GOOD NEWS: Blu-ray (MGM, 1947) Warner Archive

At war’s end, MGM’s net profits equaled those of all the other major studios combined. On the surface, at least, Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer was still the envy of Hollywood; L.B. Mayer – the highest paid executive in America, with many of his employees ranking at the top percentage of wage earners in their demographic. It all looked rather good on paper. But scratching the surface a little deeper aptly revealed a growing malignancy on this seemingly unstoppable and enchanted movie empire. Indeed, under Mayer’s reign MGM had segued away from the lavishly appointed melodramas and literary masterworks that the late V.P. Irving Thalberg valued and had once considered Metro’s bread and butter. Part of the studio’s streamlining was due to war-time rationing. But MGM, under Mayer’s exclusive control throughout the 1940’s made a concerted effort to no longer be populated by middle-aged actors – partly to manage their questionable temperament, but also as younger talent was more easily manipulated, and at a lower pay grade. Mayer could take comfort, as well as pride in the knowledge that his executive reorganization had made MGM, not only competitive, but even more popular with audiences. His vision for the studio would, alas, not outlast the fifties, and, in fact, by the end of the forties, had already shown signs that the steam in its pistons was running out.

While some have argued that ‘intimidation’ was the number one tool in Mayer’s arsenal, to keep his creatives in check, it should also be pointed out that Mayer greatly admired talent for its own sake, and would – and did – do everything in his power to maintain the truly ‘great ones’ during his time. If he employed what others might consider ‘strong arm’ tactics to achieve his means, he wielded absolute authority over the most profitable of Hollywood’s ‘dream factories’ and helped to foster a climate where some of the greatest motion pictures of all time were made. Alas, Mayer’s cost-cutting measures and his insatiable desire to pump out 52 pictures a year led to an increasingly homogenized look to the studio’s product. All the studios had what was then considered an ‘in-house’ style. Yet, steadily, Metro’s began to take on a pre-fab - almost embalmed - quality, perhaps, comforting to war-time audiences, but soon to be dismissed by the post-war generation seeking more realism from their popular entertainments. For some time, Mayer had entrusted MGM’s success to his ‘college of cardinals’ (a top-heavy producer system meant to replace Thalberg’s autonomy without relinquishing control of his autocracy). But by 1945, he had decidedly slackened these reigns, partly to satisfy his growing verve for horse-racing, also to court Hollywood socialite, Lorena Danker who would later become his second wife.

Mayer believed in maintaining the status quo at Metro. He had, after all, managed competent care of the studio’s assets, despite his frequent absences. And Mayer, although a superb executive administrator, suffered from a condition afflicting virtually all of the old-time moguls – a myopic inability to notice that the klieg lights had already begun to dim across Hollywood in general and at MGM in particular, the studio’s life blood slowly syphoned off by an insidious run of bad luck, also by the winds of change Mayer’s own ‘if it ain’t broke don’t fix it’ mentality was stubbornly incapable to steer clear of as the coming storm clouds continued to gather on the horizon. Worse it seems, was MGM’s complete powerlessness to procure a single Oscar in any of the major categories between 1945 and 1947, the year Charles Walters’ remake of Good News (1947) hit the screen. Profit is one thing - prestige, quite another. Arguably, Mayer valued the former over the latter. Today’s cinema landscape is so inundated with remakes, we tend to forget how readily Hollywood fed off itself during its own golden era. Good News was actually a Broadway smash from 1927, first transposed onto the silver screen back in 1930. An early talkie, Good News had been a big hit for Metro. Now, as Metro struggled to find its creative niche once more, it was believed a glossy Technicolor remake would revive the studio’s fortunes. To Walters’ credit, Good News did just that, packing audiences in at Radio City to become one of the rare bright spots in MGM’s 1947 output.

