CALL ME MADAM (2oth Century-Fox, 1953) Fox Home Video

In honor of the Walt Disney Corporation’s most recent public announcement that, after decades of sitting on their own goldmine of Uncle Walt’s live-action film legacy, as well as to have since annexed the asset management catalog of the now-defunct 2oth Century-Fox (inexplicably rechristened 2oth Century Studios by Disney Inc.), Walt’s successors have reached a distribution deal with Grover Crisp and Sony Home Entertainment (whose home video model is decidedly more progressive and aggressive), we at Nix Pix have decided to revisit several Fox catalog releases, decidedly, requiring some immediate love and attention.

Ethel Merman gives the greatest one woman show in Irving Berlin’s Call Me Madam (1953), an exuberant musical/comedy, thinly veiled, but accurately based on the life of Perle Mesta - Washington D.C.’s self-proclaimed ‘hostess with the mostest.’ A wealthy widow and socialite who became active in the Democratic Party, and, a staunch advocate for Harry S. Truman, Mesta was well rewarded for her loyalties when Truman appointed her Ambassador to Luxemburg. She was also a fairly shameless self-promoter, imbued with a tactless, good-humored sense of diplomacy, and, an unquenchable spirit of goodwill. Her very lavish parties drew from the crème de la crème of political and social spheres, transforming her glittery salons into a glamorous potpourri of the who’s who and poi poloi. Hence, when Irving Berlin undertook to tell Mesta’s story as a Broadway show…well, sort of…he also elected to leave Mesta out of it – partly – fabricating a fictional counterpart, Miss Sally Adams (which didn’t fool anybody), and superficially altering the Presidential appointment from Luxem’ to Lichtenburg – one of those ever-clever Ruritanian principalities so often resurrected at the movies as a substitute for Europe at large.

Call Me Madam was a critical and financial success for Berlin and his star, Ethel Merman who had just come off a colossal 1,199 run of another Berlin stage musical, Annie Get Your Gun. At 679 performances, Call Me Madam was not quite the zeitgeist that ‘Annie’ had been, even with hurricane Ethel at the helm. On the other hand, it was no slouch either, and, its catchy score and solid performance, coupled with the name recognition of Berlin and Merman was quite enough for 2oth Century-Fox to bid on the rights to produce it. On screen, Call Me Madam is a musical that desperately wants to be loved. The affair, however, infrequently toggles between genuine and forced. Ethel Merman reprises her role as Madam Ambassador Sally Adams, tailor-made to Merman’s inimitable force of nature (her Wagnerian-sized set of pipes, infused with a sort of nasally Brooklyn-esque charisma could start an avalanche). Merman is beyond bold here. In fact, she’s thunderous and irrepressible, manic, enigmatic and electrifying – in spurts. Alas, two hours of la Merman is like twenty-minutes in a wind tunnel. It’s exhausting!

Yes, the Irving Berlin score (all but two songs surviving the transition from stage to screen, with two new songs added for good measure) are instantly hummable and a pleasure to hear. And yes, the supporting cast featuring an austere come congenial Vera Ellen as the Princess Maria; ebullient, Donald O’Connor in his first major co-starring role as cultural attaché, Kenneth, and, George Sanders, utterly magnificent, and, in very fine voice in his singing debut, as General Cosmo Constantine are all welcomed additions to immensely complement our star. The show, however, is mostly Merman and she delivers what may possibly be the most all-encompassing showstopper of any year, devouring the scenery and generally living up to her dynamo stage presence as the female Bert Lahr, manically sucking up the oxygen. Is she intoxicating? Suffocating is more like it. At one point, Sally Adams, tells her stuffy and effete Chargé d'affaires, Pemberton Maxwell (Billy De Wolfe) “Yeah, well…I’m Chargé d’ whole works. So now that we understand each other, beat it.” It’s a telling bit of scripting, as Merman was well-known to have her share of confrontations with the men she played opposite. Something of a control freak, Merman’s edicts occasionally devolved into tantrums on the set.

