1950: Summer Stock

Summer Stock (1950, Walters) 6/10


Each year in the late 1950’s when the Scandinavian winter ended and Sweden’s brief summer appeared, Swedish theatre director Ingmar Bergman would gather his stock collection of actors, close the doors to his Malmö city theatre for a few weeks and make a film in the countryside. During the same period in the United States, theatre troupes tended to not engage in such prolific and ambitious endeavours as Bergman. Instead they participated in what became to be known as summer stock: an informal brand of entertainment where New York theatre groups would take their act on the road to middle-class vacation spots in New England and the Mid-West to perform outdoor shows for the local population.This theatrical roadshow’s popularity reached its peak in the period from the Forties to the Sixties and although mostly forgotten today many well-known actors such as Harrison Ford got their break in this medium.

It is this type of theatre which illuminates Charles Walters 1950 classic musical Summer Stock: the tale of Jane Falbury (Judy Garland) a farmer from a traditional rural community, whose life is altered by the arrival of her sister’s summer stock group on her bankrupt farm. Stylistically a throwback to the Garland-Rooney cycle of a decade earlier, Summer Stock was released in August, 1950 in an attempt to revive the career fortunes of Judy Garland. Crippled by marital problems, weight fluctuation, drug addiction and a lack of self-confidence, the film’s profitable financial returns seemed likely to pave the way for future Garland-MGM projects. Yet a month later, her MGM contract was terminated and the troubled singer-actress would not return to the screen for another four years.

Despite attempts by producer Joe Pasternak and director Charles Walters to cater to Garland’s every whim (including altering the film’s shooting hours to suit her peak hours), the picture was beset with problems connected to her increasingly erratic behaviour: costing the studio thousands of dollars and almost resulting in Pasternak terminating the project before completion. However, at the insistence of Louis B. Mayer the production team gave Garland one last chance as the studio felt they owed her something for her past box-office successes. But even after the arduous initial six-month shoot was completed, the studio insisted on a final number- the film’s iconic “Get Happy” sequence- by which time Garland had drastically lost almost twenty pounds.

In reality, Garland was probably at her healthiest weight at the beginning of Summer Stock, but her physical appearance only intensified her insecurities regarding her performance and the possibility of letting down her colleagues such as director Charles Walters and Gene Kelly: the latter specifically appearing in the picture as a favour to Pasternak and Garland for their support early in his transistion from stage to screen. With its archaic sets and a plot akin to those of the Garland-Rooney films, Summer Stock was even by 1950’s standards old hat: a relic from a bygone era in which a group of kids would get together and put on a show a la the Garland-Rooney films. Recent research highlighting that Rooney and not Kelly was initially Pasternak’s first choice to co-star alongside Garland heightens the producers recycled intentions.

Gene Kelly stars as Joe Ross: the leader of an aspiring New York theatre troupe, whose girlfriend Abigail (Gloria De Haven) happens to have a sister (Garland) who despite setbacks, still operates the family’s spacious farm in the traditional farming community of Wingait. Jane is not like other women, particularly in comparison to the female protagonists in musicals produced by MGM’s Freed Unit. Other than the support of a few elderly farm hands, Jane has ran the family’s Connecticut farm for years by herself. When the two remaining men opt to leave, she decides to purchase a tractor from her bumbling fiance Orville (Eddie Bracken) and his domineering father Jasper (Ray Collins): an idea which appalls both men. Due to the farm’s financial instability, Jasper initially only offers her the tractor if he she first agrees to finalize her and Orville’s four-year engagement by accepting his forced hand in marriage.

