The scenery's great when Betty Grable, John Payne and the Canadian Rockies get together. Add a dash of technicolor and flavor with Harry James' hot trumpet and you might have something in the way of escapist fare. But "Springtime in the Rockies" barely escapes with its life after being mistreated by such cinema bogeys as lack of plot and the inability of Grable or Payne to do much more than look very much like Mr. and Miss Atlantic City of 1942.

The gilt hero flits from Broadway to Banff, a cozy little hideout of 2000 rooms in the western Rockies, hot on the trail of his lost sweetheart. The routine is well known by now--continental chase ending amidst nature's wonders. But this time nature complicates things by throwing in a bevy of assorted wolves as only Cesar Romero, Carmen Miranda, and something from the Los Angeles zoo can portray the species. Between the antics of these over-anxious characters, the screen is filled with dancer John in chase and partner Betty oh-so undecided about the whole thing.

But you can't toss off Carmen (gleeful eyeful) Miranda too lightly. Garbed in a florist's nightmare, she struts about spouting Brazilian double-talk with the facility of a side-show barker. There is a certain electric element in her contortion with commentary, something that makes the whole experience at least refreshing.

When Harry James or colorful Carmen is given a chance, "Springtime" sparkles. But when Romero or Payne wax gruesome, the picture follows suit. In between, when the lovers are out to lunch or the equivalent, real entertainment fills the bill.