The film that started it all — the first of MGM's fabulously Technicolored musical comedies — and still one of the studio's Ten Best! A wittily diverting script, beautifully photographed, joined to Victor Herbert's "immortal melodies", enacted by a grand array of our favorite character players including Frank "Kiddies" Morgan and Herman "Budapest" Bing.
MacDonald and Eddy were never more captivating or brightly presented, Van Dyke's pacey direction moves with a fluent slickness, production values are enjoyably lavish, while Slavko Vorkapich has created a remarkably inventive montage — a rare (perhaps unique?) accomplishment from the meticulously slow-working Technicolor laboratory. Sets, costumes are also exceptionally attractive in color, setting new standards for appealing opulence. In addition to all this visual gloss — and other smoothly professional technical credits including able sound recording and brisk film editing — there's that delightfully quip-witted, gently satirical Parker- Campbell script that provides such wonderfully comic opportunities for our gang of scene-stealing veterans.
Playing their volatile roles with commendable enthusiasm and pungent relish, Morgan, Auer and Bing make merry with hilarious bickering, while Reginald Gardiner almost steals the show as a cynically persuasive Hollywood agent. In smaller parts, Walburn and Watson are delightful, Gene Lockhart has an amusingly memorable cameo and I must especially applaud Betty Jaynes and Douglas McPhail as the duplicate "Sweethearts".
MacDonald and Eddy are not only in excellent collective voice, but for once are evenly matched — musically and dramatically. Eddy shares equally with MacDonald in most of their numbers except "Every Lover Must Meet His Fate" in which her participation is comparatively brief. However, he has a rousing solo, "On Parade", virtually to himself. MacDonald, on the other hand, is considerably up-staged by Ray Bolger (who, in this film — unlike his previous role in Rosalie — has nothing else to do but dance) in "Wooden Shoes". Both have ingenious production numbers and Eddy's dramatic gifts, which ran more naturally to light comedy than old-fashioned opera melodrama, are buoyantly serviced by the sprightly tattle-tale script. Although she preferred more dramatic roles, Jeanette MacDonald's "singing sweetheart" is no less charmingly vivacious. And both stars are handsomely served by Technicolor.
I was going to conclude by observing that it was a shame MacDonald and Eddy didn't make more out-and-out comedies. But of course they did try again with "I Married An Angel" (1942), their final collaboration, which was not nearly so commercially successful. (It's a pity that you could only use the Campbells' ingenious show-within-a-show idea once. It was certainly a mighty clever way of jettisoning a creaky old operetta story while retaining its magnificently vibrant songs).
MacDonald and Eddy were never more captivating or brightly presented, Van Dyke's pacey direction moves with a fluent slickness, production values are enjoyably lavish, while Slavko Vorkapich has created a remarkably inventive montage — a rare (perhaps unique?) accomplishment from the meticulously slow-working Technicolor laboratory. Sets, costumes are also exceptionally attractive in color, setting new standards for appealing opulence. In addition to all this visual gloss — and other smoothly professional technical credits including able sound recording and brisk film editing — there's that delightfully quip-witted, gently satirical Parker- Campbell script that provides such wonderfully comic opportunities for our gang of scene-stealing veterans.
Playing their volatile roles with commendable enthusiasm and pungent relish, Morgan, Auer and Bing make merry with hilarious bickering, while Reginald Gardiner almost steals the show as a cynically persuasive Hollywood agent. In smaller parts, Walburn and Watson are delightful, Gene Lockhart has an amusingly memorable cameo and I must especially applaud Betty Jaynes and Douglas McPhail as the duplicate "Sweethearts".
MacDonald and Eddy are not only in excellent collective voice, but for once are evenly matched — musically and dramatically. Eddy shares equally with MacDonald in most of their numbers except "Every Lover Must Meet His Fate" in which her participation is comparatively brief. However, he has a rousing solo, "On Parade", virtually to himself. MacDonald, on the other hand, is considerably up-staged by Ray Bolger (who, in this film — unlike his previous role in Rosalie — has nothing else to do but dance) in "Wooden Shoes". Both have ingenious production numbers and Eddy's dramatic gifts, which ran more naturally to light comedy than old-fashioned opera melodrama, are buoyantly serviced by the sprightly tattle-tale script. Although she preferred more dramatic roles, Jeanette MacDonald's "singing sweetheart" is no less charmingly vivacious. And both stars are handsomely served by Technicolor.
I was going to conclude by observing that it was a shame MacDonald and Eddy didn't make more out-and-out comedies. But of course they did try again with "I Married An Angel" (1942), their final collaboration, which was not nearly so commercially successful. (It's a pity that you could only use the Campbells' ingenious show-within-a-show idea once. It was certainly a mighty clever way of jettisoning a creaky old operetta story while retaining its magnificently vibrant songs).