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It's De-Lovely
(Cole Porter)
Although it gets points for dealing with Porter's homosexuality and casting
the wonderful Kevin Kline, this film desecrates Cole's wonderful songs by
putting them in the mouths of pop singers who ruin almost every number. The
screenplay is at times incoherent, leaving some very fine actors to flounder
helplessly. What a senseless waste.
Funny Girl
We've had so many questions on this film that the answers rate
a separate page.
Funny Lady (Fanny Brice)
Like Funny Girl, this sequel film bears limited resemblance to reality. While
Fanny Brice had a genuine affection for ex-husband Nick Arnstein, she did not
spend her later years endlessly pining for a reunion. In fact, she tried to keep that
crook as removed from her affairs as possible. The real Billy
Rose was short and unattractive, nothing like the hunky James Caan. That
said, Funny Lady is very entertaining, one of the few first-rate musical
sequels. It allows Streisand to sing several fine period songs associated with
Brice, as well as some new gems by no less than Kander and Ebb -- and gives a reasonable outline of
Brice's late career on stage, screen and radio. It ends on a hopeful note --
just before Brice's all too early death due to heart failure at age 59.
The Great Waltz
There have been various stage and screen versions of the life of Johann
Strauss Jr. entitled The Great Waltz -- and none of them bears more
than a passing resemblance to historical fact. He worked primarily in
Vienna, had a scandalous affair that ended his first marriage and led into
another, and was a prodigious composer. Although his father tried to squelch
his early career, Johann Jr. completely eclipsed him. Beyond that, the MGM
screen versions are fictitious confections -- the difference being that the
1938 film offers tons of mindless fun, while the 1972 attempt is a moronic
bore.
The Jolson Story (Al Jolson)
The egotistical Jolson had final approval over the script for The Jolson Story,
so only a few shreds of harmless truth made it into the film. Among other things, his real
"mammy" died when he was a small boy, and he had a series of incredibly unhappy
marriages – each ruined by his self-centered obsessions. When ex-wife Ruby Keeler
threatened to sue Columbia Studios for depicting her without permission, the character
based on her was renamed and re-written to bear limited resemblance to her. But
the public knew exactly who was based on who. The sequel, Jolson Sings Again,
plays just as creatively with the facts.
Lillian Russell
Russell's soprano voice was nothing like Alice Faye's smoky baritone, and
Faye is far more petite than the woman who's hefty hourglass figure became one
of the cultural icons of the 1890s. Weber and Fields appear as offstage
versions of their burlesque personas, not as the sophisticated businessmen
they actually were. Tony Pastor did not have a thick Italian accent, and
there is no evidence that "Diamond" Jim Brady was ever
more than a friend to Russell. The lovesick reporter portrayed by Henry
Fonda is vaguely based on Alexander Moore, Russell's third husband. Don
Ameche's mostly fictional character is loosely based on John Stromberg, an
American songwriter who committed suicide after writing the hit "Come Down Ma'
Evenin' Star" for Russell. Gilbert and Sullivan did not write an
operetta for Russell, and they never allowed anyone to interpolate songs by
other composers in their operettas. Because of rights issues, the songs in
the film are mostly inferior substitutes for Russell's actual hits.
Look For the Silver Lining (Marilyn Miller)
 Marilyn Miller's
family did wear baroque court costumes in their vaudeville act. Other
than that harmless fact, this film is a load of rather bland hogwash. The
meager June Haver cannot
even begin to suggest the charms that made Miller the toast of the 1920s. The real
Marilyn was no backstage innocent – in fact, she was tough as nails with a mouth to
match. She had to be to survive battles with Flo Ziegfeld and the other challenges
of stardom. The depiction of a distraught Miller collapsing when her husband dies is an
outright lie. According to all sources, she learned of his tragic death shortly before
a performance, then went on with the show. She did not revive Sally
in her final years – by then, her career had been ended by a series
of crippling infections. The wonderful Ray Bolger dances off with this film,
despite the fact that his
character is fictional. Where the rest of this film meanders, his dance routines
soar, especially his delightful rendition of "Who."
Night and Day (Cole Porter)
Cole Porter wrote songs, had a wife named Linda, and was great friends with Monty
Wooley – on most other points, this film borders on science fiction. The
diminutive Cole was more than flattered to be depicted by the ravishing Cary
Grant – how ironic to have one closeted gay celebrity portray another!
Mary Martin re-created her legendary "My Heart Belongs to Daddy," but
Ethel Merman (who appeared in many Porter shows) was replaced by a fictional
belter.
Rhapsody in Blue (George Gershwin)
The Gershwins were a close-knit family, and it is true that publisher Max
Dreyfus played a key role in George's career. It is also true that Al Jolson
interpolated "Swanee" into one of his shows, making the tune a
tremendous hit. Otherwise, this screenplay offers a maze of cornball fantasies.
