Movie Review

  • Foolish Wives (1922)

    Foolish Wives (1922)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (YouTube Streaming, March 2020) Oof. I have a hard time making it through 1920s silent dramas, and Erich von Stroheim’s Foolish Wives is as demanding as his later Greed in that regard. At a staggering two hours and twenty-some minutes, it’s slow-paced, melodramatic, single-minded and infuriating at times. It’s a long sit even with the best of intentions, and any competent editor would be able to bring this down to 90 minutes with very little loss. But film is an education, and Foolish Wives does far better the moment you stop viewing it and start reading about it. The film was notorious back in 1922 by being the first Hollywood movie (probably the first movie ever) to have a budget higher than one million then-dollars. Much of the cost (which ballooned from an initial 250K$ budget) was attributed to writer-director von Stroheim’s perfectionism and can readily be seen on-screen: the recreation of 1920s Monte Carlo on a Hollywood backlot is detailed and often fascinating, and the film does make generous use of ambitious exteriors. Stroheim himself may be the other big reason to see the film: as a writer, director and star, the film is his in ways that anticipate auteur theory—down to the curiously modern meta-textual touch of having a character read a novel titled Foolish Wives by von Stroheim himself! Finally, one shouldn’t dismiss the decadence of the result, which freely presents a morally terrible protagonist all-too-willing to seduce rich women to maintain his lifestyle: something that would become rarer as Hollywood was forced to sanitize itself in the 1930s. While Foolish Wives may not be enjoyable, there’s certainly a lot here to contemplate and study for film historians. I really wouldn’t dare suggest it as casual viewing, though.

  • Pennies from Heaven (1981)

    Pennies from Heaven (1981)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2020) There are times when I want to take a position against a film not necessarily because it’s terribly made or bad at what it tries to do, but as a statement against its very intent. I get that not everyone likes musicals, for instance (what’s wrong with you?), and there are several valid statements to be made against the way the 1930s, mired as they were in depression-era economics, still produced some exceptionally escapist entertainment that scrupulously avoided mentioning the ongoing crisis. But making a movie with the intention of dismantling 1930s musicals is not a way to get on my good side, and that’s what Pennies from Heaven wants to do. A serious dark-haired Steve Martin stars alongside Bernadette Peters and Christopher Walken, but the film proves to be a waste of all three. Determined to drag viewers through the muck in-between fantasy sequences borrowing liberally from 1930s musicals, this is a film that features economic desperation, prostitution, abortion, murder, rape, and the innocent being hanged in time for the end of the film. As a concept, this is terrible—akin to seeing someone rip up a favourite book, setting fire to a great painting or defecating on something you hold dear. I have to wonder at what they were thinking in greenlighting this project. The only explanation I can find is that this was New Hollywood’s double-fisted parting screw-you to an era they could never hope to match. Oh yes, make no mistake—I utterly despise Pennies from Heaven for having the unearned audacity to criticize something greater than itself. Ironically, the films’ set-pieces are much better than how the entire film wants to make you feel: Three musical numbers (all fantasies) stand out, whether it’s Martin’s terrific tap-dancing, Peters’ slinky classroom fancy or Walken’s dance-strip. That’s what happens when you stop being nihilistic and actually try to do as well as the thing you’re criticizing. Pennies from Heaven, for all of its considerable sins, was a significant box-office bomb, which is something that anyone aware of the film’s intention could have predicted. Unfortunately, it did not contribute to a revival of the movie musical in the 1980s. Which is reason enough to loathe the film even more. Fred Astaire hated the film, and when you annoyed Astaire, you knew you had screwed up.

  • My Favorite Year (1982)

