- Sleek, sharp-edged, sassy “What Price Hollywood?” We’re spared earnest “before” scenes: Mary (Constance Bennett) is an illusion-free waitress at The Brown Derby, and schemes to meet her future mentor Max. We’re also spared scenes of her raw talent, as she blows her screen test with an awful performance. The grotesque funeral in the two later versions, here is a wedding. It’s grotesquery squared, with the fans ripping Mary’s bouquet to bits, pulling her veil off, and Saxe, the studio head, delighted by the publicity. Also different is the signature farewell line: “Mary!” “What?” “Nothing. I just wanted to hear you again.”
- All the essential elements of the myth appear in their proper place: the cute meeting, the prestissimo romance/career launch, the award ceremony humiliation, the failed sobering up, the final bow, the brave widow. Great, but Janet Gaynor is so annoying that the first 30 minutes are almost unbearable. But then Fredrick March, handsome and full of beans, arrives the save the day. But Lionel Stander (Libby) pretty much steals the picture, with his hyper-articulate bullfrog voice.
- Has any classic musical ever had worse songs? The exception is “The Man Who Got Away,” which significantly occurs before Esther is discovered. Judy jams with her colleagues for the fun of it, rather than being imprisoned in idiotic “numbers”. There’s a distinct lack of interest in the original plot. It’s all there, of course, with scenes copied from 1937 down to the poses. But that’s for business that nobody could be bothered to think about. George Cukor’s chilly, movies-within-the movie artifice beautifully conflicts with Garland’s intense improvisational breakdowns. Speaking of breakdowns, there’s a whole disassociation between image and sound thing going on here (all those montages of still images, Maine’s marriage proposal, etc.)
- Torture. For the first hour I thought it might be the quintessence of camp, but it goes on another hour and 19 minutes; it’s too boring to be camp. The best thing about it is Kris Kristofferson as sex object. I’m totally on board with this. It turns the story upside down: instead of tragedy, this is a story of triumph. Tears and heartbreak, but triumph nevertheless. It ends with an anthem – a medley of several anthems. The 1954 version pointedly ended with no song – even though Judy Garland was on hand, for whom a tear-soaked ballad was the air she breathed. Anyway, the songs are blackboard scratching terrible. “Evergreen”? Yikes! The banshee-screech of the ‘70s.
- A remake of the 1976 version, but infinitely better. For one thing, both of the leads act rather than pose. Gaga is a convincing young woman overwhelmed by events, Cooper dials down his cuteness to portray a wreck. But once the tragedy kicks in, there’s an inevitable tediousness. We all know exactly what’s going to happen.