Broadway Danny Rose

Broadway Danny Rose to gossiping Borscht Belters, Danny "White Roses" to vengeful Mafiosi, Woody Allen by any other name. "Might I just interject one concept at this juncture?" The small-time theatrical manager is abandoned by his successful clients but keeps the faith of show business, the métier of stuttering ventriloquists and one-legged tap dancers and blind xylophone players. His hope is the ursine lounge crooner with a pounding tune about indigestion (Nick Apollo Forte), the decisive night at the Waldorf hinges on the hard-nosed mistress with underworld connections (Mia Farrow). Mistaken identities, gangland cartoons, helium-sprayed shootouts. "This is a philosophy of life? This sounds like the screenplay to Murder, Inc." An anecdote out of Damon Runyon, something to talk about during lunch at Carnegie Deli. The myth of the Big Time, the spotlight judged by Milton Berle, the oddballs who converge into something like a family for frozen Thanksgiving turkey. Allen's inspired stroke is to morph the waif into a moll, piling teased bouffant and oversized shades and New Jersey honk on top of Farrow and staging their wriggling roped escape as a love scene. The "landlocked Jew" amidst flatland reeds, a Monet view of the Hudson harbor with fog and seagulls. (Another bit of Gordon Willis virtuosity has a darkened warehouse suddenly illuminated to reveal a screen filled with grinning parade floats.) Luci del Varietà and Expresso Bongo are the forerunners, the filming takes note of The Godfather and Raging Bull. "Where are my pills? I need a Valium the size of a hockey puck." The happy ending is a panning long shot that ends right outside Scheherazade's palace, the presentation goes into Melinda and Melinda. With Sandy Baron, Herb Reynolds, Edwin Bordo, Paul Greco, Frank Renzulli, Morty Gunty, Corbett Monica, Jackie Gayle, Howard Storm, and Jack Rollins. In black and white.