A Trio of Musicals On Blu-ray: Broadway Melody of 1940 (1940), Athena (1954), and The Tender Trap (1955)

While I’ve never been a particular fan of musicals, I’ve found them to be a wonderful escape in these tense times. Recently I enjoyed a trio of them on newly-released Blu-rays from Warner Archive.

Broadway Melody of 1940 (1940) 

Ginger Rogers is rightfully Fred Astaire’s most famous partner. Together they possessed the perfect mix of skill and chemistry. The pairing of Eleanor Powell and Astaire in Broadway Melody of 1940 is another matter. It is an explosive match of talent; the two best dancers in Hollywood delighting in each other. 

George Murphy is game as the guy who hoofs with Powell until the magical match-up. We get a taste of Astaire and Powell’s high-stepping energy together in a couple of numbers, but the stunner is the climactic Begin the Beguine. Tapping across a highly-polished glass floor, they match each other move for move, with well-practiced precision, looking as if they are prancing among the stars, weightless and vibrant. To top it all off, they perform to the best Cole Porter tune in a film full of winners. It’s simply one of the best moments of classic Hollywood. 

Special features on the disc include Cole Porter in Hollywood: Begin the Beguine, Our Gang short The Big Premiere, the cartoon The Milky Way, and a theatrical trailer. 

Athena (1954) 

All I knew of this lesser-known musical before I pressed play was that it starred two of my favorite stars from the fifties: Jane Powell and Debbie Reynolds. This is a nice early venture for both of them, lightly entertaining, though without a single memorable original song in the mix. 

They are sisters in a large, eccentric family that owns a health food store and houses a gaggle of muscle men in training at an enormous hilltop mansion. Louis Calhern, in full Colonel Sanders white, is Grandpa, the patriarch of the clan. Evelyn Varden is his spacy, but spiritual wife. Powell (Athena) and Reynolds (Minerva) are two of their six granddaughters, all of them with ancient Greek and Roman names and obsessed with astrology and healthy living. Their vegetarianism and rejection of cigarettes and alcohol were quirky to the extreme at the time, now it just looks like your typical Instagram post. 

This film was my introduction to Vic Damone, a dreamy-eyed crooner who woos Minerva. He does a wonderful rendition of the Boy (Girl) Next Door from Meet Me in St. Louis for the film’s opener for an auditorium full of swooning teens. Edmund Purdom is an uptight businessman upon whom Athena sets her sights; he does a fine job injecting enough lightness into his persona from the beginning that you don’t wonder why this sparkling woman would want such a square. There are also a couple of stand-outs in the supporting cast. Steve Reeves, who was then best known for his Mr. Universe title, caught the attention of an Italian producer in his role here as one of the muscle men and was soon starring as Hercules in the series of films for which he would be best known. Linda Christian is also fabulously icy as Purdom’s fiancée, properly playing her role with the personality of a foundation garment. In a part that was meant to fade into the background, Henry Nakamura is especially charming and funny as Purdom’s servant. 

Special features on the disc include a trio of musical outtakes, a menu of song selections, and a theatrical trailer. 

The Tender Trap (1955) 

Frank Sinatra sets an easygoing tone from the first shot of The Tender Trap. He ambles towards the camera across a wide, empty landscape, singing the title tune with his characteristic warmth, inviting you into his orbit. He plays a charming talent agent up to his eyeballs in women, but lacking fidelity or an understanding of true intimacy. An old friend (David Wayne) comes to stay with him on a break from his own marriage, Sinatra begins to think he might be more serious about a television orchestra violin player (Celeste Holm), and then suddenly he meets Julie (Debbie Reynolds), a singer who claims to have her dream life all mapped out. 

It could all be a silly trifle good for passing a couple hours, but there’s a scene that elevates all the romantic nonsense. Sinatra watches Reynolds float through the title tune, without a hint of its meaning reaching her. He sits at the piano and puts the tune under his loving care, as he does, and she understands immediately what he is trying to communicate. It is the template for the rest of their relationship: he demonstrates that he is capable of emotional depth and she realizes that life and love can’t be planned out like a dinner party. According to Reynolds, that was precisely the way Sinatra himself approached a song himself and that as her friend he helped her to understand and more deeply absorb the feeling in lyrics. 

Special features on the disc include the featurette Frank in the Fifties, which includes great commentary from Reynolds, two excerpts from the television show The MGM Parade, and a theatrical trailer.

Many thanks to Warner Archive for providing a copies of the films for review.

