Red Garters

...and the opening credits say as much - but as a one of a kind it's entertaining. The sets are all done in primary colors and are highly stylized reminiscent of the UPA cartoons of the time, which had a considerable impact on art and design. They're more like theater sets than movie scenery.

The plot, such as it is, centers on Rosemary Clooney (who is very good) trying to convince a typically overbearing Jack Carson to marry her. We're expected to believe she would be more entranced by the beefy Carson over the handsome Guy Mitchill, who is a cowboy passing through town. The Jay Livingston and Ray Evans songs are lively if not memorable. Gene Barry does manage to enact a somewhat plausible Mexican. At any rate, he's far more convincing than Cass Daley as a Native American woman who has nothing to do with the story at all. She is covered in very dark "Indian" makeup and spends the film behaving like some kind of nut...it's an appalling performance.

Red Garters certainly is a peculiar movie. I liked it as a child (where I didn't understand all of it), and not so much as an adult. It's a novelty, to be sure. The best part of this is not the film but the soundtrack. Anyone liking the movie should have the original album. The songs were released on a 10" Columbia red-label LP. This is the best presentation of the music and it really flatters the movie. Don't know about the re-issues and CDs; they often "improve" the sound by adding or removing re-verb, or altering the mix. Find the 10" LP on e-Bay and get the best. As an example, the song "Dime and a Dollar" in the movie is sung as a throwaway, too fast and offhand. On the record, it's presented much slower, more in the cowboy-song rhythm that does it justice. All the songs on the album are better in this kind of way.

I'd been interested in this musical for a long time in view of its famously stylized look – bright yellow scenery, disembodied sets – which, in hindsight, is still the film's major asset (though, curiously, it's taken for granted throughout and never once commented upon!). The cast is low-key but undeniably engaging: lovely Rosemary Clooney is delightful and surprisingly sensuous at times (although the title's promise of naughtiness is not carried through); Jack Carson is amusing as her loudmouth womanizing beau (atypically, he's the object of Clooney's affection throughout); Guy Mitchell is the gauche stranger hero looking for his crook brother's murderer – simply because the Code Of the West, whom everyone takes off his hat to (which, actually, reminds me of a very funny Tex Avery cartoon!), demands it – and who falls for Carson's sheltered ward; and Gene Barry(!) as the archetypal Latin lover who strikes up an unlikely partnership with Mitchell (while, naturally, having his own romantic complications over the daughter of a judge from out-of-town played by veteran Reginald Owen).

Frank Faylen – emerging as the real villain of the piece – is typically weaselly, while Buddy Ebsen appears briefly as a bartender (but who still gets his own specialty number and is involved in an amusing fade-out gag); besides, there's resistible (but not particularly intrusive) comedy relief courtesy of a squaw character. After a funny introduction, too, Mitchell's horse – who hates its own species and really thinks itself human! – is simply forgotten about for the rest of the film. There are a couple of nice spoofs of barroom brawls and duels, but rather too many ensemble dance routines which don't really add anything new to the fold. The songs, while not especially memorable, are nonetheless fine – ironic and intimate as the case may be…but the plot itself is rather blah. The whole, then, is somehow less than the sum of its parts – if still highly enjoyable, even endearing; in retrospect, it's a pity that RED GARTERS has been overshadowed by other contemporaneous Western musicals such as ANNIE GET YOUR GUN (1950), CALAMITY JANE (1953) and OKLAHOMA! (1955).

Clooney, who also co-starred in WHITE Christmas (1954), later ballooned into a really fat lady and is nowadays perhaps best-known as George Clooney's aunt; for eclectic film buffs, however, she is also Mrs. Jose' Ferrer and Mrs. Dante Di Paolo (from Mario Bava's BLOOD AND BLACK LACE [1964]). Incidentally, George Marshall was the ideal director for this Western musical spoof – having previously directed DESTRY RIDES AGAIN (1939) and FANCY PANTS (1950), and later still the color remake of DESTRY (1954) and THE SHEEPMAN (1958).

In 1872, a jovial-but-formidable stranger (Guy Mitchell) rides into Limbo County, California, on an unknown mission where he engages in contention, friendship, romance and... potentially deadly gunfights. The cast includes the likes of Rosemary Clooney, Jack Carson, Gene Barry and Frank Faylen.

"Red Garters" (1954) is a colorful set-bound Western parody/musical. It's like "The Wizard of Oz" in the cinematic Old West, but without the fantastical elements and a focus on romance and quick-draw silliness, etc.

With a name like "Red Garters" you know one of the highlights is the women. Other than perky Rosemary Clooney (George Clooney's aunt), there's Pat Crowley (Susan), Joanne Gilbert (Sheila) and the several beautiful showgirls who perform inside and outside the saloon.

The movie runs 1 hour, 31 minutes, and was shot at Paramount Studios, Hollywood.

GRADE: B-

Red Garters receives deserved attention for its interesting visuals. The spare, stagy sets mostly feature two-dimensional building fronts placed against a brilliant red backdrop, with a few artificial trees and shining yellow dirt thrown in for good measure. The film has a stripped-down, cartoon-like quality that's enhanced by the camera-work, editing, and a general acting style that tends towards caricature. Frank Tashlin, who went from directing Porky Pig shorts to Jerry Lewis movies, worked on an earlier version of the project for a year qand half, and Red Garters shows his influence. As a visual experiment, it's fairly fascinating.

Unfortunately, as a musical, it's not that great. In fact, Red Garters is a downright preachy and annoying film by the end. Rosemary Clooney gets to use her wonderful voice on several songs, and for that we can all be thankful. Her singing is the best part of the film. But as much as I like Rosemary as a vocalist, she wasn't the most vibrant on-screen personality and can't really carry an entire movie. She was probably better suited for the kind of supporting role she had in White Christmas. Worst of all, her character is the one who preaches the most, and any film that can turn Rosemary Clooney into a grating presence is not a film for me.

In terms of song and dance, Red Garters doesn't offer much that hasn't been done better, or much better, somewhere else. The Evans and Livingston songs are pleasant enough, but you probably won't remember any of them the next day. At least Rosemary sings them, along with Guy Mitchell, who had a good voice. Nick Castle's choreography pales in comparison to Michael Kidd's work on another "Western" musical from 1954, Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. And it's hard not to compare them. The best dancing in the film may be Buddy Ebsen's meager 20 seconds, which is a shame because he's one few people in the film with any zing. Though the actors are all okay, there's little chemistry between them, and little pizazz to this movie.

There are some funny moments here and there, but I found myself laughing less and less as the film progressively hammered away at its "message." Edith Head does fairly well with the women's costumes, thankfully, since there's not much else to look at in this film. I'm still not sure what she was trying to do towards the end with Joanne Gilbert's black dress and calico apron thing, but at least it diverted my attention somewhat from the moralizing finale.

For those offended by Hollywood racist portrayals, the token "Injun" in this film – Minnie Redwing – will probably be unbearable.

Finally, the vaunted visuals of the film only hold for so long. The sparse sets are, well, sparse, and they gradually become boring and a bit claustrophobic. I never thought I would miss Brigadoon or Yolanda and the Thief, but, Lord, if I didn't find myself yearning for the Baroque details of other soundstage worlds.