Yet, Merman and co-star, George Sanders got on swimmingly throughout the shoot – he, apparently content to play second fiddle, and she, delighted with his respectful acceptance of her as the picture’s whole menagerie. It’s an interesting step back too for Sanders, whose career, playing Brit-born cads (when, actually Sanders was born in Russia… if to English parents) was also overshadowed by his off-camera reputation for being a bit of a bastard. In Call Me Madam, Sanders’ affected Lichtenburg accent seems more Russian than anything else. But Sanders also displays a mellifluous baritone, extremely well-placed in his solo, ‘Marrying For Love’ and later, in his duet ‘The Best Thing For You Would Be Me’ opposite Merman, who is uncharacteristically tender and affecting in this ballad. Given each’s larger-than-life persona, Sanders and Merman rather surprisingly complement one another; her thundering vocals, otherwise to dominate the score and run buckshot over Donald O’Connor’s thinner – though no less melodic - vocalizations during their scuffling duet ‘You’re Just In Love’. This leaves the one handicap to Vera Ellen, one of the most proficient dancers ever to grace the movies. Regrettably, her way with a lyric never rivaled her terpsichorean prowess. On this occasion, Ellen is dubbed by Carol Richards whose deeper timber seems an awkward fit at best; too husky and full-bodied, creating a major disconnect at the beginning and end of each tune when Ellen’s own reedy voice takes over for the dramatics.

As for plot, Arthur Sheekman’s screenplay perfects the construction in Russel Crouse and Howard Lindsay’s Broadway original. The cleverness in Sheekman’s rewrite is it seems to mimic the stagecraft so completely the improvements are invisible at a glance. For example, on Broadway, Kenneth’s appointment as Sally’s cultural attaché was blindly predicated on nepotism; just a friendly favor to a kid from Harvard because Sally knew Kenneth’s father. On screen, Kenneth goes gunning for the job, intervening in what might have been a disastrous faux pas with the press for the newly appointed Madam Ambassador, thereby sparing her a great embarrassment as well as proving his worth, decidedly deserving of the appointment.

Throughout the story, Sheekman tightens the narrative while ever-so-slightly to ‘open up’ the action. The most obvious revision is his creation of a lavish ball given at Grand Duke Otto’s (Ludwig Stossel) palace. This is an impeccable amalgam of John DeCuir and Lyle Wheeler’s flawless art direction and matte paintings that extend the fantasy landscape to near mythical proportions.  O’Connor and Ellen perform a stunning pas deux within these stately, moonlight gardens. It is, arguably, one of the most sublime executions of dance par excellence, comparable to anything Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers ever did on the big screen. In retrospect, it is a genuine pity O’Connor and Ellen never worked together again because they are perfectly teamed. Her pointed congeniality is an intuitive counterbalance to his deliciously fresh-faced innocence. Call Me Madam succeeds not so much because of Merman’s galvanic ‘show must go on’ maxim (one senses she’d play any scene given two broken arms and a cigar stuffed up her nose, if asked), but rather, because Walter Lang’s direction helps bring the burgeoning romance between Kenneth and the Princess to the forefront, even as Merman would prefer the camera remain steadfastly focused on her.

Our story begins in Washington where Sally Adams, newly appointed as goodwill ambassador to Lichtenburg, entertains members of the press by regaling them with her obvious assets (The Hostess with the Mostest). She’s a sensation and captivates all but aspiring cub reporter, Kenneth Gibson (Donald O’Connor) who recognizes more than anyone else what the appointment requires for Sally to be considered a success. Kenneth makes a pitch to become her cultural attaché. It’s shot down, but not forgotten, as later that same evening at one of Sally’s extravagant house parties Kenneth manages to save the day by intruding on a press conference with well-written notes to cover for Sally’s lack of diplomacy.

So, it’s off to Lichtenburg, a principality desperately in need of financial aid. Upon her arrival, Sally is besought by greedy politicos, Minister of Finance August Tantinnin (Walter Slezak) and Prime Minister Sebastian (Steven Geray) who believes Sally’s arrival will mean a blank check to help shore up their national debt. Sally’s Chargé d'affaires, Pemberton Maxwell (Billy De Wolfe) attempts to explain the situation in his usual glib and condescending way. But Sally is well aware of how to handle the boys. Not so much when she is introduced to General Cosmo Constantine (George Sanders), a handsome militarist, good-natured and kind-hearted, appointed by Grand Duke Otto (Ludwig Stossel) to work his romantic charms on Sally.  She is hopeless smitten, offering Cosmo the entire U.S. treasury and damn-near every cent she personally owns (‘Can You Use Any Money Today’). But Cosmo is not about to take advantage of Sally, since his own motives during their first meeting are far more genuine and compassionate (‘Marrying for Love’).

