IN KREEPING WITH the self-importance and self-congratulatory attitudes that are Hollywood, we have this cinematic smorgasbord of Ken Murray's "home" movies all strung together and interspersed with clips from (then) current productions, musical accompaniment and some rather maudlin narration.
IT'S NOT THAT we intend to ridicule either Mr. Murray or the general mood of this film, it just that it seems just a tad too l-o-n-g-e-r than it should be. Perhaps breaking this concept down to episodes would avoid any chance of overdose.
ON THE POSITIVE side of the ledger, Ken Murray manages to give the audience a different, if not truly candid, view of so many of our screen idols. The informal settings do give the films an unusual overall appearance, sometimes almost surreal.
BOTH UNUSUAL AS well as unexpected was the time devoted to both newspaper publisher and Yellow Journalist, William Randolph Hearst and his self-created modern palace, San Simeon. Long both revered and feared by the denizens of Hollywood, Hearst left this world August 14, 1951. Apparently those folks in the movie colony feared that he still could make 'em or break 'em, even from the Next World.
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