Silver Screen in a Red Envelope: A Diary of Time Wasted

They really do steal the show. Even with fourth and fifth billing respectively, Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire quite easily portray a much more enthralling story without any than the relatively insipid love triangle that occupies the more boring portions of this movie. Strapping girls to the wings of airplanes must have been another show-stealer for this one, especially when one falls and lands on another plane. I almost had a heart attack, even knowing full well that the scene was blue-screened and ridiculously improbable. The dancing and singing were sadly, nothing to write home about. Ever. But honestly, the good humor more than made up for it. The writing fell back twice too often onto bad puns, but ended on a great line, so I forgive them. Check it out, if you're a fan.

 Okay, I really do not enjoy watching Shirley Temple, in ANY of her incarnations (perky teen OR precocious tot), so I'm going to ignore her. The appeal of this film remains elusive through most of it. Ginger Rogers's acting seems wooden, or even stony until we realize that her portrayal was accurate, and her restraint admirable. She could easily have slipped into histrionics (the script did allow some few words) or flirtatiousness. When the audience realizes this, it also begins to realize the profound psychology of the whole film. The most memorable moment includes a frighteningly accurate portrayal of a panic attack brought on by acute PTSD. I was stunned and appalled by the callousness with which the minor characters treated Mary (Rogers). After the list of her own mental anguishes becomes completely revealed, it's no wonder she acts broken. The poor girl is stuck in a prison, more trauma, to compound her already damaged psyche. I pity the age that did not yet unders...