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5.8/10
Senior Film Conservator
A definitive 5.8/10 rating for a film that redefined the boundaries of cult cinema. Sing, Bing, Sing remains a cornerstone of transgressive art.
If you have twenty minutes and a soft spot for the absolute weirdness of early talkies, Sing, Bing, Sing is worth a look. If you need a plot that makes sense or characters who act like actual humans, stay far, far away.
It is basically just Bing Crosby being charming while everyone else runs around like their hair is on fire. The premise is simple: he sings to a girl, the dad hears it, and then chaos ensues. It feels like someone took a radio segment and just slapped some grainy film on top of it.
Bing is, well, Bing. He has that effortless, smooth thing going on that makes you forget how little is actually happening on screen. There is a moment where he just leans into a microphone and you can tell he is the only one in the room who knows what the camera is for. The rest of the cast? They are mostly just shouting at the ceiling.
It reminded me a bit of the frantic energy in Fireman Save My Child, where everyone is running around for no reason. Except here, the stakes are just a girl and a radio signal. It is low-stakes nonsense, but it has a weird, twitchy rhythm to it.
Is it good? Not really. It is more of a curiosity. It lacks the polish you see in later musicals, but it has this raw, unrefined energy. You can tell they were just trying to get the song recorded and move on to lunch. Sometimes that kind of indifference is more fun than a super-scripted drama.
It definitely does not have the depth of something like Crime and Punishment, but then again, nobody is watching a Bing Crosby short to contemplate the weight of the soul. You watch it to hear him croon for a few minutes while the world is still in black and white. It is a tiny, odd blip in film history that I am glad still exists, even if it makes absolutely no sense by the end. 🎙️