HER HIGHNESS AND THE BELLBOY
(M-G-M) _
EST I confirm some readers in their completely erroneous impression that I have an antiAmerican bias, I had
better be careful what I say about two of the films I saw last week. But while
it is true that infantilism of the type encountered in Her Highness and the Bellboy (and to a lesser extent in Princess O’Rourke) knows no boundaries, I think it is safe to say that Hollywood gives it every opportunity to find expression. As far as I can recall both experiences, seeing Her Highness and the Bellboy is not unlike going under an anaethetic. One part of your mind tells you to resist the insidious sickly stuff; the other part tells you that it is harmless and even pleasant. Why not relax and just enjoy watching Hedy LaMarr as she simpers round the screen in the role of a Ruritanian princess staying at a New York hotel, beloved by the humble bellboy (Robert Walker) and herself loving an aloof American journalist, what time the bellboy’s true sweetheart, a cripple (June Allyson), pines miserably away, but miraculously recovers the use of her legs as soon as the Princess departs? Why excite yourself about the extraordinary blend of obsequiousness and self-satisfaction in the film’s attitude towards royalty? What matter if most of the jokes are based on the struggles of foreigners with the English language and are almost as old as the dictionary itself; or if Jane Allyson’s little-girl manner, which seems so piquant at the start, soon becomes sickly sweet? Why, in fact, bother to keep your critical faculties awake?--the show gives off a certain surface glitter and charm; even if she is nothing else, Hedy LaMarr is at least one of the great beauties of this generation; Robert Walker’s acting has a juvenile freshness which is by no means unattractive; and there’s a pugilist guy, a big dumb oaf of a fellow, who shines out even in this dulf setting. Yet although most of the people around me in the large audience appeared to be happily gassed, for some reason I just couldn’t make myself succumb to this particular anaesthetic, Silly of me, I suppose.
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New Zealand Listener, Volume 14, Issue 350, 8 March 1946, Page 18
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365HER HIGHNESS AND THE BELLBOY New Zealand Listener, Volume 14, Issue 350, 8 March 1946, Page 18
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