I consider myself something of an expert on the rock cinema of the 1950’s and ‘60s, but until the other night, I had never seen a snappy little item called “Let’s Rock,” and I can’t say my life has been enriched by the experience. And yet, in its almost platonic-ideal of awfulness, it is worth investigating. It is, I hasten to add, quite short, maybe 80 minutes, so it is not a big investment, time-wise
Of those eighty minutes, twenty or so are taken up by conversations between a pop crooner (Julius La Rosa) and his manager (Conrad Janis), about whether La Rosa should stop trying to get on the charts with pretty ballads, and succumb to the pervasive trend of rock’n’roll. La Rosa is adamant about sticking to the ballady stuff. Then he meets a ‘kooky’ songwriter (Phyllis Newman) who also tries to persuade him to give this rock’n’roll thing a shot. So what we have is basically half a movie where people are trying to talk Julius La Rosa into cutting a rockin’ song. Spoiler alert: at the end, he does.
Along the way, he goes on the Wink Martindale TV show, and Wink won’t let him lip-sync the A-side of his new single. Which I don’t blame him, because it’s terrible. He also attends what is supposed to be an Alan Freed show, only Alan Freed isn’t in this movie, so some other deejay/host introduces us to: Danny & The Juniors singing “At The Hop,” and The Royal Teens doing “Short Shorts. On stage with The Royal Teens is a girl in short shorts, singing the song’s hook. The hook, as you probably are aware, is “we wear short shorts,” and she’s only one girl, so it’s the royal “we,” I’m guessing, unless she’s speaking on behalf of all girls with decent legs.
Backstage at the rock show, La Rosa chats with Danny & The Juniors, who also ask him when he’s going to hop on the rock bandwagon. Geez, can’t this guy get a break?
La Rosa is all bummed out, what with his single bombing, and the Juniors bugging him, so he goes to the nightclub where Phyllis Newman works as a check-out girl to pay the bills until her songwriter career takes off. It is the most underpopulated nightclub you have ever seen. Maybe six people in the audience. Della Reese comes out and sings one song. A blonde who has that bullet-breasted ‘50s Mamie Van Doren look hits on La Rosa, and he’s on the brink of scoring, but he has a change of heart at the last minute.
Oh, I forgot that the manager tells the singer that Billboard and Cash Box have trashed the new disc, because ballads aren’t scoring any more, and La Rosa asks him what the trades are flipping over these days, and we cut to Paul Anka, ‘teen sensation, singing…a BALLAD. Just as bad as La Rosa’s, in fact. Worse, maybe.
Roy Hamilton is in the movie, singing a song that isn’t “Don’t Let Go,” but is supposed to remind us of “Don’t Let Go.”
And that’s about it. It looks like the movie was shot in like three or four days, and I’m not sure what the point is. Compromise your artistic principles? Get with it, daddy-o?
