The 1956 “Dance with Me, Henry” is a strange and dreary film that ended the on-screen teamwork of Bud Abbott and Lou Costello. Working within the tight confines of a low budget – the team had parted ways with their longtime studio Universal Pictures and wound up with independent producer Bob Goldstein – the duo eschewed the elaborate knockabout of their typical output in favor of a more situational comedy setting.
Even more curious, the team resurrected a brief experiment from their mid-1940s output of “Little Giant” and “The Time of Their Lives” with Costello as the front-and-center figure and Abbott in a supporting role. But this time around, Costello toned down his raucous on-screen persona for a more sedate performance while Abbott took on the unlikely role of an unreliable bumbler. Anyone expecting the typical Abbott and Costello caper would be disappointed in “Dance with Me, Henry” – but even as a standalone work disconnected from the team’s earlier features, the film is flat and dull.
Costello plays the owner of a kiddie amusement park who is dealing with twin problems: he is fighting to keep the custody of two orphans for whom he is a foster parent while trying to stay out of the chaos that his friend and business partner (Abbott) brought on himself through gambling – the latter gets mixed up with gangsters who want to hide their bank robbery loot at the amusement park. Things become harrowing for Costello when he is framed for the murder of a district attorney investigating the gangsters, but to no one’s surprise everything works out before the closing credits that (for the first and only time) give Costello top billing over Abbott.
Devery Freeman’s screenplay cripples the film with heavy doses of pathos for the beleaguered Costello’s domestic woes – child actors Gigi Perreau and Rusty Hamer refer to him as “Popsie” and lay on the cutesiness with syrupy stickiness when they confess their fear of being separated. A lame running gag features an obnoxious rock music-obsessed teen who insists on sharing his favorite tunes with Costello at the worst possible moments. The climax involves an army of violent children helping Abbott and Costello defeat the gangsters in an amusement park kerfuffle – this is one of the unfunniest and unimaginative climactic sequences ever staged.
Charles Barton, who directed the comics in some of their best work including “The Time of Their Lives” and “Abbott and Costello Meets Frankenstein,” was unable to spin cinematic alchemy from this leaden mess. And the funnymen were obviously aware of the work’s shortcomings – there are parts of the film where they are so bored with their material that they sluggishly go forth with no pretense of enthusiasm. The rest of the cast is mostly uninspired – the only actor who bothers to give a decent performance is the always-reliable Mary Wickes as the hostile social worker, which is no mean feat in view of the lousy material she is forced to handle.
It is not likely that Abbott and Costello went into “Dance with Me, Henry” knowing it was going to be their last film together – the partnership, which was already fraying prior to the film’s production, broke up in 1957. Viewed today, it seems like an inappropriate send-off to two of the funniest men in movie history.