But Jane balks at the idea and successfully convinces Jasper that she must first be financially independent before marrying Orville: as to not conjure up ideas in the town that she has only married Orville to clear the family debts. Jane is responsible, hard-working and diligent. Her sister Abigail on the hand is caricatured as being immature, obstinate and reckless: preferring to perform as few tasks as possible, while reaping the greatest reward. Early in the film we learn that Abigail on a whim has dropped out of art school and that despite her sister’s financial backing for her education, she holds little respect for Jane’s salt of the earth approach to life and work. Furthermore, she had invited her boyfriend and the twenty-two other members of their theatrical troupe to the Falbury farm under the auspices that they can freely use the barn and stay rent-free without previously informing her sister: who only learns of their arrival after returning home atop her prize new tractor. Thus, Summer Stock’s female characters embody the MGM tradition of the protagonists’ struggle and strife being rewarded through a triumphant reaping of his or her modest ambitions. While for the lazy knaves who try to exploit others and life's shortcuts to get rich quick: only heartache and failure ensues.

While Jane is similar to Garland’s Jo Hayden in For Me and My Gal in that she financially supports her sibling’s education, her ethos to life is radically different. In For Me and My Gal, Jo Hayden needs the emotional support and arrogant self-belief of Gene Kelly’s Harry Palmer to develop her career; despite the fact it is Hayden who is the greater talent and who holds more marquee appeal. In Summer Stock, Jane is unwilling to ruin her career by becoming domesticated by the ambitions of Orville’s controlling father. She offers to self-correct her finances, drives her tractor, dresses in denim clothes, assigns work to her guests, makes her own choices and toils in her family fields. She even offers to return the tractor if Jasper continually bullies her into marrying Orville.

But that is not to say that Jane is masculinized, but rather the filmmakers perversely allude to the community’s closeted isolation from “normal" gender roles. She is the embodiment of the rare type of independent woman celebrated in Forties and Fifties culture: the farmworker. Her most outwardly feminine characteristic is to be found in her sense of maternalistic duty: nurturing her guests and catering to their basic needs. Given her sense of loyalty and duty to the failing family farm, these feminine qualities of nurturing and compassion can be seen in her tendering of crops and raising of farm animals: thus her feminity has been re-shaped to compliment her alternative strand of maternalism and womanhood. But as the film progresses, there is a subtle shift in Jane’s character. As she is further introduced to the outside world, she slowly abandons slacks and denim for dresses and racier costumes. Her shapely feminine physical qualities are revealed from under her previous layers of unisex clothing and a reliance in necessitating the applause and feedback of men (Gene Kelly in particular) accompanies her new attire.

Surprisingly, this understated transistion from tomboy to tomcat is not as well noted by the rural citizens of Wingait. For community leader Jasper Wingait, the change in her clothing is not as alarming as her earlier feistiness, which threatens the patriarchical nature of the community. Jasper’s central concern however is with her fratenization with outsiders: in this case her sister’s theatre group. While the group bring mayhem and destruction to the farm, they bring sexual danger, alternative values and a sense of irresponsbility to the community. For the townspeople, the actors symbolize promiscuity and the opposite of honest work. Their arrival into town worries local residents such as Orville who are agape at her support for this group of miscreants. As well as using the tractor as a symbol of his father’s power, Orville continually reminds her of the symbolic damage incurred on her and their relationship in town through her affiliation with actors. He is even aghast at the prospect of having actors as in-laws.

With the film’s production commencement in early 1949, it is likely that the recent HUAC trials of Hollywood actors may have spilled into the sub-conscious of George Wells and Sy Gomberg’s script. Given the Wingait’s reminders of the community’s long-standing conservative traditions and ancestral origins to the colonial era, the influx of actors into the community could be viewed as a subtle allusion to The Red Scare: a threat to the Wingait’s traditional hold on power in a quasi-feudalistic community in which families remain politically and financially indebted to the head clan for generations. When coupled with Jane’s initial attempts to overstep her socio-political position, one can see how Summer Stock plays upon fears of Communism in a rural, East Coast society.

