First the good- Louis Armstrong-the grace Kelly and frank Sinatra your sensational number a convincing flirtation.grace Kelly was lot more attractive and less irritating than Katherine Hepburn in the 1940 film. the rest- Bing ludicrous as the ex suitor- looked old enough to be her grandpa. john lund twice as attractive made you wonder why she had a pensioner fixation Instead.Frank Sinatra with black hair looking like a left over from the munsters sang well enough but wasn't convincing. as a newspaper hack -then there was the always middle aged Celeste Holm in girly dresses looking like Sinatra's ma- finally there was father figure looking like serial killer, top that up with awful colour and ghastly sets- the garden was particularly awful.As it was Kelly's last film she looked as though she was already the true princess she became- .there was sense of her being above the whole dreary caper . all in all flat champagne with a plausible title change from high society to slumming it

A musical treatment of Philip Barry's warhorse play THE PHILADELPHIA STORY, HIGH SOCIETY is ingenuously ensorcelling in its aural and ocular extravaganza and conceivably modest in the sharp- tongued sparring, because when you have two top-drawer crooners at your disposal, plus a showstopper Mr. Louis Armstrong and his band as the icing on the cake, no one would blame director Charles Walters for veering into a different lane from George Cukor's acerbic gender politics, not least because it is Princess of Monaco, Grace Kelly's celluloid swan song, a germane valediction where her glamour and pulchritude would be forever engraved in its apotheosis. The story is a cheesy romp in its vein, on the eve of the wedding between socialite Tracy Samantha Lord (Kelly) and a lower-class but upstanding gentleman George Kittredge (a dead-serious Lund), Tracy's ex-husband C.K. Dexter Haven (Crosby), a jazz musician, feels compelled to woo her back because he still loves her deeply. And the advert of reporter Mike Connor (Sinatra) and photographer Liz Imbrie (Holm) from a tabloid magazine, who are assigned to cover the wedding in exchange of keeping a disgraceful skeleton in their family's closet, arranged by Tracy's uncle Willie (a tricksy Calhern in his curtain call), further muddies the waters while Tracy is deviled by the reminiscence of the happy days (in a yacht called "True Love") in her first marriage and a "made of bronze" reproach from her two-timing father (Blackmer), which is a flea in one's ear. Whereas she is self-aware of her "putting-on-a-pedestal" standing - "I want to be loved, not be worshiped", but facing an embarrassment of riches, can she choose the right husband from the one her heart swoons, the one her mind dictates or the one her soul enchants? Her final say is a safe bet, but here, arguably at her most relaxed and animated, Grace Kelly aptly channels a more ethereal iteration of Katharine Hepburn's Tracy with sheer candor and allure. But ineluctably, a supreme frisson of elation and wonderment is amply purveyed by the music artistes, a smorgasbord of Porter's pop standards and Armstrong's jazzing skiffle, highlighted by a jingle novelty WHO WANTS TO BE A MILLIONAIRE? between Sinatra and a phenomenal Holm, a tipsy Crosby-Sinatra duet WELL, DID YOU EVAH! and a central piece where Crosby introducing Armstrong and co. in the NOW YOU HAS JAZZ improvisation. It is all glitz and pomps, but one feel hard to resist its charm and strains, at bottom, what a menagerie of lollapaloozas to behold and hark, just surrender to it, the quintessential Golden Hollywood nostalgia and pizazz!

