Kay Kyser

  • That’s Right—You’re Wrong (1939)

    That’s Right—You’re Wrong (1939)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, October 2021) It’s amusing that TCM presented That’s Right— You’re Wrong as part of a Lucille Ball retrospective, because once the film begins, it quickly becomes obvious that this is a Kay Kyser vehicle with a little bit of Ball as a (very) supporting character. Not that I minded—In the extended pantheon of ephemeral Hollywood stars, Kyser was an unusual figure and an unlikely movie idol. Soft-spoken, not particularly attractive nor that good of an actor, he nonetheless starred in more than half a dozen pictures, usually (but not always) playing himself as the leader of the Kollege of Musical Knowledge, a music-themed radio game show. As the first film to translate Kyser’s radio popularity to the big screen, That’s Right— You’re Wrong begins and ends with a re-creation of the game show in front of a live audience. In-between, we get Kyser and his bandmates having adventures in Hollywood as a studio tries to tailor a film for them, and the wackiness of the environment transforms them into parodies of themselves. I had quite a bit of fun watching it, but keep in mind that I’ve been something of a Kyser fan for a while: Ever since wondering how he became the star of Swing Fever, I’ve seen six out of his nine feature-length films. (It probably says it all that I don’t only recognize Kyser on sight, but also bandmates such as the lovely Ginny Smith and the deadpan Ish Kabibble.) Despite his underwhelming acting talent (something openly lampooned in a very funny “screen test” sequence), Kyser does have a very likable presence, and he’s never more at ease on the big screen as when he’s playing himself as the professorial host of the Kollege of Musical Knowledge (albeit spelled with a C), having fun with the guests and spouting his catchphrases. (It’s actually fun for a twenty-first century viewer to try to follow along, so obscure are now some of the references.)  The rest of That’s Right— You’re Wrong is hit-and-miss—it works as a Hollywood satire, as Kyser fights against a studio executive played by Adolphe Menjou, but it’s far too often a vehicle that’s more interested in showcasing Kyser in a format familiar to then-viewers of his show. It’s rather wonderful that two of his “shows” are captured that way, even if the action stops dead during that time. For those unfamiliar with Kyser, this is a great introduction to the character and why he attracted Hollywood’s attention as a celebrity DJ bandleader. The comedy is amusing enough to entertain (Ball’s finest moment is in the aforementioned “screen test” sequence), although I suspect that you have to like Kyser’s very unusual charm to fully appreciate That’s Right— You’re Wrong.

  • You’ll Find Out (1940)

    You’ll Find Out (1940)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, June 2021) I’ve written before about the brief and unlikely stardom of Kay Kyser, band leader and radio personality (as the host of “Kay Kyser’s Kollege of Musical Knowledge”) who, in the early 1940s, got to star as himself in a series of rather charming vehicles before retiring and living to have a long and rewarding pastoral life. Most of his movies rely on his very curious personal charm as a slight, soft-spoken, bespectacled presence in contexts where you’d expect a traditional Hollywood leading man. (Swing Fever is the film that got me wondering, “how is this guy presented as a leading man?”)  Even in a short but outlandish filmography, You’ll Find Out is in the running as one of the weirdest — here, Kyser plays himself as he and his band are invited to an heiress manor to help celebrate her birthday party, and end up discovering a plot against her. While that doesn’t sound too bad, consider that this is a film with supporting roles for Peter Lorre, Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi — the only time those three legends would share the screen. The film soon takes a turn for the haunted-house occult (how could it be otherwise with that cast?) but don’t worry: it’s all a comedy with a few musical interludes provided by Kyser’s band. One musical number, “I’d Know You Anywhere,” eventually got nominated for an Academy Award. It’s rather fun to watch, and a must-see if you’re a Kyser fan. (If I can become one, I’m sure there are dozens—dozens—of us.)

