The acting is good, and the firecracker script has some excellent ideas.

This film is so real. It treats its characters with so much care and sensitivity.

Easily the biggest piece of Right wing non sense propaganda I ever saw.

The storyline feels a little thin and moth-eaten in parts but this sequel is plenty of fun.

This may not be the greatest romantic drama with music ever made, but it does have its assets. The main one is that this is almost a one-woman show starring Joan Crawford.The Technicolor is gorgeous, the music tuneful, choreography pleasant and as for the costumes--all that can be said is "wow!" Helen Rose outdid herself in designing Crawford's wardrobe--some two dozen costume changes that are simply stunning. Likewise, the cinematography and set decoration are lush and richly presented.As for the script, it's all Crawford's. Never has she been as irritable, insulting, moody and yet strangely vulnerable. She lip syncs to some pleasant numbers, and does a dance with the director of this movie, Charles Walters. (When did a star ever do a number with her director?) Joan looks very attractive throughout, obviously delighted to be back at MGM after a ten-year hiatus.It's a very campy treat for Crawford fans, to see Joan strut her stuff. Michael Wilding plays his part gracefully and Gig Young is among those on the sidelines. Generally a forgotten film, it's worth a look on a rainy afternoon.

After she reached a certain age, Joan Crawford was always at least a little bit scary in the best of circumstances. But never have I seen her scarier than in a scene late in "Torch Song" immediately after she's performed a song in black face(!), tears off her wig to reveal a shock of bright orange hair, and snarls at the camera.And so we have "Torch Song," the kind of movie the term "guilty pleasure" was coined to describe, in which Crawford plays Jenny Stewart, stage diva who wakes up to the fact that she's destined for bitterness and loneliness because of her difficult, controlling ways. Crawford is terrific, as always, and makes the film riveting even though hardly anything of note happens.Michael Wilding plays the blind pianist who takes over as Crawford's accompanist when her other one quits and who makes Crawford aware of her selfish, petulant attitude. Marjorie Rambeau won an Oscar nomination for her brief performance as Crawford's salty mother.Grade: A-

After Joan finished Mildred Pierce, she entered her absurd period. Enhancing that, she became severe, and with Torch Song she has added just plain scary to her film presence.I didn't know whether to laugh or cry when I watched Torch Song. Joan's close-ups look like some kind of art deco over-colorized presentation that is guaranteed to make the viewer wonder if this was intended as a joke or as a surreal escape. Check out the eyebrows that look like they belong on Queen Kong, the fruit-like color of her hair, the blood red lips, and in fact the she-devil enhanced shape of her lips themselves.So many embarrassingly obvious ways to get her legs in the picture...nauseatingly odd as she tried to portray Marjorie Rambeau's daughter - they looked more like a couple of old hag sisters who belonged in a smoky cocktail bar, not doing "girl talk" in mom's apartment.And furthermore, Joan is not pretty, she was always an overly made-up actress full of spite, nastiness, and intolerance for human frailty. I don't really think this film is a portrayal of character Jenny Stewart as much as it is a realistic view of Joan Crawford.

That's a couplet from a production number in which Miss Joan Crawford declares, in Technicolor blackface, "I can't help being a two-faced woman." She overestimates herself: In this peerlessly ripe '50s melodrama she has one face, glaring, glaring. She's a harder-than-nails Broadway singer-dancer (dubbed, and clearly no Terpsichorean natural) who shouts down anyone opposed to her in the tiniest way, and then smokes countless cigarettes, glowers, and downs alcohol to betray her neuroses. She's inexplicably adored by her blind rehearsal accompanist (Michael Wilding, who got some terrible parts at MGM), who at least doesn't have to witness her terrifying eyebrows or orange hair, and who's in turn pursued by a nice blonde musician who's obviously a much better match for him. What's surprising and endlessly entertaining about this not-quite-musical is how willing, and even eager, La Crawford is to play up to her public's worst estimation of her. She'll play unsympathetic up to the armpits, as long as they sense that underneath is the heart of a real woman who merely needs to be dominated by a devoted male. None of the characters makes much sense--Marjorie Rambeau, Oscar-nominated as her mother, is either cold and grasping or warm and sympathetic depending on the moment in the plot--but the dialog has some sarcastic snap to it, and it's fun to watch Crawford go through her purification-through-humiliation paces. There's a brilliant Carol Burnett parody of this called "Torchy Song," but the original is even more giggle-inducing.