STRIKE UP THE BAND: Blu-ray (MGM, 1940) Warner Archive
The perfect storm of creative geniuses conspired to
make Strike Up The Band (1940) a patriotic flag-waver. Indeed, MGM spent
lavishly to best their efforts on the previous year’s Babes in Arms
(1939), the movie that launched the ‘backyard musical’ with two of its
biggest stars – Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland – at the helm. As then, this new
project was overseen by producer, Arthur Freed, to whom Metro’s studio
chieftain, L.B. Mayer had literally thrown open the gates and granted creative
freedom. It is not overstating the obvious to suggest Mayer adored Freed as few
– even, from his inner circle; his trust, aligned with Arthur’s zeal for musicals
steeped in homespun mantras affiliated with Mayer’s own desire to produce
quality family entertainment. Following the megawatt success of Babes in
Arms, Mayer drew up a new contract for Freed, one to further his ability to
go after any property he deemed rife for exploitation and profit. Mayer also gave
a sizable increase to Freed’s salary, putting him in line with the
well-ensconced producers on the backlot. Freed’s newfound autonomy caused him
to go on something of a creative binge in 1940, pursuing such legendary artists
as George M. Cohan, and, George and Ira Gershwin. Alas, Freed’s desire to
produce an updated version of the collegiate musical, Good News was
politely dismissed by Mayer who, believing the world had grown a little wearier
with the advancing European conflict, instead encouraged Freed to go after the
Gershwin’s Strike Up The Band – a property dating all the way back to
1927!
In crafting a confection worthy to follow up Babes
in Arms, Freed literally threw out all of Strike Up The Band’s
original stagecraft and songs, except its title tune, instead, electing to work
on a ‘brand new’ score to compliment a completely original story. For popularity’s
sake, Freed turned to Paul Whiteman, whose pie-faced visage, and, a rather
unprepossessing style in conducting did little to impact his staying power as
one of the premiere ‘big band’ leaders of his generation. With the onset of WWII, ‘swing’ – effectively,
the ‘second coming’ of jazz, with its bold and brassy sound – was king at the
box office. Meanwhile, in the director’s chair was none other than Busby
Berkeley, that zeitgeist to have established an unmistakable ‘look’ for the
Hollywood musical over at Warner Bros. throughout the 1930’s. And while
Berkeley’s tenure at MGM would prove the old master was not yet without a few
schemes up his sleeves, on Strike Up The Band, Berkeley forewent his
usual zeal for creating geometric configurations out of his dancers, choosing
instead, an intricate framing device; his two stars, Garland and Rooney, always
made the centerpiece of every production number. While Berkeley reveled in
concocting his most spectacular musical vignettes to date, Freed approached Yip
Harburg, whom he hired as an associate, but also to broker an introduction with
Vincente Minnelli – a self-taught sketch artist, window dresser, and, set decorator,
presently working in New York. Minnelli had already been out to Hollywood, but
had found the experience so distasteful he had already soured on the idea of
ever returning to the West Coast again. To assuage his fears, Freed offered
Minnelli precisely the autonomy he craved to create ‘something spectacular’ for
the number, ‘Our Love Affair’. And while Freed desperately wanted
Minnelli to join his ‘unit’ at MGM, he also lured Minnelli to reconsider by
providing him with a ‘no strings attached’ option to simply walk away from
everything, if the work environment was not to his liking. Naturally, this all appealed
to Minnelli who eventually came up with an inspiration for Freed’s ‘problem’
number; an idea, largely lifted from a Life Magazine article in which
fruit was made up to look like musicians. In Minnelli’s case, the fruit also
became animated and played musical instruments.