In the meantime, while shopping for a hat, Kenneth meets the Princess Maria (Vera Ellen). In a case of double mistaken identities, Maria thinks Kenneth is a department store clerk, and he believes she is just an elegant patron shopping the thoroughfare. Maria asks Kenneth to demonstrate an American song (It’s A Lovely Day Today) and he obliges with a modicum of flirtation built into the lyric. Quickly, however, each learns the other’s true identity.  Regrettably, Maria is betrothed in a marriage of state to heir apparent, Prince Hugo (Helmut Dantine), a stuffy/jealous suitor from the neighboring kingdom of Middledorf. Sally’s debut at the palace ball is awkward at best. The Grand Duke and his wife, Duchess Sophie (Lilia Skala) placate Sally’s crass ‘Americanism’. She trips on the train of her dress, calls the citizenry ‘Dutch’ because Lichtenburg is a ‘Duchy’, and even interjects the rambunctious ‘That International Rag’ to shake up the dance floor. The song was a 1917 hit for Irving Berlin, but not in the Broadway show. Nevertheless, it gets cleverly feathered into the score and not simply as a show stopper, but to suggest just how behind the times Lichtenburg has remained in the intervening decades. Afterward, Cosmo engages Sally in a waltz. Kenneth and Maria disappear into the garden for their elegant pas deux, amid the cultivated plants, statuary and fountains.

Hugo is hardly impressed. But Kenneth has fallen for Maria.  Now, Maxwell confronts Sally about her romantic interests in Cosmo, quoting verbatim his lines of seduction applied to win Sally’s heart, merely to illustrate for her just how far the monarchy will go to procure an endowment in U.S. dollars to keep its faltering treasury afloat. Thus, when Cosmo returns, he finds Sally much changed, frankly aloof and unimpressed by his advances.  That evening Sally is most interested in getting a jump on her own cultural diplomacy. But Kenneth hears music in the air and confesses he cannot rid his mind of Maria’s sweet elixir. Sally attempts to counterbalance his romantic angst with a bit of sound advice (‘You’re Just in Love’). The next day, Kenneth decides to clear his head by attending the annual Lichtenburg festival where he is once more seduced by Maria’s charms as she sings and dances ‘The Ocarina.’

There is a Student Prince-like quality to this love affair between Kenneth and Maria - the roles reversed herein (Kenneth, the commoner and Maria of royal blood) as he contemplates his romantic fate (‘What Chance Have I With Love’) before managing to get Maria away from her entourage. The two descend into an expansive wine cellar where they share another spirited dance (‘Something to Dance About’). Afterward, Kenneth works up the gumption to confess his true love to Maria. Unfortunately, she continues to deny him his feelings, despite the fact she is as enamored and desperate to be with him. Narrowly averting a fist fight with Hugo, Kenneth instead gets haplessly drunk. Later, he is arrested for disorderly conduct. Maxwell uses the incident to get Kenneth fired. But Sally bitterly refuses to send Kenneth home, burying the report and warning Maxwell to butt out.

Next, Sally confesses her love for Cosmo, reciprocated in a poignant ballad (‘The Best Thing For You Would Be Me’). Now, Sally telephones Harry Truman to inquire if the U.S. can spare $100 million. In response to Sally’s query, Senators Brockway (Charles Dingle), Gallagher (Emory Parnell) and Wilkins (Percy Helton) descend on Lichtenburg to investigate its feasibility. Sally does what Sally does best – give a party. Only this time the glamorous affair is an unmitigated disaster. Having been appointed Prime Minister by Lichtenburg’s cabinet – because they believe it will help push forward the surplus in foreign aid – Cosmo refuses the senators’ gracious offers. This, however, only fuels their desire to invest even more heavily in the country. Dismayed and wounded by Sally’s intervention, Cosmo tells her she has destroyed his life’s work to make Lichtenburg independent and storms off into the night. Worse, Maria has informed Kenneth their ‘affair’ must end. She will marry Hugo to spare the country its fiscal implosion. Having learned from Sebastian that Sally had been instrumental in bringing Kenneth and Maria together, President Truman recalls her back to Washington immediately.

The heart sore pair arrives in the nation’s capital where Sally quickly sets about throwing herself a ‘welcome home’ party.  Brockway, Gallagher and Wilkins congratulate Sally on saving the U.S. from making a terrible investment. They also inform her Cosmo has been made Lichtenburg’s ambassador to the U.S. and has recently arrived with ‘a lady’ in tow. He plans to attend the party. But the lady turns out to be Maria. Having refused the throne, Maria has traveled with Cosmo to the United States to marry Kenneth instead. Cosmo and Sally rekindle their romance. He confers upon her the honor to be called a ‘dame’ and she vows never to let him go anywhere without her. Thus, ends Call Me Madam on the predictably happy ending prescribed most musical/comedies.

