SWEETHEARTS: Blu-ray (MGM, 1938) Warner Archive
Nelson Eddy and
Jeanette MacDonald trill some magnificently dated, Victor Herbert tunes in
director, W.S. Van Dyke’s Sweethearts (1938), an obscenely gargantuan
bonbon, telling a rather thimble of a plot, inconsequentially hammered together
by Dorothy Parker and Alan Campbell. There is an old adage to take heed of here;
something about too many cooks spoiling the broth. On this occasion, writers, Laura
Perelman and S.J. Perelman have their fingers in the pie too, all of it based
on an original book by Frédérique De Grésac, Harry B. Smith, and, Robert B.
Smith. But the real/reel trouble with Sweethearts – the movie – unlike Sweethearts,
the stagecraft, is Miss MacDonald, who is strictly a 19th century
gal caught in a 20th century world. This did not matter - much… so long as the MacDonald/Eddy cycle stuck
to operettas, or rather, the happily confined MGM’s ersatz recreations of those
bygone Ruritanian masterpieces. But Van Dyke’s Technicolor fantasia makes the
epic blunder of trying to embalm the past in the ‘then’ raging present,
teetering on the brink of WWII. Naturally, the looming conflict abroad is never
mentioned. So, what we are left with is a timely tome to Hollywood’s own anxious
verve to completely ignore anything happening beyond its soundstages.
Sweethearts might have
clicked better had it found its way to the screen a few short years before. Then,
it would have lacked Technicolor (the first MacDonald/Eddy effort in the
new-fangled 3-strip process); also, the delightful presence of the
ever-bumbling Frank Morgan as conniving Broadway producer, Felix Lehman – on this
occasion, flanked by some very well-cured hams. Among these: stuffy and stilted
Mischa Auer as Kronk, presumably, the writer of this musical mélange; easily agitated
Herman Bing as the show within a show’s conductor, Oscar Engel, and, Allyn
Joslyn, given the painfully silly name of Dink – whose role in Lehman’s
entourage is a bit of a muddle. He’s a gofer of sorts, and a front man, running
interference when the going gets tough. He’s also given the unflattering task
of vetting Norman Trumpett (the ever-suave, Reginald Gardiner) – a Hollywood
producer looking to scoop Broadway’s hottest commodity right from under Lehman’s
nose.
MGM has packed Sweethearts
with an incredibly accomplished roster of A-list talent – most utterly wasted
in disposable cameos. So, we lose the incredibly accomplished Ray Bolger as
Hans. After a brief sequence that barely shows off his unique dancing, Bolger
all but disappears, resurfacing as the MC of a lavish dinner party to introduce
our stars, MacDonald and Eddy – rechristened as Broadway’s Lunt and Fontaine
knock-offs, marrieds’ Gwen Marlowe and Ernest Lane. Also floating in and out of
this awkward array, Florence Rice as micro-manager, Kay Jordan, Lucille Watson
(as Gwen’s mama), Terry Kilburn (as her implausibly much younger brother, given
no name or identity of his own), Raymond Walburn as an utterly goofy patron of
the arts, and Betty Jaynes as Una – the understudy. Nothing here really comes
together as it should. All of the intimate musical moments have been afflicted
with MGM elephantiasis, employing backdrops originally constructed for MGM’s mega-musical,
The Great Ziegfeld (1936). The billowy, descending curtains and twinkling
star-lit skies during the Holland-inspired opener are dead giveaways from ‘A
Pretty Girl is Like a Melody’. Curiously,
and, for the rest, the plywood and papier-mâché backing really shows.
For the record,
Van Dyke co-directed this one with another Metro alumni, Robert Z. Leonard.
Back in the day, it was quite common for directors to share the responsibility when
willing a show to life, though, only one getting screen credit for the final
cut. Van Dyke, affectionately known on
the backlot as ‘one-take Woody’ and Leonard, a perfectionist of the static
shot, are at odds in their artistic renderings throughout Sweethearts.
Some of the transitions are seamless. But Leonard’s mastery of the contempo
vignettes far outshines Van Dyke’s archaic, stage-bound numbers. There is
really no finesse to the songs and dances. Instead, Van Dyke keeps a
respectable distance from the proscenium so as to show off Cedric Gibbons’
titanic art direction, blown out of proportion by Edwin B. Willis’ absurdly
lavish set decoration and some nauseatingly obscure and plush costuming by resident
couturier, Adrian. To find MacDonald and
Eddy wearing implausibly posh garments for the show-within-this-show is
bearable. To witness their attempt to be ‘just good old-fashioned show people’,
sporting froth and fermentation during the in-between scenes never works. At one point, MacDonald sports a gown of taffeta
that makes her look like a gigantic meringue.
The original
plot of Sweethearts – the stage show, involves Mikel Mikeloviz,
disguised as a monk, charged by King Rene with the welfare of the infant
Princess Jeanne during a terrible conflict threatening to overthrow the ruling class.