Strike Up The Band is perhaps the perfect ‘war-time’
movie musical in that its patriotism springs to life seemingly by accident, the
new score forgoing that ‘heavy-handed’ approach to sentiment, and, Gershwin’s
celebrated ‘hit tune’ originally written in 1927, and later tweaked to become
UCLA’s football ‘fight song’, herein, again, slightly reworked to conform to
the dimensions of the new plot as outlined by John Monks Jr. and Fred
Finklehoffe. By 1940, Mickey Rooney was one of MGM’s highest paid stars – his versatility
seemingly to know no bounds. While Babes in Arms had continued Rooney’s
upward trajectory as the studio’s #1 teen talent, the picture – coupled with
Judy Garland’s other star turn in The Wizard of Oz (1939) literally made
her an instant A-lister at the studio. It had taken 4-years to mature Garland
into this ‘suddenly’ bankable titan, mostly because until 1939 MGM had attempted
to simply fit her into movies neither entirely hers to command (employing her as
a ‘specialty’), nor ideally suited to her unique qualities. But from 1939 onward,
Garland would rarely be caught ‘between films’, her work schedules overlapping,
leading to an even more insidiously chronic dependency on pills to see her
through. Alas, the strain was already proving too much. While appearing on ‘the
circuit’ to promote Babes in Arms, Garland was so overworked she
suffered a momentary collapse, necessitating her withdrawal from the breakneck pace
– for two days! Possibly, neither Mayer nor Arthur Freed had any time to notice
their star was already spiraling out of control. They were much too busy preparing
the next ‘Garland’ picture; Freed, as invested in a top-heavy spate of Broadway
to Hollywood hybrids and new-to-screen musical properties already in
development. Of these, Good News had seemed like a viable option; a
home-spun college-themed musical derived from a Broadway hit and an early
1930’s talkie (later, to be remade as a glossy 1947 Technicolor classic,
co-starring June Allyson and Peter Lawford). But the evolution of Good News
into a Garland/Rooney follow-up did not go smoothly; Freed, eventually losing
his patience and interest, abandoning the project altogether, even as he was
putting the finishing touches on Andy Hardy Meets Debutante (1940, and, also
co-starring Rooney and Garland).
It should be noted, Strike Up the Band – the
movie – bears no earthly resemblance to the Gershwin show, jettisoning its
witty and timely banter and barbs about social mores and politics in favor of
yet another ‘come on, kids…let’s put on a show’ featherweight fluff
scenario. This time, the Monks/Finklehoffe screenplay has Rooney cast as
amiable drummer, Jimmy Connors, who manages the nearly impossible feat of
taking his high school band national, achieving early success, only to reach a
stumbling block when he discovers famed band leader, Paul Whitman is hosting a
radio program in search of the ‘stars of tomorrow’. Lacking the necessary funds
to enter the competition, the outpouring of support shown ‘the kids’ via
some ambitious fundraising is further thrown into a tailspin when Jimmy must
choose between helping a friend in need of a costly medical procedure or
selfishly to use the moneys collected to gratify his own ego. After some consternation,
Jimmy makes the right decision and is rewarded when the band is invited to
perform at the competition anyway – and – rather predictably, wins it hands down.
Strike Up the Band’s plot is no better than a hundred others. But the
picture is immeasurably blessed to have the Rooney/Garland chemistry at play.
Apart from its rousing finale, the picture is noted for the Roger Edens/Arthur
Freed song, ‘Our Love Affair’ – immediately becoming a standard on the
hit parade. The other standout, Nell of New Rochelle is a delicious
lampoon of Victorian era slum prudery, for which Garland and Rooney proved
equally adept at mimicking this ‘simpler time’.
Even before the release of Strike Up The Band, rumors
abounded Rooney and Garland might be on their way to a real-life romance. Until
his dying day, Rooney emphatically insisted there was never any real ‘love
affair’ between them. “We were more like brother and sister,” he
confided in one of his last interviews, “I said to her, Judy, honey…you’re
the best in the world. Now, go out there and show them what you got.” Given
that the picture is directed, practically in its entirety, by Busby Berkeley, his
contributions herein are very un-Berkeley-esque. The musical numbers are
delightfully executed, but no more so than your average, lavishly appointed MGM
musical programmer from this vintage. The exception here is ‘La Conga’ –
originally written by Roger Edens as a little trifle to be trilled by Garland. Instead,
Berkeley saw it as a huge production number, employing scores of dancers and Whitman’s
orchestra to extend the minute-and-a-half ditty into a spellbinding 11 ½ mins. of
intricately choreographed movie magic. Garland, glassy-eyed on prescription
pills to prolong her energies beyond their natural ability, opens with typical
zeal for the lyric, gyrating left to right with an exuberant Rooney as her
escort.
