Marilyn From The 22nd Row

Due to my advanced age, I frequently repeat myself. It’s a common malady brought on by dementia. Usually being repetitive is not intentional; but in this case, I am repeating myself on purpose: I’m not a fan of musicals, never have been and never will be. It has now been at least forty-five plus years since I saw the Southern Belle Parade on Bourbon Street; and while I admit to making certain allowances for certain musicals, Gentlemen Prefer Blondes being a case in point, the reasons for which I explain in my review of that wonderful movie, I make no allowances for There’s No Business Like Show Business. In spite of a concerted effort on my part to like the movie, I don’t. I have viewed it four or five times, each time with a supplicant’s heart, each time advising myself to give it a chance. Maybe it’ll grow on you, I said to myself each time. It hasn’t and it won’t. I just cannot get beyond the trite story and the mundane script. I can’t get beyond Johnnie Ray’s stiff, horrid acting, and Ethel Merman’s shrill, fingernails-on-the-chalk-board voice, not to mention her boom boom boom delivery, which generates severe pain in my elderly spine and legs. In my opinion, the movie’s only redeeming quality happens to be, as you might conclude, Miss Monroe.

The movie’s plot centers around the vaudevillian act of Terry and Molly Donahue, played by Dan Dailey and Ethel Merman. What begins as a stage duo ends up a stage quintet as children arrive over the years, first Steven then Katy and finally the baby, Tim. The children are portrayed by Johnnie Ray, Mitzi Gaynor and Donald O’Connor, respectively. Mom and dad do their best to give their showbiz kids a normal life but they often sleep on benches in train stations.

Time, like linear storytelling, proceeds forward and in spite of some minor privations, the children survive and become relatively normal adults. Sister Katy develops into a sweet, lovely and understanding young woman. Steven, a slightly withdrawn and sensitive boy, grows into a quiet and thoughtful young man who decides he wants to become a priest. Baby Tim becomes a drinker and a womanizer who enjoys and actively seeks the company of beautiful showgirls, like Marilyn’s character, Vicky Hoffman. Tim’s womanizing, and his penchant for Vicky, cause mother Donahue a considerable amount of pain, worry and consternation. I’m not exactly sure why.

Tim pesters Vicky into a date and they develop a sort of goofy relationship. After Tim questions her true feelings for him and accuses her of having an affair with her producer, just to advance her career, Vicky ends the relationship, which sends Tim into a funk, the arms of another showgirl, drunkenness and an automobile accident. Papa Donahue confronts his youngest son in the hospital. An argument ensues and Terry smacks Tim in the face. After leaving angrily, Terry regrets his behavior and returns to apologize and get Tim, only to discover that the baby of the family has disappeared; but he left a note apologizing for his ugly behavior.

Mother Donahue, who never liked Vicky in the first place, blames her for Tim’s disappearance while Terry, displaying more honesty than his wife, correctly blames himself. Meanwhile, Steven, now a priest in the army, has been shipped overseas, whereabouts unknown.

Terry, distraught and guilty, takes to the road on a quest to find his youngest child. Thus, all three of the Donahue men are briefly missing in action; and since the show must go on, of course, the Donahue gals persevere. Katy orchestrates a reconciliation between mom and Vicky and on the show’s closing night, Steven miraculously appears in his uniform, as does Tim in his navy blues. Even Terry reappears; and they all participate in a massive production of “There’s No Business Like Show Business”.

The Five Donahue’s, finally reunited, along with Vicky, descend a set of steps amid billowing curtains, twirling whatchamacallits and what appear to be hundreds of dancers and singers as Molly loudly intones the title song and sends severe pain down my elderly spine and legs. I’m not very happy at that point, but at least the ending is.