    My Favorite Year (1982)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2020) Sometimes, I wish we had a slightly more extended film genre vocabulary to discuss grades of comedy. There’s a difference between a comedy that aims to get laughs, and a comedy that’s merely content to be pleasant. My Favourite Year may be mistaken for the first, but I found it more effective as the second. The story of a young TV writer asked to babysit (geezersit?) an older star with a propensity for excessive drinking, this is an affectionate look at the mid-1950s through the lens of 1980s filmmakers, more nostalgic than comic. Mark Linn-Baker stars as a young comedy show writer supposed to be a blend of Mel Brooks and Woody Allen, who gets saddled with ensuring that an older swashbuckling hero actor (played by Peter O’Toole in a role meant to be semi-autobiographical) makes it to broadcast in sober state. When gangsters and long-lasting romantic pursuits are thrown into the mix, the comedy increases, although the result never gets above a slow boil when it comes to outright laughter. But My Favorite Year does work better as a gentle look back in time, with the opening moments of the film exulting the wonders of 1954 and the plotting never getting overly serious at any time—well, except for the climactic motivation speech from the younger to the older man, and fixing whatever challenges they both face. It probably sounds as if I’m harsher on the film than I intend to be: After all, there are a few good lines (“I’m not an actor, I’m a movie star!”) and I always enjoy the way Hollywood looks back at itself. In the right mood, the amiable tone of My Favorite Year is satisfying in the same way that some Neil Simon stories can be. Just go in tempering your expectations as to how much of gut-buster it wants to be.

  • Dark Night of the Scarecrow (1981)

    Dark Night of the Scarecrow (1981)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On TV, March 2020) My reviews can be read like a monologue, but in my mind they’re often a dialogue with an imaginary reader who’s prompting me with “Hey, tell me about this movie…” I can imagine the very short discussion about Dark Night of the Scarecrow in real life: “Well, it’s a 1981 made-for-TV slasher…” “Not interested, goodbye!” Not that you’d be entirely wrong, imaginary reader: by dint of being made for TV, this is a film that pulls a few punches, doesn’t get to indulge into gratuitous gore, and relies on very familiar moral-punishment material for its premise. On the other hand, don’t dismiss it out of hand, because it’s slightly better than its pedigree may imply. No, it won’t win any originality points for a man getting supernatural vengeance over those who killed him—but it’s in the execution that Dark Night of the Scarecrow exceeds expectations. Writer-director J. D. Feigelson can’t rely on the cheap shocks of gore, so his approach is more refined—while the film keeps a slasher structure, it does go for more atmospheric scares, strong rural Halloween imagery, surprisingly effective sequences and an approach that goes for a maximalist execution of a minimalist premise. While not a great horror film, it’s a surprisingly good one and even more surprising that it emerged from made-for-network-TV origins.

  • Stage Door Canteen (1943)

    Stage Door Canteen (1943)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On TV, March 2020) What you should know before watching Stage Door Canteen is that it’s very much based on a true story. During World War II, Hollywood stars (led in part by Bette Davis) financed and staffed a canteen for soldiers on leave from 1942 to 1945—as a photo opportunity for Hollywood’s commitment, it was beyond ideal. But the Hollywood Canteen was preceded by New York’s Stage Door Canteen, which drew upon Broadway talent to operate the establishment. That relative lack of cinema star power on the east coast was quickly fixed when Hollywood adapted the concept for revue-like musical Stage Door Canteen. The story, about a serviceman dating a stewardess encountered at the canteen, is a mere device to string along musical and comedy acts in a recreation of what could have been the experience of sitting in the canteen on its best nights. (While this film does mention the no-fraternization rule between hostesses and servicemen… it then goes on to ignore it. There’s no real way around the implied “prostitution for the country” aspect of having hostesses entertain the troops, although it’s not quite as off-putting as a similar subplot in sister film Hollywood Canteen.) Still, the main reason to watch Stage Door Canteen is the various cameos, bit parts and performances. Of note is Ray Bolger’s dancing, the chastest stripping routine ever performed by Gypsy Rose Lee, as well as short cameos by Katharine Hepburn, Tallulah Bankhead and Johnny Weissmuller, among many others. What’s equally entertaining is the way explicit propaganda is worked into the film as if it was perfectly normal—Gracie Fields singing “Machine Gun Song” (a funny song about a jet pilot shooting down other planes) has to be the crowning moment of that aspect of the film. To twenty-first century viewers, though, the entire film is a remarkable cultural artifact: a reflection of an entirely different wartime, a weaponized blend of propaganda entertainment and a glimpse as people who were stars in their own time but, as of now, have all more or less fallen into obscurity. Sic transit gloria and all that—but I’m happy that something like Stage Door Canteen exists to capture it all.

