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DAPPER FLAPPER Little doubt the dumbest idea for a musical Rogers and Hammerstein ever chose to develop is Flower Drum Song, ostensibly about Americanizing to everlasting happiness all those San Fran Chinese but the real rub is in its book, a virtual catalog of cutesy stereotype turning into appalling prejudicial caricature—recognizable long before the era of PC—and it’s even more grotesque on screen, having been produced by one of Universal’s plastic maestros Ross Hunter. Part of its failure is not Hunter’s fault: R & H always demanded anyone wishing to film their musicals must adhere to the core basics—the fundamental jejunity. Hunter is to blame for employing veteran Henry Koster who, never directing a musical before, supplied one “OMG” after another, acted as traffic cop for the Chinese New Year pageantry, and destroyed whatever bounce and grace choreographer Hermes Pan tried to muster up. It is hard to imagine Hunter wanted to make what we’re watching, since it’s very far from his usual fag-hags-in-heat camp; harder to swallow is any movie company would again finance another of his musicals. But Universal gave him the dough for Thoroughly Modern Millie. He sought the rights for The Boy Friend, losing to MGM’s Arther Freed (who wanted to make it with Debbie Reynolds) and when the project didn’t come to fruition the rights passed to Ken Russell (who made it with Twiggy). Not to be deterred Hunter teamed up with Unsinkable Molly Brown author Richard Morris and together they spun a cotton candy spoof of the 20s Flapper period. How they decided to sprinkle leftover chop fooey from FDS into the swirl isn’t clear, except perhaps Hunter having longed to use Beatrice Lillie who, properly attired, could pass as a comedic Gale Sondergaard in Asian drag from the Bette Davis soaper The Letter. Again he used a director—George Roy Hill—without any experience with musicals. Tagged as one of Harvard Lampoon’s worst movies of 1967, and considering movie audience-killer Carol Channing is its prime upchuck inducer, you’d have circumstantial grounds for avoiding it, but Roy Hill’s energy keeps Thoroughly Modern Millie from becoming too much to bear. Of course Channing is instant overdose with her Baby Jane “I’m a Fun Person” shtick, and all you want to do when she’s singing “Jazz Baby” and Gershwin’s “Do It Again” is to keep smacking Grandma of Chucky until she expires. The only generous thing to say is she’s not using her hand to move her hair away from her batty eyes, an annoying habit she’d used plenty elsewhere. This uninspired confection has some assets: Julie Andrews’ winking amusement in the role of Millie (especially during the credits); her voice fits the songs she’s singing—giving smashing renditions of “Jewish Wedding Song,” Jay Thompson’s “Jimmy” and the title song; she keeps the saccharine down to a minimum. Other than in Bill Thomas’ classic black evening dress in The Americanization of Emily, she’s often stuck in dowdy costumes or unable to bring to designer creations the necessary swank. Here she’s the cat’s pajamas in Jean Louis’ outfits, with just one atrocity—a green plaid number she wears at Baby Jane’s place. A pleasant surprise is James Fox, seemingly enjoying the nonsense and a near-perfect match for Andrews. Lisabeth Hush’s minor moments as social bitch Judith Tremaine glean a few smiles. Looking neither swell nor all that well, Mary Tyler Moore sets dumb-dumb innocence back a few hundred years. What a bankrupt gag for Morris to use—having Mary (who plays an orphan!) write checks to cover taxi fare. The throwaway plot needed Beatrice Lillie as a baddie who sells flappers into slavery, but her inability to remember dialogue—it’s confirmed Andrews fed lines to her off-camera—necessitated using her as more a visual than verbal prop. Both roadshow and special engagement runs of TMM outperformed the Andrews Star! and Darling Lili, becoming one of 1967’s top grossers (and bamboozling Columbia into financing Hunter’s next tuner, the 1973 numbing box office disaster Lost Horizon, directed by another novice to musicals Charles Jarrott.) With John Gavin, Jack Soo and Pat Morita. Winner of the WGA Best Written Musical. In Spherical, with unverified 70mm blowup. (Opening 8/9/1967 at the United Artists, running 21 weeks.) Oscar win for Best Original Musical Score (Elmer Bernstein); nominated for Best Supporting Actress (Channing), Art Direction/Set Decoration, Sound, Song (title track by Sammy Cahn and James Van Heusen), Scoring of Music—Adaption or Treatment, Costumes. ROLL OVER IMAGE
Text COPYRIGHT © 2002 RALPH BENNER All Rights Reserved. |