Good News marks the beginning of Chuck Walters’ directorial career. He would prove equal to the task, although initially his star, June Allyson didn’t quite think so. In fact, Allyson went to Arthur Freed’s office to ask for Walters to be replaced on the picture, fearing her own rising star would suffer from his lack of experience. Freed cordially assuaged Allyson’s concerns, promising to keep close watch over Walters as shooting progressed. But for Freed, Good News almost seemed like a holiday after the debacles incurred on the set of Vincente Minnelli’s Yolanda and the Thief (1945) and, The Pirate (1948). And Freed was a gambling man besides with a mostly lucky streak. He also immediately knew talent when he saw it. So, Freed had been instrumental in elevating Walters from staff choreographer to A-list director with a wave of his hand. He was also behind the decision to hire Betty Comden and Adolph Green to rewrite Good News’ screenplay. Although Comden and Green would prove to be legendary collaborators, in 1946, they had yet to break into the big time, their successes on Broadway – including On the Town (a groundbreaking stage musical) ironically not enough of a calling card to get them past the front gate of any studio. Freed, however, had become an overnight devotee of the pair after seeing On The Town on Broadway. Aside: given Freed’s affinity for that stage show, his big-screen version of it made in 1949 to mark Metro’s 25^th anniversary would rather unceremoniously toss out virtually everything except its basic premise and hit song ‘New York, New York’ for a complete re-do.

Arriving at Metro, Comden and Green were rather taken aback by their first assignment – Good News, regarding it as something of a creaky dinosaur. The original stage show had, in fact, not aged particularly well. It had several good songs, to be sure. But its pencil-thin plot about a college football hero, who may not be able to play in the pivotal final game because he is failing algebra, left the writers cold. Freed suggested Comden and Green explore the possibilities as they saw fit, a carte blanche that helped to reinvigorate their verve for the project and, in retrospect, would prove the remake’s salvation. 1947’s Good News bears little resemblance to its 1930 counterpart – or even the Broadway original, for that matter. This is all to the good; Comden and Green, infusing the rather pedestrian story with their sumptuous gifts for writing meatier parts that teem with melodrama and comedy. In their capable hands, these characters become varied and dimensional and thus, wholly satisfying. However, behind the scenes, there was some minor angst and bruised feelings to contend with. Gloria DeHaven had been promised the part of Connie Laine by producer, Joe Pasternak before Arthur Freed replaced Pasternak in the producer’s chair. Freed preferred June Allyson who, despite a disastrous screen test at 2oth Century-Fox, had made a smashing success of her then fledgling tenure at MGM. This, of course, left DeHaven with her nose out of joint - a disappointment unabated when Freed offered her the conciliation prize of playing Pat McClellan, the movie’s siren, instead. Refusing the part meant temporary suspension. But DeHaven was adamant and took her lumps, the part reassigned to Patricia Marshall, who fairly chews up the scenery as the devious gold-digging and glam-bam flapper, destined to lose her man in the end.

Initial casting choices for the part of all-American Tommy Marlowe veered in all directions, from beefy Van Johnson to pint-sized Mickey Rooney. For one reason or another neither came to pass, leaving Freed to cast British newcomer, Peter Lawford, a decision that surprised virtually everyone and utterly shocked Lawford, who was as nervous as a cat. Lawford was certain audiences would never accept him as the varsity letterman/Lochinvar, partly because of his inimitable accent; also, as he could barely sing a note. Mercifully, Good News would change Lawford’s career prospects for the better. Also, Lawford’s opinion of his decidedly limited talents. Indeed, when Comden and Green altered the plot so Marlowe is failing French instead of astronomy, they were unaware of the fact Lawford spoke French perfectly. But this alteration resulted in a spectacular spoken ‘song’ – The French Lesson – in which Allyson’s winsome librarian, Connie Laine gives Lawford’s handsome playboy a crash course in the romance language.

