One of my guilty pleasures when I was first collecting movies was The Boy With The Green Hair. At the time it was a rare movie that was just different. I liked it though. Here is the original 1948 review by Bosley Crowther from the New York Times of January 13, 1949...
A novel and noble endeavor to say something withering against war on behalf of the world's unnumbered children who are the most piteous victims thereof is made in the RKO picture, "The Boy With Green Hair," a fantasy-drama in color, which opened at the Palace yesterday. But the fact that the effort is earnest is no surety of its success. For all its proper intentions, the gesture falls short of its aim.
As mere sentimental entertainment, this tale of a lad whose hair turns green as a sort of miraculous token of the cruelty of war is unevenly appealing, it being, in certain respects, a beneficiary of the pattern of the charming "On Borrowed Time." The lad in the case is an orphan and he lives with a kindly old man who has a rare tenderness toward children—and who goes by the winning name of "Gramp." Furthermore, this attractive youngster becomes obsessed with a frightening idea, from which his gentle old guardian attempts to protect and deliver him.
In its scan of the poignant relations between the elderly man and the troubled boy, this film does project intimations of real compassion which are irresistible. And it profits in this projection from cozy performances by Dean Stockwell as the youngster and Pat O'Brien as the old man. Master Stockwell is lovable yet sturdy, diminutive yet strong, and Mr. O'Brien is softly sentimental without going into "Hearts and Flowers."
But, unfortunately, the idea with which the lad becomes obsessed—and which is, supposedly, responsible for his hair turning green—is weakly motivated. And the fanciful device of rendering his hair symbolic is not only arbitrary but vague.
It is not established, for instance, whether all this we see on the screen—the phenomenal hirsute coloration and the resentment of the townsfolk thereto—is supposed to be a boy's hallucination, just another of a couple he has, or whether it is intended as a strictly whimsical device. If the former, it isn't consistent with the evident fancies of this lad's mind. If the latter, it is strangely inconclusive, when pictured thusly. And, frankly, it's banal.
For it might stand to reason that a youngster of a particularly introverted sort could be so upset by anxieties that he would sense an extreme conspicuousness. And he might even tie up this fancy in a childish way with the victimizations of war. But to reason, in adult whimsey, that wars are caused by such a superficial thing as resentment of coloration is absurd and misleading.
It is very much to be regretted that Ben Barzman and Alfred Lewis Levitt, in writing this film's script from a modest little story by Betsy Beaton, and Joseph Losey in directing it, did not clarify the implication. Not only is it now confused, but one gets the uncomfortable feeling that it is just a bright adult notion gone wrong. The use of the by-now quite hackneyed "Nature Boy" as a musical theme does not dignify the conception. The supporting cast is adequate...
"There’s No Business Like Show Business" was Ethel Merman's signature song, and it encapsulates her image: brassy and camp, cheerful and a little abrasive. Most readers can probably hum a few bars of this and a few other Merman songs, maybe even offer a decent impression of her legendary singing voice, but how much do they really know about La Merm?
To celebrate Merman's birthday on January. 16, we offer 10 things you may not have known about the brash songstress
1. She recorded a disco album. In 1979, disco was king. And it wasn't just popular, it was versatile. You could set almost anything to a disco beat and end up with a catchy treat for the dance floor – Beethoven's 5th Symphony, the Star Wars theme, the quacks of a disco duck… or Ethel Merman's greatest hits. Merman recorded seven of her top songs, producers added disco beats, strings and background vocals, and a cult classic was born. Although the album only made a minor splash in the clubs and never charted, it has since found a cherished and campy place in gay culture.
2. She named her daughter Ethel Jr. Merman had two children, and they were both juniors: her son Robert and her daughter Ethel, both born to Merman and her second husband, Robert Levitt. While "Junior" wasn’t a legal part of young Ethel's name, she was nicknamed "Ethel Jr." Ethel Jr. died of a drug overdose in 1967 at the age of 25.
3. She sang with the Muppets. In the 1960s and '70s, Merman made guest appearances on a wide variety of television shows. On The Carol Burnett Show she dueted with Burnett; on Sha Na Na she knocked the boys to the ground with the power of her voice; on That Girl she reprised her role from Gypsy and gave Ann tips for achieving stardom. And then there was her Muppet Show appearance, an unexpectedly sweet guest star turn in which Merman cheered up a despondent Fozzie Bear and went on to sing with the whole gang.
4. She was self taught. That big voice didn't come from years of lessons, working and studying to increase her range and power. No, it was all natural – Merman never had a singing lesson in her life. And yet her powerful voice could reach every corner of a Broadway theater, right to the back row, without amplification. And her enunciation was so crystal clear that every word could be heard and understood by the folks in that back row. Composer George Gershwin was so impressed that he begged her never to work with a vocal teacher.
5. Tonsillitis improved her voice. In 1929 the young starlet contracted a severe case of tonsillitis. Merman agreed to a tonsillectomy despite fears that it would ruin her greatest asset, her big and distinctive voice. To her surprise and delight, once she had recovered and tried singing again, her voice was even more powerful than it had been before the surgery.
6. She was married to Ernest Borgnine for 32 days. Merman's marriage to Borgnine was her fourth, last and briefest. Merman admitted she didn't have the best judgment when it came to men: in a radio interview, she noted of her many marriages, "We all make mistakes, that's why they put rubbers on pencils, and that's what I did. I made a few loo-loos!" Her 1972 memoir Merman includes a chapter entitled "My Marriage to Ernest Borgnine" that consists of nothing more than a single blank page. But don't worry about Borgnine – he got off his own quip too, commenting about the marriage, "Biggest mistake of my life. I thought I was marrying Rosemary Clooney."
7. Jacqueline Susann fell in love with her. It may or may not be true that Merman had an affair with Susann, queen of the trashy novel. Some say that Merman was spotted making out with the author on a couch at a party; others assert that Merman, though a staple of gay culture, wasn't interested in other women at all. But what's certain is that Susann once showed up at Merman's New York apartment, distraught and screaming "I love you!" Susann went on to base her Valley of the Dolls character Anne, an aging stage actress, on Merman.
8. Her role in Gypsy was her biggest triumph – and her biggest disappointment. Merman loved playing Rose Hovick, mother of Gypsy Rose Lee and June Havoc, on Broadway in Gypsy. Her interpretation brought rave reviews from fans and critics alike – she was called brilliant and indomitable. Yet she didn't win the Tony that year (it went to Mary Martin in The Sound of Music, and Merman took it in stride, quipping "How are you going to buck a nun?"), and, surprisingly, she didn't land the role in the film. Merman fully expected to play Rose on the silver screen, having been assured by the director that the role was hers. But in the end, without much explanation, the film role was given to Rosalind Russell. Though Merman considered the loss of the movie "the greatest professional disappointment of my life," she stuck with the Broadway show, even continuing on the national tour with a severe back injury.
9. In 1954, Ethel made the splashy musical "There's No Business Like Show Business" featuring a slew of Irving Berlin tunes. Her co-stars included Dan Dailey, Mitzi Gaynor, Donald O'Connor, and the great Marilyn Monroe. Ethel did not think she was so great, and she hated Marilyn for her unprofessional behavior on the set. As a result, Merman made life miserable on the set for the blond bombshell and would intimidate Monroe so much that Marilyn would throw up after every scene they had together.
10. She loved dirty jokes. Merman had a blue sense of humor and a mouth like a sailor's. She delighted in opportunities to share vulgar jokes – whether she was shouting them across crowded rooms or including them in greeting cards...