Motion Picture Herald (Jul-Aug 1943)

August 7, 1943 MOTION PICTURE HERALD Girl Crazy (Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, 1943-44) This One's Got Rhythm Here's a musical for showmen to tell the juniors about and get out of their way. Among the things to tell them about it are : It's got Mickey Rooney in oldtime form, singing a song from his waistline, swinging a gag on a dead run, dancing enough and not too much, playing a piano with the band and rocking the rafters with a new radio-microphone routine. It has Judy Garland matching Rooney in their gag sequences, ditto their romantic interludes, and singing songs the way they were born to be sung. It's got nine — count 'em, nine — George Gershwin musical numbers, ranging from the infectious "Bidin' My Time" to the tempestuous "I Got Rhythm," and don't by any means forget to tell the juniors that — It's got Tommy Dorsey and his orchestra playing the Gershwin score with all the fervour of a modern maestro for the works of a master composer. There is much more to tell the juniors, but the foregoing is enough to start the stampede, and the picture's the kind to keep it rolling until the last hepcat is satisfied. There were no more than the average number of juniors on hand at the Hollywood preview of the picture, but the average number was enough to set up a roar of applause at the flashing of the main title, repeating it in double volume when the name of Dorsey appeared on the screen, and keeping the place in a state of happy tumult for the ensuing hundred minutes of song and dance. The story, which is beside the point, is about a girl-struck New York youth sent to a Western college to slow down and learn something. He does do a bit of learning, principally unscholastic, but instead of slowing down he hypos the college up to his tempo and finds little to discourage his interest in the ladies. Production by Arthur Freed and direction by Norman Taurog, both gentlemen specialists in this type of cinematic art, are beyond commercial criticism. It's a hit. Previewed at the Alex theatre, Glendale, California, to a Friday night audience, attracted by "Five Graves to Cairo," which demonstrated to the satisfaction of pedestrians passing within long earshot of the theatre their total endorsement of the picture. Reviewer's Rating : Excellent.— William R. Weaver Release date, Block 1. Running time, 100 min. PCA No. 9139. General audience classification. Danny Churchill Mickey Rooney Ginger Gray Judy Garland Gil Stratton, Robert E. Strickland, Rags Ragland, June Allyson, Nancy Walker, Guy Kibbee, Frances Rafferty, Henry O'Neil, Howard Freeman. Reviews This department deals with new product from the point off view of the exhibitor who is to purvey it to his own public. We've Never Been Licked (Universal) Cheer for Texas Aggie Walter Wanger's latest is endowed with a rousing title. It's definitely one for the times. Drawing upon some of the noted war sons of Texas Aggie— the Texas Agricultural and Mechanical College — for background, "We've Never Been Licked" sets forth to tell the story of that school's sons and the training through which they pass in the processes that are converting them from peace to war time pursuits. Therefore, and while the particularized yarn confines itself to the one college to the exclusion of all others, the inference is clear that here is being picturized an account of what American universities at large are doing in the molding of their manpower on behalf of the global fight. For most of its footage, the film is nothing more than a sustained college yell for Texas Aggie. The school's customs, its antics and its traditions are illustrated in minute detail. Implanted in front of them, but never moving them into the background, is a thin story thread which hangs on until Pearl Harbor approaches and a Japanese spy motivation is introduced. This is wound around the usual triangular love story in the following manner : Richard Quine, after residence in the Philippines, returns to the States, enters Aggie, falls in love with Anne Gwynne. So does his room mate, Noah Beery, Jr., who eventually wins out. As war clouds darken, Quine's defense of the Japanese who, he sincerely believes at that moment, are destined to industrialize and further civilize Asia, gets him in bad with his rah-rah chums. When two students of the Rising Sun seek to pilfer a secret gas formula, Quine is on the scene, and for reasons which seem to represent the hard way, decides to throw in with them. It is understood on the audience's part, oi course, that he intends striking for America when the time comes, but this story device throws suspicion his way and allows misunderstandings to grow. The student body eventually decides to take over and ousts him for the sake of the alma mater. War arrives. Quine becomes a temporary collaborationist heckling Americans in Japanese broadcasts. But when he takes to the air in a Nip plane, he gets his moment, radios the position of an enemy flat top heading for the Solomons to his former pal who would be in a neighboring American attacking plane, deliberately crashes on its deck and dies a hero. The American flyers pivot for the kill and knock off the carrier. The government awards Quine, in death, the highest medal of honor. The picture, bulging with Aggie school songs, midnight cheer yells and bonfires, actually gets into stride with the carrier attack. This sequence— a long one and packed with excitement — is the highlight. It arrives late, but it does arrive to send the attraction into a socko finish. Performances are acceptable. So is direction by John Rawlins. Previewed at the Pantages, Hollywood, where the audience seemed to take it, bid also seemed patiently waiting for what it finally got at the finish. Reviewer's Rating : Good. — Red Kann Release date, July 30, 1943. Running time, 104 min. PCA No. 9326. General audience classification. Brad Craig Richard Quine Nina Lambert Anne Gwynne Cyanide Jenkins Noah Beery, Jr. "Pop" Lambert Harry Davenport Deedee Dunham Martha O'Driscoll William Frawley, William Blees, Edgar Barrier, Samuel S. Hinds, Moroni Olsen, Roland Got, Allen Jung. Let's Face It (Paramount, 1943-44) Hope for the Army Using the musical comedy by Cole Porter and Herbert and Dorothy Fields as a plot framework, Harry Tugend has concocted a screenplay for the jaunty nonsense of Bob Hope which should bring chuckles from the dog days of August and keep them coming through Christmas. It's a service comedy that goes outside Army routine for its situations and dodges most of the old Army gags. Paramount has recognized in Betty Hutton the natural Hope helpmate and has wisely let their combined antics explode, ignore and overwhelm the original story of three service men and a trio of over-age adventuresses. The latter situation does provide some delightful moments when Hope and two pals become Siamese triplets to discourage the ladies' separate onslaughts, and when the errant husbands arrive for a weekend's "fishing" to rhumba rhythm. But the bang-up finish in which a U-boat is beached with the sole aid of a pocket mirror is pure Hope and should bring down the house. From the opening gun, when Hope is peddling Army cream puffs to the clients of a reducing farm, to the last shot in the guardhouse, director Sidney Lanfield has allowed few breathing spells. Certainly the musical numbers with Cole Porter songs, "Let's Face it" and "Let's Not Talk About Love," and Hutton interpretations scarcely would be so classed. And the Jules Styne-Sammy Cahn entry, "Who Did? Product Digest Section 1 469