    (Second Viewing, On Cable TV, April 2021) Considering that Stage Door Canteen is the twin film to Hollywood Canteen, a recent second viewing of one quickly led me to the other. Much like the real-life Hollywood Canteen (opened October 1942) attempted to replicate the success and good will of the real-life Stage Door Canteen (opened March 1942) in having Broadway stars servicing US servicemen, this 1942 film is a first capture of something that would be imitated and perfected in the later 1944 film. Both plot and approach replicate its sister film, as a serviceman falls in love with a member of the canteen (a volunteer rather than a star this time around), and several celebrities appear in-character as performers or volunteers at the Canteen. In between the short bursts of fictional dramatic scenes, we get a front-row seat to some of the acts performing at the canteen – essentially a revue show. That too is very much in-sync with the other Canteen film – except that this time around, the arcs are heavier on the music and a bit less on the comedy. There’s one striking exception, though: A “striptease” number from the legendary Gypsy Rose Lee, both cute and funny because, as her performance constantly reminds the leering sailors, there’s a hard limit to how much she can take off. It’s probably the most innocuous striptease you’ll see, as well as one of the funniest – and it’s a great showcase for her. While Stage Door Canteen doesn’t have as many Hollywood stars as the first film, it does feature an exceptional assortment of bands: Count Basie, Benny Goodman, Kay Kyser and Guy Lombardo can all be seen here. Other good comedy/musical numbers include Edgar Bergen having fun with a ventriloquist puppet, a “Machine Gun Song” combining novelty song with patriotism and Katharine Hepburn showing up at the end. While inferior to Hollywood Canteen in most respects, this earlier film does one thing better, and it’s being somewhat self-aware of the terrible optics of offering the hostesses as love interests for the boys: While there is some romance-rewarding-the-troops, the film does begin with the character being fired because of excessive fraternization with the soldiers. It’s not much, but it’s already a bit better than the borderline-prostitution plot of the other film. As with many revue shows, Stage Door Canteen is often best appreciated as a document of past entertainers showcasing what they did best – the Lee number alone is fantastic, and that’s before getting into the band leaders.

  • M (1951)

    M (1951)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2020) It would be easy to dismiss the 1951 remake of M as just another forgettable Americanized version of an all-time classic—no Peter Lorre, no musical leitmotif innovation, no German expressionism, what’s the point? But the point is different, in offering a point of evolution from 1930s German expressionism to its American film noir inheritor; in allowing David Wayne to avoid imitating Peter Lorre’s classic performance; in providing a more accessible point of entry to a remarkably harsh story made in the middle of the Production Code’s censorship (as the story goes, the film was only allowed to go forward with its sordid story of child murder because it was an Americanized remake of a German classic); and setting its story in circa-1950 Los Angeles landmarks, such as the then-new Bradbury building. Many of the original film’s strong plot beats still work well here, all the way to the underground trial in which the city’s criminal gangs team up to take out a criminal that they can’t stand. The paradox of this version of M is that, by itself, it would have been a remarkable noir. But it doesn’t exist by itself; it only exists because it comes from an earlier, superior version of it. Comparison is the thief of joy, though, and we’ll at least acknowledge that an American version will be more readily watchable by those hesitating to plunge into a 1930s German film. I was surprised by the result—it’s not at the level of the original, but it’s perfectly acceptable in its own way.

  • Six Degrees of Separation (1993)

    Six Degrees of Separation (1993)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On TV, March 2020) An early entry in the “Wil Smith can act” section of Smith’s filmography designed to eventually get him an Oscar, Six Degrees of Separation is tonally very different from the films that ensured Smith’s success: It’s a rather quiet comedy-drama (adapted from a stage play) in which Smith plays a gay conman insinuating himself in the lives of upper-class Manhattanites. Smith looks impossibly young here—this was his first big role, and it happened right in the middle of his Fresh Prince of Bel-Air run. Not that he’s the only one worth noting here: In addition to a pair of lead performances from Stockard Channing and Donald Sutherland, the film also sports Ian McKellen, Heather Graham and, improbably, J. J. Abrams before he turned from screenwriter to showrunner and director. Six Degrees of Separation itself is a bit more interesting than expected—not solely content with the con at the heart of it, it goes on tangents about degrees of separation, a discussion of Cats-the-movie (in which McKellen would later star), honours given to Sidney Poitier, and, perhaps most devastatingly, how a significant incident in our lives can become nothing more than someone else’s party anecdote. The theatrical origins of the film mean that the dialogue is better than average, and Smith is already quite impressive in a role that runs on pure charisma. We know how the rest turned out.

