WHITE CHRISTMAS: Blu-ray re-issue (Paramount, 1954) Paramount Home Video
In 1954,
Paramount inaugurated VistaVision – a widescreen process utilizing standard
35mm film stock running horizontally, rather than vertically, through a
refurbished Mitchell camera. Interestingly, Paramount remained the only studio
not to embrace 2oth Century-Fox’s patented Cinemascope; though it sincerely and
desperately wanted to enter the ‘widescreen revolution’ on its own terms.
Unlike Fox’s Cinemascope, VistaVision’s wider gauge of exposed camera negative
created a vertically larger, crisper, more detailed non-anamorphic image to
yield startling clarity. When projected, VistaVision truly was (as its
marketing touted) 'motion picture high fidelity’ decades before 4K was even a
pipedream. VistaVision also used Technicolor dye transfers instead of Eastman
Kodak film-processing. Hence, VistaVision maintained rich and vibrant hues;
particularly impressive, its saturation of reds. While both formats had their
virtues, the only real advantage early Cinemascope possessed over VistaVision
was stereophonic sound. Regrettably, VistaVision was only available in mono. For
a while, Paramount thought it had a winner in VistaVision. Indeed, critics and
audiences fortunate enough to see VistaVision in its limited engagements were
agog and overflowing in their plaudits for its spectacular presentation value.
Unfortunately, theater owners were less than enthusiastic as VistaVision
required yet another complete retooling of their projection booths and the
installation of other costly equipment. Paramount would eventually compensate
distributors for these expenditures by producing ‘reduction prints’ from
original VistaVision camera negatives, transferred onto traditional 35mm film
stock. Although the results were still better than Cinemascope, these 35mm
facsimiles did not achieve all of the fine detail or color density of true
VistaVision. Hence, by the end of the 1950’s, Paramount retired VistaVision –
although, not altogether. As a point of interest, VistaVision is still utilized
today to produce high quality rear projection SFX.
If this history
lesson seems a curious point of embarkation for any review of Michael Curtiz’s
perennial holidays favorite, White Christmas (1954), its inclusion
herein is illustrative of VistaVision’s importance as a watershed
technological, yet another evolutionary step in transitioning from Hollywood’s
full-frame golden era of ‘Academy aspect ratios’ to the present, and still
competing ‘widescreen’ format wars. And lest we forget that as big as the names
Irving Berlin, Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye were in 1954, they are preceded in
this movie’s main title sequence by that iconic ‘V’ appearing on the screen and
the name ‘VistaVision’ spreading out from its center, set against the backdrop
of the iconic Paramount ‘mountain’ logo. In hindsight, White Christmas
marks the moment when the movies truly went hi-def – albeit on film; an
advancement that home video technologies have only begun to catch up to more
recently. In some ways, Blu-ray was meant for VistaVision and vice versa, the
extraordinary level of detail and color saturation, long imperceptible on older
video formats, suddenly bursting forth to its fullest potential. And White
Christmas remains VistaVision’s very impressive debut; Loyal Griggs’
stunning cinematography showing off Edith Head’s regal costuming; just one of
the movie’s many assets. In years to follow, co-star Rosemary Clooney would
reminisce about Head’s uncanny sense of color; commenting on the seamless
expression of soft gray in Danny Kaye’s ensemble, from the lapels of his suit
coat, right on down to his shoes during his pas deux with Vera-Ellen in ‘The
Best Things Happen While You’re Dancing’; providing an uninterrupted
continuity of color to compliment the dance. Clooney would also chuckle over
the stunning black velvet dress made for her song, ‘Love, You Didn’t Do
Right By Me’ – “Everyone talks about that dress and the diamond broach
pinned to my butt! When Edith was making it, she said ‘we have to do something
to break up all that black velvet!’ Oh my…she had a rare sense of humor.”
Indeed, in her
seminal career as a leading couturier in Hollywood, Edith Head would not only
create ‘the look’ for a particular generation of Paramount pictures, but win a
record 8 Oscars in the process; the most for any designer to date and an award
that Head (along with several other costumiers) was instrumental in
establishing within the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences.
