The opening number starts with Liza sitting solo on a stage stool. Wearing a black sequined pant suit with Minnelli Red lining she starts to sing You want to sing it, you want to shout it, Happy Birthday. You can't imagine or be prepared for what happens next! The medley of all medley's. She does a semi costumed impersonation of Theda Barry on a train set travel-ling from NYC to California. Actors Tom Bosley, William Shattner, Gil Gerrard and Mike Connors provide the four big movie moguls all talking about how they are going to make it big! During this time Liza skirts in and about before donning Charlie Chaplin's Tramp-like attire. The costume, Velcro attached covers her sequined pants and top until various male dancers carefully remove it. The finally has Liza wearing a white stole atop her sequins, covered in perspiration, bringing the finally to a close. This is a great TV number. Now if only it were available on DVD!!!
4 Reviews
A little bit goes a long way, and this took it way over the top.
mark.waltz4 June 2017
Warning: Spoilers
Hollywood, the plot of land that runs through Southern California from Western Avenue to La Brea has taken on a legend all of its own. Movies may have their premiers there but most are made elsewhere. The Oscars are held there (having been in other parts of the L.A. basin) and so when you discuss the movie industry, somehow the ideal of Hollywood comes up, an adjective rather than a location. In 1987, practically all of the movie industry showed up to pay tribute to the ideal of the movie industry if not the district.
This is less on the track of land and more on the history of movies, and it's jampacked with stars: legendary ones, notorious ones, flashes in the pan and now has-beens. At times, it seems to be headed into pretentious overload, only really purposeful as a fundraiser for the Motion Pictures Hospital and Home, giving Katharine Hepburn the chance to appear in a previously taped segment. A long tribute to "the duke", John Wayne, is moving, and tributes to stunt men, special effects, horror stars, comic masters and the message film are interesting and profound. But an overabundance of musical numbers makes this somewhat self congratulatory in their excess.
This is the opportunity to see Liza Minnelli sing and dance as Charlie Chaplin in the longest opening number ever. "Hundreds of Girls" from "Mack and Mabel" becomes the glue to hold together a tribute to Busby Berkeley. A lengthy parody of movie musicals is elegantly staged but overstuffed with TV personalities and has-beens. Then, Ann Miller and a bunch of talented male dancers shake the blues away, leading to a bizarre display of actors from TV and film, some of them appearing a bit tipsy. The over applause of the audience is distracting and even a bit obnoxious.
So if you want to catch brief glimpses of the hundreds of stars in various states of exposure (publicity for some of them in new films) this is a lengthy and often frustrating special. It succeeds in its efforts to entertain, but when you really think about it, the entire setup seems s lengthy "Happy Birthday to Me', "Aren't I special?" sort of feeling about it. After a while, it's a shameless plug and needs to stop putting so much emphasis on spectacular. Subtlety is not this special's high point.
This is less on the track of land and more on the history of movies, and it's jampacked with stars: legendary ones, notorious ones, flashes in the pan and now has-beens. At times, it seems to be headed into pretentious overload, only really purposeful as a fundraiser for the Motion Pictures Hospital and Home, giving Katharine Hepburn the chance to appear in a previously taped segment. A long tribute to "the duke", John Wayne, is moving, and tributes to stunt men, special effects, horror stars, comic masters and the message film are interesting and profound. But an overabundance of musical numbers makes this somewhat self congratulatory in their excess.
This is the opportunity to see Liza Minnelli sing and dance as Charlie Chaplin in the longest opening number ever. "Hundreds of Girls" from "Mack and Mabel" becomes the glue to hold together a tribute to Busby Berkeley. A lengthy parody of movie musicals is elegantly staged but overstuffed with TV personalities and has-beens. Then, Ann Miller and a bunch of talented male dancers shake the blues away, leading to a bizarre display of actors from TV and film, some of them appearing a bit tipsy. The over applause of the audience is distracting and even a bit obnoxious.
So if you want to catch brief glimpses of the hundreds of stars in various states of exposure (publicity for some of them in new films) this is a lengthy and often frustrating special. It succeeds in its efforts to entertain, but when you really think about it, the entire setup seems s lengthy "Happy Birthday to Me', "Aren't I special?" sort of feeling about it. After a while, it's a shameless plug and needs to stop putting so much emphasis on spectacular. Subtlety is not this special's high point.
Appallingly awful
HotToastyRag2 May 2022
It would have been so easy to make the 100th celebration of Hollywood touching and sincere. It took me thirty seconds to plan out half a dozen better ideas than writers William Moritz and Hildy Parks did in the two-and-a-half hour television special in 1987. It hardly even felt like a tribute to Hollywood, since classic bits you'd learn in any film history class weren't even mentioned. In fact, the opening musical number (which was basically "The Liza Minnelli Hour") contained a massive historical inaccuracy: doesn't everyone know "Hollywoodland" was its original title? All the large production numbers featured one or two soloists who told a fictional tale of their quest for fame in Hollywood, with backup dancers knocking themselves out and impressive set pieces showing glitz and glam. But the spectacles had nothing to do with Hollywood! I never found out who wrote the atrocious original songs, but musical director Elliot Lawrence probably should have refused to associate his name with them. Screaming and belting notes that have no relationship with each other does not constitute a good song - and it certainly doesn't remind audiences of old Hollywood.
