When Actors Take the Mic: Part II

At long last... the actors who will not be taking home Grammys. Note the predominance of women. (Be aware, Nine ladies.)

Before I launch into the list, a true oddity: Clint Eastwood. Paint Your Wagon, 1969. He has this surprisingly folksy voice, but honestly, the film ain't Seven Brides for Seven Brothers.

The Bad.

Gloria Grahame. Oklahoma!, 1955. A film noir seductress singing Rodgers and Hammerstein? "Singing" is generous; it's said they stitched her tracks together note by note. "I Cain't Say No" is the sore thumb in an otherwise sprightly performance. (Yes, it's a comic song. But she's not playing deer-in-the-headlights; she just has no idea how to perform a number.)


Vanessa Redgrave. Camelot, 1968. Lerner and Loewe wrote a easy-sing for Julie Andrews, after the vocal challenge of My Fair Lady. But Guenevere's not easy for Redgrave. She's a sensuous siren, a tigress in the role, until the music starts. Now we realize why Audrey Hepburn and Natalie Wood were dubbed... and why the movie musical suited the glossy 1950s better than the realism of the 1960s New Wave.


Helena Bonham Carter. Sweeney Todd, 2007. Her performance diverged from Angela Lansbury's comic, Dickensian Mrs. Lovett. Yet her weary, haunted demeanor is touching. Still, it's hard to ignore her breathy, hesitant higher notes, and the disappearance of harmonies in "A Little Priest."


Susan Sarandon. The Rocky Horror Picture Show, 1975. Damn it, Janet. It's like you're under sedation.

The Ugly.

Pierce Brosnan. Mamma Mia!, 2008. New York: "the best imitation I've heard of a water buffalo." Palm Beach Post: "a drunk walrus singing through a foghorn." The voice that won him a 2009 Razzie for Worst Supporting Actor:


Lucille Ball. Mame, 1974. Another score written for Angela Lansbury's warm middle register. Ball has no warmth or middle register. She recorded "open a new window, open a new..." one night, but couldn't handle the interval; they had to save "door" for the morning. Watch "It's Today" (starting at 6:40) and cringe:


Sophia Loren. Man of La Mancha, 1972. Just because she's a prostitute doesn't mean she should croak like a strangled bullfrog. And just think--Maury Yeston wrote a new song, just for her, in Nine.


Movie musicals could be worse off. Cary Grant wisely turned down Harold Hill for Robert Preston. Michelle Pfeiffer almost portrayed Evita. Goldie Hawn and Madonna were originally set for Chicago. But on the horizon... Keira Knightley in My Fair Lady. That might not be so loverly.