ith opening credit music and imagery curiously similar to Disneyland’s Haunted Mansion theme ride (not that the park was necessarily influenced by the designs of this quintessential southern riverfront setting; director James Whale was known for his dedication to visual authenticity), the show boat Cotton Palace arrives at the Boonville dock, where Captain Andy Hawks (Charles Winninger) brings the whole troupe ashore to advertise their grand play to be put on that evening. Star Julia LaVerne (Helen Morgan) is the highlight, though jealous infighting amongst the performers casts a pall over the proceedings (as well as conspiring from a meddling sheriff). It isn’t until young woman Magnolia Hawks (Irene Dunne), the captain’s daughter, who plays a little piano but doesn’t have much to do with the show boat’s entertainment (she’s forbidden from participating by her grumpy mother), crosses paths with traveler Gaylord Ravenal (Allan Jones) that the stage brightens considerably.

“Let’s suppose we fall in love at first sight.” With minimal delay, the jovial duo is flirting and singing, which quickly segues to laborer Queenie (Hattie McDaniel) nagging at helper Joe (Paul Robeson), who uses a creative daydream montage to bellow “Ol’ Man River” alongside a bevy of dock workers. And this flows into another tune, “Can’t Help Lovin’ Dat Man,” with Morgan in the lead, joined by McDaniel and Robeson. Just within this first act, there are almost too many songs to keep track of, most establishing an airy mood but few propelling the story forward (other than Robeson’s bassy voice, few of these numbers have any resonance).

Fascinatingly, the tone drastically shifts when an accusation is made against leading man Steve Baker (Donald Cook) – insisting that he has illegally married half-black Julia, running afoul of local miscegenation laws. It’s suddenly a battle between the sympathetic cast and crew, who are unconcerned with such traditions, and the racist authorities, who wish to run the couple out of town. It’s a striking sentiment that will surely cause additional predicaments, though in the short term, their departure allows Magnolia to star in the Palace’s show, pairing up with Gaylord, who happens to be available and has a bit of acting experience in his background. This, of course, leads the way to further singing, which takes the form of narrating feelings that are quite obvious – as well as trivial actions, such as moving to and from locations.

Based on the hit 1927 musical by Jerome Kern and Oscar Hammerstein II (itself adapted from Edna Ferber’s novel from the year before), “Show Boat” excels at examining uncomfortable topics surrounding race and racism through the pleasantries of music. There’s also considerable humor during play performances, demonstrating the comical ways in which a live show can be interrupted and beset with defective props and unruly audiences. Detracting from some of the amusement, however, is Dunne’s blackface and banjo routine, which has aged poorly, to say the least. Other values of the era, including Gaylord insisting that it’s not a woman’s place to question a man’s financial situation, similarly clash with the consistent arrival of musical numbers and duets – and an inevitable wedding celebration.

Another unexpected development is the fact that the film spans many years; a child is born, Magnolia finally leaves the boat, wealth and status are gained and lost, and relationships prosper and deteriorate. The festivities and drama don’t remain entirely centered around the waterbound vessel, even if it serves as something of a microcosm for nostalgic careers, social attitudes, and the vanishing ways of life, as comparably depicted on dry land. Ultimately, though “Show Boat” is a historically significant production, its construction feels very much like a straightforward generational tale that had music inserted – somewhat incongruously on occasion – into a premise that wasn’t entirely fit for it (it nevertheless closely adapts the source material). The most enduring components aren’t the songs, but the realized themes of shattered reputations, separated families (and abandonment), generous sacrifices, and heartfelt reunions – which culminate in a teary-eyed New Year’s performance, the rise of a fresh international star, and a long-awaited chance at a desperate redemption. More than anything else, it’s the parting shots that win out. “Don’t be so narrow-minded!”

– Mike Massie