An early Sixties star vehicle for Joe Brown, Marty Wilde and Susan Maughan, What a Crazy World turns out to be rather better than it might have been. As so often happened with musical films of that period, fashions had moved on by the time it was released, with solo singing stars of the late Fifties being supplanted by beat groups, led by the Beatles. The appearance here of the novelty act Freddie and the Dreamers is a harbinger of what was to come. A Hard Day's Night was released only a year later and occupies a completely different world from this film, which must have seemed quaintly old-fashioned to young cinema-goers.
However, times have moved on and we can now appreciate WaCW for its virtues, which are many. It's lively, fun, and well shot in B&W CinemaScope, and most if not all of its outdoors scenes were shot in genuine London locations, giving it a feeling of authenticity and avoiding staginess, despite its theatrical origins. It's pretty clear that none of the principals is a trained actor, but in the context of the admittedly hackneyed story this doesn't really matter. Stalwarts of Joan Littlewood's Theatre Workshop (like Harry H. Corbett) provide a steady bedrock for the juvenile leads.
There is perhaps a little too much chirpy Cockney on show and, apart from the title number, the songs are not terribly good. Unfortunately, near the beginning of the show there is a jaw-droppingly racist sequence set in a Labour Exchange where it's made clear to the Sixties audience that foreigners (a) talk funny (b) are lazy and (c) are nevertheless after native Brits' jobs. All we can do now is gasp.
The print I saw on Talking Pictures TV was in immaculate condition and I expect that it would very good in HD.
However, times have moved on and we can now appreciate WaCW for its virtues, which are many. It's lively, fun, and well shot in B&W CinemaScope, and most if not all of its outdoors scenes were shot in genuine London locations, giving it a feeling of authenticity and avoiding staginess, despite its theatrical origins. It's pretty clear that none of the principals is a trained actor, but in the context of the admittedly hackneyed story this doesn't really matter. Stalwarts of Joan Littlewood's Theatre Workshop (like Harry H. Corbett) provide a steady bedrock for the juvenile leads.
There is perhaps a little too much chirpy Cockney on show and, apart from the title number, the songs are not terribly good. Unfortunately, near the beginning of the show there is a jaw-droppingly racist sequence set in a Labour Exchange where it's made clear to the Sixties audience that foreigners (a) talk funny (b) are lazy and (c) are nevertheless after native Brits' jobs. All we can do now is gasp.
The print I saw on Talking Pictures TV was in immaculate condition and I expect that it would very good in HD.