Unfortunately, as the film and Garland’s relationship with Kelly evolves from mistrust to romance, so the film accelerates in the opposite direction: dithering into a stagnant world of fixed roles and ideals. Yet, this does not mean that Summer Stock is not enjoyable, likeable or even anti-progressive. On the contrary the film does include several memorable song and dance sequences, as well as an interesting contextual sub-narrative involving Garland’s Jane attempting to become an independent businesswoman. Where Summer Stock fails is mostly in its cliched storyline and stock characters: not in its passable lead performances. The film loses much of its rustic charm and appeal as it changes its focus from Garland’s agricultural plight to the mechanical amateurishness of Kelly’s barnyard production. As the narrative develops, characters such as Jane’s incompetent fiance Orville overstep the boundaries of their personality: becoming pseudo-villains in order to expand the possibilities of a forthcoming Garland-Kelly courtship.

The result is a film designed as a vehicle for Judy Garland that plays it safe by culling storylines and characterizations from her earlier popular films alongside Mickey Rooney. This produces a watery narrative that could very easily have had children or college students play roles, which are allotted to adults. And although this film was constructed for the specific reason of reviving Garland’s fortunes, it may have aided the development of Kelly’s career, rather than its intended target. In the seven years between From Me and My Gal and Summer Stock, the evolution of Gene Kelly as an actor is noticeable in his ability to illuminate a scene with simple gestures and restrained body language. “Get Happy” aside his showpieces are far more memorable than Garland’s in their innovative structure and naturalistic impromptu style. This methodology is seen in his ability to use simple props (newspapers, bleachers and squeaky floorboards) and maximize their limited potential.

Combined with Robert Planck’s blooded cinematography, these sequences seem more attuned to deleted scenes from the backlots of Singin in the Rain than the barnyards of Summer Stock. Correspondingly “Get Happy” in its brash colourful Hollywood-style seems out of step with the film's earlier primitive mis-en-scene and the unlikelihood for glitzy seduction transpiring from Kelly's mawkish show. Somehow Charles Walters uneven direction allows these artistic segments to flourish beyond the film’s sub-par material. But his inability to lift the forced moments of comedy or eliminate the artificial glamour attached to Kelly’s barnyard review leaves this picture stilted somewhere between likeable mediocrity and backdated hokum.

* Summer Stock is released by Warner Home Video and is available in their collection of MGM musicals entitled Classic Musicals From The Dream Factory

Copyright 2007 8½ Cinematheque

1943: Du Barry Was A Lady

Du Barry Was A Lady (del Ruth, 1943) 2/10


The historical figure Madame Du Barry was once cinema’s most popular Maîtresse. Until, Sofia Coppola’s misinterpreted Marie Antoinette was released this past year, Louis XV’s favourite lover had not been seen on the screen in over half a century. Yet from 1919-1954,directors such as Ernst Lubitsch and William Dieterle had attempted to tell her story, while actresses ranging from former silent star Norma Talmadge, Dolores del Rio and Lucille Ball had all played at least a variation of the 18th century French courtesan. It would be the latter who in her first film at MGM after leaving RKO would star in the most recent American-produced turn as Du Barry prior to Asia Argento’s 2006 effort in Coppola’s Marie Antoinette.

Yet, Ball’s starring role in Du Barry Was A Lady opposite Red Skeleton and Gene Kelly is less a historical romp, but rather a tedious fantasy-laced production, which feels flat and forced in its attempts at a screwy, slightly ribald musical-comedy. Adapted from a saucy 1939 Broadway musical with songs by Cole Porter, Du Barry Was A Lady fell under the directorial gaze of Roy del Ruth and producer Arthur Freed. After inital lead Ann Sothern became pregnant, Freed hired newly acquired Lucille Ball to star as the shallow showgirl May Daly. Comedian Red Skeleton and dancer extraordinaire Gene Kelly (in his second film and his first in Technicolor) were added to play Ball’s admirers.

The film stars Skeleton as Louis Blore as a hat-check attendant at a New York nightclub who along with dancer Alex Howe (Kelly) desires the club’s star attraction May Daly, who goes by the stage name Du Barry. Yet, May discounts both men as potential suitors based on the size of their wallets. Fearful of living in poverty, the depressed Daly woos the club’s millionaires who can provide her with the financial security which escaped her parents. She sighs she may even grow to love them a little.

