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.

Welcome to the little-known Irving Berlin classic film White Christmas, starring a bunch of people you’ve never heard of singing a bunch of songs that never really caught on.

I’m joking.  You have to know I’m joking.

Actually, I’m in the minority of people that didn’t see this movie until I was well into adulthood.  Netflix put it up on their streaming service, and I thought, “Sure.  I’d love to know what Clark Griswold’s barometer of cheer is.”  I wasn’t blown away by it, but it worked its way into my yearly yuletide viewing because of two things:

• Bing Crosby’s buttery soft voice that reminds me of when they would dub birds on Looney Tunes with crooners and chickens would lose their shit.
• Vera Ellen’s dancing.  No elaboration needed.

The actual plot of Wallace and Davis saving their former Army General’s inn from going out of business is touching.  I’m going to put a pin in this tangent for later, but I find it really interesting the amount of media released centered around WW2.  We still release WW2-centered movies on a regular basis.  In contrast, events I’ve lived through in my life, like 9/11, the conflict in Iraq and Afghanistan, even the pandemic we’re in right now – we haven’t seen depictions of those events reflected in media on that kind of scale.  Holiday movies that were filmed this year have gone out of their way to avoid referencing that we’re in a pandemic at all.  The lack of extras, overuse of sound stage sets, green-screened Dolly Parton awkwardly floating over dance numbers… it’s almost weirder to avoid the post-apocalyptic-like emptiness completely than it would be to casually reference it.  I understand that media is supposed to be a form of escapism, but ignoring massive touchstones of humanity like they aren’t affecting the entire goddamn planet is almost more eerie.

The romanticism of WW2 may be a way to justify a very dark time in history, and provide comfort to soldiers by looking at the camaraderie through rose-colored glasses.  While White Christmas touches on the adjustment soldiers felt after returning home, other movies on this list like Cabaret and The Sound of Music address the war head-on, so I’ll defer my deep dive and try to keep this review light.  Because (Linda Belcher voice) it’s *Christmas*.

So, right… Wallace and Davis, a couple of showmen stationed overseas during the war, stage a Christmas concert for the troops.  General Waverly, who is injured and soon to be replaced, says goodbye to his soldiers after everyone is already crying at Bing Crosby’s rendition of “White Christmas”.  At the end of the performance, the regiment is attacked, and Wallace saves Davis from a falling building.  Wallace uses the guilt as leverage to convince Davis to join him in a travelling double act after the war is over.

They become wildly successful, but Davis is a bit of a workaholic.  In an attempt to get any semblance of free time away from his friend, Wallace repeatedly sets Davis up with some hot showbiz girlz.   Davis makes a lot of assumptions about their literary accomplishments and blows them off.

Wallace basically reams him a new one, advising Davis that he’s aging quickly and it won’t be long before women won’t find him sexually attractive.  Bob accurately identifies that the age of the women he’s being introduced to is probably inappropriate because they’re at different stages of their lives, but he concedes and promises the next time he finds a lady who wants to pop out kids, he’d consider settling down.

After this heart to heart, they head to a club in Florida to check out the musical act of the relatives of an old army buddy.  Conveniently, the army buddy’s sisters are really hot, so Wallace and Davis are captivated by their performance.  

“Sisters” will get stuck in my head for days after I watch this movie.  It makes me ignore the hilarious fact that these two women are supposed to be related.

Wallace quickly finds out that Judy and him are in a similar situations – Betty is overprotective of her younger sister, and Judy is desperate to get her sister laid so she can have some freedom herself.  They brainstorm ways to force Betty and Bob together, even though there is no reason on earth for them to even like each other.  In fact, Betty and Bobby’s first interaction is a disagreement about how motivations can drive a person’s actions… which seems obvious, but Betty is so offended that Bob might think she has an “angle” that she ices him out.  Even though The Haynes Sisters conned them into viewing their act.  Sheesh.

The romantic subplot between Betty and Bob is EXHAUSTING.  It makes zero sense, they have no chemistry, and it is unbelievably repetitive and tedious.  If I could watch a supercut of this movie that omitted this entirely, I think my enjoyment of this film would skyrocket.  But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Some convoluted shit happens that results in the sisters climbing out a back window while Wallace and Davis create a distraction for them by performing their “Sisters” number.  It’s a choice.

The quartet is later reunited on a train to Vermont, as the Haynes Sisters have a gig there for the Christmas holiday.  Since Wallace gave away their sleeping car to the dames, Davis bitches about having to sit up in the club car, overselling how comfortable a train bed is every chance he’s provided.  They pass the time singing about how magical Vermont snow is, which is a sentiment expressed by people who haven’t had to shovel their driveway several times a day in negative temperatures so the mailman can reach their front door.

