Playmates

I would have had a much more positive view of this movie if I didn't know and admire John Barrymore.

On the surface of it, this is as good as any of the rest of Kay Kyser's ouevre. If you like him (he is, admittedly, an acquired taste), you will probably like this movie. Lupe Velez and Patsy Kelly add their talents to the usual mix of corn and Swing supplied by Kay, Harry Babbitt, and Ish Kabibble (the true inventor of the Beatle haircut).

What keeps me from truly enjoying this film is the presence of the great John Barrymore in a role more suited to Edgar Kennedy. In his last screen appearance, Barrymore grimaces and cavorts like a Stooge and is obviously reading his lines from cards because he can't remember them anymore. Whether or not the tears in his eyes and on his cheeks are real as he mumbles through Hamlet's soliloquy one last time, mine were real enough.

If you don't reverence Barrymore, and you are a student of the Kollege of Musical Knowledge, this will be your cup of tea. If either of the above isn't true, give it a miss.