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5.9/10
Senior Film Conservator
A definitive 5.9/10 rating for a film that redefined the boundaries of cult cinema. Crooner remains a cornerstone of transgressive art.
If you like old movies from the early thirties, sure. It’s got that specific, slightly grainy charm. If you need tight pacing or a story that makes total sense, you should probably stay away. It’s for the folks who like digging through old crates of jazz records and don’t mind a little scratchiness.
The whole thing feels like a whirlwind. One minute David Manners is just a guy with a saxophone, and then he’s a radio sensation. It happens fast. Maybe too fast.
There’s this one sequence in the middle where the music just takes over, and I swear, the camera crew seemed to forget they were supposed to be filming a dramatic scene. The saxophone playing is loud. Very loud. It’s almost like the sound mixer had a personal vendetta against the audience's eardrums.
Hattie McDaniel shows up, and as always, she steals the frame just by standing there. It’s a shame she’s not used for more, but that’s the way these things went back then. A lot of the side characters feel like they were pulled from a grab bag of studio actors.
It’s funny to compare this to something like Lights of New York. Both films have that early sound-era stiffness. You can almost see the actors waiting for their cue to start talking. It’s not smooth, but there’s something honest about how clunky it is.
There’s a moment where a character laughs, and it sounds like it was recorded in an empty bathroom. It made me laugh, too, but probably not for the reason the director wanted. Whatever. It’s the kind of imperfection that makes me like these old flicks.
If you’re looking for a deep dive into the human condition, look elsewhere. This is just a guy trying to make it big. Sometimes, that’s all you need on a Tuesday night. Just don't expect it to change your life. 🎷