Learn How Decorating With Phones Can Save Your Marriage In "Once Upon A Honeymoon"

 

"We can still have sex at home, dear.": Mary comforts frustrated hubby Jeff when they learn their honeymoon must be canceled yet again in the musical short "Once Upon a Honeymoon"(1956).

Huzzah and welcome, movie lovers.

Recently, I posted a review of the award-winning documentary "Bathtubs Over Broadway" (2018), which lifted the lid on the wonderful, funderful world of industrial musicals: big, splashy Broadway style entertainments created to motivate/celebrate salespeople from the 1950's to the mid 1980's.

While most "industrials" were live shows, companies also commissioned short films for promotional and motivational purposes. The most famous (or notorious) of these was 1956's "Mr. B Natural", where hyper-perky Betty Luster gads about extoling the "spirit of fun in music" on behalf of Conn Instruments.

Another totally bonkers short from 1956 came via Bell Telephone. Titled "Once Upon a Honeymoon", it's a musical/fantasy/fever dream where angels and telephones save a married couple who keep having to postpone their honeymoon.

Directed by Broadway vet Gower Champion and filmed in blinding Technicolor, "Once Upon a Honeymoon" begins on "cloud seven" in heaven. The Head Angel (Russell Hicks) is furious that angel Wilbur (Chick Chandler) has not been doing enough to ensure the happiness of Jeff and Mary (Ward Ellis and Virginia Gibson). See, Jeff is a Broadway tunesmith and his latest project has been beset with problems. By far the biggest problem is temperamental ballerina/diva Sonya (Veronica Pataky), the star of the show. She keeps insisting that Jeff rewrite the song "Castle in the Sky" over and over and over again.

Angel Wilbur (left) has a performance review with the Head Angel (right). Notice the phone.

"I vant more vishing in the vishing song," Sonya demands (the flick never says where Sonja hails from, but Pataky was a native of Hungary, which explains why she sounds like Zsa Zsa Gabor).

Turning up invisible on Jeff and Mary's roof top, Wilbur arrives just as our cuddlemates learn their honeymoon plans have been foiled yet again. Jeff's boss Gordon (English actor Alan Mawbray) has phoned to report Sonya has rejected his latest rewrite and is threatening to walk if he doesn't send over another version--pronto!

"You said when I finished the score I could take Mary on our honeymoon!" an irritated Jeff retorts. "We've waited a year now and we're going!" (Author's note: My dad worked for Greyhound Bus Lines and he only got three days off for his honeymoon. Consequently, he also got no time off when my mom delivered me and my siblings. Instead, he tried to arrange his vacation time around her due dates, which didn't always work. I, for example, came early. But I digress...)

Gordon, surrounded by his suit-wearing, cigarette-smoking backers, insists Jeff has enough material at home to whip up another rewrite. Frustrated and disappointed, Jeff has no choice but to put down the phone, light up a cigarette and get back to work. In a trick that's suppose to show how much time has gone by, we see the ashtray on Jeff's piano is soon over flowing with cigarette butts (ewww). 

"No inspiration, dear?" Mary asks.

"Have I reached the party to whom I am speaking?": Wilbur (Chick Chandler) phones home. 

"I couldn't write 'The Farmer in the Dell'," grouses Jeff.

Gathering up his uneaten lunch, Mary goes into the kitchen and begins singing. "I wish I had a castle in the sky," she trills. "Away up high, where blue birds like to fly! Just a cozy little castle, with a hundred rooms or more. With stars for windows, clouds for rugs and a rainbow for a door!" As she does this, Mary realizes that her fridge never closes properly, her faucet drips and her stove's pilot light must always be lighted when she wants to cook something or make coffee.

"I wish..." Mary warbles. "I wish... I just wish I had a decent kitchen!"

That's Wilbur's cue to start sprinkling angel dust (rim shot) over Mary, causing her to fantasize about a new kitchen that comes complete with "a bright red phone" that will come in handy when "friends call up to chat a bit!"

Still tripping out on Wilbur's angel dust (rim shot), Mary flounces into her living room and sings, "I wish my living room were all redone!" And PRESTO! Not only is Mary's living room redecorated, but Jeff has been put in white tie and ties and Mary is sporting a fluffy white gown. While hubby pounds away on the piano, Mary continues to sing, declaring, "It's nice to have a telephone to blend with my new drapes and rug--a living room that's all our own!"

