Cinema: Cantor’s Cant

THE JAZZ SINGER

Directed by Richard Fleischer

Screenplay by Herbert Baker

Everybody just loves Neil Diamond.

Black folks cheer his music; rednecks stomp and holler. He’s a pop sensation, from The Bronx to the Hollywood Bowl, and a wonderful human being to boot. So where’s the dramatic tension? It comes from an unlikely source: the 1925 Samson Raphaelson play and the Al Jolson movie version that ushered in the talkies. There is no Mammy in the new Jazz Singer; there’s not even a momma. But the plot is the same: a young Orthodox cantor wants to become a singing star, straining to break the shackles of tradition even as he yearns for the blessing of a parental embrace. And Diamond has adhered to one other aspect of Jolson’s performance: he sings one number in blackface.

Diamond is unique among pop stars in that he projects not a scintilla of sexual danger; but here he is required only to be a dutiful son, husband (twice), father and pop idol. With the help of Lucie Arnaz as Neil’s girlfriend, and Laurence Olivier (who really must stop play ing Jews and Nazis) as his father, the movie plods along earnestly, endlessly — schmaltz in three-quarter time. Yet in its elephantine way, The Jazz Singer may attract much of the Rocky crowd, and for the same reasons. It recalls simpler days and sweeter movies; it does not condescend to its audience; it is neither angry nor esoteric. For many, this kind of movie has a certain restorative appeal. Others may find the experience like eating your mother’s chicken soup when you’re not sick. —By Richard Corliss