Paramount’s ‘house of Head’ was worshiped by many a female star, despite the
fact Edith preferred to dress men over women. Nevertheless, Head’s styles set
trends for women’s clothing; her ‘design philosophy’ well-documented in two
self-authored books. Head, among her many attributes, was nothing if not a
shameless self-promoter; by far, the most easily identifiable designer of her generation;
trademarking an inimitable look bordering on self-parody: a jet black mane
severely rolled into a bun, school marm-ish/business woman classic chic suits
cinched at the waist – immaculate in taupe, grey (and once, in a very long
while – red), and finally, dark blue-lens glasses to add an air of
inscrutability. Edith Head may not have been the greatest costumier of all
time, but she decidedly was the most easily identifiable and publicized; a
distinction no less afforded the movies she worked on. “You can spot an
Edith Head picture a mile away,” contemporary designer, Bob Mackie has
commented. Indeed, Head built a peerless in-house style for Paramount over her
43-year career; bidding the studio a fond farewell to follow her greatest
collaborator, Alfred Hitchcock, to Universal in the early 1960’s; a move that,
at least in retrospect, benefited Hitchcock more than it did Head.
Irving Berlin’s White
Christmas is a seminal movie for Paramount in another way. It took three
years to get off the ground, by far the lengthiest gestation of any Paramount
feature during this period. Intent on recreating the magic of 1942’s Holiday
Inn (the movie that introduced the Oscar-winning and million-copy-selling
title song to audiences), a minor wrench was thrown into the works when Fred
Astaire politely declined to partake in this follow-up project. It remains a
mystery why Astaire bowed out. The unofficial ‘rumor’ is Astaire felt he was
getting ‘too old’ for movie musicals. But this really makes no sense,
especially as Astaire would continue to appear in three more musicals between
1954 and 1957, dancing well into his seventies on television with Barrie Chase.
Whatever Astaire’s logic, the studio next approached Donald O’Connor for the
co-starring role in White Christmas, opposite crooner, Bing Crosby. But
just as plans were getting underway, O’Connor fell ill with a serious
respiratory infection, forcing him to withdraw from the project. In the end,
Paramount went with Danny Kaye, who jumped at the opportunity to work with
Crosby and Berlin. The studio also signed radio singer, Rosemary Clooney to a
five-year contract, and, borrowed Vera-Ellen from Fox. This would be
Vera-Ellen’s second to last film before retiring. Spirits on the set were high.
But Berlin, a stickler, suddenly became a nervous wreck. The song ‘White
Christmas’ was by then a runaway hit. But would a second trip to the well
dampen its appeal? Berlin really had nothing to fear. The love affair between
audiences and this, his most beloved brainchild, not only endured, but
experienced something of a minor cultural renaissance when the picture had its
premiere.
White Christmas is not a
sequel, prequel or even a loose remake of Holiday Inn, but a standalone
‘update’ of themes previously explored; a sort of reconstitution, using the
backdrop of a country inn to tell its story. Norma Krasna, Norman Panama and
Melvin Frank’s screenplay is serviceable, though hardly exceptional; its subtle
poke at Rodgers and Hammerstein – then the biggest names in live theater – most
obvious in the casting of Crosby and Kaye as Bob Wallace and Phil Davis
respectively; a reluctantly paired producer act, basking in the afterglow of
their first big Broadway musical review. At one point, Phil even says to Bob,
“You’ve gone absolutely berzerk with work…you like it. You like being Rodgers
and Hammerstein!” To this initial concept, the screenwriters added a WWII
backstory. The song ‘White Christmas’ had, in fact, been written and
debuted at the height of the European conflict, striking a romanticized chord
with soldiers away from home and the girls and families they left behind. But
the movie, White Christmas takes its sweet time getting to the heart of
its story; a warm and fuzzy ‘feel good’ devoted to helping one of the war’s
forlorn and forgotten men realize his life’s work has not been in vain.
Otherwise, the crux of the tale is straight forward romantic comedy. On this
occasion, the man is Tom Waverly (Dean Jagger) a retired U.S. general who was
relieved of his command during the war and has since taken refuge as the not
altogether successful owner of the Columbia Inn in Pine Tree, Vermont. After
Phil saves Bob from a mortar blast during the war, he finagles his way into
Bob’s life and career. In private, the two are frequently more oil than water,
but nevertheless the perfect blend on Broadway; a powerhouse team, building an
impressive roster of stage credits. Phil is constantly attempting to involve
the middle-age Bob with various twenty-something showgirls; suggesting he is in
danger of becoming a “miserable, lonely old man”. Although Bob mildly
resents the implication, he can evidently see the merits in his partner’s
argument. But women in showbiz are not interested in settling down…or are they?
