Hollywood did a string of musical biopics of Great American song composers during and just after World War II. The most famous, of course, is Warner Brothers' *Yankee Doodle Dandy* (1942), in which James Cagney dances away with a well-deserved Best Actor Oscar. There is also the same studio's underappreciated *Rhapsody in Blue* (1945), which does a decent job of presenting Gershwin as the very voice of the American spirit. There was also MGM's *Till the Clouds Roll By* (1946), which tries to cram as many Jerome Kern numbers into two hours as possible. I also seem to recall that there was a fluff piece about Sigmund Romberg, but I can't track it down.
Despite its very misleading title, *The Great Victor Herbert* bears no resemblance to any of these. It is not, and does not pretend to be, a biography, fictional or otherwise, of the great American operetta composer.
Rather, it is yet another variation on the story best known from *A Star is Born* of a husband-wife theater team in which the husband is initially the big star, but later is supplanted by his up and coming wife. Trouble ensues.
Allan Jones had already played this part just three years before in the 1936 *Show Boat*, and it's rather strange to see him put in the same situations just three years later.
The problems with this movie, for me, are more than the deceptive title, however. There is, still, a lot of Herbert music in this movie. That would be fine if it concentrated on his memorable music, of which there was much. But it doesn't. We hear one piece after the next, some in fairly lavish production numbers, always leaving me with the same reaction: why bother? Rather than focusing on some of Herbert's big successes, like *Naughty Marietta*, *The Red Mill*, *Babes in Toyland*, and *Mlle Modiste*, it dredges up one forgettable number after the next from his other, long-forgotten shows. That makes this 90 minute movie seem longer than it is.
I enjoyed seeing Mary Martin on the screen. She's very young here, and Herbert's music is not the sort of thing with which she would have success after success on Broadway in the years to follow - it's a long way from Nelly Forbush or Maria in Sound of Music - but she's still enjoyable to watch.
Allan Jones has been better in other pictures.
Susanna Foster sounds like a poor man's Meliza Korjus. She has a thin voice with freakish high notes that are best not heard. Unfortunately, we get to hear the highest of them not once but twice, at the beginning and then the end of the picture.
In short, unless you want to see Mary Martin in one of her too rare silver screen appearances, there really is nothing to recommend this movie.
