The Gang's All Here (U.)
Directed by Busby Berkeley.
Starring Alice Faye, Carmen Miranda, Phil Baker, Eugene Pallette, Charlotte Greenwood and James Ellison. 1943. 103 mins. Released on September 15th by Eureka in their Masters of Cinema series.
This wartime technicolor Busby Berkeley musical extravaganza is a delirium of naffness; perhaps that is why it was so successful in an early 70s re-release that saw the film embraced by the emerging gay moment and the acid popping hippies. It is a bizarre mix of the square and the far out. The backdrop is the Club New Yorker where on leave serviceman Casey (Ellison), who is part gee-whiz naivety and part dog on heat, relentlessly pursues innocent show girl (Faye) on his last night before shipping off to the Pacific, even though he has a childhood sweetheart he is betrothed too: gee, I was gonna tell ya about her, honest I was.
Most of the film is fairly straightforward musical comedy, but every so often a musical number will spin off into strange extremes. The most famous one is The Lady in a Tutti Frutti Hat that features Carmen Miranda and rows of showgirls wielding undulating six foot bananas, as well as the closing The Polka Dot Polka that looks like it may have inspired Tron.
Seen today much of it is like interpreting ancient cave paintings: you know it's impressive but you don't really understand it. It is clear that the banter between songs is meant to be light and zingy but it is just noise now. Occasionally you spot things that you have a knowledge of, a Benny Goodman or a Carmen Miranda, things that the elders have talked about earnestly as having value and it is both intriguing and disappointing to see the reality.
You can see why Berkeley has retained his influence. His smooth camera movements are exemplary and the loopy exuberance and silliness of his big numbers is impressive. Still it must be said, if Busby Berkeley is a master of cinema what does that make Gene Kelly? Singing In The Rain is a film that is pure cinema. In comparison this seems to be the work of a theatrical showman given a camera, albeit a theatrical showman with a good eye for a tracking shot. It may be a camp classic but camp is never an adequate substitute for actually being any good.
In terms of wartime movie making it is insightful to compare these giant regimented mass movements with the kind of rigid displays showcased by the Third Reich's favourite film maker Leni Riefenstahl. While the choreography in Triumph of the Will is all about order and discipline, Berkeley's is flippant, silly and decadent. Given its status as wartime entertainment, The Gang's All Here often seems weak and defeatist. There are servicemen everywhere but you wouldn't really trust them to organise a picnic let alone defeat the Japs in the Pacific. The axis powers had kamikaze pilots and legions sieg heiling into a future that belonged to them: we had rows of blank faced, fixed grin showgirls with giant phallic plastic bananas, yet we won. In a period of history where western decadence and slothfulness is again threatened by self righteous discipline I find that very inspiring.
Directed by Busby Berkeley.
Starring Alice Faye, Carmen Miranda, Phil Baker, Eugene Pallette, Charlotte Greenwood and James Ellison. 1943. 103 mins. Released on September 15th by Eureka in their Masters of Cinema series.
This wartime technicolor Busby Berkeley musical extravaganza is a delirium of naffness; perhaps that is why it was so successful in an early 70s re-release that saw the film embraced by the emerging gay moment and the acid popping hippies. It is a bizarre mix of the square and the far out. The backdrop is the Club New Yorker where on leave serviceman Casey (Ellison), who is part gee-whiz naivety and part dog on heat, relentlessly pursues innocent show girl (Faye) on his last night before shipping off to the Pacific, even though he has a childhood sweetheart he is betrothed too: gee, I was gonna tell ya about her, honest I was.
Most of the film is fairly straightforward musical comedy, but every so often a musical number will spin off into strange extremes. The most famous one is The Lady in a Tutti Frutti Hat that features Carmen Miranda and rows of showgirls wielding undulating six foot bananas, as well as the closing The Polka Dot Polka that looks like it may have inspired Tron.
Seen today much of it is like interpreting ancient cave paintings: you know it's impressive but you don't really understand it. It is clear that the banter between songs is meant to be light and zingy but it is just noise now. Occasionally you spot things that you have a knowledge of, a Benny Goodman or a Carmen Miranda, things that the elders have talked about earnestly as having value and it is both intriguing and disappointing to see the reality.
You can see why Berkeley has retained his influence. His smooth camera movements are exemplary and the loopy exuberance and silliness of his big numbers is impressive. Still it must be said, if Busby Berkeley is a master of cinema what does that make Gene Kelly? Singing In The Rain is a film that is pure cinema. In comparison this seems to be the work of a theatrical showman given a camera, albeit a theatrical showman with a good eye for a tracking shot. It may be a camp classic but camp is never an adequate substitute for actually being any good.
In terms of wartime movie making it is insightful to compare these giant regimented mass movements with the kind of rigid displays showcased by the Third Reich's favourite film maker Leni Riefenstahl. While the choreography in Triumph of the Will is all about order and discipline, Berkeley's is flippant, silly and decadent. Given its status as wartime entertainment, The Gang's All Here often seems weak and defeatist. There are servicemen everywhere but you wouldn't really trust them to organise a picnic let alone defeat the Japs in the Pacific. The axis powers had kamikaze pilots and legions sieg heiling into a future that belonged to them: we had rows of blank faced, fixed grin showgirls with giant phallic plastic bananas, yet we won. In a period of history where western decadence and slothfulness is again threatened by self righteous discipline I find that very inspiring.