Receiving a
letter, presumed to have been written by one of their mutual war buddies -
Benny, whom Phil has nicknamed “Freckle-faced Haines: the dog faced boy”,
Bob and Phil agree to review a sister act at an outdoor nightclub. The boys are
greeted warmly by the proprietor, Novello (Herb Vigran) who wastes no time
alerting the Haines sisters, Judy (Vera-Ellen) and Betty (Rosemary Clooney)
that Wallace and Davis are out front to catch their act. In private, Judy
reveals too much about the ruse to Betty, who wisely deduces Judy - not Benny -
has forged the letter of introduction that has brought Bob and Phil to the
club. The girls perform their signature number, ‘Sisters’; attracting
more than just a fleeting interest from both Bob and Phil. Bob’s unexpected
infatuation with Betty is encouraged by Phil. But after their number, Betty
confesses to Bob how they have been brought to the club under a false pretext.
Bob is mildly amused – at first, but soon he becomes embroiled in a rather
caustic disagreement with Betty about Judy’s motives for writing the letter. In
the meantime, Phil has engaged Judy in a spirited pas deux that ends when a
mildly perturbed Betty comes to collect her. Novello explains to Betty, Judy
and Phil that the sheriff (James Parnell) has arrived to arrest them because
their landlord (Sig Ruman) is claiming they burned a hole in their apartment
rug, but are now refusing to pay him $200. Determined not to let the girls slip
away, Phil gives Betty and Judy the train tickets he and Bob are supposed to
use later this same evening and tells them to get out of town. Phil further
stalls the sheriff by borrowing one of the girl’s records and then partially
dressing himself and Bob up in their flashy attire to lip sync their signature
song; a garish burlesque the audience laps up. This plot entanglement is clumsy
at best and ends with Bob and Phil escaping the sheriff by leaping through an
open dressing room window and into a waiting cab, eventually making their way
to the depot to board their train.
Bob is perturbed
with Phil for giving away their drawing room to the Haines’ sisters, but is
unable to transfer his contempt after Betty and Judy graciously thank him.
Instead, Phil encourages Bob to take a side trip to Vermont where the girls
have been hired to perform at the Columbia Inn. It all sounds like the idyllic
wintery escape; except, Pine Tree has not had so much as a flake since
Thanksgiving and, in fact, is experiencing something of a minor heat wave. Bob
and Phil are reunited with their former commanding officer, Gen. Waverly and
meet his granddaughter, Susan (the charming, Anne Whitfield) and housekeeper,
Emma (irrepressible Mary Wickes) – an affable busybody. Eventually, Bob latches
onto an idea to drum up business and save Gen. Waverly from bankruptcy. He will
bring their entire show to the inn and open it on Christmas Eve – implausible,
I know. A real Broadway revue would never fit into a Vermont barn, converted
into a makeshift theater; much less, the inn, thoroughly lacking the necessary
accommodations to put up an entire cast and crew, plus other paying patrons for
the duration of the show’s holiday run.
The middle act
of White Christmas doesn’t have much to say, devolving into a Broadway
styled pantheon of ‘rehearsal’ numbers that are presumably meant to be a part
of the final show. In between these glossy – occasionally garish, and
thoroughly unrelated – songs and dances, is fitted a screwball comedy subplot.
Bob and Betty slowly begin to fall in love. But Betty’s affections turn to
vinegar when she erroneously comes to believe Bob has decided to sell out the
General for some free publicity by going on the Ed Harris television show – thus
making Waverly a shamelessly pathetic figure from coast to coast. Without
questioning these suspicions, or challenging Bob to learn if what she suspects
is, in fact, the truth, Betty abruptly quits the show and takes a job at the
Carousel Club in New York. In the meantime, Bob goes on The Ed Harris Show,
explaining how no one connected with Wallace and Davis is getting anything out
of this except the opportunity to give the General the nicest Christmas present
anybody ever could. Betty catches the broadcast in between numbers and quits
the club to return to Pine Tree on Christmas Eve. Ever the plotter, Emma has deliberately sent
the only two suits Waverley owns to the cleaners, thus forcing him to dress in
his retired general’s garb to attend the premiere. But when he enters the barn,
Waverly suddenly realizes he is the real star of the evening; the gallant men
who served under him during WWII, a parade of familiar faces appreciatively
beaming back at him. Better still, the weather has turned in everyone’s favor -
a light snowfall blanketing the ground. Bob, Phil, Betty and Judy take to the
stage with a reprise of ‘White Christmas’; the General toasted by his
men as the evening draws to its climactic close.
