There's little bang in Double Dynamite, a fairly dull comedy that wastes the talents of its trio of stars. You know there's trouble when you find out that Frank Sinatra and Jane Russell have been cast as bank tellers. With no offense intended to those in the banking profession, there's no way that either of these personalities could ever be believable in these jobs. Sure, they play it meek, but it's totally unbelievable. Sinatra comes off mostly as bored, and Russell is uncomfortable trying to act prim and ordinary. It might have been different if the filmmakers had taken into account the flame that burns within each of these performers; whatever one may think of either's talent, they had a certain something that made them stand out, and if the writers and director had contrasted that with their dull, work-a-day roles, they might have come up with something. Certainly it would have been more interesting than the routine, soggy screenplay that they used instead. Fortunately, Groucho Marx is on hand, ready with enough quips, wisecracks and takes to make the film come momentarily to life whenever he's onscreen. He can't save the film, as the material won't let him, but he does make it watchable. Howard Freeman and Don McGuire also do well as the bank manager who makes things difficult for the stars and as the manager's son, who has his eyes on Russell. And Sinatra sounds good, even if he only sings 2 songs, neither of which are among Jule Styne and Sammy Cahn's best efforts.