"Swanee" had already been used in a flop show, and it was far from
Gershwin's first published song. Having Jolson, Oscar Levant, Paul Whiteman
and other celebrities on hand to play themselves adds the appearance of
veracity, but Robert Alda's almost saintly characterization of George was designed
to appease the Gershwin family. The gifted composer was an infamous womanizer and
relentless self-promoter. The two girlfriends played by Joan Leslie and
Alexis Smith are fictional, clumsy attempts to introduce personal conflict into a
life that had almost none. His death occurred
after emergency brain surgery – a risky business today, let alone in the 1930s.
The Story of Vernon and Irene Castle
In their one non-fictional film, Astaire and Rogers paid loving tribute to the first
great American dance team. The genial story is based loosely on the facts.
The real Irene Castle was on hand to make sure some of the period dance steps
were authentic, but some of the routines are pure Fred and Ginger – which
is certainly NOT a bad thing! Vernon was killed in a WWI plane crash while training a
new pilot, much as is depicted in this film. As Hollywood musical bios go,
this one is a major winner, and a fitting conclusion to the wonderful series
Astaire & Rogers starred in for RKO.
Three Little Words (Kalmar & Ruby)
It is true that Kalmar was a devoted amateur
magician, and that his career as a vaudeville hoofer was cut short by an
injury. The real Ruby was a lifelong baseball devotee, and appears briefly in this
film as a professional ball player. However, in making this film, MGM had a
slight problem -- during their long and hit-filled
collaboration, songwriters Bert Kalmar and Harry Ruby had enjoyed a cordial
and remarkably drama-free relationship. So the conflicts that fuel the
minimal plot of Three Little Words are all fictional -- these boys were on
the most cordial terms
until Kalmar's death in 1947.
Till the Clouds Roll By (Jerome Kern)
Kern lived something of a charmed life, so MGM had to invent all kinds of
fictional material to fill out this musical film bio. The mentor-arranger
played by Van Heflin is totally fictional, as is that character's talented
daughter, played on screen by Lucille Bremer. It is true that Kern met
his beloved wife at an English county inn, where he asked to use her piano
as a means of introducing himself. He also barely missed sailing on the
Lusitania's tragic final voyage with producer Charles Frohman --
but otherwise, the events depicted in this film have nothing to do with
Kern's actual life.
Words and Music (Rodgers & Hart)
This was a tough one to film in the 1940s. Not only was Richard Rodgers still
around to make sure no one besmirched his name, but Larry Hart's key problem
-- namely, his homosexuality -- could not be discussed or even inferred on screen. So
Words and Music was forced to perpetuate the nonsensical view that the diminutive
Hart was driven to self-destruction because no woman would have him. (As if
there weren't legions of ambitious chorines who slept with powerful but unattractive men
to get a break in show business?) It is true that Hart would scratch out lyrics on any
available scrap of paper. However, as far as we know, he never sang a duet with Judy
Garland -- that delightful but gratuitous bit was invented to reunite Garland with former
screen partner Mickey Rooney.
Yankee Doodle Dandy (George M. Cohan)
 George's devotion to his
parents and sister was quite real, and some of the numbers in this
film accurately recreate period performance styles. They even brought in one
of Cohan's dance assistants to help James Cagney capture some of Cohan's unique stage
deportment. Cohan was contending with terminal cancer while this film
was being made, but he took such an active interest that the studio (fearing
he might withdraw the rights to his songs) made several changes to
mollify him – and to avoid lawsuits from other persons
depicted in the script. Some notable points –
- George M. Cohan had two wives – neither was named Mary, and
both were professional actresses. (Warner Brothers later claimed that Cohan insisted
on this fiction, but existing archival materials suggest that this is not
true.)
- Cohan's bitter feud with Actors Equity goes unmentioned, even though it
overshadowed his later life and was the probable cause for his break-up with
longtime business partner Sam Harris.
- Contrary to the film, Cohan's sister Josie died in 1916, his father
Jerry in 1917. His mother Nellie did not pass away until much later, in 1928.
- Because World War II started while this film was in production, changes were
made for propaganda . . . er, I mean patriotic purposes. Cohan's unsuccessful play
Popularity (the film says it played six performances, but it
actually ran for 24) was moved from 1906 to 1915 – so it could coincide
with the sinking of the Lusitania. Despite what the film implies,
America did not enter World War I until two years after that tragedy.
- Cohan played President Franklin Roosevelt in Rodgers & Hart's
I'd Rather Be Right in 1936. In another wartime touch, the film moves
the show to 1942 and adds a new anti-Axis verse to "Off the Record."
- Cohan so bitterly resented Rodgers & Hart that he insisted they go
unmentioned in the film. However, their names do appear in fine print in the credits.
- When Cohan received his Congressional medal from Roosevelt, it was no surprise
– he had delayed the ceremony as an insult to Roosevelt, whose politics
he did not agree with. Reporters were on hand for the midday presentation, and
photos of the event survive.
You can learn more in our Cohan
101 section.
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