TILL THE CLOUDS ROLL BY (1946) **1/2 I consider Broadway an industrial division of the body pop, and one particularly unlikely to yield much worth harvesting. Jerome Kern's stuff strikes me, for the most part (I really like Showboat), as his generation's prelude to something between ABBA and Lobo, albeit with theatrical pretensions. I'm saying that I like Kern's stuff more than most of his contemporaries, and that those with less pronounced-or different-tastes and prejudices may enjoy this more, or less. So the production pieces, and there are many many of them, are setbacks along the route of rhythm so far as I'm concerned. A saving grace is that there are so many recognizable stars, even after all these years. Angela Lansbury's bit is absolutely hysterical, tremendous in the fullest manner that it was intended. Lena Horne is every bit the superstar, that rarity a worthy diva. Frank Sinatra takes a worthy stab at "Ol' Man River." Sure his voice sounds thin compared to Paul Robeson, and yeah maybe he would have been better off playing it cool rather than singing it trad, but it's a big song and he was a big man and however he went at it was gonna take a lot of guts. For all the music, the heart of the film, or maybe just the framework, is Robert Walker's gentle and sympathetic depiction of Kern in the dramatic segments. I guess they're somewhat overdone in the manner of the day, but it all catches something noble about a man working his way through problems and dilemmas and life, best as he can. One life is a special thing. A cabbie in Barcelona told me that. Maybe ten times in three miles. He didn't speak much English. I'm still getting it.
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