Interesting that ptb-8 suggests this movie for late-night audience participation, for that's exactly how I first saw it at the late-lamented Vista Theater in L.A. about 20 years ago. It was featured in a "worst films of all time" festival, and while other contenders such as The Lonely Lady and Hello Everybody! had their piquant charms, nothing beat Sincerely Yours for continuous laughter and riotous audience response.
What makes the film so beautiful and so special is that it takes all the Classical Hollywood conventions (regular-guy hero desired by both nice girl and vamp; illness and disability used for shameless heart-tugging; totally artificial sets and lighting) and unthinkingly dumps Liberace -- grinning, unctuous, goggle-eyed and palpably uneasy -- right into them.
Lee gamely goes through the motions, but scene after scene goes weirdly wrong, with every third line of dialogue becoming a hilarious double entendre comment on the star's deeply closeted yet totally obvious sexuality. He's introduced interrupting his cigar-chewing manager's bubble bath, just thrilled to hear that he's secured tickets to the big prizefight ("I love a good fight" he murmers). He ends the film tap dancing in a pink tuxedo. In between he goes all dramatic as deafness strikes him (I seem to recall a silent scream) and takes to spying on a young boy's daily walks in Central Park via the biggest pair of binoculars you ever saw.
Don't worry that the music might be too highbrow for you: amid the butchered Chopin and Schumann, there's a full concert version of "Chopsticks" and some boogie woogie. Liberace plays a bit of the latter and smirks "that's the boogie..." and I have to say that waiting for him to complete the thought by saying "that's the woogie" was one of the most gloriously happy moments of my life. The Vista programmer informed us that Liberace's brother George assembled this eclectic musical programme; when the film became a huge flop, he ungenerously blamed George and the two brothers were estranged for some time afterwards.
That's the woogie, baby.
The VHS tape of Sincerely Yours is faded and panned-and-scanned; this inadvertent masterpiece deserves a full restoration to its widescreen glory on DVD.
What makes the film so beautiful and so special is that it takes all the Classical Hollywood conventions (regular-guy hero desired by both nice girl and vamp; illness and disability used for shameless heart-tugging; totally artificial sets and lighting) and unthinkingly dumps Liberace -- grinning, unctuous, goggle-eyed and palpably uneasy -- right into them.
Lee gamely goes through the motions, but scene after scene goes weirdly wrong, with every third line of dialogue becoming a hilarious double entendre comment on the star's deeply closeted yet totally obvious sexuality. He's introduced interrupting his cigar-chewing manager's bubble bath, just thrilled to hear that he's secured tickets to the big prizefight ("I love a good fight" he murmers). He ends the film tap dancing in a pink tuxedo. In between he goes all dramatic as deafness strikes him (I seem to recall a silent scream) and takes to spying on a young boy's daily walks in Central Park via the biggest pair of binoculars you ever saw.
Don't worry that the music might be too highbrow for you: amid the butchered Chopin and Schumann, there's a full concert version of "Chopsticks" and some boogie woogie. Liberace plays a bit of the latter and smirks "that's the boogie..." and I have to say that waiting for him to complete the thought by saying "that's the woogie" was one of the most gloriously happy moments of my life. The Vista programmer informed us that Liberace's brother George assembled this eclectic musical programme; when the film became a huge flop, he ungenerously blamed George and the two brothers were estranged for some time afterwards.
That's the woogie, baby.
The VHS tape of Sincerely Yours is faded and panned-and-scanned; this inadvertent masterpiece deserves a full restoration to its widescreen glory on DVD.