Word: weills
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...Here? (20th Century-Fox) goes in so many directions, into so many grades and kinds of free-wheeling fooling, that it will please practically anybody some of the time and practically nobody all of the time. People who like first-rate finesse will enjoy bits of brisket from Kurt Weill's musical ribroast, the most teasing twists in Ira Gershwin's lyrics, and Alan Mowbray pretending to be Eric Blore pretending to be George Washington. People who like oafishly coy satire about on a par with summer-camp imitations of Gilbert & Sullivan will find stretches of that. Between...
...beet-nosed Hessians in the Trenton Bierstube. By the time he faces a Hessian firing squad, the genie suddenly transplants him spang into the middle of a mutiny against Christopher Columbus (Fortunio Bononova). For this episode Ira Gershwin has written the most trickily tanglefooted of his lyrics and Kurt Weill, assisted by Baritone Carlos Ramirez, has composed a raving parody of wopera. The mutiny ends happily when Columbus spots Cuba (Sloppy Joe's, complete with girls) through his spyglass...
...show does boast opulent operatic trappings and Composer Weill's (Lady in the Dark, One Touch of Venus) full-bodied, romantically tuneful score. But even the tunes, pleasant as they are, suffer from a certain sameness...
...Firebrand of Florence (music by Kurt Weill; book by Edwin Justus Mayer & Ira Gershwin; produced by Max Gordon) sets to music Edwin Justus Mayer's 20-year-old comedy about Benvenuto Cellini, The Firebrand. Though the music itself proves an asset, it has to consort with a yarn that time has made paunchy and libretto-writing made puerile. The brawling mankiller, the dashing lady-killer, the impudent, artistic scapegallows Benvenuto (Earl Wrightson) becomes just another musicomedy swashbuckler; the plot and gags are such spinach that the whole thing turns out to be a musical poached eggs Florentine...
...Probably the only main flaw is that there is so much lush looking that it occasionally becomes a little overwhelming. With out the lightening touches of Mr. Cooper's bumbling tally-ho manner--so competent and sure that it is a pure joy--and the bright verve of Weill's songs--"Sing Me Not a Ballad" or "You're Far Too Near Me"--"Much Ado About Love" could very easily seem over-stuffed. Opening night there was far too much material, but there was enough expert stagecraft to notice that a new musical comedy hit is heading happily for Broadway...