My
biological clock's a-telling me it's
that time of year again. E'yup. Time to
break out the Dippity-Do and slick up
the old pompadour, get the curl back in
my upper-lip, and buy a round of fried
peanut-butter and 'nanner sandwiches for
the house, 'cuz it's Elvis Presley's
birthday and our annual plunge into one
of his fine fractured forays into
feature film.
Racer
Lucky Jackson (The
Big E) hits the Vegas strip in need
of some quick cash. He takes what little
he has to the craps table and let's it
ride...Lady
luck please let the dice stay hot. Let him
shoot a seven with every
shot...etcetera...etcetera...Cut
to a machine shop in Los Angeles where
Lucky's buddy, Shorty (Nicky Blair),
very excitably fills us in that Lucky did
get lucky and now has the bank roll to buy
the engine they need to compete in the
Vegas Grand Prix. Back
in Vegas, Lucky runs into his old rival
Count Elmo Mancini (Cesare Donova
-- Count Elmo?). Mancini wants
Lucky to drive for him: Meaning run
interference for him, so Mancini can win
the race. Lucky refuses, saying he only
races to win, baby. Their
good natured grandstanding over the size
of their *ahem* stick-shifts is
interrupted by the arrival of a beautiful
damsel in mechanical distress (Ann-Margret).
Both men are smitten -- dumbstruck smitten
by the fiery redhead, but manage to get
her car going -- before they find out her
name. After she leaves, the men part;
Mancini saying he's going to work on his
car, while Lucky heads back to L.A. for
his motor. And that's why
they both bump into each other on the
strip, looking for the mysterious redhead.
The Count feels with that body, she must
be a showgirl. So they team up and begin
scouring the showrooms with absolutely no
luck.
This
search includes my --
and I'm not embarrassed to admit
favorite scene in the whole blamed movie
when Elvis helps roust out the Sons of
the Lonestar State with a rousing chorus
of "The Yellow Rose of
Texas/Eyes of Texas."
After
a fruitless night of searching, Lucky
overhears a familiar voice by the pool
outside Mancini's hotel room. It's her:
Rusty Martin, who happens to be the
hotel's swimming instructor. Lucky tries
to ingratiate himself to her through a
song. But she knows a wolf when she sees
one and gives him the cold shoulder. They
trade lyrical barbs and it ends with him
taking an unexpected dip into the pool off
the high dive.
Cannonball!
Wow. Think of the oil-slick that
pompadour left.
Unknown
to Lucky, he loses his bankroll in the
pool, and a little water rat feeds the
soggy bills into the filter. Shorty shows
up just as Lucky realizes the money is
gone, and then the hotel manager demands
payment for the room. Suddenly,
the hotel has two new employees until
Lucky's bill is paid off. On the brighter
side, Lucky's unlucky turn of events has
softened Rusty, and she finally agrees to
go out with him. He meets her at the
college where she's dancing up a storm in
a very fetching, form-fitting outfit
Okay,
maybe that other scene is my second
favorite. My GAWD she's beautiful.
Their
whirlwind romance continues through
several musical numbers and tours of
several famous Vegas locales; including a
helicopter ride to Hoover Dam, and
water-skiing on Lake Mead. Things go along
swimmingly, even Rusty's dad (William
DeMarest) likes her new beau. Yup,
things couldn't
be any better. That is, until Rusty runs
into Mancini who goes into all the gory
details of what he and Lucky do for a
living. All that talk of crashing and
burning causes Rusty much concern. She
wants Lucky to give it up for her, and, of
course, he won't, so they have their first
spat over their mutual stubbornness. (What?
Is this a Frankie and Annette movie all of
a sudden?) Seizing the
opportunity, Mancini invites Rusty to have
dinner with him. But
Lucky sabotages the evening by being their
waiter. He serenades her some more, but
he's going to have to work harder than
that. Things come to a boil during the
employee talent show. Rusty and Lucky both
enter, and when their numbers end, and the
smoke clears (Elvis brings the
friggin' house down with the title number),
they wind up in a tie for first place. Lucky
gets the trophy, but Rusty is awarded the
prize. He offers to trade, wanting the
prize so he can cash it in for the motor
that he still needs. No dice. She won't
help him get killed.
Losing
his engine and his girl, Lucky wanders
around the strip and gets a little
introspective as he watches other couples
snuggle. While singing a sad song, he
realizes Rusty is more important to him --
but it's too late. He's lost her for good.
Or so he thinks, because
Shorty and Rusty's dad hatch a plan to get
these two miserable individuals back as a
happy couple again PDQ. Shorty shows up
with an engine provided by a mysterious
backer (that I'm assuming was Mr.
Martin). They don't have much time,
as the race starts in a few hours, so they
all pitch in and help -- some help more
than others, while others just get in the
way.
They
barely get the car -- that has more than a
passing resemblance to the Mach 5,
and I'll even bet there's an annoying kid
and monkey secreted in the trunk -- to the
starting line in time. The race begins,
and to make a long story short, Lucky wins
the race, the girl and Mancini gets bit in
the ass by bitter irony -- winding up a
bloody smear on the asphalt. Which,
between you and me, was kind of harsh.
Mancini just wasn't that bad a guy. And
the film
screeches to a halt just as Lucky crosses
the finish line -- right after a quick cut
to our happy couple fleeing a church and
roaring away for the honeymoon.