But when the immature Louis surprisingly comes into money, May begins to lean toward her newly-minted colleague much to the chagrin of Alex, whom she loves for every thing but his lack of financial resources. Louis’ malefic attempts to convince Alex of his intentions come undone after the former is accidentally drugged: producing an extended dream sequence in which the spendthrift is transported to pre-Revolutionary France with his co-workers and peers in tow.

With its Broadway origins, watered-down subject matter, conservative blend of up-tempo music, zany comedy and unrequited romance, Du Barry Was A Lady is typical 1940’s MGM fare. Class and gender stereotypes are prominent with working-class buffons, doting African-American servants and limited examples of open social movement.As with other MGM musicals of the period, women generally are concerned about marriage and purposeful love. Virginia O’Brien’s Ginny (the cigarette girl) consistently begs Louis to marry her, while Lucille Ball literally treats marriage as a business contract: sacrificing true love in favour of financial security. Certainly, memories of the Great Depression would play into the mindsets of characters, but given the newfound independence of women during this period it is interesting to note the conservative nature of the film’s female protagonists, especially when Louis remarks that he cannot get a real job at the shipyard because the company wants women. Thus, there is a contrast between the women outside who are actively employed in the war effort and the women at the club who require (wealthy) men to supplant their income and solidify their prospects.

Intriguingly however while these women seek out economic security in men, they are also quite sexually independent and frank for 1940’s MGM. As she repeatedly asks Louis for his hand in marriage, Ginny tries to appeal to his sexual appetite reminding him that she could come over again, until he quickly rebutes her veiled advances to staying the night. Unlike the bourgeois May, the working-class Ginny openly displays her appetite and hunger to men such as Louis. For Ginny her sexuality is an extension of her feminity:an enjoyable element of her limited social freedoms which she indulges in; for May it is a undisclosed and undesired tool for quietly obtaining material possessions from interested men. Yet, this emphasizes a notion that May is reluctantly willing to respectfully “prostitute” herself out in order to avoid the financial difficulties her parents suffered.

The objectified sexual nature of the women at the club is evident in their songs and routines, yet is limited to stereotypes of female exoticism and duty. Songs such as “Salome,” “I Love An Esquire Girl” and “DuBarry was a Lady” range from subtle evocations of the empowerment of female sexual agency to restrictively personifying women as sex objects.The women at the club are scantily clad in a variety of risque costumes ranging from exotic Arabian dancers to short-skirted brides. Although this demonstrates the limited opportunities for women inside the club (as either provactively dressed performers or provactively dressed servers) their performances on a stage which looks like an enormous bed heightens and objectifies their sexual appeal: even going to so far as equating them with pin-up girls in a “calendar sequence.”

Conceptions of masculinity in Du Barry Was A Lady are divided into two camps. In Kelly’s Alex, there is a sensitive respectability attached to an understated, yet ambitious personality. In Louis, there is wantoness and arrogance to compensate for his emasculated position in a job generally reserved for women. He uses exaggeration to fill in his hollow pride: periodically attaching himself to Ginny for her corporeal assets, while simulataneously frightened of responsibility and commitment. The inept sexual prowess of Louis and other men in Du Barry Was A Lady can be seen in May’s foremost suitor, the aptly named Willie: an aging impotent man fond of holding cigars, but who can never lure May back to the bedroom in his apartment.