Mary sings about the joys of having a phone that "matches my new drapes and rug."(Note the MST3K silhouettes in the frame.)

Mary and Jeff then have a dance break, where they twirl around like Bobby and Cissy from "The Lawrence Welk Show". When that's over, Mary flits off to the bedroom--which, this being 1956, features separate twin beds. 

"The bedroom should be changed completely, too," Mary warbles. "Perhaps a color scheme of gold and blue?"

As the bedroom magically changes, Mary pops her head up from behind a couch up and sings, "On second thought, I might try dusty rose..."

Then she runs over to one of the beds, flops on top of it, kicks up her heels and continues singing: "A lady likes to have a change her miiiind...just like a yellow room with turquoise and white...and maybe a telephone that lights up at night. I wish I may, I...wish...I...might."

Mary's reverie is broken by the sound of a ringing telephone. Racing to the hall way, she picks up the phone and finds the caller has hung up. Jeff, at wit's end, slams down on the piano keys and tells Mary to call Gordon; there's no way he'll have the rewrite Sonja wants today. Mary heaves a deep sigh and dials Gordon's number. Still on the roof, angel Wilbur throws down more angel dust (rim shot) on Mary and the phone.

Jeff and Mary tripping the light fantastic.

As Mary dials Gordon's number, the sound of the rotary dial sparks something in Jeff's imagination; he has Mary redial the number again and EUREKA! Jeff has the hook he needs to finish his song!

Soon Jeff and Mary are singing the new and improved "Castle in the Sky" together, even taking time to twirl around the front room. If you're wondering how the piano keeps playing while Jeff and Mary waltz around, invisible angel Wilbur has taken over the keyboards. But, wait! There's more! Boss Gordon suddenly rings in and our cuddlemates perform the updated version of the troublesome tune on the spot. Gordon, in fact, puts the call on speaker phone so Sonya (who happens to be in his office) can hear it, too. Needless to say, the rewrite a hit and Sonya declares, "I love it!" The show is saved!

Finally Jeff and Mary can go on their honeymoon. So our cuddlemates gather up their luggage, Jeff puts on a sport coat and Mary leaps into his arms. Out the door our smitten kittens glide, not even bothering to lock up. Wilbur, meanwhile, phones the Head Angel in heaven to triumphantly exclaim, "Mission accomplished!"

Amen.

Like a Donald Trump press conference, "Once Upon a Honeymoon" is a weird, confusing yet oddly entertaining experience. Obviously a lot of money was spent on this and the performers on screen throw themselves 100% into the proceedings, even if the objectives of the flick remain unclear.

A transformed Mary marvels at her magically redecorated bedroom. Note the twin beds.

I mean, if this short was meant to sell phones, how come the phones play second fiddle to all the redecorating Mary sings so rhapsodically about? After all, Mary just wanted "a decent kitchen"--she never expressed any dissatisfaction with her phone or phone service. Likewise, if Sonya is such a pain-in-the-ass diva, how come we didn't see more of her? A few glimpses of Sonya's never-ending demands might have fleshed out this plot point. Finally, Jeff and Mary's marriage seems OK to me. Sure, they've had to put off their honeymoon for a year, but this doesn't seem to have caused any problems between them. In fact, Mary, the ideal '50's spouse, is nothing less than understanding about the situation.

The website for the National Film Preservation Foundation (!) asserts that "Once Upon a Honeymoon" "exemplifies the enthusiasm and excess of mid-1950's advertising." Indeed, Bell Telephone was so pleased with this flick, local phone companies were given free copies of the song "Castle in the Sky"!

So maybe I have it all wrong. Perhaps "Once Upon a Honeymoon" was just meant to be a fun, musical Technicolor diversion from the rigors of daily life. There was no grand statement, no deeper meaning intended. And if that's true, then, "Once Upon a Honeymoon" succeeded admirably.

So movie lovers, please always remember, and never forget, that while marriages are made in heaven, phones are made on Earth and some things are just meant to be crazy.

And SAVE THE MOVIES while you're at it.

You never know where inspiration might strike: A humble rotary phone helps songwriter Jeff finish his latest Broadway score.