  • My Favorite Spy (1942)

    My Favorite Spy (1942)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, June 2021) Coming from the middle of the short, curious and still enjoyable film career of bandleader Kay Kyser, My Favorite Spy tries to jam his affable professorial persona into an espionage comedy… and generally succeeds. “Contrived” doesn’t start to describe the plotting circumlocutions that the film sets in motion in order to showcase Kyser’s talents in a spy movie, but it’s so outlandish that it works. Other things that work: Jane Wyman as a romantic interest, the very cute Ellen Drew, Ish Kabbible in a short comic appearance, a few band numbers, by-the-numbers suspense and, most of all, nebbish Kyser as a counter-spy. He’s not an ideal lead (too soft-spoken to deliver punchlines, too stiff for physical comedy), but that in itself becomes a bit of an endearing joke. I wouldn’t recommend this film to Kyser neophytes — he’s better introduced in other films, and much of My Favorite Spy’s fun is a complex interplay between the man propped up to become a movie star versus his undeniable talents as bandleader. If you’re a Kyser fan, though, this is one of his best films — RKO was clearly trying to make him a star, and the narrative is better than many of his other films.

  • Around the World (1943)

    Around the World (1943)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2021) American WW2 wartime musicals were a strange subgenre. Almost entirely produced between 1942 and 1945, they often starred that time’s equivalent of pop stars (i.e.: Band leaders, amazingly enough to modern audiences), comedians and studio stars in a narrative that did nothing more than arrange a series of musical and comedy performances in a loose story. Such films were meant to be shown overseas to troops, and to raise patriotic fervour, war bond purchases and morale on the homefront. Around the World isn’t the best of those, but it clearly shows the formula and the intent: Featuring then-famous band leader Kay Kyser and his musical entourage (the “Kollege of Musical Knowledge”), its slight narrative has the band touring the world to entertain the troops and getting embroiled in various adventures with stowaway teens and treasure-hunting Nazis along the way. There are plenty of big-band musical numbers and somewhat old-hat comic routines along the way, but if you’re having too much fun in wartime, just wait until the atonal conclusion in which one of our happy-bouncy protagonists learns that her father’s been killed in action and vows to do her part in fighting the Axis. (Never mind that we can see that revelation coming about thirty seconds before she does.)  If that sounds like a big blend of propaganda made to order, you’re right and the film doesn’t even try to hide it. For modern viewers, the propaganda takes a back seat to the period charm and the big band numbers. As intended, the film feels like an evening outing in the city to hear a big band playing a few hits and some comic interludes in between. Kyser is not a terrific actor (his presence in Swing Fever, his sole acting credit playing a character other than “himself,” is slight), but he does have a pleasant, sympathetic presence, especially given how he’s fully in his element here playing a band leader trying to manage the various issues affecting his band. Marcy McGuire is very cute as a teenager stowing away to follow the band around the world, while the band plays itself in a fictionalized take on their real-world troop entertainment. Around the World doesn’t amount to much in terms of a movie, but it’s an interesting film approximating what it must have felt like to either attend one of Kyser’s evenings, or watch a musical comedy in wartime.

  • Swing Fever (1943)

    Swing Fever (1943)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, July 2020) The history of film is rife with unlikely movie stars, and you can watch Swing Fever for one particularly striking example. In many ways, it’s a rather silly musical comedy film in which a country man with supernatural “evil eye” powers comes to the city to sell a music piece, but gets embroiled into a story mixing swing music and boxing promoters. That’s not a bad excuse to see a few swing numbers and some middle-of-the-road comedy. As a wartime film, it’s big on supporting the troops and not challenging anything and featuring simple musical numbers. The rather wonderful Lena Horne plays herself in a disconnected number that is shot like a bluesy music video. But the big surprise here for uninitiated viewers such as myself is the lead actor, playing a character so nebbish that he would be featured as a minor comic character in other movies. But in Swing Fever, he takes centre stage complete with heroics, superpowers and getting the blonde girl at the end. Well, that actor turns out to be Kay Kyser, a rather popular band leader who was under contract for MGM at the time. The star power explains some of the leading role indulgences—in playing his band leader persona, however, much of the effect is lost on twenty-first century viewers. Still, it’s entertaining enough—the mixture of swing music and manly boxing (with some assorted criminal shenanigans) ensured that it was the closest thing to an all-quadrant crowd-pleaser for audiences at the time. Blandly-titled Swing Fever isn’t a great or overly memorable film (although the Horne number is worth a mention), but it’s entertaining enough, and an interesting representative of your wholly average early-1940s movie musical.

  • 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.