the. worst. production. number. ever.

The arrival of FX's (so far) underwhelming "Fosse/Verdon" limited series comes in tandem with a renewed attack on Bob Fosse's 1969 directorial debut, "Sweet Charity." And, for some bizarre reason, the series makes the failure of "Sweet Charity" seem much worse than it actually was.

To watch Sam Rockwell, as Fosse, carry on about the awfulness of the film is to witness an act of self-laceration. Perhaps that's the point, given Fosse's emotional issues. But it's never mentioned that the original stage production of "Sweet Charity" was hardly a classic. It was one of the last of the "tired businessman" musicals, shows top-heavy with leggy chorus girls to placate those husbands forced into the theater by their wives.

What was cheesy on stage became even more so under the relentless scrutiny of the camera's eye - and it didn't help that the film was made during the flower power/summer of love era, something which Fosse exploited to the hilt, instantly dating his psychedelic movie.

Fifty years later (50 years? Yikes!), the movie version is cheesier than ever and is one of those films that gets worse with each viewing, so much so that I finally gave in and gave up my DVD of it.  But not before watching it one more time to try to figure out exactly what went so wrong.

More than five decades later, one is aware of all the unfortunate decisions that Fosse made. One dubious decision after another. Like the psychedelia. Then there are the arty, sepia-toned still shots that occasionally dot the 149-minute film and that are utterly pointless and way too pretentious.

There's the "Rich Man's Frug" number - a triptych of gratuitous dances set in a glitzy disco, circa '69, and overburdened with Fosse's annoying choreographic mannerisms. Along with the cringe-worthy Sammy Davis, Jr. bit, "The Rhythm of Life," this number also dates the film. Badly.

The casting of Shirley MacLaine in the title role seemed perfect - on paper - and, while she has a few terrific moments in the film, the pervasive self-pity in her performance makes it unpleasant to watch. In retrospect, her reading of the lovelorn heroine, Charity Hope Valentine, is a little too much of a rehash of Ginny Moorehead, the equally lovelorn (more pathetic) character she weepily played ten years earlier in Vincente Minnelli's "Some Came Running..." (1958). Lots of narcissistic tears here. Too many.

Then there's the transparent ploy of Peter Stone's screenplay to tone down Charity's "floozie" qualities whenever the character has a scene with Oscar (John MacMartin), the nice guy who could rescue her from her nowhere life. Suddenly, Charity is sedate. (Sorry, Peter, that's cheating.)

Finally, there's that big production number, "I'm a Brass Band," composed by Cy Coleman and Dorothy Field, that is not only jaw-droppingly bad but makes no sense whatsoever. Huh? Why would anyone, much less Charity Hope Valentine, equate being in love with marching with a brass band?

The number, staged in the courtyard of Lincoln Center, no less, stops the film cold - and it never recovers. With dozens of chorus boys crowding the screen, it goes on and on and on, with old pro Shirl huffing and puffing, screeching the lyrics and straining her ligaments to little avail.

No, not everything that Bob Fosse created was great.

Exacerbating matters is the sense that MacLaine is not exactly light on her feet. She galumphs actually. It's been noted that she does much less dancing in the film than Gwen Verdon did in the stage version, and that might have something to do with her limitations as a dancer.

Notes in Passing: Universal released "Sweet Charity" as a big roadshow production which failed to engage both the media (it received scant coverage) and audiences (poor box-office returns).  After its lackluster reserved-seat engagements, the studio punished the film, so to speak, by chopping out 30 minutes for its general release.  (Paramount did the same thing in 1967 to George Sidney's 143-minute "Half a Sixpence" after it unde-rperformed as a roadshow.) Gone, among other elements, were those sepia still shots and the second of those three deadly disco numbers. The Davis number, unfortunately, remained intact. Too bad that Universal didn't attempt to airbrush out most of Shirley MacLaine's tears.

On its way to the screen, "Charity" lost several songs, including at least one good one - "Baby, Dream Your Dream" - and gained a few new ones, most notably the terrific opener, "My Personal Property,"  which sounds like something Bobby Short would have sung at his piano at the Cafe Carlyle. Coleman also wrote a new - and improved - melody for the title song.

The DVD/Blu Ray of "Sweet Charity" contains an alternate - happy - ending in which Charity and Oscar reunite.  The theatrical release of the film ends sadly but, as a title card promises, also "hopefully."

Bob Fosse was a movie-musical staple during thr 1950s - dancing (and acting) on screen ("Kiss Me, Kate," which TCM  is airing at 4 p.m., est., on Saturday, April 13); choreographing films ("The Pajama Game" and "Damn Yankees"), and dancing and acting and choreographing all at the same time ("My Sister Eileen"). He directed only a handful of films and, oddly, for me at least, his best movie isn't a musical at all. It's "Lenny" (1974).

No dancing here.

Regarding Comments: All comments are enthusiastically appreciated but are moderated before publication. Replies signed "unknown" or "anonymous" are not encouraged. Please sign any response with a name (real or fabricated) or initials.  Be advised that a "name" will be assigned to any accepted post signed "unknown" or "anonymous." Thank you.

~image~

~Shirley MacLaine performing "I'm a Brass Band" in "Sweet Charity"
~photography: Universal Pictures 1969©