Reveille with Beverly

Reveille With Beverly is one of Columbia Pictures all star war time contributions for the boys in the service. But not having a really big studio with a lot of contract players like MGM or Paramount, what was Harry Cohn to do.

The answer is take your stars from that other medium, that of swing music. Ann Miller plays a young lady named Beverly who works the telephone switchboard at an easy listening radio station. She'd like to break into radio on the air, but the boss Tim Ryan won't give her a break. Besides he's not into current musical tastes.

But the resourceful Beverly gets her chance when she gets the hypochondriacal Franklin Pangborn who plays classical music in the wee small hours around dawn into thinking he's down with something terrible. She subs for him and plays the current swing bands and the rest is history. The new draftees at a nearby army base like her music so much the program is dubbed Reveille with Beverly.

Of course there's a silly subplot involving a pair of draftees who used to be millionaire and chauffeur who are rivals for Ann Miller. These two parts are played by William Wright and Dick Purcell in a plot situation that is totally ripped off from Abbott&Costello's Buck Privates. They are a bit friendlier than Lee Bowman and Alan Curtis from the Universal classic.

But all of this is just so we can get to hear such bands as Count Basie, Duke Ellington, Bob Crosby and Freddie Slack's respective orchestras. The Mills Brothers are also on hand. And a young singer who had just left the Tommy Dorsey Orchestra sings Night and Day with an all girl band. Frank Sinatra and the rest of the acts were brought into the film by Ann Miller as she introduces the record and it starts spinning and the screen dissolves into a performance by the performers.

So other than a toe tapping finale by Ann Miller this certainly was doing one of those all star extravaganzas on the cheap. Ann's number was clumsily introduced into the proceedings since at no time during the film was it mentioned she had any dancing talent. But Ann's fans bought tickets to see her dance so I guess it was understood there would be a dance number.

Reveille with Beverly is a great piece of World War II nostalgia and definitely for fans of swing music.

Rather subdued war-time musical, not as sparkling as other Miller vehicles, but still entertaining with some of the top musical acts of the time-- Duke Ellington's Take the A-Train, Bob Crosby's Big Noise from Winnetka, Frank Sinatra's Night and Day, along with The Mills Brothers, Count Basie, and my favorite, Ella Mae Morse's styling of Cow-Cow Boogie. The music is there, but somehow there's not the flair nor the energy that would normally be expected of these headliners. Miller gets a final production number and a belated chance to tap dance her way into our proverbial hearts, but the staging comes across on the skimpy side. I suspect the flaming "V" (rather too close to the stage curtain) at number's end was an attempt to compensate.

Naturally, in a musical not much is expected from the story. Miller's yo-yoing between the radio station and the music store is somewhat amusing, as is her competition with the incomparably fussy Franklin Pangborn whose cartoonish eyebrows appear ready to jump off the screen. Irene Ryan (later, Granny, on the Beverly Hillbillies) has the best bits as the scatterbrained secretary. The romantic subplot is lame, to say the least, at the same time, leading man William Wright seems oddly to disappear from the movie's last half. In fact, the screenplay as a whole appears uncertain what to do with Wright and buddy Purcell once they're introduced into the plot.

A couple of noteworthy sidelights. Good to see the presence of a backyard Victory garden, that staple of civilian support for the war effort. Then too, if food prices keep going up in 2008, we may see them returned and renamed Survival gardens. Note also how class differences between Wright and his chauffeur are symbolically eliminated in support of the common war effort. Finally, note the rather surprising downbeat ending with the boys marching off to war, leaving Miller looking unkissed and forlorn. Perhaps the rather subdued mood of the musical as a whole has to do with it being 1943 and a lot of boys and their girls having to face a very uncertain future. Though not the best Miller musical, there are compensations.

Built around a thin plot which serves as an excuse to parade a bunch of then current pop bands, singers and comedy acts, this little programmer from Columbia spotlights ANN MILLER in the central role as a disc jockey who directs her show at the U.S. Armed Services.

She gets involved with two young soldiers--WILLIAM WRIGHT (who resembles John Carroll) and DICK PURCELL, has frequent disagreements with her radio boss, and ends up as the feature attraction in a service show where she displays her tap-dancing skills. The plot, almost non-existent, serves as a prop to show some of the performers whose records she plays for the soldiers--including Count Basie, Duke Wellington, Frank Sinatra, Bob Crosby, The Radio Rogues and The Mills Brothers.

In a strictly subordinate role is LARRY PARKS, only a few years away from stardom in "The Jolson Story", but here a virtual unknown as a fellow soldier. IRENE RYAN has a small role as a ditsy secretary.

The acts are standard stuff, except for singer FRANK SINATRA who does a standout job on "Night and Day" and performs before the camera with remarkable ease and poise a few years before becoming a major film star.

Pleasant WWII musical gets a lift from the musical numbers, but it's strictly second-rate as a substantial musical.

Looking luscious at the age the ripe old age of 20, Ann Miller stars in this 1940s equivalent of today's music videos on MTV or VH1. The flimsy plot is just an excuse to string together musical performances of recording artists of that era.

The musical performance by Frank Sinatra of Cole Porter's "Night And Day" is a noteworthy highlight. His stage is set with six lady pianists at grand pianos and six lady violinists.

Although flimsy, the plot has some merit. Comic relief is provided by veteran character actors, Tim Ryan and Irene Ryan, along with perpetually persnickety Franklin Pangborn. You'll also recognize other character actors in this film.

The film wraps up with a splendid tap dancing production number by Miller, to a patriotic World War II-era song.

It's 78 minutes of nostalgia and worth watching just to see Miller at her loveliest. The print recently broadcast by Turner Classic Movies was in very good condition.

Ann Miller gets her chance on radio with a fill-in show when Franklin Pangborn takes off from his early-morning classical music show for a vacation. Miss Miller loves swing, and the spinning records turn into the actual performers doing their numbers: Ellington & band "Take the A Train"; Bob Crosby for "Big Noise From Winnetka; two helpings of the Mills Brother, and so forth. Meanwhile the plot has Will Wright and chauffeur Dick Purcell drafted, and both courting Miss Miller; to prove it isn't his money that makes women like him, they switch identities when she's around.

Good music, and Miss Miller goes a big tap routine at the end, so it's all good. What's astonishing to me is that there seems to be no way to cut the Black performers out without trimming the movie to a sub-second-feature length, and ruining the pacing. During this period, specialty numbers by Black performers were placed so they could be removed for the Whites-only theaters in the South.