One would think that a one-hundred-year celebration would celebrate all one hundred years, but this special spent hardly any time paying tribute to the silent era. Forty of the supposedly celebrated years were used making silent pictures, and the vast majority of the special showed clips and named references of films from the 1970s and 1980s. A handful of clips showed the 1940s (like Casablanca) and 1960s, and an even less amount showed the 1930s and 1950s. The reason was obvious: it was more of a moneymaker to get audiences revved up watching an action montage that included clips from Romancing the Stone and Indiana Jones, than clips from The Mask of Zorro and Captain Blood. After all, Tyrone Power and Errol Flynn were deceased and no longer making movies; but Michael Douglas and Harrison Ford were viable box office draws in 1987.
Certain film montages (which I thought would have been more plentiful) showed promise of being thoughtful and a true celebration of Hollywood. A brief "in memorium" montage showed photographs of icons lost through the years, but major stars were left out. Fred Astaire, Bing Crosby, and Judy Garland were missing - how is that possible when Ginger Rogers, Bob Hope, and Liza Minnelli were on the stage? Burt Reynolds gave a speech about renowned stuntman Hal Needham, the only one to have received an Honorary Oscar, followed by a montage of stunts - but once again the montage was heavy on the '70s and '80s. And what about paying tribute to A. Arnold Gillespie, one of the greatest special effects creators of all time (both versions of Ben-Hur, North by Northwest, The Wizard of Oz, Green Dolphin Street, They Were Expendable, The Beginning or the End, Valley of Decision, and San Francisco to name a few)?
There was a needless ten-minute medley tribute to Johnny Mercer's songs, performed by Sammy Davis, Jr. And Debbie Allen, who were hardly known for their films. Not a single other songwriter was mentioned. Irving Berlin, Paul Francis Webster, Burt Bacharach, the Bergmans, the Gershwins, the Shermans, or the illustrious team at Disney, could have had an entertaining medley; why was Mercer singled out? In one little speech, the speaker literally told the audience that movies would be nothing without music in them; then the subject was dropped and there was never any mention of the great composers who transformed films. Pioneers Alfred Newman, Max Steiner, John Williams, Erich Korngold, and Elmer Bernstein all went ignored in the birthday celebration.
The only director given a special honor was Busby Berkely, as a needlessly long and impossible to remember musical number showcased "hundreds of girls". John Ford was mentioned in an aside during John Wayne's montage (incidentally, Wayne was the only actor to receive his own montage), but no one else was even given so much as a shout-out. Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton, D. W. Griffith, William Wyler, Orson Welles, Alfred Hitchcock, Frank Capra, Billy Wilder, Otto Preminger, Stanley Kramer, Stanley Kubrick, and Ingmar Bergman were all ignored. Screenwriters - without whom the spotlight-seeking actors would have nothing to say - were forgotten about. Editing could (and should) have been the subject of a historical speech, because of the changing nature of the profession. Women used to literally scissor-cut and paste strips of film together with pieces of tape. What about the invention of sound, the change of black-and-white to Technicolor, or other technical changes like aspect ratio? "You ain't heard nothin' yet," the most famous spoken line in film history, wasn't included in any montage. Instead, a ten-minute production number was given to Bernadette Peters as a hypothetical starlet who works her way up to the top, with Van Johnson narrating and Treat Williams as her leading man. As interesting as it was to learn Treat was a song and dance man, and as nice as it was to hear Van singing decades after his heyday, it was a complete waste of time.
The entire production catered to self-serving actors and actresses who wanted a bit of limelight and a plug for their latest movie. Several actors "phoned in" and taped a video message wishing Hollywood a happy birthday, but they all stated what movie they were filming so the audience could make note of it and keep an eye on the theaters. Youngsters who had no business participating in a historical celebration were given the opportunity to wave, speak, or present a montage: Aly Sheedy, Drew Barrymore, Marlee Matlin, Henry Winkler, Tony Danza, John Ritter, Alan Thicke, etc. While Katharine Hepburn, the great female icon of the screen, gave a taped video promoting an old folks home. How insulting is that? Old timers like Luise Rainer, Lillian Gish, Cesar Romero, Ruby Keeler, Alice Faye, and Arlene Dahl, were given about five seconds to wave at the camera during a group chorus number. After the Busby Berkeley segment, how could they not bring Ruby Keeler, star of 42nd Street, up on the stage to speak?
Quite frankly, the entire production was appalling. In the time it took me to write this scathing review, I could have planned out an entirely different lineup, done rough-cut edits of coordinating film montages, and sent email invitations out to more fitting Hollywood artists (of all professions, not just actors) to introduce them.
