Wendell Corey plays the rich Texas single-parent of Jane Powell in this film. Oddly, however, he seems upset that he's being sent on an important mission to Paris. For some reason, he seems to have misgivings about the place. What they are and why you learn in a flashback scene. It seems that years earlier, Corey had gone to Paris and fell in love with and married a French lady (Danielle Darrieux--who is still kicking at almost 94). Their marriage turned out to be a mistake and she soon tired of Texas and moved back home--leaving Coery with a 2 year-old. Instead of telling the truth, however, Corey told his child that her mother had died--and now that they are going to Paris he worries that the two might meet.
Along the way, there is LOTS of singing--mostly pleasant. However, I must divulge that musicals are among my least favorite movies (ranking just below Hercules movies and US Army training films)--so I am NOT the best judge of this type of movie. I just wish they'd sung a bit less. Wow...think about how great it would be if they made musicals without singing! Regardless of my possibly petty complaint, the film is enjoyable fluff--even if you are tormented by occasionally hearing Wendell Corey sing. Whoever thought this was a good idea was clearly insane, as Ernest Borgnine and Marcel Marceau were much better singers. The best way to describe the film is 'agreeable fluff'--nice agreeable fluff at that.
By the way, while Vic Damone sang nicely and looked very handsome, casting him as a Frenchman was utterly ridiculous--no matter the excuse they gave him for having absolutely no French accent.
Along the way, there is LOTS of singing--mostly pleasant. However, I must divulge that musicals are among my least favorite movies (ranking just below Hercules movies and US Army training films)--so I am NOT the best judge of this type of movie. I just wish they'd sung a bit less. Wow...think about how great it would be if they made musicals without singing! Regardless of my possibly petty complaint, the film is enjoyable fluff--even if you are tormented by occasionally hearing Wendell Corey sing. Whoever thought this was a good idea was clearly insane, as Ernest Borgnine and Marcel Marceau were much better singers. The best way to describe the film is 'agreeable fluff'--nice agreeable fluff at that.
By the way, while Vic Damone sang nicely and looked very handsome, casting him as a Frenchman was utterly ridiculous--no matter the excuse they gave him for having absolutely no French accent.