Call Me Madam is a rambunctious, tune-filled and frothy confection. The comedy is expertly played and Berlin’s score soars high, wide and handsome through the rafters. Merman sings the hell out of the songs with all the rakish aplomb of a seasoned Vaudevillian, only occasionally out of season with the demands of the Hollywood musical mélange. Merman is a force of nature. That’s commendable. But it can also be a little exhausting. Her subtler attempts at achieving pathos through song, particularly the love ballad shared with Cosmo ‘The Best Thing for You Would Be Me’, is tender and charming. But when Merman goes aperture on the score, the results can be more loud than extroverted. This too is part – if not all – of Merman’s magic as a performer. And, for most of the picture’s runtime, it does serve her well.

To find Donald O’Connor and Vera Ellen at the top of their game as dancers is not a revelation. It is a wonderment to behold., Their high-stepping pas deux in the gardens reveals a sumptuous syncopation beyond reproach, their gestures exquisitely positioned in as seamless poetry in motion. They float as two halves of the same uninterrupted self-expression.  Arguably, the biggest revelation in the cast is George Sanders. Herein, Sanders forgoes his usual wickedness, replaced with an appetizing congeniality complimented by his astonishing baritone range. Arguably, it’s Sanders prowess as an actor that manages to find just the right intonation or moment to subtly punctuate the lyrics. But he’s quite impressive as a singer, and so right for the part, it is a genuine curiosity more musical roles did not come his way after this pic.

Finally, there are the production values to consider. Fox has afforded Call Me Madam the class A-list treatment. Today, the name Walter Lang is fairly ignored as part of the popular consensus on great movie directors, perhaps because his craftsmanship and attention to detail is often mistaken for mere workman-like precision. But Lang’s benign ‘style’ is far more than pedestrian. It illustrates his chameleon approach to the material as assigned. Lang’s positioning here is to give the moments that worked as stagecraft their due on film with as little embellishment as possible. So, when Merman belts out a tune, the camera remains stationary and focused on her, moving only to re-frame the action as she maneuvers through the song. However, when Lang is afforded the opportunity to follow the infectious rhythms and steps of O’Connor and Ellen, his camera cuts loose on a dizzying array of pans, dolly and tracking shots, carefully planned to augment every pivot, swirl and tap.  It’s all very effective, scene specific and complimentary. It also shows off Lyle Wheeler and John DeCuir’s art direction to its maximum effect.

DeCuir and Wheeler – veterans of design – give us plenty to look at and admire throughout Call Me Madam, filling the eye with one lavishly appointed spectacle after the next. Yet, the frothiness of this visualized ice cream sundae never denies us the importance, either of the individual performances, or, cumulatively, those necessary moments of buzz-saw comedy or more gently concocted yearning of romantic love. Irene Sharaff’s costumes are exquisitely, the epitome of 1950’s fashion-chic, viewed today through the rubric of mere pastiche meets classical European sophistication. Last, but certainly not least, we doff our caps to Leon Shamroy’s positively gorgeous cinematography. Fox’s Technicolor always popped just a little more than its rival studios. Here, it absolutely splashes with the verve and voracity of a Disney cartoon. The hues are never garish, though they occasionally teeter on the divinely psychedelic.  Call Me Madam survives the tsunami that is Ethel Merman mostly because these behind-the-scenes craftsmen and women have compensated their great lady’s audacious appeal with a passionately decadent backdrop.

Call Me Madam deserves to be seen – and, going a step further, to be seen on Blu-ray in all its remastered glory. For now, we must content ourselves with the DVD, a very bare bones effort with no discernable ‘restoration’ efforts applied. That said, the elements here are in respectable shape. And the color saturation, though never again to entirely replicate 3-strip Technicolor, is most becoming in spite of all the shortcomings. Certain scenes adopt a grain-rich patina that is out of character for Shamroy’s photography. Contrast is mostly solid, though certain scenes suffer from anemic blacks and slightly beige-looking whites. Flesh tones retain an impressively natural appearance throughout. The 2.0 mono Dolby Digital could also stand an upgrade to temper the grating decibels that leave portions of Merman’s songs with a screeching register. Fox pads out this disc with an audio commentary and theatrical trailers. Recommended for content, rather than the transfer. The score is brilliant and the story remains a lot of fun. Now, if we could just get Sony to give us a Blu-ray we’d all have ‘something to dance about!’

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

4

VIDEO/AUDIO

2.5

EXTRAS

1