WITH A SONG IN MY HEART: THE JANE FROMAN STORY (2oth Century-Fox 1952) Fox Home Video
In the
pantheon of truly outstanding musicals made at 2oth Century-Fox, Walter Lang’s With a Song in My Heart: The Jane Froman
Story (1952) remains an unabashedly bright spot; a semi-biographical,
sentimental tearjerker that continues to affect the soul as it quite
deliberately plucks at the strings of our hearts. Few are the musicals that can
so obviously manipulate without devolving into maudlin treacle. But in star,
Susan Hayward, far too infrequently revived and revered as the truly
outstanding performer she was, at least, these days, With A Song in My Heart exudes a sort of womanly grace and quiet
rectitude, wholly in keeping with the lady of the title. Lip-syncing to
Froman’s own tracks, Hayward does more than merely mouth the words or delve
into a cleverly convincing pantomime. She creates an alternate reality that
really sells the picture not only as a compelling human interest story, gussied
up in the trappings of an elegant entertainment, but equally as convincing as
high art. It behooves us to take pause a moment and pay homage to the woman who
inspired this fictionalized account. The real Jane Froman was a much beloved
torch singer, nightclub performer, major radio celebrity and minor movie star.
Her crippling paralysis after a fiery plane crash triggered a lifelong battle
against excruciating physical and mental anguish, extraordinary for Froman’s
stamina, her stubborn resolve to see things through, her never waning devotion
to God, and, ultimately, proving her testament to that ‘never surrender’
attitude, parlayed into personal triumph.
The world of
entertainment no longer breeds such rare unicorns among us; either Froman or
the actress who so embraces her story. They haven’t for some time. Jane Froman,
with her indomitable desire to entertain us throughout the decades, reaching
from beyond the grave long since her death in 1980; her classically trained,
richly operatic mezzo soprano given over to the likes of the Gershwins, Cole
Porter and Irving Berlin; here, at last was a songstress out to conquer
virtually all forms of popular entertainment in her time. Like Judy Garland, Froman
was the little dynamo that could, seemingly with no limitations she could not
conquer. This tenacity would be cruelly tested after a USO Boeing Yankee
Clipper she was flying home on crashed into the Tagus River in Lisbon, Portugal
on February 22, 1943; derailing Froman’s success at the height of her career. For
anyone else, surviving the crash would have been enough of an achievement. Of
the fateful thirty-eight on board, only fifteen were pulled from this fiery
wreckage alive.
And Froman’s
injuries were considerable. A gash above the left knee had all but severed her
leg. There were multiple fractures to her right arm, and, a compound fracture
threatening to force doctors to amputate her right leg. In the moments before
the crash, Froman had given her seat to another passenger, Tamara Drasin.
Drasin did not survive; this whim of fate plaguing Froman’s conscience for the
rest of her life. To many, including Froman, it must have seemed as though her
career – if not her life – had come to a very abrupt and bittersweet end. Yet,
if nothing else, hers had been a formidable run; begun on the radio, appearing
opposite such luminaries as Bing Crosby and Jack Benny, joining the 1933
installment of the Ziegfeld Follies, garnering top honors as the most popular
radio singer of 1934, and appearing in three big budget musical extravaganzas
from 1933 to 1938. Froman was already a headliner when catastrophe struck. Then
as now, the press reports of the plane crash and Froman’s threadbare survival
from it were immediately treated as grand tragedy in a blitzkrieg of hype and
hyperbole.
Ah, but those
who speculated the best was now behind Jane Froman did not know her very well.
Arguably, they did not know her at all. For Froman had set herself upon a
vision quest to recover from her injuries in record time – if not entirely (she
was forever to wear an archaic back brace to conceal her ongoing malady behind
cleverly placed props and costuming) – then enough to exude the illusion of
restored health, and a picture of arrogant defiance against seemingly
insurmountable odds. Perhaps the emotional strength, co-pilot, John Curtis Burn
(who would later become Jane’s second husband) had shown immediately after the
rescue – fashioning a makeshift raft from floating debris with a broken back no
less, and on which both he and Froman clung until help arrived – provided the
necessary inspiration for Jane’s own steadfast recovery. Without question, it
served as a bond of commonality that would eventually blossom into their
steadfast and enduring romance. Undergoing thirty-nine excruciating operations
to stave off what seemed like an inevitable amputation Froman wore a leg brace
the remainder of her life but staunchly refused to let it slow her down. In
fact, a scant two years later she was touring Europe, entertaining the troops
in a daunting slate of 95 shows. To cope with chronic, agonizing pain, Froman
turned to alcohol and pills; becoming addicted to both, but fighting off even
these considerable demons, eventually to regain her health, sanity and remain
clean and sober. From 1952 (the year Fox set to work immortalizing her story
for the big screen) until 1955, Froman also hosted her own TV program on
CBS. A year later, she divorced her
second husband, John Burn.