Junk Cinema Salutes The Uniquely American World Of Industrial Theater In "Bathrooms Over Broadway"

 

All Singing! All dancing! All plumbing!: "Bathtubs Over Broadway"(2018) celebrates the over-looked world of industrial musicals.

Hi-dee-ho, movie lovers.

Do you have a favorite Broadway musical?

Is it "42 Street"? "Oklahoma!"? "West Side Story"? "The Sound of Music"?

Perhaps it's something from the oeuvre of the late Stephen Sondheim, such as "Company", "A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum", "Sweeney Todd" or "Into the Woods"?

Could it be "Hamilton" or "A Chorus Line"? Or maybe it's the melodious stains of " The Wonderful World of Chemistry" or "Diesel Dazzle" that gets your toes tapping?

"Take it from Here": A 1971 industrial musical that billed itself as "the rollicking story of how Charlie Powers of Xerox Data Systems (finds) out what the Xerox Corporation is all about!"

What? You've never heard of " The Wonderful World of Chemistry" or "Diesel Dazzle" or "The Bathrooms are Coming"?!

Guess what, you're not alone. Which is why you must watch the delightfully demented, feel-good documentary "Bathrooms Over Broadway" (2018), currently screening on Netflix.

A hit on the film festival circuit, the winner of numerous awards and the recipient of a 100% "Fresh" rating on the Rotten Tomatoes website, "Bathtubs Over Broadway" chronicles the world of "industrial musicals": big, splashy Broadway-inspired entertainments made exclusively for big business from the 1950's to the mid-1980's.

The point of industrial musicals was to hype new products, teach better sales techniques or celebrate a rise in profits with singers, dancers, elaborate sets and costumes and, of course, original musical scores that rivaled the best of Broadway.

However, unless you worked for General Motors, Xerox, GE, Sears or some other big corporation, you probably never saw one of these productions. That's because industrial musicals were conceived and designed as in-house entertainment only, to be shown exclusively at national and/or regional sales conventions or conferences.

 "The New Wide World of Ford"(1960) was made for the Tractor and Implement Division of Ford Motor. The program featured such hits as "Hayin' Line Ahead of its Time" and "More Power to You".

Yet no expense was spared in creating these shows, which often featured Broadway hopefuls like Martin Short, Hal Linden, Chita Rivera and Susan Stroman (a five-time Tony winning choreographer/director) in their cast and crews. Other big names included Bob Newhart, Florence Henderson and writers Sheldon Harnick and Jerry Bock, who gave us "Fiddler on the Roof".

Who's idea was it to alert the American public to this secret stash of musical oddities?

The credit goes to Steve Young, a long serving comedy writer (and Larry "Bud" Melman look-alike) for "Late Night with David Letterman".

Young was given the task of finding weird music for a segment called "Dave's Record Collection." That's where he stumbled upon the soundtracks for industrial musicals. Before long, Young was hunting down these recordings for himself and linking up with fellow industrial musical fans, swapping stories and trading records. That lead to contacts and interviews with the performers and creators of these remarkable shows, including composers Sheldon Harnick, and Frank Beebe as well as singer/actors Peter Shawn, Sandi Freeman and Patt Stanton Gjonala (who warbled the dreamy "My Bathroom" for 1969's "The Bathrooms are Coming!").

When Letterman announced that his show was closing up shop in 1993, Steve, who had been with the program from its beginning, was at loose ends as to what to do next. His love of industrial musicals inspired him to write (with Sport Murphy) Everything's Coming Up Profits, the ultimate resource on "the golden age of industrial musicals". That, in turn, lead to the acclaimed documentary "Bathrooms Over Broadway"...and this blog post.

This record was given out to attendees of a cooler sales convention held in Miami...I think. If you know anything about this song or the production it was featured in, please contact me!

Examples of the crack pot creativity of industrial musicals can be seen in such extravaganzas as "The Wonderful World of Chemistry" (written by Michael Brown for the 1964 New York World's Fair), which sang the praises of such Du Pont products as nylon, mylar and corfam and featured the "Happy Plastic Family"; "Diesel Dazzle" (1966) about selling farm products and featuring the hit tunes "Sell the Truck" and "Reliabilt Hoedown"; "The Grip of Leadership" (1961) from the Coca Cola corporation, where songs such as "Packaging and Pricing", "Keep Things Jumping" and "I Hear America Singing" are found; and "The Bathrooms are Coming!" (1969) where ditties like "Bring Back Those Glorious Years", "Look at this Tub" and "My Bathroom" extol the genius of American-Standard bathroom fixtures.