In retrospect, Good News is a clever patchwork of ingeniously scripted scenarios, borrowed bits of business and songs seamlessly interwoven by Comden and Green into one cohesive and utterly delightful tale of college life. To buoy the musical portion of the production, Arthur Freed appropriated ‘Pass That Peace Pipe’, a cast-off from Ziegfeld Follies (1945), instructing Comden and Green to spruce it up as a specialty number for Joan McCracken, playing the irrepressible Babe Doolittle. Comden and Green also rewrote a fair percentage of Good News’ three showstoppers, the title number, ‘Be A Ladies Man’ and ‘The Varsity Drag’ – mainly to update the lyrics, while remaining faithful to the twenties’ milieu.  After the first day’s shoot, Chuck Walters suffered an acute attack of nerves. His fears were laid to rest by Freed’s faith in him; also, Bill Ryan and Robert Alton, whom Walters had asked to be assigned to the picture to stage the two big production numbers; ‘Pass That Peace Pipe’ and ‘The Varsity Drag’. Alton’s imaginative choreography transforms each moment into a plat du jour. Of the two, ‘Pass That Peace Pipe’ really doesn’t make sense within the context of the picture’s 1920’s mise en scène; a gregarious and innocently misguided desecration of Native American culture, reconstituted as all teepees and wigwams, McCracken giving out with a boisterous ‘woo-woo-woo!’ midway through and otherwise allowing herself to be thrown about the malt shop set by an energetic troop of Metro’s male contract dancers, loosely accompanied by Ray McDonald as her scrawny love interest, Bobby Turner. What spares the number from degenerating into abject silliness is Alton’s exuberant intricacies, the pubescent mixed chorine, performing some truly complex maneuvers as Charles Schoenbaum’s camera effortlessly glides over and between them. One can almost forget how cumbersome 3-strip Technicolor cameras were, heavy, box-shaped and bulky, loaded onto rubber-wheeled dollies or booms to be manipulated by a small army of behind-the-scenes crew.  While every other musical offering in Good News advances the story in some way, Pass That Peace Pipe brings everything to a halt, but proves an irresistible showstopper nonetheless.

Midway through the movie, Alton stages another ensemble number, ‘Lucky in Love’ that never taxes either the singers or his camera in any significant way. Indeed, ‘Lucky in Love’ is a ‘travelling song’ at best – a way to provided connective tissue sans dialogue between two disparate moments in the movie with a seamless musical bridge. But Alton tops even this with the film’s extravagant finale, ‘The Varsity Drag’ – nearly five-minutes of mind-blowing spectacle as the graduating class, bedecked in shimmery spangles and jet-black tuxedos, incorporate choreographic elements from the Charleston, shimmy and tango.  The number begins with Allyson’s Connie forgiving her wayward Lothario his fickle heart, ordering him ‘down on his heels’ and ‘up on his toes’. Confused, Lawford’s Tommy Marlowe complies before being told by his colleagues he has just been inducted into ‘The Varsity Drag’. Allyson breaks into the song, demonstrating the dance for Lawford, who is apparently a quick study. From here, the number bursts forth with MGM’s typical aplomb for grand and glossy entertainment, the dancers filling the auditorium set to maximum capacity, everyone performing the same time-step with Allyson and Lawford, the center of attention. It is a mesmerizing sequence, one that completely immerses the audience in the artistry of the moment and brings both our story and the movie to its successful close. Alton has his dancers separate into staggered rows - male and female - each momentarily ducking behind the other to create a startling contrast of silhouettes before rising in unison, and, in clutched embrace, as they recap the story for the audience; ‘The boy – garcon; the girl - la fille; that’s good – c’est bon; the show – fini. The moral to this tale is to learn to parlez-vous’…and, it is, as the camera dollies in on Tommy and Connie. Lawford gently tilts Allyson’s chin towards his own with his index finger. The couple briefly kiss, discovering the pleasures in it and returning for a second, more sustained lip lock, the scene fading to black as the final credits roll.

Good News is, of course also a very charming comedy of errors, begun almost immediately after Walters’ pre-credit vamp and main titles. Interestingly, we are introduced to our secondary characters first, the deliciously oversexed Babe Doolittle, pinned to a hunky, but cranially vacant football jock named, what else? - Beef (Loren Tindall).  Babe is playing Beef for a sucker – a dangerous game, indeed – while lusting after the anemic, Bobby Turner. Meanwhile, varsity letterman, Tommy Marlowe’s head has been turned by the arrival of new sorority pledge, Patricia McClellan, a girl who knows what she wants - and it isn’t a wealth of culture. Pat’s out to hook a big fish. Money first, looks second - brains, optional. Pat is, at first, repulsed by Tommy’s insistence to procure a date with her. He may be the most popular boy on campus, but he does not appear to be well off. Moreover, Tommy’s down to earth, something Pat is decidedly not. So, Pat gravitates to Peter Van Dyne III (Robert Strickland), a real drip who obviously hails from a moneyed background.

