Rosalie (1937)

Fans of Eleanor Powell will wonder how she detoured into this Jeanette MacDonald/Nelson Eddy overblown costume piece — and in the role of Jeanette MacDonald no less! Whereas delicate Jeanette would have floated through this pageant with an air of fluttering dignity, pants-wearing Ellie delivers too much punch for a princess. She barks most of her lines and unfortunately comes off as a bitch. A more delicate actress would have softened the barrage of “womanly” insults laid on Nelson Eddy and we would know this meant she was smitten. But with the confidant and athletic Powell delivering the insults you really start to wonder if wooden Eddy is a masochist or just extremely submissive. It’s an electric energy that cost Powell her spotlight, and didn’t fit with MGM’s idea of what a feminine leading lady should be.

Those who are fascinated by Ellie’s unusual (at least on film) gender-play will be thrilled to see her “go all the way” and dress as a man to sneak into a military academy where she leads the cadets in a marching drill in front of a phallic war memorial. While Powell is hardly mannish (and here with Jeanette’s wardrobe and make-up budget she never looked prettier) the production plays with her “masculinity” and dresses her in all extremes of buttoned-downed marching band jackets and crisp uniforms, interspersed with overly feminine gowns with frou-frou puffy sleeves and Jeanette’s corkscrew curls. It’s an inconsistent and mostly unsuccessful gender dichotomy — especially when compared to her smart wardrobe play and winning charisma in the Broadway Melody films.

Her tap numbers are too few and too short — a Pieroette “ballet” on giant drums is an weird jumble of inconsistent imagery, and a brief scene with Ray Bolger makes you wish they’d shared a competitive dance of lightning legwork rather than the time-wasting dialog in the script. Other supporting players are also underused: as the Queen, Edna May Oliver appears briefly in a tiered nightgown that exaggerates her Olive Oil frame, and Frank Morgan does his best to keep the banter rolling as a befuddled monarch with a ventriloquist dummy, but there isn’t enough comedy here to entertain. A sudden accidental revolution in the tiny Balkan monarchy has potential, but is dropped just as quickly. Even the production numbers are too short, following the pattern of the other MacDonald/Eddy films where actual choreography and musical style are ignored for lots and lots of extras (1500 in one scene by some accounts) arranged in expensive costumes and plenty of operetta bombast from Eddy.

Some moments shine, including a stunning solo by Ilona Massey as a nouveau Queen of the Night: she descends a marble staircase followed by an admiring fawn. Nine original songs by Cole Porter include “I’ve a Strange New Rhythm in My Heart”, “Spring Love is in the Air”, “In the Still of the Night”, and “To Love or Not To Love”. An abrupt wedding finale is a lovely tiered cake of gowned women, candelabras, and cellophane drapes, but leaves you wondering what the hell happened.

Other than seeing Eleanor Powell in one of her few starring roles this is a forgettable film that shows no one to advantage, except possibly MGM’s costume department. I can see how this was originally a vehicle for Marion Davies because the sets are jaw-droppingly huge.

Glorifying the American Girl (1929)

It’s nice to hear Mary Eaton speak frankly to her boyfriend (a dreamy Edward Crandall) about wanting to live a little and see what she can do before settling down and raising children. He’s visibly hurt, but not petulant or insulting (like every boyfriend/husband in Ziegfeld Girl and The Dolly Sisters). He does wait for her and seems genuinely supportive of her success…, but eventually settles for available girl-next-door Gloria Shea — who actually is treated pretty badly by the film: abandoned and hit by a car! That’s what chasing love gets you….

Eaton discovers her beau has moved on just before she goes out for the finale in the Follies, and you see the emotions hit her as she struggles under the weight of an enormous headpiece that cascades around her like a fountain. Ok, so it’s not exactly deep, but at least she doesn’t die of alcohol poisoning or get slapped around like in the exploitational Ziegfeld Girl.
…more about Glorifying the American Girl

The Bliss of Mrs Blossom (1968)

If you don’t love Shirley MacClaine then you haven’t seen The Bliss of Mrs Blossom, a surreal skewering of marriage and conventionality. Mrs Blossom adores her stodgy workaholic husband, but also keeps a younger man hidden in the attic for daytime fantasies and romantic romps. Mr Blossom is so busy at the factory saving the world with an inflatable bra that he doesn’t notice for several years! Is polyandry the answer to woman’s happiness?

The gogo ’60s has no shortage of swinger movies and sexual epiphanies, but none are as sweet or as fun as Mrs Blossom. MacClaine is wonderful in a swirl of gauzy gaudy dresses straight from Carnaby Street, spiraling hair pieces, and false eyelashes a mile long. Her lovely cottage home, presumably the result of her many days alone, is practically a fourth character in the film with brightly painted art nouveau flowers and carefully detailed domestic trimmings (like the miniature village tea set). The billiards parlor is a riot of psychedelic purple paisleys, and her paintings are straight out of Yellow Submarine. Contrast with a later trip to a pop-psychiatrist whose office is all blinking lights, metal structures, and industrial gadgetry.
…more about Bliss of Mrs Blossom

Balcony Railing 1905-07

Art Nouveau balcony railing by Hector Guimard.
Hector Guimard French, 1876-1942
at the Museum of Modern Art, NYC

What’s New Pussycat? (1965)

Michael James (Peter O’Toole) has got it rough. Beautiful women throw themselves at him, and despite being engaged he doesn’t have the strength to say no. His therapist Fritz Fassbender (Peter Sellers in his funniest role ever) isn’t helping, in fact he’s started following Michael hoping for leftovers! Another so-called friend (Woody Allen, who based the script on the hectic love life of Warren Beatty) is hoping Michael will fail so he can have a chance with the’s adorable broken hearted fiancée (Romy Schneider).

There’s no shortage of lovely women! Paula Prentiss is a crazy stripper who writes political poetry and overdoses on pills each time Micheal tries to end their affair. Harder to resist is the sublime Capuccine, a sophisticated sex-addict from Fassbender’s group therapy. By the time nymphomaniac Ursula Andress parachutes directly into Micheal’s car the laughs are coming so fast your face hurts.

Like Casino Royale two years later, there isn’t much plot (or maybe there’s too much plot), and rapid fire comedy flies from all corners. A swinging score by Burt Bacharach sets off a series of exquisite Parisian art nouveau locations, climaxing at an off-season chateau where all players converge in an out of kilter farce of escalating chase scenes. Throw in a transvestite, a Valkyrie, a terrorist, a jealous husband, and Michael’s future in-laws racing across the French countryside in stolen gocarts.