’s extreme

Hellzapoppin’ (1941)   The film that tends to get credited as the progenitor of unfettered fourth-wall breaking. Not that comedies weren’t doing this kind of thing from the get-go, but not quite as concertedly or consistently or inventively as Hellzapoppin’. Universal had scooped up the rights to the musical revue (and Hellzapoppin’ is nothing if not inhabited with the feel of a revue) by comedians Harold “Chic” Johnson and John “Ole” Olsen, who star in and compere the proceedings, betting it would translate somehow. Somehow it does, albeit by way of a very hit-and-miss movie, one in which you can’t help but admire

Into the Woods (2014)   Rob Marshall tackles another musical, with all the acumen he brought to Chicago.  And non-musicals (Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides). Sure, he ensures nice art direction in, but that doesn’t make a good movie. I can’t say I’m hugely au fait with Stephen Sondheim’s oeuvre (West Side Story is a classic, obviously, and the Sweeney Todd movie is diverting enough), but if this is evidence of his musical/storytelling skills he’s rather lacking (does that count as heresy?) Mash up a few fairy tales (Little Red Riding Hood, Rapunzel, Cinderella, Jack and the Beanstalk), sprinkle a few variable songs over the top,

Begin Again (2013)   What better way for the director of the weightless Once to advance his stalled career (I had no idea he made two films – three if you include a TV movie – in between that and this, probably because neither did anyone else) than to make an equally weightless movie, but this time with movie stars? That’s pretty much Begin Again, another music business tale, revolving around dreams, love and impossibly good-natured calorie-free aspirational fluff. Mark Ruffalo tries his best, but even he is unable to add any added value in the face of the deluge that is the

Rio 2 (2014)   Rio was a fairly tepid affair, considerably enlivened by the most delicious villain to grace CGI animation in its near-twenty-year feature history. And so it is withRio 2; Jermaine Clement’s Nigel makes every scene with his haughty cockatoo a delight and nearly balances out the over-famiar Meet the Parents storyline, in which Spix’s macaw Blu (Ben Stiller, I mean Jesse Eisenberg) reluctantly ventures into the Amazon jungle with mate Jewel (Anne Hathaway) and their fledgling brood seeking out others of their rare species. The first Rio was a passion project for director Carlos Saldanha. It had been in development since 1995 (at which

Frozen  (2013)   I should probably have caught this ages ago, but instead I just let it go. Does Frozen mean something extra in terms of quality, or have added resonance, because it turned out to be such a huge hit? After all, whilst it was generally well reviewed, no one anticipated the movie as the enormous crowd-pleaser and cultural phenomenon it became. Talk comparing it to the Disney renaissance, which included a Best Picture nomination for Beauty and the Beast, can only account for it being a hearty success, not one of this magnitude. Surely this was just the latest in a long line

The Harry Hill Movie (2013)   The Harry Hill Movie was decidedly not greeted with rapturous applause by audiences high from TV Burp and, erm, You’ve Been Framed (you’d have thought anyone watching the latter would welcome any old crap). Undoubtedly, this is a very patchy affair. Possibly, if you appreciate Hill mocking the slenderest of motivations for the plot, you will be on-board to at least get the most out of it. While it’s no surprise that a performer schooled in sketch comedy should deliver a movie as episodic as this, it is disappointing that the randomness isn’t more off the wall. Too frequently, at a loss over

Les Misérables (2012)   I’ve noted a few times that I’m not the greatest fan of musicals (every time I see one, actually), but I’m always willing to give any genre a chance (well, maybe not torture porn; I know going in I’m not the most receptive audience). I love the film version of How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying. I could probably even (vaguely) sing along to it. Les Mis, though. I’ve never seen it performed, never read Victor Hugo’s novel. I didn’t really have any expectations for it either way, except that there’s a danger of being spoiled

An American in Paris (1951)   Vincente Minnelli’s musical won the Best Picture Oscar in 1952 but you’d be hard-pressed to explain just what made the film so deserving. Likely, it was a response to the ever-expanding artistic aspirations of star Gene Kelly, resulting in an extended seventeen-minute dance sequence at the climax. Of which, you’d be forgiven for thinking that Minnelli was channelling Michael Powell (except without the visual precision or narrative grasp); fittingly, Kelly screened The Red Shoes to MGM to convince them to make the film. The final sequence is by some distance the most impressive one here, but

On the Town (1949)   I can’t say this, the first collaboration between Gene Kelly and Stanley Donen as co-directors, really did it for me. Their follow-up film together, Singin’ in the Rain, has a strong plot to anchor it. Here, the premise is wafer thin, and the dramatic beats barely register. Based on a Broadway musical of five years previous, much of the comedy business still manages to amuse, but the songs and dance numbers are mostly fairly forgettable (New York, New York aside). I’ve said before that I’m not the easiest sell on musicals; they need to be

Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1953)   Marilyn Monroe reunites with Howard Hawks a year after her supporting role in Monkey Business, but this time-sharing leading lady duties with Jane Russell. But it’s Russell’s show to command, really, as testified by her impersonation of Monroe’s Lorelei Lee during the courtroom climax. Complete with a second, vigorous, run-through of Diamonds are a Girl’s Best Friend (Marilyn famously sings it the first time). Neither star steps on the other’s toes, since they’re playing complete opposites; Russell, the deadpan, world-wise one in search of love, Monroe the airhead gold-digging bimbo. Monroe’s is like no character you’ve ever seen,