Reading Roadshow: The Fall of Film Musicals in the 1960s by Matthew Kennedy is like finding out that your adored favorite aunt and uncle actually had a marriage filled with bickering, money problems, and unplanned, unwanted children. It’s that kind of book, only about movie musicals. In Hollywood parlance, a roadshow was a movie that was long, very expensive, and presented in large theaters with reserved seating at inflated prices before it made its way to your neighborhood movie house. This 1960s practice was a ploy to lure people away from their televisions and once again see movie going as a special experience. Along came The Sound of Music and its astounding success. Filmmakers clamored to make bigger and richer clones of this blockbuster. Thus came films of My Fair Lady, Camelot, Hello Dolly!, Oliver!, Funny Girl, Man of La Mancha, and original musicals like Dr. Dolittle, Star!, and Goodbye Mr. Chips, among others. All these films had one thing in common: they were overblown and bloated. They had their charms, but for the most part, they were so expensive that studios did not recoup their investments (or barely made a profit) and film critics ripped them apart. Producers fought with directors; directors fought with actors. In an attempt to have that one hit that would save the studio with its huge financial returns, producers greenlighted expenditures like water flowing from a never-closed spigot. The movies featured, in many cases, actors who were not singers, demanded enormous salaries, and had even more enormous egos. The films won awards, but then again, film awards are often given by groups who have a horse in the race: after all the Motion Picture Academy of Arts and Sciences, those folks who give out Oscars, is made up of movie industry employees. It behooves them to bestow accolades on films that will reap the most profits by having won an Oscar. But aye, here’s my rub—I adored almost all of these musical movies. I eagerly awaited their arrival no matter what I read from critics, and the movies did not disappoint me. My Fair Lady was elegant and tuneful; Camelot was richly appointed, visually stunning; Star! Featured Julie Andrews for three glorious hours, singing her heart out without being surrounded by children; Funny Girl brought us the sublime Barbra Streisand for the first time on screen; Goodbye Mr. Chips had Peter O’Toole in his finest performance. My list could go on and on. So it is disheartening to me to read about the faults of these films, to read how overbearing many of the stars were—Streisand fought with the director, O’Toole couldn’t sing a note on key, complained about everything in Man of La Mancha, Rex Harrison was overbearing and had an insane wife, Andrews was not the sweet girl we’d come to know—to read the off-screen machinations of the studio heads as they threatened, spent lavishly or withheld money, hired and fired, and to read that critics of the time often based their critiques more on these off-screen doings than the merits of the films. I admit the book is fascinating as Hollywood history, but what bothers me is that I got the impression that Kennedy, a film historian, really doesn’t like musicals at all. He reports his well-documented, well-researched history, and I applaud his work. Then, he critiques the films—or at least, it seemed to me that he was speaking as himself, the viewer—and I heard very little regard for the performances, the production values, the writing, or anything else. Yes, I see the faults in these films, but the pleasures outweigh those. I am aware that the singing in Man of La Mancha is abysmal, that Goodbye Mr. Chips is designed to pull at our heartstrings, and that Oliver! is torn between being a light and lively musical and bleak comment on the underbelly of London during the Dickens era. But I get joy from all of them and most of the others. Yes, Song of Norway is a dog of a movie, and yes, Hello Dolly! is so over the top it is laughable and Streisand is totally miscast, but a recent viewing of the film left me humming the tunes and smiling. So read Roadshow for the history, read Roadshow if you hate musicals, read Roadshow if you want your bubble burst. But if you are upset by all you find out about your favorite movie from the 1960s, know that I am here to commiserate with.