Once they arrive in Vermont, Wallace and Davis quickly discover that their beloved General Waverly owns the Inn Betty and Judy are booked to perform at.  We’re treated to yet another rendition of “Sisters” because it’s the only song Betty and Judy know, and afterward the nosey housekeeper divulges all of the General’s financial woes to Wallace and Davis, which is just so rude, I can’t even start to explain how shitty it is. Turns out, the lack of snow is preventing guests from visiting, and causing the General’s business to slowly go under.  As expected from four people in the entertainment industry, they decide to put on a big show to attract guests.  Wallace and Davis call their entire crew to come to Vermont, even though the day before they had given them 10 days of paid leave off.  If I were their employee, I’d be pissed.

They start rehearsing the show in a barn the size of an airplane hanger.  The first number they rehearse waxes poetic about old minstrel shows, reciting a bunch of jokes about abusing and murdering dogs, and talking about how ‘ol Georgie Primrose was awesome.  How many times am I going to have to address that blackface was bad on this list?

“Mandy” is a weird and annoying song to me, and the stage and costume colors hurt my eyeballs.  But there is one person who saves this number, and it’s Vera Ellen dancing her ass off while being manhandled by a bunch of dudes.

Honestly, it’s my dream to be a part of a musical number where men are forced to pretend you’re the fucking best.

After the number concludes and the 3 people who were watching it applaud, Betty asks Judy if the tempo of the number worked for her in the part of the song that is literally repeated over and over and over… giving Bob the chance to sneak up and play the piano next to her, creating *a moment*.  This feels so tacked on and bizarre and their romance it’s so dummmmmbbbbb ughhhhhh

Later, Wallace and Judy conspire for Bob and Betty to have yet another meet cute where they eat romantic foods like liverwurst and buttermilk and talk about sheep and I just… sure.  Betty apologizes for jumping down Bob’s throat at the club, since he was only there out of the goodness of his own heart.  Bob warns Betty that holding people to impossible standards will ultimately disappoint her, and then a extremely awkward kiss happens between a 51-year-old Bing Crosby and a 26-year-old Rosemary Clooney.

The next morning, Bob has a very well written interaction with General Waverly, where the General expresses interest in joining the army again, only to have those dreams dashed 30 seconds later.  This gives Bob the idea to invite the old regiment to the performance as a way to emotionally validate the General, which is touching and freaking adorable.  He arranges to put the word out to the soldiers on a television program, which the housekeeper overhears incorrectly on the phone and believes that Wallace and Davis are going to parade the general in front of the nation and talk about how pitiful he is for clout and profit.  She communicates this to Betty, who is understandably put off by the idea, but instead of confronting Wallace and Davis about it, or confiding in her sister, or warning the General herself, she decides to commit a series of the most passive aggressive statements and actions that Bob and the crew cannot possibly begin to decipher, even though they point-blank ask her why she is upset multiple times and she declines to inform them.

Judy, who also loves to jump to conclusions, assumes Betty is pushing Bob away because she can’t get married until she does.  Judy then convinces Wallace to pretend they’re engaged so Betty can move forward with Bob guilt-free, except to the surprise of nobody, this completely backfires and Betty drops out of the show and leaves to perform at a club in New York.

Again, this whole fucking thing could have been avoided if the housekeeper or Betty asked Wallace and Davis about what their intentions were for the show.  Betty leaving and not saying a word is not only petty, but also sets up the General to be exploited anyway, which is the whole thing she was upset about in the first place!  Her reaction causes Wallace and Judy to come clean to Bob about their scheme, and he decides to look Betty up while he is in New York and set her straight on the whole situation.  When he finds her, she has the absolute nerve to sing a song about love doing her wrong, even though she’s created all these problems in her own head and OH MY GOD BETTY IS THE ABSOLUTE WORST.

She’s dismissive of Bob and the news her sister isn’t actually engaged, and he mentally curses himself for writing off the “easy” girls before.  Of course, Betty later discovers she’s been acting a fool, returns to Vermont, and performs in the show.  The regiment travels from all over the country to pay their respects to General Waverly in a scene that makes me tear up cause it’s so fucking precious, goddamn.

In the middle of the performance, Bob and Betty get back together, even though Betty is a toxic person who has not once expressed interest in settling down and popping out 9 children, which was Bob’s only requirement for a mate in the beginning of the movie. I’m sure their relationship will be long and functional.

All these happy maskless white people drinking booze in the same room together really triggers some covid conspiracy-related rage inside of me.  Merry fucking Christmas, everybody.  

Also, here are some more videos of Vera Ellen dancing, because really, that’s what saved this movie for me.