With a Song in My Heart does not
delve too deeply into any of the aforementioned circumstances; either out of
respect for its subject matter, or perhaps to remain inspirational and faithful
only to the frothy patina of a Fox family-orientated musical from this vintage.
With a Song in My Heart is a
beguiling and tune-filled extravaganza for which Froman not only contributed
heavily to story ideas, eventually fleshed out in Lamar Trotti’s screenplay,
but also agreed to supply the rousing soundtrack, lip-synced by Susan
Hayward. The album was an immediate
best-seller and the movie a runaway smash hit. Although exaggerated somewhat by
the conventions of the atypically glamorous Fox musical milieu, With a Song in My Heart shares a
remarkable fidelity to Froman’s life story… to a point: Froman’s meteoric rise
to fame via the blind optimism and driving ambitions of her first husband, Don
Ross (David Wayne in the film), and, the supportive/nurturing tenderness she
garnered from her second husband, John Burn (Rory Calhoun) while the pair
convalesced and healed from their injuries.
These points
of truth are given considerable weight in Lamar Trotti’s screenplay. Indeed,
they are the best sequences in the film, prone to genuine empathy and
appreciation for the star being immortalized. The extent of Froman’s
life-threatening injuries is somewhat glossed over in montage, with a fictional
narration by the movie’s equally fictionalized private nurse, Clancy (the
enduring and irrepressible, Thelma Ritter). Trotti’s screenplay avoids
concentrating on Froman’s other physical and emotional scars. But these, in
truth, endured long after most of her initial injuries had mended; references
to her crippled hand, addiction to painkillers and Froman’s mounting personal
insecurities that directly contributed to her alcoholism and second divorce are
never mentioned - even in passing. In the glamorous Hollywood of old, sadly no
more, the purpose and message of such films like With A Song in My Heart was not to extract the ugliness from a life’s
history, but to extol and deify the more altruistic sacrifices and will to
live; to move beyond an ostensibly insurmountable misfortune; to provide, with
the utmost sincerity, a glowing portrait of that human virtuosity to aspire and
dare to dream anew. Such hope and promise was as much a part of the real Jane Froman’s
life as the hardships and it proved an elixir to the postwar national sense of
pride.
To fill in the
narrative gaps, Trotti’s screenplay zeroes in on Froman’s commitments during
the war; fabricating a reoccurring friendship between the star and a GI
Paratrooper, superbly played by Robert Wagner, who only appears in two brief
scenes, but narrowly steals both from Susan Hayward. In the first, Wagner is
introduced as the brash newcomer Fox had wasted no time in trademarking as
their next male beauty; flirting with Froman as he requests her to sing him a
ballad during her Manhattan nightclub act. It is an engaging, if ephemeral
vignette, only completely understood when Wagner’s nameless GI resurfaces much
later in the picture as a shell-shocked mute, barely conscious and emotionally
scarred vet. Few images so successfully manage to tug at our heartstrings than
this moment of youthful optimism turned asunder, briefly resurrected anew as
Froman undertakes a painstakingly poignant rendition of the brave ballad, ‘I’ll Walk Alone’; the intensely felt
tremble in her voice suddenly causing Wagner’s catatonic to be stirred, tears
welling up and a weak half smile curling his lips.
The other
unabashed moment of heart-plucking earnestness is The American Medley; a rousingly patriot compendium of time-honored
songs written about the various states, sung in rapid succession by Froman to
satisfy caterwauling requests from various military officers in attendance at
one of her USO concerts, and, bookended by a stirring rendition of ‘America the Beautiful’. Today, such
outbursts of self-serving nationalistic joy are deemed as hokey at best or
utterly passé. But you would be hard-pressed to find a dry eye in the house at
the end of this number; at times, ebullient (as when Froman belts out with
gregarious aplomb ‘Deep in the Heart of
Texas’ or ‘Chicago’), at others,
melodically hopeful (Froman’s priceless rendition of ‘Back Home Again in Indiana’ utterly void of theatricality and
brimming to the rafters with big-hearted sentiment). As such, With a Song in My Heart entirely lives
up to its namesake; Froman’s outpouring of emotion only grown richer and more
rewarding with the passage of time.