Laundress, Dame Paula is given the child by Mikel to raise as her own,
rechristened, Sylvia. Paula’s own brood of six daughters effectively masks the
Princess’ whereabouts until 22-years later when Mikel conspires to restore the
now adult princess to her throne as the betrothed of Prince Franz, the heir
presumptive. Unbeknownst to anyone, Franz, while also in disguise, has fallen for
Sylvia. Alas, she is expected to wed Lieutenant Karl. Meanwhile, a
destructive/battle-scarred man, posing as Paula's husband, tries to ensnare Franz,
either with the bitter and scheming Liane or virtuous, Sylvia. Enter three
villains to further muddle these plans. Mikel mistakes Liane for Sylvia, and
other complications ensue. But in the end, predictably, Franz and Sylvia are
wed, vowing to rule the land justly together.
Virtually, none
of this plot is showcased in the film version of Sweethearts. Instead,
we get the curiously slapstick machinations of families and friends conspiring
to divide the happily wed Marlowe and Lane, for no other reason than to keep
the Broadway success of the show, ‘Sweethearts’ going well beyond
its already legendary sixth season. So, Marlowe remains in New York, appearing opposite
Lane’s understudy, while Lane runs off to Hollywood to make a picture version
with Marlowe’s understudy. In between, we get some truly silly, if occasionally
smartly turned-out dialogue, much of it shot from the hips of the supporting cast.
This leaves the ‘serious’ acting to MacDonald and Eddy as the straight
couple. Problem: while Eddy is the most
relaxed he has ever been on the screen in Sweethearts, appearing ‘at
home’ in contempo garb, or gussied up in vintage Adrian bric-a-brac in Gibbons’
slickly designed sets, MacDonald gesticulates her way through even the most
mundane dialogue as though she were reciting the magna carta to King George.
She really is a marionette, offering broad sweep and toffy-nosed speculation as
to where any of this tale – and her dreadful performance – is headed. There is
a reason she was nicknamed ‘the iron butterfly’.
Don’t
misunderstand. I love Nelson Eddy and Jeanette MacDonald…when they stick to
operettas set in another time apart from their own. They have a genuine feel
for such ancient material and even excel at breathing new life into seemingly
tired old texts and arias. But by 1938, their very best efforts – Naughty Marietta
(1935), Rose Marie (1936), and, Maytime (1937) were behind them.
And what was to yet follow Sweethearts would fast expose just how
fragile a foundation their fame was built upon in a world rapidly departing
from these more genteel artistic offerings, hailing from those golden yesteryears
of stage-to-screen romance. Sweethearts isn’t a terrible movie. But it
is an incredibly misguided and awkward one. As mentioned, Nelson Eddy is
congenial to a fault. But he is the best thing in it. When allowed, the
supporting cast plies their good humor to some one-line zingers that still hold
true. But as a whole, Sweethearts never assails its
technological advantage – the first MGM full-length feature shot in Technicolor,
to engage us – dramatically, nor musically. The Victor Herbert score is,
frankly, a chestnut. As if to suspect as much, even in 1938, MGM has not only
appropriated ‘Summer Serenade’ from another Herbert show, but also
padded out the musical repertoire with ‘Little Gray Home In The West.’ We
end on a reprise of the least stilted tune, as if to hammer home a reminder of its
source material.
Important to note: as this was MGM's first 3-strip Technicolor feature,
the use of color itself, as well as the make-up designed by Max Factor to
properly photograph under stringent lighting conditions, proved extremely
problematic - curiously, to favor a blue/red palette. More’s the pity, since
the presumably ‘happy sunshine’ yellows and velvety aubergine of tulips and
Eddy’s tunic, now register dull or even muddier than anticipated. Flesh tones
are never natural. At intervals, MacDonald in particular appears as though to
have had both her cheeks liberally slapped by Louis B. Mayer between takes, the
rose-bloom coming across as more rug-burnt red. And MacDonald’s auburn tresses feature
as Raggedy-Ann orange. Pinks are pale, and greens are practically non-existent.
The new Blu from the Warner Archive (WAC) impressively captures all of these
shortcomings. No need to adjust the color on your TV or projector. Sweethearts’
cinematography by Allen M. Davie and Oliver T. Marsh has always looked like a
painterly embalmer’s nightmare.
Contrast is anemic in spots, while other scenes supposedly shot at night
become enveloped in a sea of blackness. See the scene where Trumpett courts
Marlowe and Lane to assuage their woes and come to Hollywood in the back of a
taxi. Dark, dark, dark, with positively weird orange spectral highlights
throughout. Yep, it’s always looked that way, folks. Fine grain is accurately
detected. Age-related artifacts have been eradicated for a positively
rock-solid and very pristine presentation. The 2.0 DTS mono audio is superb. No
hint of vintage Westrex hiss or pop. Extras are plentiful, and include
audio-only recordings, two cartoon shorts, some vintage junkets and an original
theatrical trailer. Bottom line: Sweethearts will be of interest,
primarily to two camps: those, either slavishly devoted to MacDonald and Eddy,
believing they can do no wrong, or others eager to see what all the fuss was
about with the burgeoning launch of Technicolor for feature-films. Bottom line:
the rest can sincerely pass, and be glad of it.
FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)
2
VIDEO/AUDIO
4.5
EXTRAS
4
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