The end of the war (kids, that's a reference to World War II, which ended in 1945; P.S., we won.) finds three ex-GIs celebrating at Tim's Bar on Third Avenue in New York. The GIs are Gene Kelly, Dan Dailey, and Michael Kidd. When they finally part, they agree to meet again in Tim's Bar at noon, exactly ten years hence. They do, and it's an immediate disaster. Kelly has turned into a shadowy fight promoter and gambler. Dailey is an ulcer-ridden snobbish advertising man. Kidd is the owner of the Cordon Bleu, a hamburger joint in the Hudson Valley.
Not that the reunion scene is badly done. It provided the impetus for a casual line from "The Great Gatsby" to drift back to me. "And so it happened that on a warm windy evening I drove over to East Egg to see two old friends whom I scarcely knew at all." And the book -- by the always competent Comden and Green -- and the direction by Kelly and Stanley Donen -- are sometimes witty and keen. But the sharpness of the wit undercuts our enjoyment of the movie. I suppose there's something funny about the guest at a funeral stumbling into the casket but, well, there's humor and then there's humor. The notion of the heroine having a photographic memory is an old one and often resurrected as a source of puzzled irritation in the male.
There isn't a memorable song in the entire movie. One of them, about Stillman's Gym, sounds as if it had been ripped fresh from the quivering flank of the Broadway hit, "Guys and Dolls." "Baby, You Knock Me Out" is plain terrible.
I guess it doesn't measure up to expectations. Too much talent behind and in front of the camera, for too little issue. It gives me a sour stomach. It's one of the few movies that I respect that I might actually pay NOT to watch.
Not that the reunion scene is badly done. It provided the impetus for a casual line from "The Great Gatsby" to drift back to me. "And so it happened that on a warm windy evening I drove over to East Egg to see two old friends whom I scarcely knew at all." And the book -- by the always competent Comden and Green -- and the direction by Kelly and Stanley Donen -- are sometimes witty and keen. But the sharpness of the wit undercuts our enjoyment of the movie. I suppose there's something funny about the guest at a funeral stumbling into the casket but, well, there's humor and then there's humor. The notion of the heroine having a photographic memory is an old one and often resurrected as a source of puzzled irritation in the male.
There isn't a memorable song in the entire movie. One of them, about Stillman's Gym, sounds as if it had been ripped fresh from the quivering flank of the Broadway hit, "Guys and Dolls." "Baby, You Knock Me Out" is plain terrible.
I guess it doesn't measure up to expectations. Too much talent behind and in front of the camera, for too little issue. It gives me a sour stomach. It's one of the few movies that I respect that I might actually pay NOT to watch.