ROADSHOW: The Fall of Film Musicals in the 1960s

ROADSHOW: The Fall of Film Musicals in the 1960s. Matthew Kennedy. Oxford University Press; 2014.

If you've reached a certain age you may remember going with your parents to see big, splashy, over-produced versions of Broadway musicals such as The Sound of Music, which I saw at the Rivoli in New York when I was a kid. You may not remember that many of these films were released as "roadshows" -- you got tickets and reserved seats in advance -- and while most of these roadshows were musicals, a few were not. They were long, often had intermissions, and, of course, higher ticket prices. [The last roadshow I remember seeing was, of all things, Last Tango in Paris.] In any case, with wit, solid research, and large doses of amiability, Matthew Kennedy traces the birth and death of the roadshow musical in this marvelously entertaining and very well-written volume. Once upon a time Julie Andrews [Darling Lili] was seen as the greatest thing since sliced bread, but that was before she appeared in Star! and others and soon her "mega-star" days were over. Then we have all the musical adaptations -- Paint Your Wagon, Camelot, Goodbye Mr. Chips -- in which most of the lead performers could not sing.  When producers ran out of Broadway shows to adapt (Funny Girl, Hello Dolly) they made musicals out of films that originally had no music in them  (the aforementioned Mr. Chips) or adapted films, such as Dr. Dolittle and The Happiest Millionaire, from other medium. And we mustn't forget the hilarious "feud" between Barbra Streisand [A Star is Born] and Carol Channing [The First Traveling Saleslady] when the former got the coveted part in Hello Dolly which Channing felt should have been hers. Roadshow dissects what went wrong with most of these over-bloated pictures, whose musical values were often lost behind inappropriate actors and overblown budgets, as well as producers and directors who often had no idea what they were doing, such as Joshua Logan of Paint Your Wagon. Broadway adaptations of the previous decade may have been more effective (Carousel, The King and I etc.), but  in the sixties for every Sound of Music there were half a dozen or more critical and financial mega-turkeys.

Verdict: Compulsorily readable! ****.

THE FIRST TRAVELING SALESLADY

Very odd pairing: Clint Eastwood and Carol Channing

THE FIRST TRAVELING SALESLADY (1956). Producer/director: Arthur Lubin.

In 1897 feminist Rose Gillray (Ginger Rogers) tries to make a killing selling corsets, but when that doesn't pan out she inveigles a job selling barbed wire in the wild west, but has to deal with a powerful rancher, James Carter (David Brian), who is opposed to the use of it. Rose has a sort of thing going with Charles (Barry Nelson,) who has a horseless carriage, while her assistant Molly (Carol Channing) becomes embroiled in a romance with Lt. Rice (Clint Eastwood) in one of filmdom's strangest pairings. The performances are all good in this, with Rogers affecting a high squeaky voice and Channing, sounding just like "Satchmo," just being her own weird self. James Arness [The Thing from Another World] and Tristram Coffin [Up in the Air] have smaller roles.

Verdict: Cute picture. ***.

DIARY OF A MAD PLAYWRIGHT: Perilous Adventures On the Road with Mary Martin and Carol Channing

DIARY OF A MAD PLAYWRIGHT: Perilous Adventures On the Road with Mary Martin and Carol Channing. James Kirkwood. Applause Books; 1989.

When playwright James Kirkwood went on the road with Legends, a comedy about two aging and feuding divas, he kept a journal of the goings-on which is reproduced in this compulsory readable book. With what seems complete and often scathing honesty, Kirkwood dissects his stars, supporting players, director, and producers, but in so doing offers much insight into the process that goes on in mounting a production beset with insecure if massive egos, strangely inept and timid directors, producers who want power but don't have any experience, and a million problems that seem petty but interfere in both the creative process and in bringing the public the best possible entertainment. The talented Mary Martin has such terrible trouble remembering her lines that it's a wonder everyone didn't throw up their hands and fire her with regret, and the clown-like, almost grotesque Channing, while cruel and impatient at times, also had difficulty acting with someone who [during the first few months of performances] received all of her lines from a special plug in her ear. Of course the book, as wickedly entertaining as it is, does leave a few questions, such as how did Kirkwood [unless he taped everything or had an encyclopedic memory] manage to reproduce such lengthy conversations, even if he jotted things down a few hours later? He also doesn't seem to get why a black actress might have some problems with the sassy, lovable Hattie McDaniel-type maid she's required to play, seeing that McDaniel's hey-day was forty years earlier, but then Kirkwood refers to his and other's gay lovers as "dear friends" throughout the book, a practice which is both quaint and passe. Whatever its flaws, Diary of a Mad Playwright only confirms what most of us already knew or suspected about the overbearing egos of stars and others in the Theater. And it's a page-turner. One suspects that this book is better than the play that inspired it.

Verdict: No, it's not world peace, but try to put the darn thing down. ***1/2.