More than
anything else, White Christmas is meant as a celebration of Irving
Berlin’s prowess as the Dean of American pop music. And yet the Berlin score
gets short shrift, or rather, is garishly blown out of proportion. Crosby’s
solo of the title track is briefly interrupted by a tired old music box that
conks out in the middle of the song. A montage depicting Phil and Bob’s
meteoric rise to fame showcases mere snippets of ‘Heat Wave’, ‘A
Funny Song’ and ‘Blue Skies’ – more frenetic than melodic, and
thrust together with overlapping headlines in the showbiz trades, touting their
success. ‘Mandy’ – a minstrel tune first written by Berlin all the way
back in 1929 is transformed into a razzamatazz glitzy spectacle with green and
red-coated dancers tossing Vera-Ellen about like a rag doll, while ‘Choreography’
is a rambunctious, but noisy spoof of what dance, then, had become in the
American theater. 'Abraham', Berlin's homage to Lincoln, performed in
'black face' in Holiday Inn, all but vanishes under its overly brassy
orchestral rendering herein, barely recognizable and a mere excuse for
Vera-Ellen and dancer, John Brascia - who also figures prominently during the
pas deux portion of 'Mandy' - perform some electrifying footwork that
bring down the house. But one really has to question the artistic integrity in
the interminable interpolation of ‘Sisters’ – heard three times (twice
in its entirety) in the film; the first, as a legitimate number sung by Clooney
and a dubbed Vera-Ellen, then, as lampooned by Crosby and Kaye to a lip sync
track, and yet again, as part of the girl’s debut at the Columbia Inn. It’s a
middling Berlin ditty at best, and one not improved upon by its repetition,
unlike the reprise of ‘We’ll Follow The Old Man’ serving as bookends to
the story.
This leaves two
of Berlin’s new efforts to champion: the Crosby/Clooney duet ‘Count Your
Blessings’ and Clooney’s only solo in the film: the scintillating yet
slightly sad, ‘Love, You Didn’t Do Right By Me’ – introducing a very
handsome, George Chakaris as one of her male dance partners. The other undisputed
moment of musical brilliance is the Kaye/Ellen pas deux, ‘The Best Things
Happen While You’re Dancing’ – executed with a maximum spark of joy and
some classy maneuvers on the dance floor. Crosby has his own poignant solo, ‘What
Do You Do With A General?’ – reminiscence about the declining popularity of
men in service once their duties have been fulfilled. Of course, no movie
titled White Christmas could endure without a lavish reprise of its
title track and, in this regard, the movie does not disappoint. But the
resultant spectacle, with the four principles garbed in satiny red velvet Mr.
and Mrs. Claus attire, and, flanked by an incurably precocious brood of
pre-teen sugar plum fairies and miniature Santa’s, comes off as just a little
too grand and gauche, robbing Berlin’s simple lyrics of their sustained
innocence and intimacy: that, plus the fact Paramount has borrowed most of the
backdrop for this climax, including the pinnacle-spire plastic trees, from
their 1944 flop, Lady in the Dark.
In all, White
Christmas is really more of a time capsule of ‘50s pastiche than a
penultimate example of seasonal good cheer, lagging in the timeless allure of
its predecessor, Holiday Inn. The flash is too flashy; the numbers too
obvious and decadent in their accouterments to be appreciated as integral parts
of the story. Vera-Ellen seems to realize as much. She frequently looks
directly into the camera during her routines (a no-no in film making). Yet, her
gaze seems to be addressing no one except the audience sitting in the darkened
theater, instead of the characters she is supposed to be interacting with in
the story. It may sound as though I’m poo-pooing a beloved holiday classic;
particularly, in light of the fact White Christmas was Paramount’s
biggest and brightest moneymaker of 1954. And most certainly, White
Christmas was, is and will likely always remain a part of my own family’s
holiday traditions. It is a movie begging to be seen, although perhaps, with
the groveling a tad too tinny and echoing. The cast is dynamite. But the real
star is VistaVision. Like Berlin’s score, the cast seem to be ‘selling’
a bit too hard to thoroughly impress, and, the ‘feel good’ suffers, lacking
warmth as it did in Holiday Inn. Despite the dissimilar plots, one
cannot help but compare the two films – both dedicated to a cornucopia of
Berlin standards set in an idyllic country inn far removed from the hustle and
bustle of daily life. Yet, in the final analysis, Holiday Inn generates
the tender sincerity of a cherished musical memory while White Christmas
merely gives off a lot of frenetic heat.
