DOWN ARGENTINE WAY

New Zealand Listener, Volume 5, Issue 106, 4 July 1941, Page 17

DOWN ARGENTINE WAY

(20th Cent.-Fox)

Down Argentine Way is an entertainment for the eye rather than for the ear or for the bewildered modern brain. At no stage did it pep up the

emotions, comic or tragic, but it maintained an even tenor of pleasant enjoyment right from the opening shot of Carmen Miranda to the grand finale where everyone married and lived happily ever after. That is why I liked it. The plot was never good-in this type of picture, which is really a series of cleverly presented vaudeville acts, we don’t expect it to be. It was a comic opera plot, with a stubborn father refusing to allow his son to go places with the daughter of his age-old enemy until the misunderstanding wis cleared up in the orthodox place-the end of the third act-and with the impetuous rich girl chartering a ‘plane for a 6000-mile flight, merely to slap the hero’s face. There are many flaws in it, but they don’t obtrude, and there is no need to look for them if you don’t want to. The acts were excellent. Highlight was of course Carmen Miranda. Contrary to expectation, she wore layer

upon layer (or so it seemed) of bizarrelooking garments-probably in anticipation of the frigid New Zealand winter. But although this hoard of apparel evidently prevented her from accomplishing the acrobatic congas for which she is famous-and I was duly disappointed -her singing well rewarded the patience of waiting half the picture before she appeared for any length of time. Then of course, there were the usual native tap dancers, guitarists, conga partners -all first class entertainers in their own particular field. The spectacle did not come from the music, however. There were no great choruses or orchestras, the dancing was seldom en masse. It was as though the director (Irving Cummings) aimed at making his audience sit in its seat, take notice, even clap, but to be comfortable there and not have to jump up in an outburst of enthusiasm. He did it by using colour effects, never quite natural, but always pleasing and harmonious. There were shots of Buenos Aires itself, of a very Spanish hacienda, sequences amid the geometric patterns of night-clubs, a veritable fashion parade of the best 1941 dresses-or so I’m told -and plenty of blue to turn romance out in the right colour. Even the comedy did not play its usual prominent part. It was there, it is true, but administered in gentle doses that did little more than put me in a good humour. There were very few of those hearty guffaws in which the New Zealand public so loves to indulge. Tito, the professional guide, who showed Betty Grable the hot spots of the capital’ (they’re not very hot) in place of the Ambassador, and the few Indian figures (who looked a little out of place amid such sumptuous surroundings) obliged’ with idiosyncrasies. Charlotte Greenwood, as Binnie Crawford, Betty Grable’s aunt, was her usual bouncing self-she reminded me of Tigger in the "House of Pooh Corner "-and even bounced into a few dances. Believe it or not, she can dance quite well. Then, of course, the hero and the heroine-not quite comic characters, They never rose to heights of acting genius-they didn’t have to. Don Ameche was a real Don, though not as handsome in technicolour as in black and white; and Betty Grable made a very attractive model for very attractive frocks. I wish I could believe life’ down Argentine way was quite as rosy as it was painted in this picture. If I did, I’d copy Betty Grable, and jump in the first ‘plane available.