One would think that a one-hundred-year celebration would celebrate all one hundred years, but this special spent hardly any time paying tribute to the silent era. Forty of the supposedly celebrated years were used making silent pictures, and the vast majority of the special showed clips and named references of films from the 1970s and 1980s. A handful of clips showed the 1940s (like Casablanca) and 1960s, and an even less amount showed the 1930s and 1950s. The reason was obvious: it was more of a moneymaker to get audiences revved up watching an action montage that included clips from Romancing the Stone and Indiana Jones, than clips from The Mask of Zorro and Captain Blood. After all, Tyrone Power and Errol Flynn were deceased and no longer making movies; but Michael Douglas and Harrison Ford were viable box office draws in 1987.
Certain film montages (which I thought would have been more plentiful) showed promise of being thoughtful and a true celebration of Hollywood. A brief "in memorium" montage showed photographs of icons lost through the years, but major stars were left out. Fred Astaire, Bing Crosby, and Judy Garland were missing - how is that possible when Ginger Rogers, Bob Hope, and Liza Minnelli were on the stage? Burt Reynolds gave a speech about renowned stuntman Hal Needham, the only one to have received an Honorary Oscar, followed by a montage of stunts - but once again the montage was heavy on the '70s and '80s. And what about paying tribute to A. Arnold Gillespie, one of the greatest special effects creators of all time (both versions of Ben-Hur, North by Northwest, The Wizard of Oz, Green Dolphin Street, They Were Expendable, The Beginning or the End, Valley of Decision, and San Francisco to name a few)?
There was a needless ten-minute medley tribute to Johnny Mercer's songs, performed by Sammy Davis, Jr. And Debbie Allen, who were hardly known for their films. Not a single other songwriter was mentioned. Irving Berlin, Paul Francis Webster, Burt Bacharach, the Bergmans, the Gershwins, the Shermans, or the illustrious team at Disney, could have had an entertaining medley; why was Mercer singled out? In one little speech, the speaker literally told the audience that movies would be nothing without music in them; then the subject was dropped and there was never any mention of the great composers who transformed films. Pioneers Alfred Newman, Max Steiner, John Williams, Erich Korngold, and Elmer Bernstein all went ignored in the birthday celebration.
The only director given a special honor was Busby Berkely, as a needlessly long and impossible to remember musical number showcased "hundreds of girls". John Ford was mentioned in an aside during John Wayne's montage (incidentally, Wayne was the only actor to receive his own montage), but no one else was even given so much as a shout-out. Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton, D. W. Griffith, William Wyler, Orson Welles, Alfred Hitchcock, Frank Capra, Billy Wilder, Otto Preminger, Stanley Kramer, Stanley Kubrick, and Ingmar Bergman were all ignored. Screenwriters - without whom the spotlight-seeking actors would have nothing to say - were forgotten about. Editing could (and should) have been the subject of a historical speech, because of the changing nature of the profession. Women used to literally scissor-cut and paste strips of film together with pieces of tape. What about the invention of sound, the change of black-and-white to Technicolor, or other technical changes like aspect ratio? "You ain't heard nothin' yet," the most famous spoken line in film history, wasn't included in any montage. Instead, a ten-minute production number was given to Bernadette Peters as a hypothetical starlet who works her way up to the top, with Van Johnson narrating and Treat Williams as her leading man. As interesting as it was to learn Treat was a song and dance man, and as nice as it was to hear Van singing decades after his heyday, it was a complete waste of time.
The entire production catered to self-serving actors and actresses who wanted a bit of limelight and a plug for their latest movie. Several actors "phoned in" and taped a video message wishing Hollywood a happy birthday, but they all stated what movie they were filming so the audience could make note of it and keep an eye on the theaters. Youngsters who had no business participating in a historical celebration were given the opportunity to wave, speak, or present a montage: Aly Sheedy, Drew Barrymore, Marlee Matlin, Henry Winkler, Tony Danza, John Ritter, Alan Thicke, etc. While Katharine Hepburn, the great female icon of the screen, gave a taped video promoting an old folks home. How insulting is that? Old timers like Luise Rainer, Lillian Gish, Cesar Romero, Ruby Keeler, Alice Faye, and Arlene Dahl, were given about five seconds to wave at the camera during a group chorus number. After the Busby Berkeley segment, how could they not bring Ruby Keeler, star of 42nd Street, up on the stage to speak?
Quite frankly, the entire production was appalling. In the time it took me to write this scathing review, I could have planned out an entirely different lineup, done rough-cut edits of coordinating film montages, and sent email invitations out to more fitting Hollywood artists (of all professions, not just actors) to introduce them.
ONE GREAT SEGMENT
rms125a21 April 2019
I agree with mark.waltz regarding this tribute but the tribute to the actresses of the Silver Screen (Drew Barrymore's inclusion was surely a joke), a couple of whom are still alive (Shirley Jones and Angie Dickinson), especially featuring Luise Rainer, Ginger Rogers, Alice Faye, Lana Turner, and others WAS wonderful and, I think, pretty classily done. Everyone introduced by alphabetical order, so completely fair. Ruby Keeler looked, sadly, like she was not doing well health-wise (she died of cancer in 1993 but that was six years later) , however, Maureen O'Sullivan was the essence of lustrous beauty, incredible grace, and warmth, and Alice Faye was spry and game.
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