I guess ballet maniacs will love anything to do with their art, but I can't see what anyone else could get out of this dreadful movie. Lovely, lovely Margaret O'Brien, the most remarkable child actress in movies (I love Shirley, but Margaret was special) spends the first half of the movie scowling and the second half on the verge of tears. Ordinarily one wants to dwell on her expressive face; here one can't bear to watch her at all.
In its attitude toward Cyd Charisse, the movie can't make up its mind. First we are meant to regard her as selfish for wanting to continue her career after marriage. Then we are meant to see her as selfish for wanting to abandon her art, which means so much to so many people, for marriage. In any case, she is a very unsympathetic character.
Worst of all, this movie gave Danny Thomas his movie debut--and, wonder of wonders, it wasn't his last movie as well. He is an oh-so-humble immigrant who speaks quaintly broken English and believes that all people are nice and sings sentimental songs to the little girl and is in every way utterly vomit-inducing. But his character is only the most egregiously phony aspect of this phony-hysterical, phony-wholesome movie.
In its attitude toward Cyd Charisse, the movie can't make up its mind. First we are meant to regard her as selfish for wanting to continue her career after marriage. Then we are meant to see her as selfish for wanting to abandon her art, which means so much to so many people, for marriage. In any case, she is a very unsympathetic character.
Worst of all, this movie gave Danny Thomas his movie debut--and, wonder of wonders, it wasn't his last movie as well. He is an oh-so-humble immigrant who speaks quaintly broken English and believes that all people are nice and sings sentimental songs to the little girl and is in every way utterly vomit-inducing. But his character is only the most egregiously phony aspect of this phony-hysterical, phony-wholesome movie.