This is
Paramount's third Blu-Ray release, sporting the identical and simply gorgeous
and reference quality 1080p transfer as was previously made available. This is,
in fact, merely a repackage re-issue of Paramount’s ‘Diamond Edition’ Blu-ray.
No complaints – just a question…why? - when the previous packaging sufficed. But
I digress. The image here is gorgeous with colors so vibrant they simply glow
off the screen. Fine detail and image sharpness take quantum leaps forward. A
curiosity: the final camera pullback away from the stage where Crosby, Clooney,
Kaye and Ellen are all warbling the last few lyrics to ‘White Christmas’ is
ever so slightly out of focus and a tad heavy on film grain, I suspect, caused
by the dissolve optical into ‘The End’ titles and Paramount logo. Given how razor-sharp the rest of the image
quality is, the effect is slightly jarring. But, on the whole, this truly is
'motion picture hi-fidelity' at its best. Prepare to be astonished, unless, of
course, you already own the previously issued Blu-ray. Alas, the audio
continues to fall short of expectations, perhaps because no original
stereophonic elements exist to provide a tru-HD stereo remix. What we do get is
a DTS re-channeled stereo offering. It's adequate, but I still prefer listening
to the cleaned up mono mix. It just sounds more indigenous to its source.
Now, about
extras…most, if not all, are directly ported over from the previously issued
Blu-ray release. We get the same Rosemary Clooney audio commentary as before.
Paramount has gone to the well for some archived ‘Classic Holiday Moments’;
TV Christmas specials of Crosby warbling ‘Silent Night’ in 1948, ‘White
Christmas’ in 1976, and the horrendous ‘Natalie Cole-esque teaming of
Crosby with Michael Bublé from 2012. Danny Kaye and Nat King Cole are featured,
doing ‘Jingle Bells’ from 1963, and Kaye appears again in segments of A
Christmas Carol from 1965. There’s also an ‘Assignment Children’
featurette, with an intro from Bublé (aside: I have no idea how or why Michael
Bublé has suddenly become the co-host and authority on this movie). The
featurette provides a brief backlog of snippets and sound bites about the
making of White Christmas. Other extras have already been made available
on the previously issued Blu-ray, including Bing Crosby: Christmas Crooner,
Danny Kaye: Joy to the World; another featurette exposing the fact Irving
Berlin wrote a prologue to the song ‘White Christmas’; Rosemary's Old
Kentucky Home; a tour of the star’s Augusta, Kentucky house; White
Christmas: From Page to Stage, exploring the aegis of creating a
Broadway show based on the movie, and, finally, the vintage featurette, White
Christmas: A Look Back with Rosemary Clooney. Paramount tops off
the extras with new photo galleries and two trailers.
Paramount dumps
the previous accompanying DVD’s – basically containing the same content as
mentioned above and a bonus CD that featured – not – a cast album recording of
the movie’s score – as none has ever existed, and, no surviving isolated tracks
are known to exist today - but rather, housed a small sampling of time-honored
Christmas songs recorded elsewhere by its stars. Bottom line: if you already own the
previously issued Diamond Edition Blu-ray of White Christmas, there is
no point double-dipping for this reissue. I am more inclined to press Paramount
to get busy releasing their back catalog still MIA on Blu-ray. A-list Paramount
product includes, The Lost Weekend, Roman Holiday, The Greatest
Show on Earth, Lucy Gallant, Artists and Models, The Seven
Little Foys, The Five Pennies, The Country Girl, The
Carpetbaggers, The World of Suzie Wong, Barefoot in the Park,
Alfie, Ordinary People – and, if they can find the time and
budget for it – a remastered Funny Face – whose current Blu is a mess.
All of the aforementioned are worthwhile contenders, and with the exception of the
last one – never having made the leap to hi-def. For shame!
FILM RATING (out
of 5 – 5 being the best)
4
VIDEO/AUDIO
4.5
EXTRAS
4
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