t a colorful and glamorous New York ball, a grand introduction and entrance are arranged for the most courageous entertainer of the year: Jane Froman (Susan Hayward). She’s a comedienne and movie star, but why is she considered courageous? Transitioning to Cincinnati a few years back, Jane rushes to an audition at a radio station, where she misidentifies the man in charge, detailing her history of minor performances and her current studies at the conservatory (voice harmony and theory). And she’s even given some good advice by the impostor, Don Ross (David Wayne), who was just rejected for his over-the-top vaudeville routine.

Sure enough, Froman – with her significant voice – gets a job, doing silly commercial jingles before becoming a staff artist, where she continues with product plugs but supplements that with real songs during the evenings. In a matter of months, she picks up more serious work, performing to larger and larger crowds at major venues, making a name for herself – and accruing bigger and bigger salaries. “Let’s go somewhere we can’t afford.”

Finally, her fame lands her in New York – and then Hollywood, before going back to New York again. After much begging, she eventually relents and marries Don, who can’t find entertainment or songwriting success for himself, but manages to play the piano during some of Jane’s stage routines. He doesn’t describe their union as a happily-ever-after scenario, but at least they’re officially wed, which seems to be his ultimate relationship goal. And Don’s jealousy and lack of stardom only escalate, leading to childish spats. “You could sing a nursery rhyme and they’d applaud.”

Although it follows a standard biopic formula, charting the rise of a star, a sizable chunk of the running time is singing performances, leaving less room for a proper plot (though it might be said that the majority of Froman’s life isn’t exactly cinematic). In many ways, the start of the picture is like listening to a record of Froman’s songs; there aren’t even opulent sets with glittering costumes draped around captivating dancers to divert viewers. Scenes tend to shift from one location to the next, solely to segue to another musical number. At least the title tune is rather memorable, even if most of her others are not, though her voice is undeniably spectacular (Froman herself provided Hayward’s singing voice).

Also curious is the decision to have the tale initially shown from the perspective – and narration – of Ross, her default agent, who seems altogether unnecessary. Like in “A Star is Born,” he represents a conflict that the leading lady should have known better than to get roped into, serving chiefly to interfere with her prosperousness. Even odder is the second narrator, John Burn (Rory Calhoun), who doesn’t make an appearance until nearly halfway through – in yet another role that doesn’t feel essential, considering this is supposed to be Jane’s story. His involvement stems from a transatlantic flight to London, for which he’s the third copilot, scheduled due to the onset of WWII. And a third narrator, Thelma Ritter as a nurse, takes over for the briefest portion, providing commentary that absolutely doesn’t need to be imparted.

Of more interest is the fact that Jane is portrayed as largely independent and strong-willed, certain that she doesn’t need a man to make her life complete, while also content waiting for true love; her marriage looks to be the result of simply relenting to Don’s desperation and periodic insistences. He’s inconsequential, but offers to tend to their home, even though she could have easily paid for a housekeeper or personal chef to take on those responsibilities. “What did a dame like Jane Froman ever see in you?”

There is a twist, of course, for audiences unaware of Jane Froman’s history. The award for courageousness from the opening moments begins to make sense when she’s involved in a serious accident that will irrevocably alter her wellbeing (though, quite importantly, not her career so much). Nevertheless, a chronicle of her life doesn’t ever really rise to the occasion of movie-worthy; her specific misfortune seems utterly negligible in the realm of theatrical adversities, while a love triangle isn’t original enough to augment the drama, as it’s swift and unconvincing. Perhaps most unfortunate of all is that, for a film about someone enduring and persevering, there’s maybe only one marginally emotional sequence (along with a nicely orchestrated final USO performance), making this a remarkably forgettable production.

– Mike Massie