Wow. How do you miscast such towering talents such as Frank Sinatra and Bing Crosby and make chumps out of them? You take the classic dramatic melodrama "The Philadelphia Story," give each of them second-banana parts, and then cast the female lead with the lightweight, former clothes-horse Grace Kelly (twenty-seven years younger than her "leading man," Bing) in the incredibly complex role of Tracy Lord, Katharine Hepburn's signature stage and film role. Throw in the cringe-worthy, patently out-of-place musical numbers by Der Bingle and Ol' Blues Eyes, corrupted by Kelly's tin-eared accompaniment, and the result is an unintentionally comical iteration of the poignant, multi-layered original. Sinatra had won Best Actor at the Oscars for his masterful portrayal of Maggio in "From Here To Eternity" just a few years before, but his miscast, ossified perf in pic was an embarrassment. Crosby's only bright spot is when he's jammin' with Satchmo (Grace Kelly reacted to Bing as if he had terminal halitosis). Going for the Big B.O. (Box Office) is a prime motivation of Hollywood productions. So Grace Kelly, in her last film perf before becoming a caged canary as the Princess of Monaco, is showcased as an updated Tracy Lord. What Big Slacks she had to fill after Hepburn. Kelly goes through her stilted modeling-poses, her "technique" of acting the challenging lead role, all without the slightest trace of human emotion marring her porcelain face. Though Sinatra as reporter Mike Connor valiantly tries to get a little chemistry going with Kelly, she gives off the unmistakable impression that she hasn't the slightest sexual interest in Frank or in any of the other male players. Phillip Barry wrote the role of Tracy Lord is written as a woman who appears totally self-absorbed and intolerant of human frailty in others, but still has deep-rooted emotional and sexual needs yet untapped. Hepburn, for whom the original play was written by Barry, was able to perceive the multi-faceted character and give us a nuanced, hypnotic performance. Hepburn deftly revealed Tracy's vulnerability in spite of her efforts to conceal it. She made you cheer for Tracy, in spite of her haughty, privileged patina.In stark and painful contrast, Grace Kelly's portrayal of Tracy is a stuffy, supercilious prig, who comes off - worst of all things for any leading lady - as a sexless mannequin, bereft of the slightest trace of suppressed sensuality. Her Serene Highness Grace seems like she'd really be a bum lay compared to the feisty, fiery Katharine Hepburn.Much has been written about the age differences between Kelly and the other creaky male stars populating the cast. Bing, playing Dexter, looks way older than he is with his fuddy-duddy wardrobe, his terrible rug, and his lack of any convincing physicality with Grace, and is hardly convincing as a man Kelly would have been married to. Sinatra looks simply terrible, probably in part by the die-job on his rug plus being shorter than Grace Kelly. The flat, unflattering lighting and cheap production values show up every wrinkle and line on everyones' faces. Watch the original with Hepburn, Grant, Stewart after viewing "High Society," and you'll be astounded at the difference in the quality of the acting and the wonderfully paced story in the original compared to this moribund musical masquerading as credible remake.

Watching this piece of dreck right now on Turner Classic Movies. Although I always felt this was a fairly lame film, this viewing is driving home how second-rate this offering is.Bland, limp Grace Kelly goes through her typical, wan motions as mere insipid Eye Candy. She can't sing a note, so, what's she doing in this project? Oh, I guess because she appealed to the clueless Mom and Pop audiences of the mid-1950s, her inclusion was to increase marquee (i.e., $$$-generating) value to the production.Bung Crosby, who appears to be about 70 years old in this flick, does his usually weightless routine and sings in a style that's about 20 years out of date.Frank Sinatra, who is sometimes a fairly good actor, is miscast, and hence, totally unconvincing in his role.It's pretty absurd that the point of the film is to play up the love triangle between the three, seeing that der Bungle is old enough to be Kelly's father, and, Ol' Blue Eyes is aging already, 17 years her senior. Not much sexual chemistry is going on in this picture, folks...So much is made of the fact the score is by Cole Porter, but, it's a pretty average collection of songs. Also outdated...Louis Armstrong is given an extended cameo role, mostly wasted, but even Satchmo, great as he was in his prime, is showing signs of wear and tear here.Celeste Holm should have been given more opportunity here, because she's the only bona-fide song and dance performer in the cast.The script is a lightweight rehash of a much edgier and interesting film made about 15 years before. John Patrick, who wrote a good deal of crap in his career, is responsible for this.Production values are pretty plastic and cheezy, too. The exterior and interior shots are so ill-matched in tone and design that they appear to be from two different motion pictures.This film cost $2.7 million to make, which was a pretty high budget back then (perhaps 2x what a musical feature cost at that time), and, it returned about $5 million at the box office. Total profit was a little over $1 million, which made it only somewhat successful at the time. No wonder. Crosby was totally over the hill at that point, Sinatra was in the auto-pilot stage of his career, and Kelly's allure to moviegoers was fading. The Rock and Roll Era was beginning to ascend in 1956, which made this offering look instantly antique.There's nothing particularly entertaining about this entry. If anything, it's a pretty shallow and annoying vehicle for three "stars" who were already past it.