Family-themed films of this era that open with bucolic scenes of small-town life—in this case, Concord, Massachusetts—that also have a title vocal covering the scenes makes one wary it may turn into a suds-fest. Yet this film's category is comedy. The title song was written by David Rose with lyrics by Jay Livingston and Ray Evans. It is sung in the unmistakable tone of Vic Damone. The film starts off strong with Paul Ford's trademark sarcastic delivery—mostly to his live-in son-in-law—projected through his prominent nose. The first thirty minutes or so are consistently the funniest and one may conjure up future shades of Archie Bunker. Unfortunately, there are about seventy-five minutes left.
Ford plays a successful New England lumber company executive in his early sixties living a humdrum life with—for the purposes of this film—his similarly aged wife, played by Maureen O'Sullivan. Ford's myopic ideas about life are funny in the beginning. After the wife reveals to the family she is pregnant, the film gets less funny—hit and miss—as the story slogs through a sagging middle of a mature subject matter for its era. There is little to laugh about late in the film as it becomes a silly melodrama. Ford is not supportive of his “good news.” One ends up disgusted with him and irritated by O'Sullivan's breathy, aloof delivery. However, both pale in comparison to their daughter, Connie Stevens, who tries too hard to be funny or cute, fully aware cameras are rolling. Her on-screen husband, Jim Hutton, is no less over-the-top by the mid-way point. Her desire is to start a family but he wants to wait. Their squabbles are uncomfortably drawn out in clichéd fashion. Perhaps all better played on a stage environment (see the Note below).
Accompanying this frustrated quartet is the town's mayor and Ford's next-door neighbor, Lloyd Nolan, who seems to be doing a parody of Joe Biden—assuming some sort of time warp has taken place. There is an overall resemblance but it is his personality that suggests the current President—ironically a Democrat—where everyday conversation sounds politically motivated with a full cadre of faux-niceties—when not pointing his index finger. Yes, Nolan does that, too. I digressed there. He and Ford are long-time friends and past political rivals. The mayor awards a significant contract to Ford—sort of a congratulatory gift—to the expectant couple. Nudge. Nudge. Rounding out the cast are the family's physician, Henry Jones, and his on-screen wife, Jane Wyatt. As a confidant to O'Sullivan, Wyatt thinks she needs relief from her husband's every “Nineteenth Century” command. It is she who suggests O'Sullivan see her husband about sudden fatigue.
Ford is beginning to long for humdrum. Being a father again at his age is embarrassing as the townsfolk chides him about his unexpected treasure. He complains about turning eighty at his child's future college graduation, his wife's wardrobe spending, and their child's room renovation. Standard Hollywood fare includes the obligatory drunk scenes as Ford and Hutton return home and set up a prank on the mayor's lawn involving a spotlighted toilet. “Mayor Biden” threatens to cancel that lumber contract; O'Sullivan catches the next bus out of town, and Ford is actually stunned. And scared. And in pursuit.
Note: Warner Bros. Pictures distributed this film based on the 1962 Broadway play of the same name by Sumner Arthur Long who also wrote this screenplay. Ford and O'Sullivan reprise their roles. Nearing their height of popularity, Hutton and Stevens are cast to bring in the younger moviegoers. And given the play's success, I imagine those who saw it live anticipated the film. After O'Sullivan comes to grips with her late pregnancy, the uplifting music and her brisk pace suggest a modern, liberal woman. Just the kind of characters that producer Norman Lear would gravitate to in the next decade. Along with the director of this film, Bud Yorkin, their future partnership changed the landscape of television and this film foreshadows their concept—viewers tossed between hilarity and conflicting social issues—leaving one perplexed as to when laughing is appropriate.
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