We
then reprise the title song, which takes
us to the ever loving --
The
End
After
Elvis got out of the army in 1960, his
once promising film career quickly
floundered as it fell into moronic
formula: He was always a down-on-his-luck
kinda guy just trying to make good who
would find a girl, then lose the girl, use
his karate skills, and then win the girl
back. And of course, he would
spontaneously combust into song -- no
matter where he was or what he was doing,
and usually sang about wherever he was or
whatever he was doing -- about, oh, once
every 7.8 minutes for the duration of the
film.
From
1961 to ‘69, Elvis averaged about two to
three films a year, and while some where
pretty good (Blue
Hawaii)
and others wonderfully mediocre (Tickle
Me), most were just downright awful (Follow
That Dream).
But there’s one film that stands out
amongst all the dreck: Viva
Las Vegas.
And once you know the history behind it,
you’ll realize why -- and why another
film of that caliber always escaped our
hero afterwards.
MGM
had Elvis obligated to film two pictures
back to back for 1964. The first was Viva
Las Vegas,
and while Colonel Tom Parker (Boo!
Hiss!) went about setting up the
second film, the studio was very excited
about all the buzz generated by Vegas'
two stars. Elvis and
Ann-Margret hit it off, and their
chemistry on screen is almost volatile.
The Big E didn't get to use his karate
here, but his musical duels with his fiery
co-star were close enough. Wow. The feisty
redhead proved his match -- toe to toe and
song to song, right down to the swinging
and swiveling hips. (Oh, those hips
in those black stockings.) At the
time of the production, the Swedish
hellcat was considered the female version
of Elvis: A barely contained volcano of
musical talent, bodily gyrations and sex
appeal.
Begging
your pardon for a brief interlude, but I
think she's an absolute hottie, too, and
admit to having a few hang-ups about
her. Sure her voice is a little shrilly,
but hubba hubba, Bubba, she sure is
pretty. How much do I love Ann-Margret?
I sat through all of The
Swinger.
THAT'S how much I love Ann-Margret.
Oh-man, that scene where she's covered
in pudding or paint or whatever the hell
that is...uuuAAAAhhhhh -- let's move on.
The
film also had a lot of clout behind the
camera as well. Producer Jack Cummings,
director George Sydney and screenwriter
Sally Benson were veterans of several
big-budgeted, barn-burning musicals (Seven
Brides for Seven Brothers,
Annie
Get Your Gun
and Meet
Me in St. Louis
respectively), and their experience shows
in this production. Aside from Jailhouse
Rock,
Viva
Las Vegas
was Elvis's only other bona fide musical. Meaning
the songs moved the plot along -- not
bring it bring it to a screeching halt.
Sydney was just coming off the Elvis
inspired hit Bye
Bye Birdie,
and brought its star, Margret, along for Vegas.
Elvis
was happy to share the spotlight, and a
few other things (more on this in a
sec), with his co-star, but his
manager, Colonel Parker (Boo!
Hiss!), wasn’t. He thought Sydney
was favoring Margret too much. This was an
Elvis movie after all, and he feared
Margret was stealing the show from his
cash-cow. So to protect his investment, he
started meddling with the production and
raised such a stink that one duet was
dropped, and another duet was switched
over to Elvis alone. -- I'm assuming this
was the soul-searching tune after the
talent contest. The film gets a little
muddled toward the end, and I think both
of them lamenting for each other would
have cleared a few things up. -- Sydney
did manage an end run on Parker, though,
and shot the unscripted “What
I Say” number and got it into the
film. That’s why it seems kind of
slapped together, but who cares, it’s
fantastic.
The
end of the production also spelled the end
of Elvis and Ann-Margret's affair. While
Priscilla was hidden away at Graceland,
Elvis and Margret had their fling in
Hollywood and the press had a field day.
Reports vary, but they all agree that it
was a pretty serious affair. But everything
kind of hit the fan when Margret attended
the premiere of Bye
Bye Birdie
in England where the story broke that she
claimed she and Elvis were engaged.
Margret denied saying it, but they
couldn't hide it anymore from Priscilla;
who was growing restless back home due to
all the wild rumors and speculation and
they gradually broke it off. Rumor also
has it lately that the Colonel leaked the
marriage talk, hoping for this very
conclusion. Margret continued her career,
while Elvis and Priscilla would finally
marry three years later.
Viva
Las Vegas
proved to be Elvis biggest box-office hit.
At the time, Elvis was paid $500000 for
each picture plus 50% of the profits after
production costs. Parker (Boo!
Hiss!) was in negotiations with MGM
to restructure their contracts to get a
bigger piece of that pie. Parker (Boo!
Hiss!) also thought too much time
and money was being wasted on the
productions. That's why he made a deal
with producer Sam Katzman, a
notorious industry legend for his
cheapness, for the second picture: Kissin'
Cousins.
Along with Katzman's other Elvis film, Harum
Scarum, Cousins
provides a nice pair of turd-burger
bookends for Viva
Las Vegas.
One doesn’t have to look that hard to
tell the difference in quality. He never
had a chance after that. And for all
intents and purposes, Elvis movie career
was officially scuttled.
Do
the math, there, kids. Vegas
was an eleven week shoot. Cousins
was brought in in just 17 days. The less
money spent on the production, that much
more money went into the Colonel’s
pocket. And no matter how little they
spent on the production, or how crappy the
results, the films still made money. Which
is why Elvis was never surrounded with
such talent, production values, or co-star
ever again. And that’s a crying shame.
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