The great thing about this movie is that you will, if you watch it, see some of the busiest and best character actors of the 1930's Hollywood strut their stuff. Aline McMahon, Hugh Herbert (in a less than sympathetic role, unusual for him), Guy Kibbee, Allan Jenkins and Frankie Darro. Pay no attention to the plot, it just gets in the way of some of the finest bits of scenery chewing ever put on film. Jenkins, especially, is as loud, as obnoxious, and as hammy as you'll ever see him. At no time does he speak at a decibel level less than ear splitting. (He's a communist, you see, at a time when they didn't cart you off to jail for it). Here is Aline McMahon, a really fine actress, emoting to such a degree that it makes you want to cringe. And Frankie Darro, prancing around, shadow boxing, wearing his hat brim turned up (this, apparently, was meant to make you look tough, much as turning the brim sideways does today). Frankie's problem was that he looked as though he might weigh 83 pounds, if he wore lead boots. No, the plot (disfunctional family learns it lesson, eventually, and learns to appreciate Mother) isn't important here. The opportunity to see these folks certainly is, though.
Review of The Merry Frinks
