Spotlight

Spotlight Date: 14-September-03
Spoiler Rating: High

The Music Man (1962)

I said in a review a few weeks back that I like movies to be cynical as hell. No doubt you have been losing sleep over this comment, wondering what could have happened to make your Jujube hostess so jaded in the flower of her (relative) youth. Well, friends, you can now rest easy and get some shuteye, because it turns out I like 'em when they're anti-cynical too, as proven by my recent (and first-ever) viewing of "The Music Man." It's sappy, it's corny, it has stagey song-and-dance numbers and borrows Opie right outta Mayberry, but heck if it didn't put a tear in my eye.

For those who don't know the story, "The Music Man" recounts how one "Professor Harold Hill" appears in the town of River City, I-oh-way, one sunny afternoon in 1912, hoping to score a grift and a getaway. Mr. Hill (who is neither a professor nor named Harold) sets about convincing the provincial townsfolk that their righteousness is endangered (mostly by a new pool table in the local saloon), and that the only way to prevent a slide into decadent modernity is to shell out dough for a boys' band. Naturally, the kind professor offers to collect the funds and oversee the formation of said band, although he has no idea how to read music and no interest in anyone's welfare but his own. Yet a couple of funny things happen as he perpetrates his crime against people he views as suckers: one, he actually changes their lives for the better, and two, he himself becomes better in the process. Of course, his change of heart has a lot to do with an initially phony pursuit of the local librarian, Marian, who has never known the love of a good man, or even a smarmy one like Hill. (She has wasted her life, according to her sage Irish mother, waiting for an impossible combination "of Paul Bunyon, St. Pat, and Noah Webster.") In the end, Marian's unselfish affection and the genuine enthusiasm of her neighbors (and little brother) lead the professor to abandon his seat on the gravy train for a rocker on the front porch of Small Town, USA.

Although I have always enjoyed musicals, I was at first put off by how contrived "The Music Man" is. It seems to have more singing than other popular shows like "Oklahoma" or "South Pacific," and it maintains a very theatrical style despite its big, open sets. But, rather like Harold Hill, I was eventually won over by the unabashed vitality of what I was seeing: the fluency of Robert Preston in the lead role (for which he had previously won a Tony award); the earnestness of Shirley Jones as Marian; the opulence of the costumes; and, most of all, the simple but potent messages of the story, that we can find ourselves through finding community, and that giving is more fulfilling than receiving (or taking). As the beauty of these things took me over, I realized that the deliberate theatricality of "The Music Man" makes perfect sense, suggesting as it does both the power of music to unite and delight us, and the collaborative effort that goes into creating something grand and artistic like a Broadway production (or a boys' band). For the most part, the many songs enhance the overall energy of the film, with classics such as the infectious "Ya Got Trouble" and Harold and Marian's beautiful ballad, "Till There Was You."

"The Music Man" does stumble in a few areas: its slightly excessive length underscores the fact that some of the songs ramble (e.g., "My White Knight"), and I would rather have seen Buddy Hackett drop his drawers and run around naked than listen to cwute widdle Ronny Howard trilling a reprise of "Gary, Indiana." But still, for sheer exuberance and a truly heartwarming story about what brings out the best in all of us, "The Music Man" hits exactly the right note.

Copyright © 2003 The Jujube (M. I. Kim). All rights reserved.