6/10
Senior Film Conservator

A definitive 6/10 rating for a film that redefined the boundaries of cult cinema. The Big Broadcast of 1937 remains a cornerstone of transgressive art.
If you want a tightly plotted masterpiece, stay far away from this one. But if you have a soft spot for loud jazz, vintage comedy, and scripts that feel like they were written on a napkin five minutes before filming, The Big Broadcast of 1937 is a total blast. 📻
People who hate old-school variety shows or can't stand screaming comedians will probably want to throw their TV out the window after ten minutes.
The movie pretends to be about a radio station going under. Honestly, the writers forget about that within the first twenty minutes, and I don't blame them.
Instead, we get Jack Benny trying to keep his sanity while a bunch of eccentric weirdos run around the studio. Benny's dry, slow-burn reactions are easily the best part of the non-musical scenes.
There is this one bit where Gracie Allen explains a golf game that makes absolutely no sense. It goes on way too long, but her bizarre logic is kind of hypnotic.
The real reason to watch this is the musical acts. When Benny Goodman and his orchestra show up, the movie suddenly gets about ten times better.
Gene Krupa is on the drums, and he looks like he's possessed by some kind of rhythm demon. The camera just stares at his sweaty, grinning face while he beats the life out of his snare drum. 🥁
Then you got Martha Raye. She sings with her mouth open so wide you could probably park a car in there, and she has this wild, manic energy that is honestly a bit scary.
It is a weird contrast to some of the other stuff, like when Leopold Stokowski shows up to conduct a symphony. It feels like two completely different movies were put in a blender.
"We need a big show to save the station!"
Sure, that is the excuse they use, but nobody cares. If you've been watching dreary old films like Together We Live lately, this messy, loud spectacle is exactly what you need to wake up.
Some of the jokes are incredibly dusty now, and the romantic subplot with the singers is pretty boring. I literally checked my phone during the love songs.
But when the swing music starts pumping, none of that matters. It's just pure, unpolished energy from a time when movies didn't have to be perfect to be fun.
It's not a masterpiece, but who cares? Its just a good, noisy time. 🎺

IMDb 6.9
1930
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