It is interesting to note given the prominent subtle hints at sexuality in the film, that upon obtaining Herbert Fields and B.G. DeSylva’s play MGM went about eliminating elements deemed too crass and undesirable such as Louis job as a men’s bathroom attendant. Yet, not even a cameo by Lana Turner (as herself) or an early appearance by Ava Gardner as an extra can inject any spice into this overlong and dull picture. The central issues with the film are to be found in its one-dimensional script and lacklustre direction. Taking almost forty minutes -in a 96 minute film- to reach the film’s central narrative, Du Barry Was A Lady is a collection of comedy mis-steps, wasted performances and mid-level song routines. The sequences with Tommy Dorsey are excellent, as is Kelly’s brief dance sequence. But the majority of this film is at best very good such as Ball’s dubbed-opening “Du Barry Was A Lady” number and “Salome,” or at worst hideously wasteful of time and talent such as the Oxford Boys sequence. Cedric Gibbons art direction ranges from the film’s sexually filtered high society club to elegant Versailles and raw French locations, whose detailed composition are lavishly expended in this picture.Karl Freund’s cinematography is sophsisticated and warm, but lacks the edge of classic black and white work, while del Ruth’s dawdling direction is careless: squandering time, talent and effort.

In Du Barry Was A Lady future blacklistee and Producer Zero Mostel makes his debut as Rami the club’s daft in-house psychic, but along with Skeleton his performance is flawed: Skeleton in his excessive physical comedy; Mostel in his muted attempts away from physical comedy. Characters such as Mostel’s Rami and Gene Kelly’s Alex routinely disappear from the proceedings, while the emphasis on who is the central character rotates at will between Ball and Skeleton. Ball’s somber effort is generally considered one of the best of her cinematic career, as she provides one of the film’s few multi-dimensional approaches with her character’s tired and superficial off-stage persona. Kelly is dependable, although his participation in the film is frittered by a director who seems unable to decide what to do with him. Time has not been kind to Skeleton’s maniacal performance. His performance has lost a lot of its charm and character with its emphasis on the type of campy expressive double-takes which has befallen Cary Grant’s work in Capra’s Arsenic and Old Lace.

Although, a failure in terms of narrative and style, Du Barry Was A Lady does hold some interest for contemporary viewers. It’s coded sexuality goes against the grain of similar MGM musicals of the period, while the performances of Lucille Ball and Gene Kelly provide an interesting insight into their early years. With its Wizard of Oz-style concept of reality being contorted through a dream held promise, the filmmakers waste far too much time in exploiting the possibilities of the film: preferring to water the audience’s appetite through semi-lavish spectacles that are boring and inane. By the time the film reaches its denouement much of the film’s earlier energy has been expended in fruitless comedic endeavours, artistic mismanagement and the destruction of the auteuristic potential for the film to rise above its core material.

* Du Barry Was A Lady will be released by Warner Brothers Home Video in their upcoming Lucille Ball Signature Collection

Copyright 2007 8 ½ Cinematheque.

1942: For Me and My Gal

For Me and My Gal (1942, Berkeley) 7/10


For Me and My Gal is one of the highlights in the directorial career of esteemed choreographer Busby Berkeley. Shot on an $800,000 budget, the film was a popular box-office success: making six-times its original cost, as well as launching the career of Gene Kelly and cementing the adult career of Judy Garland in the process.

The film stars Judy Garland and Gene Kelly as Jo Hayden and Harry Palmer: a pair of travelling Vaudevillian performers dreaming of playing the ultimate venue: The Palace in New York. She is a top-class singer in a mid-level musical-comedy trio, while he is an opportunistic “animal” who lures Hayden from her group with promises of fame and fortune. But both the fame and the fortune never arrive for Hayden and Palmer. Instead while Garland’s former partner and secret admirer Jimmy Metcalfe (George Murphy) accelerates to the top, she is abandoned by a man who spends his off-hours pursuing a wealthy European singer Eve Minard (Marta Eggerth).

But unlike Kelly, Garland’s unscrupulous character never wavers: continually taking him back upon his promises of a better tomorrow. Oblivious to Jo’s needs, Harry Palmer’s selfish attitudes reach a breaking point literally when he conocts a scheme to avoid the wartime draft. Yet, for the emotionally tattered Hayden this is the final straw: resulting in Palmer realizing the error of his ways and embarking on a course of action designed to undo his guilt and win back Jo’s heart.