Meanwhile, dormitory wallflower, Connie Lane secretly pines for Tommy to take her in his arms.   Coach Johnson (Donald McBride) is eager for Tommy to play football. But Tommy’s grades are not exactly stellar – particularly his French. So, the coach, together with his second, Pooch (Tom Dugan) engages Connie - an A+ student - to reinvigorate Tommy’s scholastic interests. Connie and Tommy hit things off. He feels sorry for her because she has to work her way through college. Yet, as Connie points out, “There are so many kinds of riches and only one of them is gold…worthwhile things cannot be bought or sold – the best things in life are free.”  The song, ‘The Best Things In Life Are Free’ is a gorgeous ballad, poignantly sung by Allyson, and infused with Connie’s devastating desire to be loved. Tommy has already begun to realize Connie is quite a girl. In fact, he has all but asked her to go to the prom. Things are going exactly according to plan…well…sort of. A tug-o-war persists after Pat inadvertently learns from Babe that not only is Tommy the most eligible male on campus, he also comes from a very rich family. Connie loves Tommy. But the feeling does not appear to be mutual, as Tommy now promises to take Pat to the prom instead, but only if he passes his French exam and is able to play in the big football game.

Wounded by this discovery, but also determined to win Tommy’s heart, Connie encourages the sorority’s cook, Cora (Connie Gilchrist) to engage in a little role-playing conversation, deliberately staged to be overheard by Pat; Connie, feigning a false revelation - that Tommy’s family has lost their fortune, leaving Tommy penniless. The ruse works. But Connie is not quite ready to forgive Tommy his indiscretions, that is, until she learns from Professor Kenyon (Clinton Sunberg) Tommy deliberately failed his French exam so he couldn’t play in the football game and therefore cannot escort Pat to the prom. Explaining the situation to the professor changes everything. Since nobler intentions were at the heart of Tommy’s faked exam failure, Kenyon decides to pass him anyway. Thus, Tommy will play in the game. Regardless, Pat has ditched Tommy for none other than Beef – who, it seems, also comes from a wealthy clan. Honestly, is anybody in MGM’s musical la-la land poor, much less middle class? Tommy is, of course now free to pursue Connie – if she will let him. True to MGM’s chronic ‘happily ever after’ Connie forgives her man, the two engaging the graduating class in a spirited dance to celebrate their reunion with Babe now off the hook to fall for Bobby.

Good News is joyous, frothy and tune-filled – a delectable flambé of good-natured merriment and mirth. Given Peter Lawford’s white-knuckled apprehensions in accepting the part, his performance remains a minor revelation. Lawford immerses himself in this merrymaker’s pursuit of having a very good time and taking the audience along for the ride. True, no one could ever confuse his talents as rivaling those of Fred Astaire or Gene Kelly. But the movie doesn’t expect him to, or make much of his shortcomings either, the concept of the ‘exchange student’ still some years away from being considered mainstream, especially within the context of the film’s 1920’s ambiance. And Lawford’s singing voice is…well…thin to practically nonexistent. But the score never overtaxes his limited capabilities. He talks on pitch through most of it (a stylistic approach exploited by Rex Harrison decades later in My Fair Lady). And Lawford’s appeal herein really is as the hunk du jour, athletic, handsome, congenial and forthright. Part, if not all of Lawford’s charm emanates from his being devilish eye candy for the female movie goer. And by this abacus he positively scores, exuding a wonderous sex appeal that seems, at once, dangerous, yet freshly innocent – the clean-cut stud du jour, capable of setting a Currier and Ives’ photogravure ablaze with his translucent charisma.

