I disliked everything about this movie, beginning with its bathetic title which attempts to manipulate us into liking (or pitying) the main character. This movie is pitiful in every aspect, apart from MGM's usual excellent production values.
In Hollywood's golden era, a trip to the movies meant several short subjects besides the main feature. The studios had a constant need for entertainers who could sustain a ten-minute short film; those who made good in a short subject might move up into the big leagues of feature-length movies. Particularly at MGM and Warner Brothers, a lot of vaudeville performers were given a chance to star in one short film as a sort of demo reel. 'The Little Maestro' gives Jerry Bergen (who?) a chance to show his stuff. Since you've almost certainly never heard of Jerry Bergen (no relation to Edgar and Candice), that tells you what to expect.
IMDb's synopsis for this movie is accurate enough, right up until the phrase 'That's when the fun begins.' There is no fun in this movie. Bergen shows up at a nightclub, clutching a violin case. (In the movies, a violin case usually indicates the presence of a machine-gun, not a violin.) For some reason, a waiter who has never clapped eyes on Bergen before decides to put him to work right then and there ... not only as part of the kitchen staff but also as a performer on the bill! This might have been vaguely plausible if the script had inserted a line about the staff being short-handed, or an entertainer cancelling on short notice.
This movie has the general ambiance and look of a comedy except that it isn't funny. Naturally, Bergen makes a mess of everything he tries to do ... but none of his mayhem is funny. The waiter keeps assuring the chef that Bergen is a brilliant entertainer -- again, the waiter has never seen Bergen before -- so we keep waiting for Bergen to open that violin case and dazzle us with his virtuosity. When he finally does so, he isn't remotely entertaining: not as a violinist, nor as a comedian. His act involves some truly bizarre decisions. I can't believe that the customers in a sophisticated urban nightclub would want to hear 'Home on the Range' -- except maybe as a parody -- but Bergen performs it here, and it's not funny.
Memo to students of comedy: When a comedian plays a character who wreaks mayhem intentionally, it can be hilarious. When a would-be comedian plays a character with good intentions who wreaks mayhem unintentionally through pure ineptitude, it's much more difficult for this to be funny.
SPOILER COMING. Just when I thought that this movie couldn't annoy me any more deeply, it surpassed itself. At last, the chef finally ejects Jerry ... by way of the kitchen door into a back alley. While being bum-rushed through the kitchen, Jerry manages to filch a piece of meat. Once he's out in the alley, the soundtrack cues the 'poor starving waif' music while Jerry starts to eat his booty. But then a dog emerges from the shadows, and the dog is clearly hungry too. Rather than share his meal with the dog, Jerry gives the meat to the dog outright ... then he shambles off into the night, starving and friendless. I guess I'm supposed to burst into tears, or something. Chaplin handled this stuff well enough. If you wonder why Jerry Bergen never reached Chaplin's level of stardom, this movie will tell you why. Don't bother watching it, though. My rating: just one point out of 10, for the production values.
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