The Big Show: Gene Autry and a whole lot of filler

Is this for you?

If you like singing cowboys, 1930s fairground vibes, and plot points that basically stop existing the second a guitar starts playing, then sure, go for it. If you prefer movies that actually make sense, stay away. This isn't exactly high art, but it's got a weird, frantic energy that's hard to hate entirely.

The whole thing feels like a collection of clips held together by a thin piece of string. Every time the story starts to breathe, we’re yanked away to watch The Light Crust Doughboys do their thing. It’s not necessarily bad, but it’s definitely distracting. You start to wonder if the script was just a napkin with 'Gene sings' written on it three dozen times.

There is this moment where Autry is pretending to be his stunt double, or maybe the other way around? It gets confusing real fast. You can see the gears turning in his head, trying to remember which version of himself he's supposed to be playing. It’s charming in a 'we didn't have the budget to fix this' sort of way.

The stunt work is… well, it’s there. Comparing this to something like The Man in the Iron Mask is obviously unfair, but the lack of stakes in the action scenes is palpable. It’s all very polite. Nobody really gets hurt, and the horses look like they’re just bored and waiting for lunch.

Bits and pieces

• That one background extra in the cowboy hat keeps looking directly into the camera. It’s impossible to unsee.
• The musical numbers go on for three lifetimes.
• Champion the horse has more charisma than half the human cast.
• The Texas Centennial footage looks like a home movie that got way too much funding.

I found myself spacing out during the middle act. It’s the kind of movie you put on while you’re folding laundry. It doesn't demand your attention, which is probably for the best. There’s a specific kind of '1930s variety show' pacing that just doesn't land today. It feels like a Hollywood Newsreel that refused to end.

At one point, there’s this interaction that feels like it belongs in Dance Hall Hostess, where everyone is trying to be sophisticated and it just falls flat. It’s awkward, but in a funny way. You can feel the director just trying to get the scene done so they could get back to the songs.

Honestly? It’s a mess. But it’s a weirdly happy mess. You leave feeling like you’ve been at a long, loud party where you didn't know half the people and the host kept changing his outfit every five minutes.