Doll Face proves the point that all old movies aren't classics. In fact, Doll Face proves the point that most movies, whether made 60 years ago, 30 years ago or last week, are deservedly forgotten because they age so badly. <br /><br />This guy-has-doll, guy-loses-doll, guy-wins-doll-back story gives us Doll Face Carroll (Vivian Blaine), a burleyque star with a great voice and a big following among the bald- headed set, and Mike Hannegan (Dennis O'Keefe), her manager and the impresario of the burlesque house where she stars. Doll Face wants to go legit as a singer on Broadway and Mike wants to help her...but her notoriety as a burlesque queen gets in the way. So Mike cooks up an idea to have a noted author ghost Doll Face's memoirs and smooth over the rough spots. Doll Face will get culture and that will get her legit stage offers. Ah, but the author who agreed to be the ghostwriter happens to be a very handsome guy. Wouldn't you know it, misunderstandings arise between Mike and Doll Face. But everything works out. A producer puts on a Broadway show based on Doll Face's hit memoirs. Doll Face not only stars but so do all her pals from Mike's burlesque show, which means Perry Como, Carmen Miranda and Martha Stewart. And Mike manages to win back Doll Face's love, along with 25 per cent of the smash show. <br /><br />We get Como and Stewart singing and sort of dancing to "A-hubba, Hubba, Hubba," Blaine, Como and Stewart separately and in various combinations singing "Somebody's Walking in My Dreams," Como fronting the girls with "Red, Hot and Beautiful" and crooning "Here Comes Heaven Again," plus Carmen Miranda rolling her hips and eyes while trilling her r's through "Chico Chico," the big production number. The songs by Jimmy McHugh (music) and Harold Adamson (lyrics) are professional but that's about it. The only song that became a hit was Como's recording of "A-hubba, Hubba, Hubba." The big Latin production number with Miranda looks like 20th Century Fox was economizing. In this black-and-white movie it badly needs color and Busby Berkeley. For about half the movie, when guy loses doll and before guy gets her back, Doll Face the movie flops into angst and anguish, with over-acting by Blaine and far too much screen time with her and her ghostwriter, Frederick Gerard (Steven Dunne). Dunne was probably one of the handsomest actors never to make it. He had a smooth, assured voice perfect for radio. He can cock an eyebrow but he's as bland as Como. <br /><br />What drives the nail in, however, are the rest of the actors. Dennis O'Keefe was a versatile guy, but even he can't make Mike Hannegan interesting. O'Keefe has to speak with a "funny" Brooklyn accent most of the time, something that sounds like journeymen Hollywood writers trying to channel Damon Runyon. He's stuck wearing a suit with padded shoulders, wide labels, a bow tie and a pork-pie hat with a snap-brim. This is someone's idea of a guy from the funny world of burlesque. At least O'Keefe is actor enough to bring some humanity to Hannegan. Vivian Blaine, on the other hand, was an actress who, at least to me, always came across on film as so polished and professional as to be bloodless. She'd hit her marks but not your heart. Blaine made a big hit on Broadway four years later as Adelaide in Guys and Dolls, so perhaps movies simply didn't do her talent justice. As far as Carmen Miranda, she's Carmen Miranda; you either like her or after a while she gets on your nerves. Perry Como is so laid back he seems half asleep most of the time. The standout, for me, is Martha Stewart. She's vivacious and knows how to sell an upbeat song. <br /><br />But let's hear it for the people who never get a mention; in this case, a bit player named Charles Williams. He was a small guy with a little mustache and an energetic manner. Did he ever get a credit line in any of the movies he appeared in? In Doll Face he has a tiny part as a drug store clerk reading a notice to Mike Hannegan. It's not much but he makes the most of it. For those with long memories or big DVD collections, you might remember him from Vogues of 1938. Williams plays a customs clerk in a big production number. We're watching him through a window where he works. For about two minutes he goes into a song and dance, not quite imitating Eddie Cantor. That's all the screen time he has. It's funny and first- rate, and he didn't get billing there, either. (Dennis O'Keefe was in Vogues, too, as an unbilled dance extra.)