Waikiki Wedding: Bing Crosby, Pineapples, and Not Much Else

Should you watch this?

If you have a soft spot for 1930s musicals where the plot is thinner than a napkin, you might find some joy here. It’s a breezy, sunny affair that feels like a long-lost brochure for a vacation spot you can’t afford. If you need grit, complexity, or a script that wasn't written on the back of a cocktail menu, skip it entirely.

Bing Crosby is just... Bing. He’s doing the thing where he leans against a palm tree and sings at someone while they look slightly confused. It’s comforting, sure, but it’s not exactly pushing boundaries. He plays an ad man who is supposed to be wooing the pageant winner, but honestly, his character feels like he’s just waiting for his next break to grab a drink.

Martha Raye is the real MVP here. She has this way of contorting her face that makes the rest of the movie feel like it’s struggling to keep up. She’s loud and chaotic, which is a massive relief because the rest of the cast is so polished it’s practically radioactive. I found myself waiting for her to pop back on screen just to see if she’d accidentally break the set.

The "Hawaii" of it all

The sets are clearly painted backdrops and soundstages that look like they haven’t seen a real breeze in years. There’s something undeniably charming about that, though. It’s a fake, idealized version of Hawaii that doesn't care about being authentic. It’s just trying to be bright.

• The musical numbers feel like they were dropped in from another dimension.
• I’m still not entirely sure what the "Miss Pineapple Princess" contest was actually supposed to achieve for the economy.
• The supporting cast seems to be having a contest of their own: who can wear the most leis without tipping over.

There is a weird, jarring shift in tone whenever the film tries to get "dramatic." It’s like watching a kid try to do a serious monologue in a clown suit. It doesn't work, but you can’t look away. It’s not as gritty as Dzikie pola, obviously, but it has its own kind of strange, dated intensity.

I kept wondering if the extras were actually having fun or if they were just terrified of the director. There’s one guy in the background of the beach scene who just stares into the middle distance for three solid minutes. He looks like he’s contemplating his entire life trajectory.

Is it a masterpiece? Absolutely not. It’s a relic. It’s like finding a dusty box of old postcards in your grandmother's attic. Some are faded, some are stained, and half of them don’t make any sense, but you keep them anyway because they feel like a piece of something that doesn't exist anymore. 🍍