The Goldwyn Follies

The Goldwyn Follies

The Goldwyn Follies

Moviecut—The Goldwyn Follies

For starters - (If nothing else) - I thought that this 1938 film's Technicolour effects were nothing short of being absolutely astounding to behold. You could clearly tell that great attention to colour co-ordination was very much a major issue in this $2 million production. Now almost 80 years old - The Goldwyn Follies definitely had its good points, as well as its not-so-good points. Featuring 7 Gershwin songs - This picture's story of comedy, music, and romance was obviously very much a product of its time. And, because of this it did make it difficult for this viewer not to scrutinize it just a little too critically.... (But I still give it a 6-star rating) And, finally - When it came to watching famed ventriloquist, Edgar Bergen constantly moving his lips whenever it was his puppet/sidekick Charlie McCarthy's turn to speak - I thought that he was one of the most amateurish and unconvincing performers in his specialized profession that I have ever seen.

Mostly dreadful and overlong this "Follies" attempt patches together a lame plot with a variety of acts. Adolphe Menjou is fine as the movie producer who hires Andrea Leeds to give him the "human touch" in his films. He falls for her but she's in love with a hamburger slinger (Kenny Baker) she tricks Menjou into hiring for his new film. Throw into this stew Vera Zorina as a temperamental ballet star and you have the framework for this film. Edgar Bergen (and dummy) provide some humor, especially in a funny bit with radio star Phil Baker. Helen Jepson sings a few numbers (she's no Jeanette MacDonald), Bobby Clark plays the harried casting director, Ella Logan (trying to be Martha Raye) is the chaperone, Nydia Westman is the friend, Frank Shields (tennis pro and grandfather to Brooke) is the assistant director to Jerome Cowan. The Ritz Brothers (dreadful as usual) have one funny bit and stink in the rest of their appearance. Alan Ladd has a bit as an auditioning singer.

all i can hear in my head is "Here Pussy Pussy Pussy!" "Here Pussy Pussy Pussy!" "Here Pussy Pussy Pussy!" "Here Pussy Pussy Pussy!" and i have nightmares of that...not to mention those guys were scary as all hell and this movie, despite the talent of these actors...was frightengly awful

The only real compensation for watching THE GOLDWYN FOLLIES is the pleasing Technicolor--but, unfortunately, none of the plot is believable nor are any of the characters likely to resemble anyone in real-life Hollywood. There are some worthwhile bits. The opera sequence with HELEN JEPSON is well done--including a lovely version of "Siempre Libre"; EDGAR BERGEN and CHARLIE McCARTHY are pros in a few amusing sketches; KENNY BAKER does a professional job on songs like "Love Walked Right In"; VERA ZORINA adds some dancing magic and ANDREA LEEDS lends her bland presence to the role of a naive young girl asked to give ADOLPHE MENJOU pointers on what the public wants. Leeds looks an awful lot like either Donna Reed or Olivia de Havilland in her close-ups. ADOLPHE MENJOU, too, is professional enough as the producer foolish enough to get ideas from a romantic young girl so he can produce the right kind of movie. Too bad Goldwyn didn't get some advice from good script-writers on how to stage this sort of thing. Summing up: Noteworthy only for the color cinematography and some of the talented bits, but the script is full of dull clichés, lifeless and unbelievable. I found Bergen and McCarthy gave the film its most enjoyable moments.

I'll admit that the Ritz Brothers are an acquired taste, but aside from the extremely cute Andrea Leeds, they're the best thing in the picture!

A sweet romance, good character actors, vivid Technicolor, a little behind-the-scenes work at a major studio, and great songs make this a pleasant way to spend two hours. It's also interesting historically because it marks the transition between the end (for only a few decades, thankfully) of tap and the beginning of ballet in film musicals.

I've been on the lookout for this film for over 25 years, since it was given the honor of inclusion on the first (and at the time, only) bad movie book, Harry Medved's The Fifty Worst etc. One man's meat can be another man's poison, but a combination of curiosity and masochism has driven me to seek out and view over 30 of the films on Medved's original list. The list doubtless includes films that some do not consider bad (two films on Medved's list are also in Roger Ebert's Great Movies) but I have not disagreed with any of Medved's selections after sitting through them. Individually and collectively they are painful to watch, actually make you either angry or nauseous or some other disagreeable sensation, with a moment here and there of entertainment (taken out of context) not nearly enough to balance the ghastly experience of the remaining bill of fare. So has Medved's judgment continued to bat 1.000? You bet, the streak continues. This film is chock-a-block with jokes that are not funny, beauty that comes off as ugliness, hopeless misuse of Gershwin material, dancing that comes off as forced, dialog that could have been written by a robot, aesthetic pretension that could provide a textbook definition of inanity. The color photography might look better in black and white (what with the subtle gradations of green clashing all over the costumes and scenery). And yes, there are moments with Charlie McCarthy, and a coloratura Siempre Libre, both done well enough to point up the vivid contrast between truly entertaining and worse than nothing. Sometimes a kind of negative serendipity is responsible for a bomb of a movie, but there is much premeditation here. George Gershwin was in the process of dying as he worked on this film. Sam Goldwyn, ever understanding, cut him from the payroll when he failed to show up for a couple of days. After George died and there was no original ballet music, Goldwyn passed up on the chance (offered by brother Ira) to film a ballet of American In Paris, instead having hack composer Vernon Duke compose his pale imitation of Ravel's La Valse which became the background for the Water Nymph ballet. So while watching the movie it may appear that Goldwyn had to make do with the likes of Phil Baker and the Ritz Brothers, but in fact he had other available resources which he foolishly chose to employ. This film is an atrocity. I can only thank Turner Classic Movies for disagreeing long enough to put it on their schedule. And for the scorecard, I've seen one of the two movies that grace both the pages of Medved's 50 Worst and Ebert's Great Movies: "Bring Me The Head Of Alfredo Garcia." While I usually see Ebert's point, I must agree with Medved on that one. Some day I hope to see the other homologous entry, "Last Year In Marienbad". Turner Classic Movies, take note.