  • The Brain that Wouldn’t Die (1962)

    The Brain that Wouldn’t Die (1962)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2020) Some movies endure because they’re good. Then there are the others… Movies like The Brain That Wouldn’t Die, which blends amateur filmmaking with a delirious premise and ends up coated in Grand Guignol hilarity. The body horror merely begins when a mad scientist’s girlfriend is decapitated by a car accident—he manages to preserve the head (in a liquid-filled tray), then goes hunting for a replacement body, settling for nothing less than a glamour model. While meant as horror, the film becomes a comedy for anyone past the age of ten thanks to over-the-top histrionics, baffling creative decisions (such as the protagonist grabbing his girlfriend’s decapitated head and just… running with it) and amateurish filmmaking such as the (cat)fight between two strippers that uses meows as sound effects. Plus, hey, a bit of chaste pin-up burlesque to round off the bases of early-1960s exploitation. And have I mentioned the telepathy? It’s all terrible and somehow quite entertaining even if the film itself is bottom-of-the-barrel nonsense. Much of The Brain that Wouldn’t Die’s popularity is due not only to its innate deficiencies, but to its accidental placement in the public domain, which ensured that dozens of distributors would make endless copies fit for late-night broadcast. Ironically, there’s a ferocious critique of misogyny accidentally hidden in the film’s portrayal of a monstrous mad scientist reducing his girlfriend to disconnected parts. The Brain that Wouldn’t Die is a piece of cinema history all right (an early gory effort, even as timid as it looks these days) and certainly not a respectable one. Later visually quoted in Re-Animator, Frankenhooker and countless others—which gives you an idea of how ahead of its time it was, even if unintentionally.

  • Seagulls Over Sorrento aka Crest of the Wave (1954)

    Seagulls Over Sorrento aka Crest of the Wave (1954)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2020) A plain description of Seagulls Over Sorrento sounds like a madlib gone weird: Here’s Gene Kelly playing a lieutenant in a techno-thriller set on a small Scottish Island about the development of better torpedoes in a black-and-white film adapted from a British play by an Australian writer. Um, okay? Part of this madness can be explained by the fact that MGM had to make movies in England during the 1950s as a way to spend funds that could not be repatriated home—and how the era’s filmmaking could compress an entire film’s production schedule in a few weeks in order to allow its stars to fly away to another project. This was even easier for a project like Seagulls Over Sorrento, which added only a few Hollywoodish enhancements to a stage-bound project. (Like many military movies, at least one character has to die in order for us to take this seriously.) Perhaps given the weirdness of the premise, the film had a weak box office upon release, and is a bit obscure today, especially when measured against Kelly’s other projects of the time. Still, Seagulls Over Sorrento is something all right—clearly not the kind of film that should be your first, second or third stop for either 1950s cinema or Gene Kelly’s filmography, but something like an intriguing find at the bottom of the barrel, fit to cause wonder and amusement as you explore how it came to be.

  • The Bachelor and the Bobby-Soxer (1947)

    The Bachelor and the Bobby-Soxer (1947)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2020) As the title suggests, there is one potentially troubling March-June relationship in The Bachelor and the Bobby-Soxer that would make any viewer apprehensive – especially considering that it’s a film from the 1940s. But fear not, enlightened twenty-first-century viewers: Even Classic Hollywood knew that thirtysomething bachelors (even one played by Cary Grant) should not mess around with 17-year-old girls with a crush. Much of the film’s comedy in this film is about the protagonist (Grant) trying to get together with an age-appropriate professional woman (Myrna Loy) while her younger sister (Shirley Temple) interferes. There’s just enough implied naughtiness to make things interesting—the rest is scene-by-scene comedy, as Grant plays both halves of his suave persona unafraid to be humiliated. Cleverly conceived (the script, penned by future potboiler bestseller Sidney Sheldon, won a Best Original Screenplay Academy Award), it’s unobtrusively put together by director Irving Reis and very easy to watch. Grant’s charm does most of the work, but there are also plenty of scattered laughs in the details—my favourite has to be a rapid-fire exchange about “The man with power of whodoo / Who do? / You do!” which sounds like the kind of period nonsense exchange immortalized on screen—and later quoted by David Bowie. While definitely a middle-tier Grant comedy, The Bachelor and the Bobby-Soxer remains a charmer despite a slightly suspicious premise, and a great showcase for its three stars.