For Me and My Gal falls into the tradition of back-stage musical-dramas such as 42nd Street, Broadway Melody, Singin’ In the Rain, The Red Shoes and The Great Ziegfeld. While it may not have the complexity of the latter films, it is at times far more enjoyable than 1942’s Yankee Doodle Dandy. Like Curtiz’ film for Warners, For Me and My Gal employs the First World War as an allegorical setting for the Second World War in which key characters find their true patriotic calling and military imagery such as German helmets are anachronistically altered to convey the spirit of the proceedings

With its conservative messages and buoyant flag-waving, For Me and My Gal astutely fits into this category as it fills its 104 minute running time with themes of honour, loyalty and perserverance. Noticeably this film attempts to thwart war-time cowardice primarily through the promotion of alternative roles in the military. However, Kelly’s transformation from an unsympathetic selfish dancer to sacrificial soldier is flawed and contrived to say the least. Interestingly, aside from a late scene involving her character’s active participation in the war, Garland’s character is a model of traditional values connected to a woman’s duty and loyalty to her man throughout the film.

Not only does she continually support Kelly’s egoistic ambitions and flirtatious ways, but she also financially backs her brother (Richard Quine) through medical school. For the majority of the film, Hayden is unable to break from Palmer’s charming grasp to re-join Metcalfe or strike it on her own. Yet, when America begins to participate in the war, she re-emerges as an independent woman: taking initiative and eventually landing her own act during and after the fighting. However, as this is an MGM film any hint of social liberalism or risky content would certainly remain brief and subtle, if at all existent: a point further illustrated by the censor-enacted blurring of Marta Eggerth’s cleavage, which was deemed too provocative for 1942 tastes.

For Me and My Gal is also a film about fulfilling personal dreams and goals whether they be romantic or career-related. In the case of Murphy's Metcalfe, he consistently aids Garland in her moments of grief: hinting at his long-time crush on her, but failing to make any advances. In the case of Palmer and Hayden both have to persevere in order to fulfill their ambitions to play The Palace. Yet, there is a subtle message injected into Berkeley's film for war-time audiences: the ability to overcome tragedy. Repeatedly, characters in For Me and My Gal overcome personal and professional loss on the hope that through hard work, success is just around the corner; while for those who attempt to cheat and swindle their way from taking life's long and winding roads, only further sorrow, isolation and rejection will ensue.

For Me and My Gal is historically notable in ciinematic history for several reasons. First it was Gene Kelly’s Hollywood debut. After MGM’s inital candidate to play Harry Palmer (Dan Dailey) was drafted the studio searching for a “Pal Joey” type character landed Broadway ‘s “Pal Joey” star and choreographer Gene Kelly to play Palmer on the advice of legendary acting teacher Stella Adler. After signing with David O. Selznick, Kelly had sat languishing without work since arriving in Hollywood, but when on Freed’s instance the studio loan him, Selznick relinquished Kelly’s contract to MGM and the rest is history.And with his oily charm , Kelly comfortably fits into a role as the redeemable heel as though he has been a Hollywood regular for years.

The film is also notable in the career of Judy Garland for two reasons. For Me and My Gal would be the first film in which Garland’s name came before the title as the picture transformed her into an adult actress. In 1941, the tragic singer-actress married composer David Rose: proving to Louis B. Mayer that she did not belong in the “little girl” roles he and the rest of the studio insisted upon. Thus in For Me and My Gal, the naive Garland of The Wizard of Oz or the Berkeley directed Rooney-Garland cycle is replaced by a sensitive figure who yearns for Harry’s love and commitment: only to encounter a range of emotions when Harry proves to not be the idyllic soul she initially believes he is.