Of course, "Bathrooms Over Broadway" does more than just illuminate the world of industrial musicals. It also subtly layers in the story of Steve Young and how becoming a fan of "industrials" opened him up to new friends and experiences. Especially moving are the bonds Young forms with the creators and performers of these shows, most of whom never got the recognition they deserved. That was especially true for composer Hank Beebe. Although he worked both on and Off Broadway, Beebe spent considerable time in the world of industrials, which disappointed his mother. She had higher aspirations for her son and dismissed his work there as "just commercials". 

Meanwhile, Young's book Everything's Coming Up Profits is an excellent companion piece to Ken Smith's beyond brilliant Mental Hygiene: Better Living Through Classroom Films. Published in 1999, Mental Hygiene explored the role educational films played in the social development of America's post-war youth. Both tomes focus on an industry that thrived under the radar for nearly 30 years, capturing our country in a more optimistic and forward-looking time. What's more, both authors were initially inspired to write about these entertainment curiosities in hopes of preserving them for future generations.

Junk Cinema, naturally, is an ideal venue for industrial musical appreciation as well. I was first introduced to the joys of industrials on MST3K, THE GREATEST TELEVISION SHOW OF ALL TIME. That's where I saw "Mr. B Natural", a musical short from 1956. Produced by Kling Films for CG Conn Instruments, MR. B Natural was portrayed by the ferociously perky Betty Luster, who is sent  to bring "the spirit of fun in music" to needy, nerdy kids--whether they want it or not. The attention MST3K gave "Mr. B Natural" bought it out of obscurity and gave it new life as "a prime example of period kitsch" (Wikipedia).

Another industrial musical spotlighted by MST3K was "Once Upon a Honeymoon" (1956). Made by Bell Telephone and directed by Gower Champion, this "musical fantasy" told the story of Jeff and Mary, a young couple who haven't been able to go on their honeymoon because of problems besetting Mike's latest Broadway show. The couple's guardian angel (named Wilbur) is dispatched to Earth to help Jeff finish his score, while Mary daydreams about a new house with a phone in every room. A telephone even helps Jeff finish his song "A Castle in the Sky"!

Yes, the gang on the SOL were mocking these industrials, but they were doing it with love. Even Steve Young at first thought industrial musicals were too nutty for words--until he dived deeper into this  secret world and found it a place of pure imagination worth celebrating.

"Go Fly a Kite" premiered at GE's fifth Electric Utility Executives Conference in 1966. The music and lyrics were written by the team of Kander and Ebb, who's next project was the musical "Cabaret". Valerie Harper, TV's "Rhoda", was in the cast. Song selections include "Atom and Evil", "Big, Fat Wife" and "Supermink."

"Bathtubs Over Broadway" ends with a splashy, colorful show stopper called "Take That Step". Co written by Young and Beebe, "Take That Step" features many of the performers and fans we've met in the course of the flick, singing and dancing about the joys of taking chances and following your own bliss: "Take that step/ Shine your light/That left turn/Might be right/Don't wait for the world/To say 'OK',/Find your own way!"

For someone who writes a blog dedicated to saving bad movies, I couldn't agree more!

Therefore, for shining a light on this unseen era of musical creativity, Steven Young, Sport Murphy, director Dava Whisenant and all the unsung heroes of industrial musicals, Junk Cinema salutes you!

Steve Young (center in suit and hat) belts out "Take That Step" with his new friends from the wonderful, funderful world of industrial musicals.

 

"A Place for Lovers" Or "The Most Godawful Piece of Pseudo-Romantic Slop I've Ever Seen!"*

* Roger Ebert.

Faye Dunaway and Marcello Mastroianni are ill-fated cuddlemates in "A Place for Lovers" (1969), a flick dubbed "as exciting to watch as a game of Tiddly-Winks."

Che piacere vederti! (That's Italian for "How nice it is to see you".)

All the world loves a lover, right?

Well, not exactly.

When MGM released the romantic drama "A Place for Lovers" in 1969, the critical brickbats were especially fierce. Here's a sample:

"The most godawful piece of pseudo-romantic slop I've ever seen!" exclaimed Roger Ebert in The Chicago Sun-Times.

