Welcome to The Music Man, the wordiest musical to ever have musical’d until Hamilton came along.
Apparently they originally wrote almost 40 songs for the show, so it could have been even wordier. Coincidentally, I’ve linked like 40 videos in this fiasco of a review because The Music Man’s cultural impact is insane and it’s almost unbelievable how I’ve been able to avoid this movie until now.
Picture it: River City, Iowa, 1912. A train full of travelling salesmen, including Paul F. Tompkins, can’t get Harold Hill’s name out of their mouths.
I see no difference here.
This scallywag has been sellin’ every town in Illinois a bill of goods by pretending he’s a band leader in order to get a bunch of well-meaning parents to buy their boys some brass instruments. Once the instruments arrive, he leaves them high and dry with a hobby not a single child can pursue. These “upstanding” proto-MLM patriots, guilty by association, can’t sell to the same town after a man who doesn’t know the territory wrecks havoc, and they vow to hunt Harold down to stop him. Mr. Hill (Robert Preston), who happens to be on the same train, decides to wisely out himself to everyone by hopping off at the next stop to work his con on another green patch of people.
Barbara Cook, who originated the role of Marian on Broadway, said “Rock Island” wasn’t always a hit because it was originally scored. It didn’t truly take off until they removed the instruments because audiences were shocked the show started with an acapella number. It’s novel how the lyrics speed up and slow down with the momentum of the train, even if after a while my brain disassociates and everything sounds like a word salad.
Harold finds himself in the quiet and quaint River City – a place that’s biggest entertainment is a new Pool table.
Subtle.
Not five minutes after arriving, Greg Harold runs into his old business partner Marcellus Wallace Washburn (Buddy Hackett), who has disappointingly gone legit. After waving another scheme under Marcellus’ nose, he takes the bait and helps Harold case the town. Finding it devoid of general sin that can only be fixed by rigorous music lessons, Harold feigns a mortality panic to whip the town into a frenzy. Turns out pockets can turn an entire city into a festering cesspool, and that’s why they removed them from tabletop games and all women’s clothing.
My first knowing exposure to this musical was, again, from Grace and Frankie, when Robert sings this song. I had no idea that everyone and their mother had covered or parodied this fucking thing. It’s iconic, and Robert Preston, who originated this role on Broadway (and who the writer of the show, Meredith Wilson, fought so hard to cast for the movie that they almost revoked the entire project when the studio was in talks with Frank Sinatra) makes this very difficult song look easy. It’s wordy and the rhythm is relentless, odd and irregular, which I didn’t even really notice until I unfortunately listened to Hugh Jackman barely make it through it.
Also, I regret to inform you that Seth MacFarlane would make an excellent Harold Hill.
There’s only one person that can potentially come between Harold and his big payday – Marian “the Librarian” Paroo (Oklahoma’s Shirley Jones). When she’s not recommending smutty tentacle porn to teenagers, she teaches young kids to play piano. Both Marcellus and Harold are nervous that one whiff of ignorance from the “professor” might set off alarm bells, so Mr. Hill decides to woo Marian in order to distract her. While Marian is generally disgusted by his (and the town’s) behavior in general, her mother is surprisingly open to her daughter getting stalked a little by a strange out-of-town man. After all, those novels Marian reads set unrealistic expectations for romantic relationships, and if she’d just fucking lower her standards she might be able to pop out a few babies before she turns 26.
The next morning, the town is celebrating the 4th of July with some bland indoor slideshow. What follows is the most American minute that has ever been recorded to film: Blind, showy patriotism, mocking of the indigenous people we murdered and displaced in order to conquer this great land, school violence, unfounded moral panic, and a con-man capitalist taking advantage of chaos to convince everyone his product will put them at ease.
The Mayor’s wife decides to dress up like an American Indian stereotype in order to rattle off some nonsense about counting numbers. Tommy, a 25-year-old-looking teenage hoodlum, lights a stick of dynamite under her dress, causing the entire gymnasium to lose their shit, and like honestly, this is the appropriate response to seeing a white lady showing her whole ass. Harold decides to use this as an example of how sick the town clearly is, and suggest the only cure for this fever is more cowbell.
This song is a living testament of how important marketing is. The little girl in the white sailor suit is picking up whatever Harold is throwing down.
Robert Preston is so charismatic, you guys. Even when he’s being a slimeball I can’t help but sing along. He’d never professionally sang before being cast in this show, and Jesus Christ, they found a diamond.
The town, including the mayor and the school board, buy this schtick hook, line and sinker. Only Marian has enough sense to insinuate a background check would be wise, causing the Mayor to call for Harold’s credentials. Instead, Harold ignores him and deradicalizes the violent incel Tommy by hooking him up with some pussy.
And thus begins Harold’s delicate balance between getting close to the town to earn more sales, but not close enough where people start asking questions. He distracts the school board by magically turning them into a barbershop quartet and a bunch of chickens into a Tuesday Night Dance Group. But the hardest nut to crack remains to be Marian, who isn’t impressed with his fake credentials or his manners. After intel recovery reveals she might have been fucking an old dude to inherit a library, Harold rejoices at the thought of seducing a slut with daddy issues instead of a Sunday school teacher.
Deciding to harass this poor woman at her job, Harold insinuates to Marian he’s heard she may have loose morals. He reiterates he’s here for a good time, not a long one, so maybe they should go in the back and get properly acquainted by… discussing his revolutionary “Think System”, where one can learn how to play a song on an instrument merely by thinking it enough. When his proposition doesn’t work, Harold targets Marian’s widow mother in order to get on her good side. See, Marian’s elementary school-aged brother Winthrop (played by an teeny-tiny Ron Howard) is embarrassed by his lisp and seldom speaks. Harold tells Mrs. Paroo (Pert Kelton) a cornet (and a fancy uniform, cause that’s where the real money’s at) will cure her son’s speech impediment, and intrigued by the prospect, she agrees to purchase the instrument.
