Song of Norway

I saw this as a little kid taking piano lessons and loving Grieg's music. (That was in San Francisco - maybe I saw it at the same theater, the Paramount, as one of our earlier commenters?) All of 10 years old, I enjoyed it thoroughly. I suppose I wasn't a great judge of acting at that point, or of cinema in general (it was probably the third or fourth theatrical film I'd seen in my life at that point). So it was basically the music, voices, and scenery I was chewing on. I hadn't even heard the name "Carol Brady" then.

Haven't seen the film since, but I just wonder ... terrible compared to what? The soundtrack (a few cuts I have on a Grieg compilation) is miles better than the nursery-rhymes in Sound of Music, and for the most part the transliterated lyrics aren't a travesty. Florence Henderson doesn't make me gag any more than Julie Andrews or any other too-clean-and-scrubbed actor in the business. And what's wrong with casting an actual Norwegian as Grieg instead of ... I dunno, from the same era ... George Peppard? The movie even had a nice animated sequence for the kids.

Song of Norway was unlucky enough to arrive at the absolute tail end of the road-show-spectacular era of movie musicals, and I'm sure a lot of critics just had indigestion by that point, following Paint Your Wagon (with a singing, dancing Clint Eastwood!), Camelot (a singing, non-dancing Richard Harris!), The Happiest Millionaire (a singing, dancing Fred MacMurray!), and Darling Lili (Dame Julie's nadir). So what's so much worse about Song of Norway?

Got something against Scandinavian composers?!

SONG OF NORWAY is an unbearably dull musical pastiche of clichés heard in every musical ever made that purported to be the saga of a composer's struggles to find recognition for his music. Edvard Grieg's struggles are so dull as to be non-stop in this awful compilation of Norwegian scenery by the truckload with no story to carry it.

It is notable that the man who plays Grieg, TORALV MAURSTAD, never did make another American film, so disastrous were the reviews and box-office for this dull saga. Note also that FLORENCE HENDERSON was not able to make another film in Hollywood but went directly to television and stayed there for a very successful run on "The Brady Bunch". See the film and you will judge yourself why it was an abject failure. And don't be fooled by the presence of OSKAR HOMOLKA, EDWARD G. ROBINSON and ROBERT MORLEY in the cast. They have little or nothing to do.

Music lovers may be enchanted by Grieg's works, but not the way they are presented here. Nor is there any resemblance between the zestful SOUND OF MUSIC and its picturesque way of dealing with the Von Trapp Singers and this dull as dishwater musical that would work better as a travelogue of Norway with the plot excised.

See it at your own risk.

Ignoring the scathingly critical reviews for this bomb, I paid admission to the Cinerama Dome Theater in Hollywood, California during its first-run engagement because I knew that the 70mm/stereo presentation at that theater, especially designed for the viewing of big-screen extravaganzas, would be optimal. Norway is a country I have always wanted to visit and the agony of viewing this film was insufficient to lessen that lifelong dream. But what a nightmare it was! I note that Frank Porretta, listed in the credits, had appeared in a stage production of "The Song of Norway" in Los Angeles and he had received special praise for his expressive singing and masculine stage presence. But you will note that his filmography consists of just this one title. Talk about the proverbial "Kiss of Death"!

The only clear memory I have of that evening's experience at the Cinerama Dome were the loud and ecstatic exclamations emanating from some poor soul in the audience, unprovoked, as far as I could tell, by anything happening on the massively curved screen. She sat off to the side and her outbursts were the prime source of entertainment as the film's lengthy reels unspooled. Management did not eject her, perhaps because she sat through every showing, considerably boosting the meager box-office receipts. Her overwhelming pleasure, I shall always prefer to think, was, perhaps, due to her longing to revisit (I'm presuming here) her native Norway, this film's handsomest attribute.

Florence Henderson's karma must have been extraordinarily good, since her role as the matriarch on TV's long-running and insanely popular family sitcom, "The Brady Bunch," began its hold on the hearts and minds of so many American moppets while coinciding with the theatrical release of this surefire career-killer. She must be a tolerant soul for, were I to enjoy the residuals which must flood her bank account year after year during the syndication of "The Brady Bunch," I'd have long ago investigated the cost of permanently suppressing all evidence of this turkey.

A horrible biography of composer Edvard Grieg's early life. It was shot on location in Scandanavia. The scenery is just beautiful and the music is fantastic--even the songs (based on Grieg's music) aren't bad. The problem? Everything else. The story is just non-stop clichés; the movie is way too long (2 1/2 hours); the dance numbers are badly staged and hysterically lousy and the acting...let's put it this way...Florence Henderson gives the best performance! Grieg himself is played by Toralv Mausted. Ever hear of him? Didn't think so. There's a reason for this. Also there are over FORTY songs shoved into this movie. Like I said, they aren't bad, but it gets to be a bit much after a while.

I'm giving this a 3 for the scenery and music but everything else is hopeless. Easily one of the worst musicals ever made. Too bad--the scenery is truly gorgeous.

Adjectives fail this film. "Dreadful" isn't enough. "Awful" seems mild. "Stupifyingly bad" can't convey the experience of it, either. If you are familiar with the poet Helen Steiner Rice, imagine one of her poems set to film and you will begin to dimly grasp how bad, how truly bad, how amazingly bad this motion picture is. Imagine a trailer park filled with lobotomized people sitting in lawn chairs watching a version of "The Sound of Music" made on the cheap especially for them. Imagine the film being projected on a bedsheet attached with clothes pins to a wash line. Imagine the wind blowing. Imagine no one paying attention. Then imagine you are there and you are shackled to a stake in the ground so that you cannot escape the evening's entertainment unless you chew off your own foot. If you can imagine all this, you can imagine the witch's brew of butchered classical music, litter-free travelogue sterility, and lifeless robotic acting that was captured for eternity on one unlucky batch of film stock from the Kodak factory and slapped with the label, "Song of Norway." It is truly the worst film ever made. The only advantage of viewing it is that from that day forth, ANYTHING you see at the movies will look passable by comparison. And I do mean ANYTHING.