Film critics reacting to the movie "A Place for Lovers."

"It gives me no pleasure whatever to report that Vittorio De Sica's 'A Place for Lovers' is the worst movie I have seen all year and possibly since 1926," Charles Champlin of The Los Angeles Times carped. "It is endlessly, interminably, paralyzingly, stupefying bad."

"A dismal mess," sniffed Roger Greenspun of The New York Times. "A Place for Lovers' involves Faye Dunaway, Marcello Mastroianni and Vittorio De Sica in what I sincerely hope will be the worst movie of their respective careers."

"Woefully inept," Time magazine marveled, adding, "The five scriptwriters who supposedly worked on the film must have spent enough time at the water cooler to flood a camel."

In the 52 years since its original release, the reputation of "A Place for Lovers" as a Junk Cinema Jewel of Godzilla-like stature has only grown. The film was featured in The Fifty Worst Films of all Time, the January 2019 edition of Italian Vanity Fair magazine included it on their list of the 20 worst films ever made (along side "The Room", "Stayin' Alive" and "Howard the Duck") and even Wikipedia states that the flick "is widely considered one of the worst films of all time."

What makes this romantic drama starring real life cuddlemates Faye Dunaway and Marcello Mastroianni so bad? Let's take a look.

Julia (Dunaway) and Valerio (Mastroianni) enjoying la dolce vita.

The Leads Are Nitwits.

Julia (Dunaway) is a fahionista from America. Valerio (Mastroianni) is an Italian engineer working on safety bags for race car drivers. They meet at the airport. 

"I don't even know myself, how, why, I presume to speak to you," Valerio stammers during their first encounter. "I don't have a good excuse. (Pause) But for two hours now, I've been watching you. Look, I'm not a playboy. This has never happened to me before. I don't even know--how--I'm just an engineer..."

Then he hands her his card and asks Julia to contact him if she's ever in Italy. As it turns out, Julia is staying in an Italian villa the size of a shopping mall. She switches the TV on one night and finds Valerio giving an interview about his airbags. She dials his number and Valerio zooms over.

"I see you like experiments," Julia says. "How would you like to experiment by staying with me for two days?"

Italian smoothie Valerio can't believe how easy it was to hook his latest catch, Julia.

"Why did you ask me for only two days?" the befuddled Valerio asks.

"So you can ask me for the next eight," she replies, fluttering her mascara-heavy eyelashes.

When Julia asks Valerio if he's married, he casually replies, "Just about" (I assume that means yes?). Unfortunately, Julia has Ali McGraw Disease, a mysterious yet fatal ailment where the afflicted remain dewy-fresh and fashion plate perfect at all times. No coughing, sneezing, chills or vomiting. Julia was being treated in a London clinic, but she slipped out and headed to Italy.

Julia never tells Valerio she's a goner. Why? Because she's in love! Really in love! For the first time ever! Can't anybody understand that?! Telling Valerio the truth would spoil everything! Julia just wants to live until she dies, is that so bad?

As I said, they're total nitwits.

The Plot Is Preposterous.

Julia is the most beautiful sick person you'll ever see.

Even though they barely know each other, Julia and Valerio decide to spend the next 10 days together. Our cuddlemates have sex, eat out, have sex, go sight seeing, have sex, shoot home movies, have sex, dance to gospel music, have sex, rent a cottage in the mountains, have sex and have sex. The only time they have a disagreement is when they return to Julia's villa and find a party in full swing. The party then morphs into an orgy, complete with a porno movie and couples swapping partners. Valerio finds this too much and stomps off. 

"But it's only a game!" Julia reminds him.

"Only a game?" Valerio huffs. "Some helluva a game!"

Have no fear: our cuddlemates meet later, patch things up and, of course, have make-up sex.

Hovering in the background is Julia's friend Maggie (Caroline Mortimer), a chain-smoking busybody who is mortified that her terminally ill buddy is shacking up with a semi-married gent in Italy. Doesn't he know Julia's dying? Maggie insists she return to her English hospital so she can die as painlessly as possible. But Julia won't hear of it. Why? Because she's in love! For the first time in her her life she's REALLY in love! Can't Maggie understand?! The Grim Reaper will have to wait because she's in love!