On Blu-ray: Seven Brides for Seven Brothers (1954)

I’ve always been a bit iffy about Seven Brides for Seven Brothers (1954), as I feel anyone should be about a film that takes an essentially light view of kidnapping innocent young women from their homes. Perhaps that is why so much time has passed since the last time I saw this musical which, subject matter aside, is one of MGM’s greatest artistic and box office successes. Though I am always going to have a sense of unease about this production, it is nevertheless one of the great dance films and it is that element that I enjoyed the most while revisiting the production on a new Blu-ray double-disc set from Warner Archive.

In a busy frontier town, sharp-witted settler woman Milly (Jane Powell) is briskly wooed by burly backwoodsman Adam Pontipee (Howard Keel). Unfortunately, he neglects to mention to his new bride that in addition to her husband, she will be cooking and cleaning for his six brothers. Milly understandably revolts, but she is also in love with Adam. She makes the best of her situation by tutoring the other brothers in proper courting behavior.

The boys get a chance to try their new skills at a barn raising, but the afternoon ends in fistfights with their romantic rivals. Shut out of the town society where their intended brides live, they resort to kidnapping the women they wish to marry. Their escape is made complete by a valley-blocking avalanche. Now Milly must keep the frightened women “pure” until they can escape home in the summer thaw.

Brides was based on the short story The Sobbin’ Women by Stephen Vincent Benét, which was a parody of The Rape of the Sabine Women from Roman mythology. It’s a much rougher story than the film adaptation, with Milly not only suggesting the abductions, but also helping the men to abduct the women at rifle point. Of course mid-century moral conventions required that the film version of Milly have nothing to do with such a plot and show proper indignation.

Perhaps the most interesting thing about the plot of Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, is that in the midst of the fifties, a mainstream film featured a woman who prevailed over seven men in a war of wills. As much as the men in the film do to deceive, overpower and dominate the women they meet, it is Milly who ultimately controls what happens. She takes Adam to task over his trickery, changes the slovenly habits of a house full of men, and sets the terms for a long winter in which she must care for and protect six young women. Though she is content in playing a traditional caretaking role, every major decision made in her marriage and on her homestead is heavily influenced by her wishes.

As with many musicals though, the plot doesn’t get the bulk of attention, and rightfully so. Seven Brides for Seven Brothers is most famous for its athletic and physically challenging dance choreography, performed by the seemingly fearless dancers Tommy Rall, Marc Platt and Matt Mattox, with added gymnastics and tumbling feats from Russ Tamblyn. These men are the core of an astonishing barn-raising scene, featuring dozens of male and female dancers, which is understandably one of the most famous dance sequences to be put on film.

In a relatively small space, the Pontipee brothers face off with an equal number of rival suitors from the town as they try to woo the most eligible young ladies in the settlement. This sizable group of dancers leaps and twirls through the barn worksite. Recalling her time as one of the brides, Julie Newmar remembered the intensity of the atmosphere on set, where the peril to the performers was ever present. Each leap onto a sawhorse, every cartwheel or fast-paced turn, even stepping between beams on the open foundation could lead to a life-changing, or even fatal, injury. That all this raw athleticism was translated into such a visually beautiful number makes it all the more remarkable.

All told, Seven Brides for Seven Brothers works because it appears effortlessly entertaining. The songs are hummable, the stars and their supporting players pleasing, and everything moves at a brisk, breezy pace. It would be legendary for the power of its dance sequences alone, but it really sings because it works on all those different levels. I will probably always feel queasy about the kidnapping, but there’s no denying the MGM magic at play here.

The two-disc Blu-ray includes two versions of the film (which have been made available before in DVD): one made in Cinemascope, the other in standard format, so that MGM could ensure its desired level of quality whatever technical equipment a theater had. I’ve heard of big fans of the film noticing different inflections, etc. between the two versions. I haven’t seen it enough to catch those nuances, though I did notice that the standard version was in dramatically better condition.

Special features on the disc include the 1997 documentary Sobbin' Women: The Making of 'Seven Brides for Seven Brothers,' which was hosted by Howard Keel and features interviews with several of the key cast members. There’s also a newsreel, a vintage short and a setting that gives viewers the opportunity to browse the songs in the film.

Many thanks to Warner Archive for providing a copy of the film for review. To order, visit The Warner Archive Collection.

Monday Serenade: Jane Powell in The Girl Most Likely (1958)

I adore Jane Powell. Everything about her twinkles, from her trilling voice to her friendly eyes (though they did often have a slightly melancholy look to them). Here she sings I Don't Know What I Want in the 1958 musical The Girl Most Likely.