We have seemingly lost the art of whimsy when it comes to much of contemporary cinema. We tend to prioritise realism over eccentricity, which may lend modern films a more authentic feeling, but at the expense of the joy of seeing radically strange films that do often tend to be slightly more offbeat, but in the best way possible. Eighty years ago, you could go to your local picture house and see a film starring the most beloved actor of his generation as a down-on-his-luck Broadway producer who discovers his next major act: a dancing caterpillar, which he intends to turn into a huge star. If this premise sounds ridiculous, it is because it most certainly is as bizarre as it seems, and is the foundation of Once Upon a Time, an outrageous comedy by Alexander Hall (in an adaptation of the radio play “My Client Curley” by Norman Corwin), who introduces us to Jerry Flynn, who used to be the most acclaimed producer on the Great White Way, but a string of failures leads him to lose his reputation, and a foreclosure notice on his theatre means that he needs to find a way to make some money very quickly. Coincidentally, Jerry runs into Pinky, an impressionable young boy, and his companion Curly, a caterpillar who he has trained to dance, which soon proves to quite a serendipitous meeting, since Jerry figures that, with a bit of work and a lot of creativity, he could have the opportunity to not only get the money he needs, but also return to the headlines as the world-renowned impresario that he always intended to be, regardless of the cost. A film that is as profoundly strange as it is deeply heartwarming, Once Upon a Time is a peculiar curio of a film, albeit one that earns our respect through its wholehearted willingness to take a few risks where they made sense, as well as maintaining a purposeful attention to detail that we can absolutely appreciate, even if it may sometimes feel like it is playing the same note ad nauseum, which is about as good as we can get with such an offbeat premise.

There truly is no business like show business, and as we’ve seen on many occasions, there are few subjects that those in the entertainment industry love talking about more than themselves. The world of producing art is not always an easy one, and the larger the stage, the more frustrations one is bound to encounter, and the higher the risk of failure becomes. In the case of Once Upon a Time, we have what is essentially a fable set in the contemporary era, with its fairytale allusions being presented right from the start with the use of the simple but very effective title, which establishes very quickly that this is not to be taken all that seriously as far as complex ideas tend to go. The primary themes that drive this film and inform the various directions in which it goes throughout are around the fickle nature of fame and how it can be extinguished far more rapidly than it is ignited. This obviously should not be a surprise to any viewer, since we’ve always known that show business is a treacherous world, and one that has proven to be almost impossible to navigate without some difficulty. Yet, it doesn’t stop Hall from putting a lot of work into adapting this text to the screen, creating a film that explores subjects such as greed, corruption and betrayal, all presented in a more palatable, family-friendly format that introduces the ideas in such a way that they are recognisable by all viewers, and certainly appreciated by many of them, even those who may not be able to identify the more complex ideas that drive the film. It’s very metaphorical in some places, using the delightfully absurd premise of a dancing caterpillar as a motif to represent the arbitrary nature of fame, implying that something as ridiculous and trivial as an insect can not only be intriguing, but also massively profitable – there’s a lot of subtext lingering beneath the surface, and while the film doesn’t intend to tackle all of it, it does do relatively well with the premise as a whole, much more than we would expect at first.

If there is any reason for Once Upon a Time to hold even a small amount of cultural cache, it would likely be a result of the presence of Cary Grant, who alone elevates this film, at least in terms of expectations. The silliness of the premise is almost contradicted by his decision to star, since he was at his peak of popularity, and therefore would only be used for the most prestigious of productions, not an off-the-wall, family-based comedy. However, if we look closely at his body of work, we see that in between the major canonical films, there are occasional deviations into more abstract or offbeat productions, and it’s often those that contain his most delightful work. This was the era in which films like Arsenic and Old Lace and I Was a Male War Bride were being made, films that lean heavily into Grant’s comedic persona long before they touch on his debonair charisma (which was still finding interesting ways to use his undeniable magnetism), drawing on his unexpected penchant for physical comedy that was sometimes stifled in the more formal works. He’s outrageously funny here, playing the role of an unscrupulous Broadway producer (I wonder whether or not Mel Brooks was inspired by this film when creating the character of Max Bialystock in The Producers, since there’s some interesting correlations between the films, both centering on formerly successful Broadway producers looking for a quick and easy way to make some money) to incredible effect, anchoring the entire film and almost single-handedly making Once Upon a Time very memorable. It does help that he’s paired with the adorable Ted Donaldson, whose happy-go-lucky demeanour and emotional vulnerability make for a very effective combination, the two having incredible chemistry (this same year, Donaldson would star with Edward G. Robinson in Mr Winkle Goes to War, another opportunity to act across from a titan of the industry), and the film does well to explore their friendship much more deeply than we may have initially anticipated.

Once Upon a Time is a film that wears its heart on its sleeve, and never feels compelled to be more than it presents itself at the outset. We can certainly appreciate a film that is aware that it is not going to shatter any records or reinvent the genre, and rather aspires to be a delightfully charming romp that offers exactly what we would expect from this subject matter. To be clear, the extent to which one is likely to enjoy this film comes down to how much they’re able to suspend disbelief, since this is very much a case of something that requires us to simply trust the process, regardless of how tacky some of it may seem in theory. For example, despite being central to the plot, the character of Curly (the dancing caterpillar) is never shown on screen, being represented by a cardboard box into which the characters look to get a glimpse of his talent. There were obviously limited ways that the film could have represented the character on screen without it looking entirely inauthentic (especially since this was clearly a more humble production), so, like with everything contained in this film, it all comes down to how willing we are to just leap onto the film’s wavelength. This does give Once Upon a Time a sense of inherent quirkiness, since the efforts to work around clear limitations are, at the worst of times, still very charming, even when they can sometimes feel like they’re circling around the point rather than fully embracing it. It’ obvious that this is a film targeted at a much wider audience, being the kind of irreverent, offbeat comedy that appeals to both children and adults, and like many family-oriented films at the time, it does veer towards the predictable quite frequently, which all just leads to a film that is unsurprisingly very simple, and one that doesn’t do anything particularly revolutionary while still having a sense of ramshackle charm that should be able to tide over even the most cynical of viewers, which is always a good sign for such a film.

There isn’t much else to say about Once Upon a Time other than to acknowledge that this film is very simple and unfurnished, a fact about which it is entirely aware, and never makes any intention to contradict our initial interpretations. If anything, it relishes in the opportunity to be a momentary diversion, a simple and effective comedy that never aims to be more than what it says on the surface. Considering it was made during the height of the United States’ involvement in the Second World War, we can understand that it was made primarily to be purely escapism, a silly and heartwarming comedy that doesn’t say anything particularly revolutionary, but instead offers a significant amount of unbridled joy, which is worth a lot all on its own. Films at this time had the responsibility of serving as a balm to a country that needed motivation, and while many tended towards being vaguely propagandistic, it’s always appreciated when one can be about simple values without needing to overwhelm us with tales of American exceptionalism where it wasn’t required. It can be very simple at times, and never does more than it intends to do at first, but if someone can suspend disbelief long enough to enjoy this premise, then the rest of the film is an absolute delight. If nothing else, it is worth seeing for one of Grant’s more endearing and entertaining performances – he’s perhaps playing to the rafters more than usual, but the film that surrounds him almost demands this of him, with every other element of the film being in service of his performance and the quaint story that can occasionally be quite strange, but never loses its unique heart and soul in the process. Once Upon a Time is a minor work, but a nonetheless very entertaining one, having more than enough charm to keep us engaged and entertained in every conceivable way.