Better in performance, however, is June Allyson – arguably, better than she has ever been elsewhere. Billed as ‘America’s most popular musical sweetheart’, Allyson’s on-screen persona was as ‘the girl next door’, a wholesome ingénue any man would feel safe taking home to meet his mother. Interestingly, Allyson’s niche was not immediately discovered at MGM, Mayer, sending his new find down to see the studio’s doctor, who promptly declared she had a tough case of laryngitis.  Luckily, contract player, Van Johnson was in the chair next to hers, telling Allyson “Don’t let them change you, honey. You’ve got a million-dollar case of laryngitis!” Indeed, Allyson’s dutiful ‘good woman’ carried the weight of her career for several decades yet to follow, making her ideal casting for the dutiful wife roles so vital to 1950’s Americana self-portrait. In Good News she is young enough to play the wide-eyed wholesome kid, yet strangely mature to know her own heart and mind. And Allyson acquits herself nicely of both ‘The Varsity Drag’ and ‘The Best Things In Life Are Free’, the latter, her heartfelt ballad tour de force, capped off sometime later with the tear-stained, ‘Just Imagine’ rendered with genuine poignancy.

The other standout here is Joan McCracken, a superb raconteur, comedian and dancer, brought to MGM’s attention after her stunning stage debut in Oklahoma!, then Billion Dollar Baby, the latter, co-written by Comden and Green. McCracken was an exuberant star, full of brass, pluck and that rarified fire and music all truly great stars possess. She is given the plum support in Good News, equally at home high-stepping through ‘Pass that Peace Pipe’ as she is able to dish the dirt with the rest of the girls (her cleverly timed and barbed smack downs of Patricia Marshall’s uppity airs are hilarious), somehow coming off sassier than ever and always on top. Ill health (three heart attacks and a bout of crippling pneumonia in the mid-1950s) put a period to her stellar abilities as a dancer. And although McCracken forged on, neither she nor her career were ever the same again. She left us far too soon in 1961, from diabetic complications at the tender age of 43, an epic waste of a monumental talent and tragic loss to both stage and screen. Finally, we tip our hats to Mel Torme – given precious little to do outside of a pair of songs – neither, his solo. Torme partakes as the third wheel in ‘Ladies Man’, an invigorating bit of testosterone-driven madness in which Lawford’s Tommy and Torme’s Danny attempt to educate the wimpy, Bobby Turner on how to play the field and come off the epitomized sheik a la Valentino. Mel also gets a few lines in the ensemble number, ‘Lucky in Love’ while strumming a ukulele. Perhaps Metro was testing the waters with Torme on this outing. But his movie career never quite took off at MGM thereafter. Good News will likely remain the quintessential college musical for all time. They just don’t make pictures like this anymore, all about young people, from respectable homes, who behave like adults in miniature and feel deeply/empathetically toward others – thus, making themselves worth knowing on their own terms.  To be sure, Good News was neither the first, nor the last musical to bask in this fictitious collegiate atmosphere. Arguably, however, it remains the very best. Welcome to Tate College, everybody. Megaphones and pompoms optional and ‘Goodie, good, good!’

There is great news for Good News on Blu-ray. Warner Archive (WAC) has finally come around to giving us a spectacular hi-def incarnation of this beloved slice of Americana movie musical magic. It’s been well worth the wait. In the mid-1990’s Good News underwent a photo-chemical restoration to resuscitate its Technicolor grandeur. And while the DVD release then was excellent, this new-to-Blu is nothing short of miraculous. Not only does the Technicolor positively glow with rich, bold, vibrant hues, there is also an impressive clarity throughout this image, revealing minute details in hair, skin and backgrounds.  Contrast is excellent, and there are no age-related artifacts to intrude – and NO digital anomalies either. This is a breathtaking example of the kind of quality work we are used to seeing from WAC on a regular basis, and a trend that I sincerely hope continues, even as the company prepares to say farewell to its long-standing éminence grise, George Feltenstein, whose love and passion for these movies is peerless and will be much missed going forward.  The 1.0 DTS audio is very impressive. Extras include a few musical excerpts from the original Good News that only serve to illustrate just how far Comden and Green’s rewriting of the material has come, and, an original theatrical trailer for the remake. Bottom line: very highly recommended.

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

5

VIDEO/AUDIO

5+

EXTRAS

2