A most dispiriting way for good director Mitchell Leisen to call it a career. Just a tired, somnolent, lifeless affair all around with songs by Blaine and Martin that show just how far Balboa is from St. Louis in time, space and musical quality. Aside from an interesting Gower Champion choreographed dance number that nicely subverts the 1950s ethos of materialism, status and conformity (and which is itself promptly subverted by the entire film's underlying message that all a woman needs to be fulfilled is a man to take care of her) and some interesting glimpses of Orange County's South Bay before it became an official adjunct of Palm Beach this is Newt Minnow's vast wasteland five years before the FCC chair made that infamous statement re: TV. Oh well, at least it performed one vital public service, namely removing Jane Powell from the big screen. Give it a C.
Review of The Girl Most Likely