Several days later, the Wells Fargo wagon shows up packed full with a whole band’s worth of horns. After seeing Winthrop’s excitement at the prospect of learning how to play music, Marian decides to stop giving Harold so much shit and hide the fact she knows he didn’t graduate from the Gary, Indiana conservatory because the city didn’t exist when he said he graduated (rookie mistake, honestly, it’s almost like he wants to get caught).
With phase one complete, Harold now has to pretend to teach a bunch of kids how to play instruments while waiting for the delivery of phase two. Turns out, “The Think Method” involves having the kids sing the same song over and over again until Harold pawns off band practice on his lackey Tommy.
Things seem to be going smoothly until The Mayor’s ire is directed toward Harold again after discovering Harold set Tommy up with his daughter. The Mayor reiterates he needs to see the spellbinders credentials, and Harold, again, blows him off to hit on Marian, who suddenly believes “The Think Method” doesn’t sound like complete bullshit. She makes heart eyes at Harold every chance she can get because of her brother’s enthusiasm, and I’m going to choose not to read into her falling for a guy who is parenting her brother.
Look, I’m not going to shit all over a 7-year-old Ron Howard cause he’s goddamn adorable, but I fucking hate this song. As a child I was involved in musical theater (I know, you would have never guessed) and while little girls were cursed to always audition with “Castle on a Cloud”, little boys typically did a rendition of “Gary, Indiana”, SCREAMING THE LYRICS AT THE TOP OF THEIR LUNGS because that’s how Ronny Howard did it, and he’s endearing.
While the town is preparing for their big Ice Cream Social, an anvil salesman is roaming the streets with the expressed purpose of outing Harold’s scheme because HE DON’T KNOW ONE NOTE FROM ANOTHER. He unfortunately runs into Marian, who is pretty enough that The Salesman says he could concentrate *a whole five minutes* on her before he had to make his train. She wastes his time by shoving her boobs in his face in order to thwart his plan because Harold bought her drink once so the bar is in fucking hell. The Salesman tells Marian she’s a goddamn moron for protecting a man with a woman in every county before running off into the night.
Harold coincidentally shows up seconds later at Marian’s door, which leads to this enlightened conversation:
“Are you a man whore? ‘Cause I heard you were a man whore.”
“Really? ‘Cause I heard you were a slutty librarian.”
“Ah, right, well, I’m not slutty, so we both must be chaste.”
“Yep, people are obviously jealous of us so they make shit up. So… Wanna go bang by the footbridge?”
“I couldn’t possibly do that.”
“You can and you will, but after the dance.”
“OK, sounds legit.”
The Ice Cream Social has real Seven Brides for Seven Brothers and Oklahoma energy. First, the dance committee comprised of the Mayor’s wife and, most importantly, the queen Mary Wickes, shows off their excellent skills until River City’s own well-dressed Peter Griffin does a catchy little ditty on slut shaming.
Legitimately, I didn’t realize this song was a real thing when I saw it on Family Guy years and years ago and honestly, I should have known better. It’s upbeat and infectious, even though it’s probably the dumbest made up thing I’ve ever heard.
After everyone sings about how women shouldn’t kiss on the first date, Harold and Marian find themselves in the park with a bunch of other couples who are similarly getting freaky dancing. Marian declares her love for Harold by belting a song inches away from his face, which is almost as awkward as whistling into it.
Shirley Jones was pregnant for the majority of the filming of this movie, but was told not to tell anyone other than the costume department. This secret was revealed to Robert Preston when she went in for a kiss and he felt her baby kick through her dress.
This moving song does pretty much nothing in diverting Harold from his plan to bolt now that the uniforms have arrived and he collected all his money, but then Marian tells Harold she’s always known he’s been conning them by revealing the piece of paper she ripped out of the educational ledger that was shoved in her dress. When the town mob, lead by The Mayor and the anvil salesman, come to tar and feather Harold, he stays to face the consequences instead of running away because Marian’s blind and irrational love has changed him. Aw.
Harold is dragged to the town hall to presumably be beaten to death, when Marian gives an impassioned speech suggesting even though Harold doesn’t know how to play an instrument, he is an excellent community organizer that has saved the town from boredom. The boy’s band then miraculously stumbles through a rendition of Beethoven’s “Minuet in G” because Tommy, the real MVP of this movie, taught them how to do it, and Harold is forgiven for flimflamming everyone for an entire summer. The town then collectively hallucinates the best marching band that’s ever played and everyone lives happily every after. The end.
I’m always so amused to discover what the plot is of some of this country’s most famous musicals. Like, Oklahoma was about the dangers of pornography, Seven Brides for Seven Brothers was about sex trafficking, and The Music Man is about a conman who has a deal with Marshall Music Co. and Stanbury uniforms. Surprisingly, I found myself rooting for Harold Hill despite the fact he’s a fast-talking shitbag. Even though Marian and Harold’s relationship felt very one-sided (nobody makes an ‘I’m completely and utterly in love face’ better than Shirley Jones), I wanted him to live up to her expectations of him. When the children started playing their instruments for the first time and that clunky sound caused their parents to shout with glee I had major middle school band flashbacks. It was glorious.
The best part of this movie is that if everyone in this town weren’t so thirsty or easily distractible, Harold’s ruse would have been discovered in like 10 minutes, but whatever. The Music Man is a jaunty two-and-a-half hour ride that I could nitpick to death if I didn’t enjoy it so much. Definitely a must-watch.