Bradford Ropes' paean to the earliest days of TV includes many delightful performances from all involved. Frances Langford returns to Hit Parade territory with several maudlin and syrupy sweet numbers. She handles both ballad and swing time with equal aplomb. The bubbly plot involves the trading of a trading post in Connecticut for a Brooklyn radio station that eventually becomes a television station, with the attention primarily heaped upon a starry-eyed young lady singer who is actually a toe-tapping hoofer with a pair of golden gams in disguise. Langford provides the pipes for Miss Miller incognito, who is clearly a much better dancer than she is a singer (in much the same fashion Debbie Reynolds provided vocals for Jean Hagen in "Singin' in the Rain"). This was Miss Miller's first foray into the movie business, and she was already a Texas tornado by then! Lucky charm Patsy Kelly (playing Langford's sister) provides second banana antics with her boyfriend Phil Silvers in his film debut, the start of a long and successful career in comedy, still years away from Sgt. Bilko. The tender Oscar-nominated "Who Am I" by Jule Styne and Walter Bullock tugs adeptly on the heartstrings and is crooned by Buddy Baker's velvet soprano and Langford with gilded-throated style and class. Only "When You Wish Upon a Star" was the better song that year. Among the abounding talent contained herein, you will find Borrah Minevitch and his harmonica-playing band of lunatics monkeying around the microphones, and Six Hits and A Miss provide a Greek (Jazz) Chorus of sorts. Hugh Herbert (not to be confused with one of the film's storytellers F. Hugh Herbert) shines like a copper pot as the silly goose who ends up owning the radio station, and he carbonates like a foaming Bromo with his usual "whoo-hoo" brand of tomfoolery. Baker plays his skeptical nephew, in a role usually fit for Dick Powell. Sterling Holloway lends a helping hand playing a milquetoast soda jerk who furnishes meals for this gung-ho group of radio personalities. Be warned, however, fellow film buffs. There ARE editing flubs, and they mess with the flow of this picture. Don't expect the flawless type of editing you may find in your typical Broadway Melody or Gold Digger affair. This ain't MGM, and it shows, but it's still an amusing pastiche, with the flavor of a banana split (without the bananas) and die-hards of the earliest days of television will not be disappointed. Sticklers for quality might find it to be tripe. Those who don't mind a continuity hiccup or two (or seven), you'll be as amused as I was. It might have even caused the tossing of a tomato or two at the screen during its run in theaters, but I'd rather eat a tomato than heave one.
