So-so MGM musical extravaganza that's way too long but still worth seeing for its song-and-dance numbers. There's a plot, woe betide, with Jack Benny regrettably off-type as a Winchellian society reporter and Robert Taylor regrettably on-type as a lifeless million-dollar lunk. You might fall asleep during the long, turgid dissertations on the various kinds of snores, the most irksome film sequences this side of Paul Sharits, but hang in there, baby! In short order, there shall be Eleanor Powell: beatnik rooftop "Sing Before Breakfast," Broadway ballet daydream "You Are My Lucky Star," the nameless and wordless rehearsal dance, and big finale "Broadway Rhythm." Powell is one of the great tap dancers I've seen: sunny and playful, casually doing the impossible. "You got him, sister, you got him!"