What
distinguishes With A Song in My Heart
from just another Fox musical is Susan Hayward’s heart-wrenching performance as
Jane Froman. A distinguished and versatile actress of considerable force and
magnitude; sadly relegated to all but forgotten B-grade status today, Hayward’s
formidable movie legacy has been rather unceremoniously displaced from its
rightful place in the upper echelons of true film stardom. Although her vocals
are dubbed by Froman (who thought the casting of Hayward was ideal for the
story of her life), Hayward delivers a blistering and poignant dramatic
performance herein – rich and earthy in its pathos, joy and exuberance;
conveying Froman’s triumph of the human spirit on a level that elevates this
fairly standardized backstage story into a tour de force on every level. With A Song in My Heart is not just an
atypically mounted solid and lavishly appointed musical from the Fox stables,
but a great story about an as distinguished lady who refused to surrender to
her darkest hour and the demons of fate that followed it. What more could one
ask of or expect from a jubilant Hollywood musical?
Our story
begins on the star-studded eve of the annual New York newspapermen’s ball with
Froman receiving honorary distinction as ‘the
most courageous entertainer of the year’. As she takes to the stage and
begins to sing the title song, Leon Shamroy’s camera effortlessly glides about
the room, settling on an adoring John Burns, his thoughts momentarily
elsewhere. We regress to the mid-1930’s in flashback, Jane – the ingĂ©nue,
determined to make good, but arriving too late for a coveted audition on a
syndicated radio program, broadcast out of Cincinnati. Mistaking Vaudevillian,
Don Ross for the station manager, Jane belts out ‘It’s a Good Day’; her infectious verve and style impressing Ross
who, upon confiding to Froman he is not the
manager, fetches the real McCoy to hear her sing. Of course, this inauspicious
beginning launches Froman’s career as the station’s resident ‘staff singer’.
Personal appearances follow and Ross, who is unable to attain any lasting
success on his own, eventually undertakes to manage Jane’s career.
Believing
Froman’s talents are not being utilized to their utmost, Ross orchestrates a
lucrative series of nightclub gigs in New York. Soon, Jane is the toast of the
town and Ross is enamored with his protégée. Alas, the feeling is hardly
mutual. Although Jane is grateful to Ross for being her friend and mentor, she
doesn’t really love him. It doesn’t matter. Ross bides his time and eventually
wears Jane down. They are wed, though not entirely destined for the proverbial ‘happily ever after’. Alas, jealousy is
the infamously familiar culprit of their eventual breakup; Ross increasingly
dissatisfied with being the man behind the throne and picking quarrels with his
wife, leading to frustrations and hurt feelings on both sides. Jane goes to
Hollywood and makes a movie – then another. She’s hotter than ever. Yet, at the
zenith of her popularity, she makes a momentous decision to throw it all away
and devote herself to their marriage. Altruistically, Ross loosens the yoke of
his conceit, realizing while he may not have had Jane’s best interests at heart
for quite some time, she has decidedly proven to him their marriage means more
to her than even her career.
Jane enlists
in the USO as an entertainer; Ross concurring that the separation may be just
what they need to recharge their batteries apart and later, to start anew. Regrettably, during the ill-fated flight from
London, via Bermuda and Lisbon, Jane briefly befriends co-pilot, John Burns and
fellow entertainer, Jennifer March (Helen Westcott) who asks Jane to switch seats
with her. The plane experiences mechanical failings shortly after takeoff,
losing altitude and crashing into the Tagus River. In the fiery aftermath and amidst the chaos
and screams for help, John manages to rescue Jane from drowning, holding her
broken body afloat against a piece of floating wreckage until each is saved by
rescuers. At hospital, Jane is attended
to by sharp-shooting nurse, Clancy (Thelma Ritter) who will become her
confidant and best friend. Jane also learns Jennifer died in the crash.
Mercifully, John has survived. In the arduous months of recovery yet to follow,
Jane and John grow close.
Through the
agonizing pain and constant surgeries, the ever-looming threat of having her
leg amputated, Jane struggles to maintain her cheery disposition. John confides he is in love with her. But
Jane resists reciprocating his affections, suggesting instead that only their
shared experience has brought them together. It isn’t enough to build a
relationship on. Jane is sent home to America shortly thereafter, taking Clancy
with her as her private nurse. In New York, Ross stands beside his wife as she
endures even more hideous operations to save her leg from the threat of
amputation. But when John is well enough to travel, he too vies for a place in
Jane’s heart and Jane confides in Clancy she is now in love with him too. Ever
the pragmatist, Clancy advises Jane to forsake the romance and concentrate on
her recovery; also on the proposed show Ross has been busily concocting for
Jane to star in; essential to help pay for her mounting medical expenses.
