Review of Frankie And Johnny

Introduction

Asinine romantic pentangle on a Mississippi steamer/roving house of Burlesque. Lounge Singer and compulsive slot jockey Johnny (The King TM), attempts to improve his gambling batting average by consulting a crazed gypsy, who insists that he can only buck his losing streak by snagging a red-head, thus momentarily throwing his sights off of charming showgirl Frankie (Donna Douglas), and onto the radar of fulsome redhead Nellie Bly (a gorgeous Nancy Kovack). As Frankie & Johnny cruise closer to Broadway success, jealousy mounts as fast as ludicrous plot developments, leading to a strained finale. Stir in a few ditzy drunks, a suave ladies man (Anthony Eisley), a few thousand syrupy show-tunes and leave in a cool, dry place until damp, stodgy and tasteless.

Video

A lively colour palette courtesy of cinematographer Jacques Marquette gets a mediocre transfer thanks to another MGM back catalogue disc. Occasional quite severe print damage belies reasonable detail and contrast, but it’s still rough and hazy around the edges.

Audio

A basic mono track in several languages, although Elvis croons in English in all of them.

Features

MGM back catalogue disc… go on, take a wild guess… a theatrical trailer… yes, and what else..? Squat? Yes indeedy.

Conclusion

Elvis was a crash-course movie veteran by this point, but ‘Frankie and Johnny’ displays little interest in stretching the boundaries of his screen persona, sufficing to sleepwalk through yet another one of his affable losers in an effortlessly bland performance that makes him look like a country club Steven Seagal. Naturally not even the most flimsy pretext for a song n’ dance number is passed by, leading to a narrative starved of any dramatic tension.

The script isn’t totally witless, and the supporting cast discharge their duties with plenty of enthusiasm: Harry Morgan and Audrey Christie waltz through an amusing double act, and Sue Ann Langdon conjures up more than a few guilty laughs as alcoholic loser in love Mitzi. However, this remains utterly tedious, although one should perhaps be thankful that many of the King’s lung-busting extravaganzas are far worse than this. `Frankie and Johnny` is so subsumed in pre-war whistling-Dixie naivete, that the burgeoning New Hollywood movement feels an ice age away, and what`s more depressing is that the public seemingly liked it that way.