Words and Music appears in an aspect ratio of 1.37:1 on this Blu-ray Disc. Warner Archive never seems to botch their Technicolor presentations, and this became another winner.
In terms of sharpness, the movie usually demonstrated nice delineation. Interiors could feel a bit soft at times, but the majority of the flick looked concise and accurate.
No issues with jagged edges or shimmering materialized, and no edge enhancement became apparent. Grain remained appropriate, and no specks, marks or other defects showed up at any time in this fresh presentation.
Colors were strong. Though the palette leaned a little brown, the hues seemed vivid and full when we got broader tones.
Blacks seemed deep and dense without too much heaviness. Shadow detail worked similarly well, as dimly-lit shots were appropriately clear. I found little about which to complain here and thought the Blu-ray brought the movie to life in a positive manner.
The DTS-HD MA monaural audio of Words appeared fine for its era, and speech was appropriate. The lines showed age-related thinness, but they were always perfectly intelligible and without edginess.
Effects became a minor aspect of the track, and they resembled the dialogue. Those elements lacked much depth but they were without notable problems.
Music was acceptable for its age, as the songs and score tended to be a bit tinny. There wasn’t much range to the music, but again, that stemmed from the limitations of the very old source. This became a perfectly adequate mix for its vintage.
As we shift to extras, we launch with an audio commentary from film historian Richard Barrios. He offers a running, screen-specific look at story/characters, historical elements and liberties, cast and crew, production notes and impressions of the film.
Barrios offers a pretty strong track, especially because he doesn’t seem totally smitten by Words. This means he becomes willing to criticize its flaws, especially in terms of it woeful adherence to facts. We find a fine overview in this engaging commentary.
A Life in Words and Music runs 20 minutes, nine seconds. The featurette brings notes from Barrios, historian Miles Krueger, Richard Rodgers’ daughter Mary, Rodgers and Hammerstein Organization president Theodore Chapin, friend Noel Taylor, Gene Kelly’s widow Patricia and actor Mickey Rooney.
The program discusses the real life of Lorenz Hart as well as aspects of the film. It acts as a nice antidote to the wholly sanitized biography of the movie, even if some of the material repeats from the commentary.
Next we find two Unused Musical Sequences. “You’re Nearer” features Perry Como (9:44), while “Lover” (3:44) showcases Como and the MGM Orchestra and Chorus.
“Nearer” gives us multiple takes of Como as he performs that song, while “Lover” offers an alternate opening to the film. Both seem pretty forgettable to me, though I suspect those who like the songs will find them more interesting.
We also get eight audio-only Musical Outtakes. These span a total of 19 minutes, 54 seconds.
Three come from Betty Garrett and two from Como. Another pairs Gene Kelly and Vera-Ellen and we find spots from the Blackburn Twins and Lena Horne as well.
I admit that because I don’t care for the style of the songs, these clips do little for me. However, fans will enjoy them.
A 1948 animated short called The Cat Who Hated People (7:03) shows a feline fed up with humanity. It offers a clever piece.
In addition to the film’s trailer, we conclude with Going to Blazes!, a live-action short about firefighters that mixes public service announcement and docudrama. It lacks much entertainment value on its own but it offers a fun look at the era.
Ostensibly a biography of composers Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart, Words and Music instead becomes nothing more than a collection of musical performances. We get no depth and little charm in this superficial tale. The Blu-ray comes with positive picture and audio as well as a good collection of bonus materials. Not much about this film works.
With 1943’s Du Barry Was a Lady, we get a film that stars two actors whose fame would peak via television. The movie pairs Red Skelton and Lucille Ball, both of whom would achieve major successes via their 1950s TV shows.
Louis Blore (Skelton) works the hat check counter at a club and maintains a crush on singer May Daly (Ball). Dancer Alec Howe (Gene Kelly) also pines for May, but she cares more about money than love.
When Louis accidentally downs a drugged drink, he enters a fantasy in which sends him to 18th century France. He believes he’s King Louis XV, May is the desirable Madame Du Barry, and others take on period parts as well. Even as a ruler, Louis still finds himself in competition for May’s/Du Barry’s affection.
Try as I might, I find it intensely difficult to view Ball as a romantic leading lady. Like most of my generation – heck, like most born after 1940 – I know Ball primarily via I Love Lucy, and that show didn’t exactly paint her as a lovely object of desire.
Not that Ball was unattractive, of course, and she seems reasonably fetching in Lady. However, she still lacks the beauty necessary for this part.
If Lady made so many men obsessed with May due to her talent, then sure – I could potentially swallow that. However, the film implies May offers a gorgeous specimen.
That just doesn’t work with Ball as the lead. This means we get perplexing elements, such as the way dorky Louis shoots down sexy cigarette girl Ginny (Virginia O’Brien), a woman a) more attractive than May who b) desperately wants him.
Even without the impression Ball lacks the looks for the role, she feels wrong for the part because she doesn’t seem suited to play the cynical money-grubbing May. Again, perhaps my years of association with wacky Lucy Ricardo make it tough to see Ball in any other light.
Nonetheless, Ball can’t display the cutthroat vibe that part needs. Granted, Lady doesn’t turn May into a total gold digger, but I still think someone who feels more mercenary would fit the film better.
The supporting actors fit their roles better, at least, though it doesn’t develop them well. That happens because Lady comes with a paper-thin “plot” that exists mainly as an excuse to stage a bunch of musical numbers.
We get 11 of those across the movie’s 101 minutes, and they run long enough to take up a lot of that running time. Indeed, May doesn’t get a line of dialogue until more than 18 minutes into the movie, and it spends a huge chunk of its first half-hour on songs.
I get that audiences of the era ate up this sort of content, but I nonetheless think it acts as flawed filmmaking. If the production numbers advanced the story, that would become a different situation, but here, they exist as entities unto themselves.
Why do we see Tommy Dorsey and His Orchestra? For Dorsey’s star-power, I guess – and also to fill big hunks of space with his two long performances.
Other numbers use the main characters and make more sense, but even there, the film pads matters too much. Also, I can’t figure out why cigarette girl Ginny does a song, as the film never explains her leap from smoke peddler to stage songstress.
As for the fantasy aspects of Lady, these feel almost entirely superfluous. Oh, Louis does experience a revelation that allows the movie to wrap up with a bow, but otherwise, those elements fail to add much beyond the chance to see the actors play 18th century versions of their roles.
Lady takes almost an hour to get to the French segments, and these last about 37 minutes. Like everything else here, the fantasy moments run longer than necessary, mainly as an excuse for more songs.
Don’t take all this criticism to mean Lady offers a cinematic experience devoid of charm, as it comes with some enjoyable moments. We find more than a few funny bits, and the cast adds pep.
Kelly proves engaging as always, and Zero Mostel gleefully devours scenery in a small part as “Rami the Swami”.
These elements mean that Lady largely keeps us with it. However, the movie simply drags too much due to its thin story/characters and too many superfluous musical numbers.
