Quite apart from its historical significance – five minutes’ worth of trite dialogue and numerous horrific Al Jolson songs – this film is interesting for its still relevant issues of personal desire versus familial andcultural expectations, and the contradictions and pressures of integration and multiculturalism. These intriguing points hardly counterbalance the fact that the film stinks. If they’d cut all the shots of our hero’s mother looking distraught and pained, and the horrendous songs (jazz my ass), it would have been half an hour long. Jolson’s acting is better when silent – when he talks, he insists on twisting his mouth up in a weird grin that suggests he’s gearing up to play The Joker.
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