This was the second of three films that Irving Berlin wrote for the Astaire-Rogers franchise and it has by far the largest score and is somewhat unusual in that two of the numbers are performed by Harriet Hilliard leaving the rest to be divvied and/or shared between the principals. As usual the storyline needn't detain us though for the record it was based on a play, Shore Leave, that also served as the basis for a Broadway Musical, Hit The Deck. Anyone who actually saw Shore Leave in the theatre may have been momentarily bemused inasmuch as the roles played by Fred and Ginger were created for the movie but what matters, as always, is the music, lyrics and hoofing and this is all out of the right bottle. It's a departure from the other titles in the franchise in that 1) we get to see Astaire play the piano - in real life he was an accomplished pianist and composed several songs, one of which, I'm Building Up To An Awful Let-Down, had a lyric by Johnny Mercer and spent a couple of weeks in the charts - and it is the only one of the series in which he played a serviceman, albeit an ex-hoofer who enlisted in the navy after being dumped by dancing partner Ginger before the story starts. He gets to perform a little-known but excellent Berlin number, I'd Rather Lead A Band as well as duetting on I'm Putting All My Eggs In One Basket but the ultimate number is the prophetic - in 1936 rumbles of World War II were already being felt - Let's Face The Music And Dance, one of the most potent ballads ever performed by the team. So what if Randolph Scott is a little wooden and fish-out-of-water without either a horse or a six-gun within easy reach and Harriet Hilliard doesn't exactly set the screen on fire; we came to see Fred and Ginger and the only question is, do they deliver. Answer: In spades.

Certainly not horrible, but definitely not good.
Cry, The Beloved Country (1995) was directed by Darrell Roodt and written for the screen by Ronald Harwood (Adapted from the 1946 novel by Alan Paton). Starring James Earl Jones and Richard Harris.
The film is about pre-Apartheid South Africa, and the stories of a black man and a white man intertwining. The pious but naive preacher Stephen Kumalo (James Earl Jones) receives a letter from Johannesburg saying that he must come immediately; he later finds that his son has killed a man. The rich farmer/landowner James Jarvis (Richard Harris) finds that his son, a fighter for black rights, was the one killed by Kumalo's son. In this they connect.
I cannot compare it to the 1951 film of the same name, for I have not seen it. Or the 1974 musical titled Lost in the Stars for I have also not seen it; both look better than this one. But Cry Freedom, on the other hand, I have seen; it has a much more urgent air to it, like it actually is trying to say something where the film Cry, The Beloved Country seems to have no idea where it is going. Very "Wishy-washy". I refuse to compare the film to the novel (except that I did enjoy the novel more than I enjoyed the film) because novels and films are two extremely different media and there is no point in trying to transfer directly one to the other or compare them via the same means.
Frankly, this movie blew. Well, I guess it wasn't that bad, --Five-out-of-ten, -- but it wasn't that good either. Both of the leads, both very capable actors pull some of the most wooden performances I have seen with some of the most awkward dialogue in film history (but that can be blamed on he screenwriter, Ronald Harwood, who is also oddly off is game with this film, having also written the sublime The Pianist, and Being Julia). Among other things the point and themes of the novel are lost almost entirely in its transition to film for the third time; there is little, if any, tension with any moment of the film, racially or suspensefully. The music doesn't help. The painfully misplaced and boringly pastoral orchestra tracks really help with this dulling down of the film. One upside is the cinematography, with many rather good or great shots, but unfortunately, this does not help the film too much.
The last, striking words of Alan Paton's novel are displayed in the last moments of the film. It is too bad that they seem to be so disconnected from the film that was just shown. I don't know what Nelson Mandela might have seen in this film.
Thanks for your time.