THOUSANDS CHEER (MGM, 1943) Warner Archive

In the mid-1940’s an old form of Broadway-based musical was revitalized for the movie screen – the ‘anthology’-based ‘show’ in which plot took a backseat to the musical offerings, loosely strung together with one artfully staged production number backing onto the next, or, on occasion, intermittently separated by a comedy skit – good for the prerequisite chuckle. A slew of such fluff found its way into the movies throughout the decade – some, more promising than others. In years yet to follow, MGM would somewhat refine the formula to suit their highly fictionalized bio-pic strain in movie musicals: 1945’s Ziegfeld Follies, 1946’s Till the Clouds Roll By, 1948’s Words and Music and 1954’s Deep in My Heart. But George Sidney’s Thousands Cheer (1943) predates all of these, and actually, owes a lot more to Michael Curtiz’s handsomely mounted super-spectacle, This Is The Army, based on composer, Irving Berlin’s rousing show of shows originally promoted during WWI – but then, ever so slightly tweaked to accommodate America’s investiture in the 'then' present European conflict. With its similarly themed story, following the exploits of a Private in the U.S. army, Thousands Cheer was going to be the sort of all-star extravaganza to outdo Warner Bros. heady success with This Is The Army.  It stood to reason too, as MGM – at least at this juncture in their history – remained the studio with ‘more stars than there are in heaven.’

In a decade dedicated to bolstering the war effort on the home front, MGM launched Thousands Cheer as a prodigal and personality-packed battleship of oddities, lavishly appointed to the point of mind-numbing absurdity.  Drawing obvious parallels – at least, in its title to Berlin’s other crowd-pleaser from 1933 – ‘As Thousands Cheer’ – Thousands Cheer otherwise bears no earthly resemblance to that runaway Broadway smash hit, co-authored by Moss Hart, and, in retrospect, had already begun to show signs of its creakiness, suffering immensely from its threadbare plot. No fault ascribed to screenwriters, Paul Jarrico and Richard Collins, who first envisioned the project as a modest non-musical, entitled Private Miss Jones. The casting of MGM's leading soprano, Kathryn Grayson and emerging dancer, Gene Kelly necessitated revamping the plot to include several songs and dances. However, upon viewing the finished footage, L.B. Mayer decided what was really needed was a show of force - literally - a glittery zeitgeist of baubles, bangles and beads – or, in this case, songs, songs and more songs, with the occasional dance routine, haphazardly strung together, not only to support the sale of war bonds, but, more to the point, to celebrate MGM's supremacy as picture-makers par excellence.

Since the modest tale of an Army WAC falling in love with a Private left little room to establish this ‘show of shows’, Mayer insisted the plot of the movie be pared down slightly, slotting into its third act a veritable cavalcade of Metro’s showmanship, mercilessly paraded before the spectator's eye, though strangely, to have bypassed the heart entirely. The movie opens with Kathryn Jones (Grayson) announcing her retirement from the New York Symphony conducted by Jose Iturbi to join the army as a morale booster, as well as to reunite with her estranged father, Colonel Bill Jones (John Boles). Kathryn's mother, Hyllary (Mary Astor) approves - but only superficially. She and Bill have been divorced for many years and Hyllary still holds Bill's love of serving his country - at the expense of being a full-time father - against him. On the train bound for the recruitment camp, Kathryn meets Private Eddie Marsh (Gene Kelly). Brash and holding women in low regard, Eddie's nose is tweaked by Bill while his heart is strained by Kathryn's spurning of his romantic overtures. Eventually, Eddie confides in Kathryn that he always believed his true calling was in the Air Force, having been an aerialist for many years with a travelling circus troop.

Kathryn and Eddie's romance blossoms despite adversity - to the point where Eddie is set to forgo his plans of joining the U.S. flyers. However, Hyllary has other plans entirely, thwarting her daughter's romance by having Eddie thrown in the guard house under the mistaken belief nothing good can ever come from falling in love with a soldier. From here, the narrative becomes frozen in time, as the Army boosts morale among its latest recruits by putting on an all-star benefit; the stars, descending from on high to entertain the troops. With Mickey Rooney as the show's M.C., the finale to Thousands Cheer disintegrates into a bizarre claptrap of musical outtakes and comedy skits, featuring the likes of Eleanor Powell, Red Skelton, Margaret O'Brien, Frank Morgan, Lucille Ball and other such luminaries - most, utterly wasted in all-too-brief appearances that are neither memorable nor career-defining. Standouts are present - including Bob Crosby and his orchestra introducing June Allyson, Gloria DeHaven and Virginia O'Brien singing 'In A Little Spanish Town'. Lena Horne trills 'Honeysuckle Rose' with Benny Carter and his band, and Judy Garland's wows the crowd with 'The Joint Is Really Jumpin' Down At Carnegie Hall' – accompanied on the piano by Jose Iturbi.

Arguably, the best musical offerings have nothing to do with this grand finale. Kathryn Grayson is given three numbers: the magnificent, 'Sempre Libera', the tear-jerker and poignant, 'Three Letters in A Mailbox', and devastatingly potent grand finale, ‘United Nations on Parade’ to raise the rafters with an 80-piece orchestra and 100-strong, men’s choral culled from every nationality. Given Gene Kelly's casting and prowess, his efforts here are rather limited to a mop dance performed to the tune of 'Let Me Call You Sweetheart'. Viewed today, Thousands Cheer retains its appeal, but perhaps best as a tribute to MGM’s mighty talent at the peak of the war years. Slapping together a back catalog of its greatest stars, the studio shows off at least two-dozen reasons why Metro could do no wrong. In the days before television, audiences could experience no finer ‘bang’ for their buck than this sort of razzle-dazzle on full display for the masses and – in blazing Technicolor no less. However, viewed today, what were then the picture’s strengths are likely considered its weaknesses now. The plot-less spectacle that closes the show is really a detriment to the lightweight story that precedes it, swamping it in a tsunami of star turns, belying the fact, this one ought to have been just another simply told war-time programmer about two people, desperately in love, though separated by circumstance and uncertainty.

The Warner Archive DVD edition of Thousands Cheer represents a film in crisis. The Technicolor elements are hanging on by a thread with glaring mis-registration and a barrage of age-related artifacts that make the film appear much older than it is, especially when directly compared to other films from this vintage. There is even a brief insert of a train travelling at night that is almost B&W in its appearance - the emulsion from the Technicolor negative - that ought to have rendered it in tones of deep blue - having completely worn off. As with other titles in the Warner Archive - the quality of this transfer – or lack, thereof - represents the ravages of the years without the benefit of any restoration work having been done since. But this is one film that desperately needs to be saved before it disappears forever and altogether. Remarkably, the audio fairs considerably better than the video. It is very crisp and clean with only minor hiss and pop detected. There are no extras!

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

3

VIDEO/AUDIO

2

EXTRAS

0