"Boogie Nights": Valerio and Julia enjoy a dance with death.

When Maggie tries and fails to get her bestie on a plane back to London, she stubs out her latest cancer stick and calls up the couple's ski chalet. She leaves a message for Valerio, telling him Julia is doomed and must return to her doctor's care before it's too late. Valerio's eyes pop when he learns the news; after all, Julia doesn't look sick, she doesn't act sick--how can this be? How can she be dying when they're in love? Really in love!

Needless to say, Valerio is horrified and angry. How could Julia forget to tell him she was dying?

"Don't look at me!" Julia sobs when Valerio confronts her about the reality of her condition. "I can't take anymore sad eyes! Everyone always gets those good, sad eyes! Yours weren't! Yours were honest! Now," she gasps, "They're like all the others!"

So Julia didn't want Valerio looking at her sadly. Well, OK. And Julia is tired of people feeling sorry for her. That's understandable. But didn't she think she owed Valerio the truth? After all, didn't she make him promise he would always tell her the truth?

 Now that Valerio knows she's a goner, Julia decides to kill herself. However, when the time comes, she can't do it. Then she and Valerio go for a drive and Julia drives like a maniac round the tight curves of the road. Just when you think--hope--the couple will do a "Thelma and Louise", Julia stops the car. Valerio gets behind the wheel and she takes the passenger's seat. He revs up the car and they drive off.

Marcello Mastroianni literally phones in his performance in "A Place for Lovers".

The end.

Which means what, exactly?

Your guess is as good as mine. Perhaps the flick's scriptwriters and director wanted one of those ambiguous endings, where the fate of the characters was left to the viewers' imagination. Or maybe they just got tired of shooting this crazy, sloppy movie and decided, "That's it. Everybody's suffered enough. Lets call it a day and go home."

The Acting Is Bad

Both Mastroianni and Dunaway are attractive, talented performers, so it's surprising to see them slogging their way through this pretentious, tedious schmaltz. The critics of the day gave full vent to their frustration at having to watch this "Dumb Enchanted Evening", producing reviews that were more entertaining than the movie.

Charles Champlin snarked that Mastroianni looked "embarrassed and befuddled, also a bit puffy, as if he had his nap interrupted or had tarried too long at the pasta." Time stated that Marcello displayed "all the zest of a man summoned up for tax evasion." Meanwhile, Dunaway, never in the same outfit twice, staggers through her scenes with a preoccupied, far away expression reminiscent of people who can't remember if they turned the iron off. "The only smidgen of a plot is that Dunaway makes a late abortive attempt at suicide," Time remarked. "Something the film successfully achieves after about ten minutes."

"Afternoon Delight": Doomed cuddlemates Julia and Valerio enjoy the sunshine of their love. 

The bad acting of the principals was complimented nicely by "the truly bad script" (according to the Saturday Evening Post) that included five scriptwriters toiling away. Even the crew members realized the flick just wasn't jelling; the same SEP article made note of "the lower ranks" making "sick jokes about doomed, desperate ladies" to pass the time.

"They Do It In The Name Of Love!"

Although "A Place for Lovers" received brickbats from the critics, the producers still tried to get the public interested by focusing on the romantic nature of the story. 

"Wherever they meet, they make it A Place for Lovers!" the ads gushed.

When that didn't work, the promoters tried this: "They Do It In The Name of Love!"

No dice.

Even the real life romance of Mastroianni and Dunaway failed to do the trick. In the end, "A Place for Lovers" was the cinematic equivalent of a really bad blind date: long, slow, excruciating and best forgotten by everyone involved. 

Then a year later, the world witnessed the release of another bat-shit crazy love story about doomed cuddlemates called--what else?--"Love Story". That movie also featured a terminally ill heroine who looked like a Vogue cover model (and actually had been a Vogue cover model) but it made zillions at the box office. "Love Story" was just as bad as "A Place for Lovers", but the public embraced it, begging the question "How could a movie starring Ryan O'Neil and Ali McGraw be better than a movie starring Marcello Mastroianni and Faye Dunaway?"

The world may never know.

So movie lovers, please always remember, and never forget, love may mean never having to say your sorry, but when you appear in a stinker like "A Place for Lovers", you will be saying sorry a lot.

So why not help me SAVE THE MOVIES instead?