Although she
must be carried to and from the stage, Jane’s Broadway debut is a critical and
financial success. Alas, the run is cut short when more complications arise.
Jane becomes depressed at the thought of losing her leg. Motivated by her stubborn
devotion, Clancy admonishes Jane for her self-pity. In private, however, she
weeps sincere tears. Another nightclub engagement follows, Jane charming a
brash young paratrooper with a song. Afterward, John tells Jane she must choose
her future. Instead, Jane encourages Clancy to go with her overseas on a
grueling USO tour. In Europe, Jane sings to the wounded men. In some ways, she
derives great strength from this series of concerts, realizing how many of the
wounded are facing the same adversities as she. It’s a revelation, made all the
more humbling when Jane is reunited with the same paratrooper she sung to in
New York, now among the wounded and a pitiful shell of his former self. Jane’s
solo, dedicated to the young man, manages to stir a half smile. She gingerly
takes him in her embrace at the end of the song and he begins to speak for the
first time in many months.
As their
thirty-thousand mile tour draws to a close, Jane leads the soldier corps in a
rousing tribute to America – the beautiful, as Clancy looks on. Receiving a
drunken phone call from Ross, informing him he will not be waiting at the docks
for Jane’s return, John rushes to meet the ship instead. The flashback
concludes with a return to the newspaperman’s ball; Jane bringing the festivities
to a close, truly with a song in her heart and John taking great pride in the
small part he has played in this great lady’s life. With a
Song in My Heart is one of the last musicals to be photographed full frame
and in vintage Technicolor. Within the year, Darryl F. Zanuck would announce his
sweeping reform with Cinemascope, putting all future Fox films into production
in the newly christened widescreen format.
Viewed today,
the movie’s sentiment is hardly strained. Fox’s lurid use of Technicolor
throughout the 1940’s and early 50’s was the envy of every other studio; the
centerpiece of its’ colorful candy-box undoubtedly their musicals starring
Betty Grable, June Haver, Carmen Miranda and Alice Faye. With a Song in My Heart has Susan Hayward in their stead. While the
aforementioned ladies are undeniably tops in taps and knew their way around a
song, Hayward is a decidedly superior actress; a quality necessary to carry off
this complex role. Although looking nothing like the real Froman, Hayward
embodies her alter ego’s spirit; nee – the essential spark, so indelibly Jane
Froman. It is this verisimilitude that gives With A Song in My Heart its joyously sturdy center; one great
performer giving purpose, meaning and strength to another’s contributions,
largely unseen or even, perhaps, unknown to the general public, despite
Froman’s high-profile career. Few movie biopics have taken their subjects as
seriously; fewer still, remaining as closely adhered to the facts of the person
being immortalized. With A Song in My
Heart is therefore a rarity; deliciously inspirational and marginally
truthful in the same sustained breath.
Unfortunately,
Fox’s ‘restored’ full frame DVD falls severely short of expectations. Visually,
this is a real mixed bag. Image quality ranges from sharp and nicely
contrasted, to downright grainy, with mis-registered 3-strip Technicolor
creating disgusting halos around just about everything. When the image is
properly aligned we get a reasonable facsimile of what Fox’s garish vintage
Technicolor must have looked like. We must remember, Fox ditched all of its
separation masters in the late 1970’s; a shortsighted purge hampering future
custodians of their classic library when remastering these movies to home
video. The mis-registered portions of With
A Song in My Heart are painfully obvious to observe; blue/green halos
distorting the clarity and generally making everything go horrendously out of
focus.
Color fidelity
is equally questionable; flesh tones varying greatly from pale pink to ruddy orange.
Contrast levels appear a tad low with a considerable loss of fine detail
throughout. Grain and age-related artifacts are also a problem, though both
have been somewhat tempered by Fox’s restoration efforts thus far. There are
ways to minimize these shortcomings and create a more competent master in
hi-def. It all boils down to time and money; alas, judging by the studio’s
recent stalemate, two commodities the powers that be seem wholly unwilling to
invest. Extras include three insightful documentaries on the real Froman; one a
personal audio account (supplemented by still images) from her second husband,
Robert Burns. There’s also an interactive press kit, restoration comparison
featurette and the film’s original theatrical trailer to whet the film
collector’s appetite. Bottom line: recommended for content. The transfer is
suspect and deserves an upgrade.
FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)
4.5
VIDEO/AUDIO
2.5
EXTRAS
3
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