The drab, but likeable Murphy was ironically scheduled to take MGM contract-player Dan Dailey’s spot and play Harry Palmer until Kelly was sworn in. Certainly had Murphy been drafted as Dailey’s replacement, For Me and My Gal would have lost a lot its franetic energy and magnetic poise. Ironically, it would be this quiet bookishness about Murphy’s performance which would land him in the hot seat with studio boss Louis B. Mayer. When studio test screenings showed that 85% of the general public wanted Kelly’s opportunistic scoundrel to romantically re-unite with Garland, twenty-one days of additional shooting had to be scheduled in order to provide Kelly’s character a conscience: prompting Mayer to claim Murphy's timid and lovelorn performance “spoiled the picture.”

Although directed by Busby Berkeley, the artistic direction of For Me and My Gal (his seventh production for MGM) is often credited to lavish musical producer Arthur Freed. Yet, For Me and My Gal feels more like a Raoul Walsh picture for Warner Brothers (interestingly Walsh directed a wholly different, yet similarly named picture ten years prior called Me and My Gal) than something from Freed’s illustrious mid-period: compacted for maximum pace, time and budgetary reasons. The fact that Berkeley was a former Warner Brothers employee a few years prior heightens this fact. A key example of this is in the use of stock footage, rapid dissolves and newspapers to chronicle the change in time and thus the escalation in world events: methods Walsh used to similar effect during the period in The Roaring Twenties and Objective Burma! In For Me and My Gal, Berkeley utilizes newspapers placed over the head of a sleeping Gene Kelly to periodically remind the audience of external happenings and subsequently where the film is headed. Although Freed’s signature sophistication is evident, it should be noted that he allowed his players unprecedented autonomy in creating their energetic and lively films.

The acquisition of Gene Kelly to the MGM stable ignites From Me and My Gal. As dependable and warm as second-billed George Murphy is in this film, he lacks the charmisa and wit which makes Kelly’s character so appealing, yet so unsympathetic. Murphy’s characterization of Jimmy Metcalfe and his years of unrequited love cater to the audience’s hearts, but only their hearts. Kelly brashly makes the audience become Harry Palmer apologists for his aggressive personality. Garland’s performance has a warmth and an indelible richness: the antithesis to Kelly’s slippery sleaze. Kelly works best wittily reacting to sexual advances or presenting his stage routine. Garland’s best performances in this film on the otherhand come from quiet reactions: overhearing Kelly whistling Eggerth’s key song, reading a telegram from France about her brother or wallowing in misery on stage while singing about unrequited love.Both supplant the measly material offered to them, as does Nazi-exile Marta Eggerth in an unfortunately small, but memorable role as Palmer’s European love interest Eve Minard.

As for Berkley’s direction of the film: gone are the trademark mathematically aligned angles and shots which dominated films such as 42nd Street. Instead Berkeley employed William H. Daniels -a favourite of Garbo and later Anthony Mann- to create compositions that are at times Wellesian; a mesmeric blend of fluid long takes, craned shotes and peculiar angles ranging positioned behind wall fittings, shooting toward ceilings or snaking around doorways with barely a cut in sight. The sheer movement and sweep of his camera along with the diversity of points of view, elevate From Me and My Gal from simply being another run of the mill 1940’s musical.

The achilles heel of For Me and My Gal is in its simplistic motivations and characterizations: as characters throw off the shackles of their previous impressions or feelings without a whim. The film’s clunky storyline never really segues into a cohesive blend until the final thirty minutes or so: dragging the film down as Daniels’ elegant camerawork and the dynamic tandem of Kelly and Garland try to push the material to its breaking point.

Yet, as with other MGM films developed by the Freed Unit, this is not a film upon which its ethos and lifeblood rely on multi-dimensional characters and literary storylines. Yes, it is contrived, but this is a film all about the performance: gathering the best artists possible and exploiting their talent for maximum emotional, aesthetic and financial profit. And in swaying the emotions of an audience hungry for entertaining, yet patriotic films Busby Berkeley’s For Me and My Gal offers almost the right blend of laughs, music and a dose of moral conduct.

An underrated, but flawed classic.

* For Me and My Gal is released by Warner Brothers Home Video as part of their Judy Garland Signature Collection

Copyright 2007 8 ½ Cinematheque.