As a lover of musicals, I’m generally sympathetic to filmmakers who pay tribute to them, even when their emulations of the genre are more emotional than cinematic (or even musical). But Robert Cary’s tale of an aspiring nightclub singer (cowriter Isabel Rose) who’s nostalgically tied to her parents’ era is so lackluster both as an homage and as a story in its own right that I was already forgetting it before it was over. Andrew McCarthy is OK as a rehearsal pianist, resembling Steven Spielberg, who wins the singer’s heart from an insensitive phony (Cameron Bancroft), but the only reason for seeing this is Eartha Kitt, who performs an electric nightclub number before dispensing a few clumsy lines of worldly wisdom. 99 min. (JR)