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By
NICK ZEGARAC
"I've been in Hollywood so
long, I knew Doris Day before she was a virgin!"
That ascorbic crack from incorrigible wit Groucho
Marx offers up a clairvoyant summary of Day's
Hollywood tenure up until 1953. Cast as the
perennial figure of fresh-faced exuberance and
abounding asexuality, Doris Day was "the girl next
door" with her chastity belt firmly in place. Then
came "Calamity Jane" (1953). Today it is probably
the film most closely associated with Day's
musical tenure. Based on the Broadway show of
merit the film stars Day as the irrepressible
tomboy of the title, allowing her to at least
partly eschew the essences of goody-two-shoes
squeaky clean homespun-ness and delve head first
into an "Annie Get Your Gun-ish" type, rough and
tumble sharp shooter.
The plot concerns a case of mistaken identity that
quickly leads to a lover's triangle. Initially
assigned to bring back Chicago stage diva, Adelaid
Adams (Gale Robbins) to the Dead Wood Theatre,
Cl'am mistakes Adam's dress maid, Katie Brown
(Allyn Ann McLerie) for her mistress. Despite the
mix up, Brown proves she can warble a tune and
entice the male population of Dead Wood with her
feminine charms. Meanwhile, Cl'am has stars in her
eyes for Lt. Danny Gilmartin (Philip Carey). But
he doesn't know she's alive. This of course is a
great source of fun poking for Wild Bill Hickok
(Howard Keel). Secretly, he's rather fond of
Cl'am. Publicly, he's exasperated by her lack of
femininity. However, this latter complaint is
remedied when Cl'am moves in with Katie. But when
Katie and Danny fall in love, Cl'am seeks revenge
in a hail of gunfire; a jealous little plot twist
that, fortunately for all concerned, ends in
merriment of holy matrimony.
From its casting of Keel as Hickok, to its
"anything you can do, I can do better" knock off
song, "I Can Do Without You"; around every turn
and chasm, "Calamity Jane" begs comparison with
MGM's six gun musical salute to the old west --
"Annie Get Your Gun." It's to director David
Butler's credit that he never allows such
comparisons to render his adaptation of the
material at hand as lesser than. Instead what we
get is another fine example of well-worn fodder
turned under into a seemingly fresh and vital film
experience. Perhaps the most notable example that
Butler has succeeded at his craft comes in the
form of the Oscar-winning song "Secret Love,"
warbled by Day with a throb and trill that remains
one of the memorable cornerstones in film music
history.
This is the same disc that Warner Bros. released
over a year ago before the idea of a Doris Day box
set came to their minds. Colors are rich and
powerful. Flesh tones might appear a tad too pink
but otherwise exhibit a visual characteristic that
is in keeping with the vibrancy of three-strip
Technicolor. Occasionally mis-registration of the
negative results in halos that are annoying.
Thankfully, these problems never last for more
than a few moments on the screen. The audio has
been remixed and, although revealing shortcomings
in dated fidelity, is presented at an ample
listening level. Extras are limited to a trailer
and premiere footage. A shame. |
