As I’ve often said, the Musical is far from my favorite genre – however, whenever I come upon a well-regarded example, I don’t mind all that much checking it out; this was the case not too long ago with THE PAJAMA GAME (1957) and, again, now with this Fox extravaganza.
Incidentally, every studio seemed to have its own particular style with respect to this genre – until the heyday of the sprawling filmizations of Broadway successes came along; actually, this one belongs to the latter category but it came at a relatively early stage – so that the treatment accorded it is still very much linked with the studio’s standard formula. Now, the Fox musicals (or what little I’ve seen of them) were among the more garish yet traditional – that is to say, unimaginative – to come out of Hollywood; this one, however, had the distinction of an Irving Berlin score as well as the added treat of a Ruritanian setting (bearing reasonable comparison with the equivalent work of the great Ernst Lubitsch).
CALL ME MADAM, then, is best-known for providing brash entertainer Ethel Merman with her most significant role as an American hostess appointed Ambassador to the tiny duchy of Lichtenburg; the actress’ qualities are, perhaps, something of an acquired taste – but there’s no denying that the part fits her like a glove. Still, the talent supporting her is certainly not to be scoffed at: the film, in fact, showcases young leads Donald O’Connor and Vera-Ellen (who dance as well as sing) – he appears as Merman’s press attaché who falls for his pretty but impossibly thin co-star, a princess of the impoverished country promised in a marriage of convenience to Helmut Dantine’s military hero; Merman herself shares an unlikely romance with Foreign Minister George Sanders (the famously world-weary actor even gets to sing – modestly and in a deep, heavily-accented voice – on a couple of occasions!) while, at the same time, being pursued by Finance Minister Walter Slezak.
Some of the plot complications/contrivances – involving political intrigue, romantic rivalry, secret trysts, misunderstanding and sacrifice – are so typical as to be wholly predictable, making the film’s not inconsiderable 114-minute duration somewhat long drawn-out (with even a number of the songs being reprised). That said, Berlin’s music and lyrics (and the performers’ rendition of them) are a delight – as is, surprisingly, much of the dancing (one of which occurs in the cellar of the palace[!], but especially O’Connor’s energetic drunken antics in a tavern incorporating a xylophone and a set of balloons a' la Fred Astaire).
Incidentally, Merman, O’Connor and director Lang (a regular – albeit impersonal – exponent in the field) would be re-united the next year for THERE’S NO BUSINESS LIKE SHOW BUSINESS (1954), a showbiz musical revolving around a clutch of Berlin hits; for the record, this film is shown ad nauseam on TV (even locally)…but which, given the reservations I mentioned earlier about the Fox style, I’ve never bothered to watch (a situation I perhaps ought to remedy now on the strength of my generally favorable appraisal of CALL ME MADAM itself)!
Incidentally, every studio seemed to have its own particular style with respect to this genre – until the heyday of the sprawling filmizations of Broadway successes came along; actually, this one belongs to the latter category but it came at a relatively early stage – so that the treatment accorded it is still very much linked with the studio’s standard formula. Now, the Fox musicals (or what little I’ve seen of them) were among the more garish yet traditional – that is to say, unimaginative – to come out of Hollywood; this one, however, had the distinction of an Irving Berlin score as well as the added treat of a Ruritanian setting (bearing reasonable comparison with the equivalent work of the great Ernst Lubitsch).
CALL ME MADAM, then, is best-known for providing brash entertainer Ethel Merman with her most significant role as an American hostess appointed Ambassador to the tiny duchy of Lichtenburg; the actress’ qualities are, perhaps, something of an acquired taste – but there’s no denying that the part fits her like a glove. Still, the talent supporting her is certainly not to be scoffed at: the film, in fact, showcases young leads Donald O’Connor and Vera-Ellen (who dance as well as sing) – he appears as Merman’s press attaché who falls for his pretty but impossibly thin co-star, a princess of the impoverished country promised in a marriage of convenience to Helmut Dantine’s military hero; Merman herself shares an unlikely romance with Foreign Minister George Sanders (the famously world-weary actor even gets to sing – modestly and in a deep, heavily-accented voice – on a couple of occasions!) while, at the same time, being pursued by Finance Minister Walter Slezak.
Some of the plot complications/contrivances – involving political intrigue, romantic rivalry, secret trysts, misunderstanding and sacrifice – are so typical as to be wholly predictable, making the film’s not inconsiderable 114-minute duration somewhat long drawn-out (with even a number of the songs being reprised). That said, Berlin’s music and lyrics (and the performers’ rendition of them) are a delight – as is, surprisingly, much of the dancing (one of which occurs in the cellar of the palace[!], but especially O’Connor’s energetic drunken antics in a tavern incorporating a xylophone and a set of balloons a' la Fred Astaire).
Incidentally, Merman, O’Connor and director Lang (a regular – albeit impersonal – exponent in the field) would be re-united the next year for THERE’S NO BUSINESS LIKE SHOW BUSINESS (1954), a showbiz musical revolving around a clutch of Berlin hits; for the record, this film is shown ad nauseam on TV (even locally)…but which, given the reservations I mentioned earlier about the Fox style, I’ve never bothered to watch (a situation I perhaps ought to remedy now on the strength of my generally favorable appraisal of CALL ME MADAM itself)!