    (Second Viewing, On Cable TV, January 2021) Cary Grant had the looks and the charm that could make any kind of creepy nonsense seem amusing, and there’s no better proof of that statement than watching The Bachelor and the Bobby-Soxer, a film in which (as it says in the title) he suffers through an unrequited crush from a flighty teenager. Shirley Temple plays the titular bobby-soxer, but it’s Myrna Loy who’s the prize here as the teenager’s older sister, a judge whose tangles with Grant’s character leads to romance. Before that happens, however, there’s got to be plenty of sequences of misunderstandings, comic complications, bone-headed movie psychology, attempts from Grant’s character to divert his teenage admirer to a more appropriate partner, and some physical comedy along the way. To its credit, the film knows that pairing Grant (who was 43) and Temple (who was 19) is a terrible idea—and if that seems perfectly reasonable to you, keep in mind that other similar Hollywood movies, such as the 1954 farce Susan Slept Here, weren’t even able to do that. There are a few good set-pieces and lines of dialogue here: While I’m ambivalent about the outdoors sports scene, the last restaurant sequence is very funny—even if it ends in a way that leads the film to another ten minutes of decreasing interest as the conclusion peters out rather than build to a strong finale. (Hollywood obviously disagreed, because the film won a screenwriting Academy Award.)   The call-and-response, “The power of hoodoo.” “Who do?” “You do!” is also quite amusing, and wisely used as closing lines to wrap it up. In between Grant, Temple and Loy, The Bachelor and the Bobby-Soxer is an amiable-enough comedy that manages to steer itself away from some pitfalls that befell other similar films. It’s worth a look, especially for fans of the three lead actors.

  • It Could Happen to You (1994)

    It Could Happen to You (1994)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On TV, March 2020) What’s most striking about It Could Happen to You—besides its famous policeman-gives-millions-dollar-tip-to-waitress premise—is how much it feels like an urban fairytale: the protagonists are tried and rewarded for their inner virtue, with vast amounts of money-making wishes coming true. In this context, even having a narrator (whose origin turns out to be rather mundane) adds another layer of “let me tell you a story” to director Andrew Bergman’s film. Nicolas Cage and Bridget Fonda make for a likable lead couple, with Rosie Perez being as beautiful as ever but playing an unusually evil character for a change. It all comes together rather well, with New York City providing the background to it all. While no cinematic achievement, It Could Happen to You remains a nice and cute romantic comedy and arguably great counterprogramming to meaner fare. One thing, though: If you really want to enjoy the film, try to watch it in the original English rather than the French-Canadian dub, since Cage’s voice is dubbed in a much lower, far less distinctively nasal voice, and I missed it.

  • Odd Man Out (1947)

    Odd Man Out (1947)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2020) I don’t entirely agree with those who put Odd Man Out as a film noir, but I can see their point—this story of Irish nationalists evading police after a botched robbery, it’s definitely the kind of downbeat thriller that evokes mentions of noir. While the film predates James Mason’s Hollywood success, he was already a bankable star in the United Kingdom by the time the film was produced and that accounts for his self-assured lead performance. Often more dramatic than strictly concerned with genre thrills, Odd Man Out is a solid crime drama particularly well-directed by Carol Reed. Don’t expect stylistic flourishes, though—it’s straightforward and character-centric rather than play games with light and camera angles. The British origins do add something extra for North American audiences. All in all, a solid choice—although noir fans may feel as if the film is a touch too mainstream for them.

  • The Brood (1979)

    The Brood (1979)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On Cable TV, March 2020) For David Cronenberg fans, The Brood is worth a few moments of interest. It was clearly part of Cronenberg’s professionalization, as he became an experienced filmmaker through the Canadian Tax Shelter era. It’s, by Cronenberg’s own admission, clearly influenced by his own divorce—down to casting an actress that looked like his ex-wife and having her character strangled in the film’s climax. And we haven’t even delved into the distasteful premise of the film, dealing equally with suggestions of child abuse, body horror, psychological trauma manifesting itself through monstrous creatures, and a birthing/licking climax that pushes the disgust needle all the way to “yuck.” As usual for early Cronenberg, it’s for a very specific audience—and there’s no guarantee that even the gorehounds will like it, considering the overall atmosphere of dread that permeates the film: there’s no humour here, and a surprising amount of thematic depth in how you can choose to interpret the material. Hey, if you’ve made it through Rabid and Shivers and Scanners, why not complete the early-Cronenberg set?