The couple shimmy and shake on a makeshift stage at
their high school, surrounded by Spanish-attired cohorts of the teenage sect,
before stepping onto the dance floor where they are met by a crowd of
over-enthusiastic teens, all of whom intuitively know how to samba. From here, Berkeley
weaves his spell, staging seemingly endless conga lines, interlocked, curving,
and finally, moving across one another in perfect unison with his usual mesmeric
precision. Only at the end of this ‘south of the border’ bacchanal do
Garland and Rooney emerge, sashaying from under an array of extended arms;
shoulders, bawdily gyrating as they declare, ‘Conga…boom!’ At the
outset, Garland had resisted doing this number, particularly as Berkeley’s
manner towards her could be slavish to the brink of insulting. Indeed, Berkeley
worked Garland very hard, creating even more havoc when he insisted the entire
number be shot in one continuous take to preserve its frenetic energy.
Endlessly rehearsing to ensure no mishaps, Berkeley achieved his goal. But his
efforts sent Garland to the infirmary, drained to the point of collapse by the
end of it. Viewed today, ‘La Conga’ remains one of the most spontaneous
and frenetic spectacles ever achieved in movie musicals – a real tour de force
for which Garland could count herself most fortunate to have survived its
ordeal.
Critics who had been quick to earmark Garland and
Rooney as the ‘new kids on the block’ out to make good as the screen’s
latest winning combo, were virtually ‘over the moon’ in their praise of Strike
Up The Band. Line-ups to acquire tickets for the picture’s debut at Radio
City began at 6am and were sold out weeks in advance. To promote the picture,
MGM again sent Rooney and Garland on the road, appearing live – a breakneck
schedule that cost the sensitive Garland any lasting pleasure she might have
enjoyed as the screen’s latest star. In the U.S., Strike Up The Band grossed
a whopping $2,265,000, resulting in a net profit of $1,539,000 for MGM –
another sizable smash for Arthur Freed; also, an affirmation for L.B. Mayer in
Freed’s abilities to pull off one humdinger of a movie musical with all the
spectacular aplomb Metro could afford at his disposal and in its heyday. The
showbiz bible, Variety was quick to single Garland out as having risen
through the ranks as one of ‘the screen’s great personalities…in full bloom…beyond
childhood’ and, ‘…as versatile in her acting as she is excellent in
song.’ Viewed today, Strike Up The Band has lost none of its youthful
vigor. Mickey Rooney acquits himself rather rambunctiously of the ‘Drummer
Boy’ solo. And Garland positively sparkles in the epic finale, a reprise of
the movie’s entire score, capped off by a rousing ‘marching band’ rendition
of the title tune with Rooney and Garland, locked in smile-beaming embrace,
super-imposed over a billowing Stars and Stripes. In an era where American
patriotism has taken more than its fair share of negative hits, movies like Strike
Up The Band hark back to a time when Hollywood was most definitely in the
business of promoting ma, apple pie and old glory. Indeed, MGM saw this as
their first shot across the bow at the Axis powers abroad, distinctly to
suggest that if ‘the Yanks’ were yet to be coming, then their hour of
declaration against tyranny and for the free peoples of the world, was
definitely on the foreseeable horizon.
Strike Up The Band has received a colossal treatment
on Blu-ray via the Warner Archive (WAC) in a new 4K restoration derived from
the best possible surviving elements. If this is not an original nitrate
negative, it certainly gives every indication of being one. Gray scale – check.
Contrast – double check. Fine details and a light smattering of fine grain
looking very indigenous to its source – triple check. What a joy to have Strike
Up The Band in hi-def. The movie always had an intangible beauty, but this
1080p rendering really brings out Ray June’s high key-lit cinematography to its
best effect. Age-related artifacts – gone. The movie looks as good as it ever
has, and, even better, gives an authentic feel to what audiences in 1940 must
have encountered, projected on the big screen. The audio is DTS 2.0 mono and
sounding as spiffy as ever, with a genuine clarity that belies its 80th
anniversary. Carried over from the old
DVD release, an introduction by Mickey Rooney – remastered in HD, plus, a
comedy short, ‘Wedding Bells’, and, a cartoon, ‘Romeo in
Rhythm’. We also get a stereo remix of ‘La Conga’ and two radio
promos, a Lux Radio broadcast, and, a theatrical trailer. Bottom line: with the
4th of July just around the corner, few movies are as unabashedly
sentimental about ‘America, the beautiful’ as Strike Up The Band.
This one belongs on everyone’s top shelf. You can’t classify yourself as either
a true patriot or a movie lover without this one. Oh, yeah – hear the beat of
that bonga! You bet!
FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)
4.5
VIDEO/AUDIO
5+
EXTRAS
3
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