I can't join in all the praise for FOOTLIGHT PARADE. Others call its dialog "snappy"; get all choked up over the tinny sounds of Ruby Keeler's and Dick Powell's singing; and think Busby Berkeley outdid himself in improvising the kind of dance routines he's famous for.
Sorry--but I do agree that given the fact that this film was made when talking pictures were only six years old, it does demonstrate the great strides that were made since the advent of sound. As for the rest, there is no originality whatsoever in the proceedings.
Nor are there any great strides revealed by the hackneyed script, the tiresome comedy of Frank McHugh, the mascara-heavy eyes of Joan Blondell batting her baby blues at her boss (James Cagney), or the preposterous musical numbers that are supposedly being performed on a stage before a live audience, but performed for the camera with all of the cinema tricks then at the disposal of Busby Berkeley's fertile imagination.
Apparently, this was the start of Hollywood's fantasy idea of showing stage shows that couldn't possibly work in a real theater.
On the plus side, Cagney is likable and versatile as the hoofer putting on a show and does the liveliest job in the film. Not much can be said for the others--all routine and less than impressive.
In particular, Ruby Keeler and Dick Powell appear to no advantage as the singing leads, neither of them projecting voices that would make it into any kind of legit musical and Miss Keeler is completely at sea when it comes to delivering lines with any flair or credibility. The early recording techniques may have been partially to blame for how disastrous their singing is.
Only die-hard fans of early musicals can find nostalgic fun in this one. It only picks up speed for the final musical numbers and then sinks under the weight of their elephantine production values. The absurdness of it all is too painful for further comment.
Sorry--but I do agree that given the fact that this film was made when talking pictures were only six years old, it does demonstrate the great strides that were made since the advent of sound. As for the rest, there is no originality whatsoever in the proceedings.
Nor are there any great strides revealed by the hackneyed script, the tiresome comedy of Frank McHugh, the mascara-heavy eyes of Joan Blondell batting her baby blues at her boss (James Cagney), or the preposterous musical numbers that are supposedly being performed on a stage before a live audience, but performed for the camera with all of the cinema tricks then at the disposal of Busby Berkeley's fertile imagination.
Apparently, this was the start of Hollywood's fantasy idea of showing stage shows that couldn't possibly work in a real theater.
On the plus side, Cagney is likable and versatile as the hoofer putting on a show and does the liveliest job in the film. Not much can be said for the others--all routine and less than impressive.
In particular, Ruby Keeler and Dick Powell appear to no advantage as the singing leads, neither of them projecting voices that would make it into any kind of legit musical and Miss Keeler is completely at sea when it comes to delivering lines with any flair or credibility. The early recording techniques may have been partially to blame for how disastrous their singing is.
Only die-hard fans of early musicals can find nostalgic fun in this one. It only picks up speed for the final musical numbers and then sinks under the weight of their elephantine production values. The absurdness of it all is too painful for further comment.