Somethin’ Stupid (1967) – Nancy and Frank Sinatra
The Chairman of the Board and the daughter who followed in his footsteps weave the self-reproach of an awkward tag-along who is prone to artless utterances in an all too familiar story of one emotionally invested in a friendship in disproportion to his female counterpart. He knows he’s second fiddle, knows he’s expendable. While she’s jaded to the slick sweet talk that flies her way, he hangs around in the hope that she’ll open her eyes to his sincere devotion. So, he bides his time. Yet, despite his rehearsed overtures, he loses his composure in the heat of the moment, blurting out amorous confessions. In holding down the harmony, Nancy lingers on the same note for as long as two measures at a time, allowing her father to carry the fetching melody that rises and falls over a Tex-Mex serenade embellished with swelling legato strings, pizzicato plucks, and a smattering of French horns. Although our sorry protagonist may have botched an opportunity with ineptness, he does so with enough pitiable charm to carry a John Hughes film.
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