There's no doubt in my mind that in real life, the undeniably talented Betty Hutton was one big drama queen, combining her obsession with entertaining with an emotional need that her chosen profession couldn't fulfill. She is starring here in the film version of a play that probably couldn't be properly filmed, and it's a brave ambition to try to do justice to it. In her career, Hutton would play real life entertainers Texas Guinan, Pearl White, Annie Oakley and Blossom Seeley, basically utilizing aspects of her own personality yet coming off unscathed. She's basically repeating the failure that Ginger Rogers had in the ahead of its time musical "Lady in the Dark" where the inner workings of a troubled woman take center stage and come off too complex for simple entertainment seeking audiences.
This film has the misfortune of not even giving the audience a chance to get to know the leading heroine before dragging them into a high speed chase through Hutton's psyche. It would certainly take a diagram with charts and road maps to explain all the splits in Hutton's character's personalities. The photography for Hutton (as well as her outfits and hairstyles) isn't very flattering either. Confused Hutton bounces back and forth between MacDonald Carey as an aggressive sports columnist and Patric Knowles as her brother in law like a flea in a circus. The cast, under the direction of Mitchell Leissen, overplays every line, with Walter Abel and Peggy Wood braying each word as her parents. She tries desperately to flow easily from one fantasy to another, but the invisible barricades. This isn't really a story, but a psychological diary that should not only be under lock and key but cemented up behind the strongest bricks and mortar. If her bizarre psychosis doesn't disturb you, try out her dream of trying to emulate both Mae West and Dietrich, but sounding like a singing combination of Ethel Merman and Margaret Hamilton.
Then comes her attempt to play Madame Butterfly in full makeup where she looks more like Madame Gin Sling from Joseph Von Sternherg's "The Shanghai Gesture". Hutton spends the entire film talking through her nose, reminding me of the irritating Gloria Upson in "Auntie Mame", hysterical for a supporting role bit aggravating in the lead. She's ripe for a mental institution here, as is Carey for trying to get her to see reality so he can marry her. After this, Hutton returned to the tried and true formulas that had made her a unique personality, one that people either lived or avoided. In retrospect, "Dream Girl" wasn't even a stage success for Lucille Ball on tour, and if Hutton saw it and tried to pick up tips, she came off more as a burlesque on Joan Davis than taking the character she was playing seriously.
This film has the misfortune of not even giving the audience a chance to get to know the leading heroine before dragging them into a high speed chase through Hutton's psyche. It would certainly take a diagram with charts and road maps to explain all the splits in Hutton's character's personalities. The photography for Hutton (as well as her outfits and hairstyles) isn't very flattering either. Confused Hutton bounces back and forth between MacDonald Carey as an aggressive sports columnist and Patric Knowles as her brother in law like a flea in a circus. The cast, under the direction of Mitchell Leissen, overplays every line, with Walter Abel and Peggy Wood braying each word as her parents. She tries desperately to flow easily from one fantasy to another, but the invisible barricades. This isn't really a story, but a psychological diary that should not only be under lock and key but cemented up behind the strongest bricks and mortar. If her bizarre psychosis doesn't disturb you, try out her dream of trying to emulate both Mae West and Dietrich, but sounding like a singing combination of Ethel Merman and Margaret Hamilton.
Then comes her attempt to play Madame Butterfly in full makeup where she looks more like Madame Gin Sling from Joseph Von Sternherg's "The Shanghai Gesture". Hutton spends the entire film talking through her nose, reminding me of the irritating Gloria Upson in "Auntie Mame", hysterical for a supporting role bit aggravating in the lead. She's ripe for a mental institution here, as is Carey for trying to get her to see reality so he can marry her. After this, Hutton returned to the tried and true formulas that had made her a unique personality, one that people either lived or avoided. In retrospect, "Dream Girl" wasn't even a stage success for Lucille Ball on tour, and if Hutton saw it and tried to pick up tips, she came off more as a burlesque on Joan Davis than taking the character she was playing seriously.