  • The Puppet Masters (1994)

    The Puppet Masters (1994)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On Cable TV, March 2020) It’s slightly weird to call The Puppet Masters a disappointing imitation of The Body Snatchers, considering that it’s (loosely, almost accidentally) adapted from a 1951 story by Robert A. Heinlein that slightly predates Jack Finney’s 1954 Invasion of the Body Snatchers. But you certainly know which version made it to the screen first—and that makes all of the difference. (What’s more, the film version eschews the explicitly science-fictional future setting of the novel.) Anyway: if film producers can’t get the remake rights, maybe they can get the rights to a similar novel. Suffice to say that the film adaptation gets back to basics: back-riding alien slugs taking over their human ride’s actions and going for world domination. An early script for screenwriting duo Terry Rossio and Ted Elliott (I remember reading an essay of theirs on Usenet describing their disappointment with what happened with their script), it ends up being a very middle-of-the-road alien invasion film—a bit evocative of a zeitgeist that was just getting started on The X-Files at the time. There are a few good sequences here and there, and a somewhat exemplary performance from Donald Sutherland making a B-movie more fun. More thriller than horror, The Puppet Master can be a reasonably entertaining watch if you’re interested in mid-1990s SF paranoia, but keep your expectations firmly in check.

  • Too Many Girls (1940)

    Too Many Girls (1940)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2020) In Hollywood history, Too Many Girls usually gets a footnote mention as “the movie where Lucille Ball met Desi Arnaz,” leading to their long and fruitful marriage/partnership. Some commentators often feel compelled to comment in the same breath on the film itself being not good. Well, phooey to that—I’m here to tell you that Too Many Girls is a perfectly entertaining blend of college comedy, implied naughtiness and some football thrown in for good measure—plus the excellent Ann Miller tap-dancing. The premise is something that could have become a splendid 1980s sex comedy: As a millionaire’s daughter (played by a good-but-not-yet-great Lucille Ball) decides to attend a college far in the west, the rich man hires four strapping lads to act as bodyguards unbeknownst to her. Complications ensure when the four young men turn around the winning record of the college’s football team and one of them falls in love with the heiress. While an adaptation of a Broadway Musical, Too Many Girls is curiously forgettable when it comes to the songs and dances. Also not present enough is Ann Miller—while she’s there and performs, she’s clearly in an early-ish supporting role with little opportunity to shine in the spotlight. OK, all right—Too Many Girls is, at best, an average musical of the era for low-budgeted RKO: watchable, even amusing, but not all that memorable. It would be far less fondly remembered (and for that, largely for Ann Miller’s filmography) if Lucy and Desi hadn’t met on set. [April 2022: Being the Ricardos even features a scene meant to recreate the film—complete with what’s supposed to be Ann Miller’s legs!]

    (Second viewing, On Cable TV, March 2021) As a silly college comedy (yup, they had those in the early 1940s!), Too Many Girls is perhaps more interesting for its setting than its content, although it does have an unusual spark to its premise. Everything begins as four ace football players are convinced (somehow, by a billionaire) to let go of a bright college career in order to act as bodyguards/chaperones to his rebellious daughter going to study in the American south-west. What makes the film a bit unusual is the location of the college, and its refusal to stick to Ivy-league atmosphere: “Pottawatomie College” in New Mexico is proudly set in a desert, and the Mexican influence is felt throughout: Too Many Girls is colourful despite being in black-and-white, and Ann Miller plays a character meant to be of Hispanic origins (which mostly consists in letting her curls run wild and calling her “Pepe”) – her signing segments are predictably some of the highlights of the film. Many musical set-pieces take the form of vigorously choreographed crowd dancing, which is not a bad thing at all. The cast does have its attraction as well – other than Miller, who really plays a supporting character, there’s Lucille Ball as the supposedly rebellious daughter (she’s mildly energetic at best), the very likable Desi Arnaz as one of the bodyguards (not the one who romances her, but no matter – in real life, they married two months after the film was released!) Perhaps overly slavish to the original Broadway musical, the plotting sort of loses its way midway through and the ending doesn’t quite satisfy. Too Many Girls is a pleasant-enough time, but there are many ways in which it could have been better: Shooting in colour, letting go of Broadway in order to focus on more cinematic qualities and working on the film’s last half would have been obvious starting points. Still, it’s fun enough, the scenery is a change of pace and the parallels with other, more modern campus comedies are intriguing enough.