Sept. 30, 2015
We saw a charming little movie last night. It was a 1934 romance called STINGAREE, with Irene Dunne and Richard Dix, set in Australia in the 1870s. Dix is a dashing highwayman who hears servant-girl Dunne sing and kidnaps her to convince her to have faith in her voice. So he brings her back to a house where a great music impresario is visiting and makes everyone listen to her sing. The impresario is, of course, impressed, but during his getaway Stingaree is shot and captured. He sends Dunne a note in a music box telling her he did this so she could develop her voice and to go off to Europe with the impresario. She does but years later decides she has to return to Australia because she’s still in love with Stingaree, who meanwhile has escaped prison. She sings in the Melbourne opera house and Stingaree appears, disguised as the governor-general. The police chase after him, shooting, and she goers to her boudoir, where she finds a note on her dresser telling her to send her maid away. She does and Stingaree appears on the balcony. As the police beat on the door he jumps down with her to his white horse and they ride away into the night, accompanied by his loyal sidekick, Andy Devine. Simple, romantic, and sweet. A nice palliative to TV blood and gore.