People talk about the strengths of Golden Age cinema, and I believe in them, too, but watching "In Old Chicago" is to be reminded of the weaknesses:
Thin characterizations. Overtly posed close-ups. Clichéd dialogue. Strained humor. Implausible romances. Improbable coincidences.
It's all there in this early disaster movie, which depending on the version you see is either 100 minutes or 70 minutes of windy exposition followed by 25 minutes of fiery, building-crushing spectacle when the Great Fire of 1871 roars through Chi-town, courtesy of Mrs. O'Leary's cow.
Alice Brady won an Oscar playing the legendary Mrs. O'Leary, though her solid performance only looks stellar compared to the rest of the cast. History tells us it wasn't her cow that caused the fire, yet this cinematic retelling has Mrs. O at the heart of everything having to do with old Chicago, with one son (Don Ameche) an earnest reformer and another (Tyrone Power) the corrupt power behind the throne. Their father died foreseeing a time when the O'Learys would "put their mark" on the city, and this they do, even before they burn it to cinders.
The two O'Leary boys have this habit of coming to blows often but then reuniting very earnestly, facing the camera with happy smiles and declarations of sudden unity.
As they often say in this movie: "We O'Learys are a strange tribe." "Strange" doesn't cover it.
Power's character, Dion O'Leary, falls hard for saloon singer Belle Fawcett, whose job gives Alice Faye plenty of excuses for dressing up and delivering a series of hokey musical numbers. Dion pleads his case with Belle by wrestling her to the floor and ignoring her pleas to let him go until she returns his kisses passionately. Being he's Tyrone Power, this might even work. But could anyone get away with lines like his "We've fought, and maybe we'll go on fighting, but we'll do it – together!"
Power does get credited for shedding his pretty-boy persona later in his career with harrowing war service and some tougher parts, but here he's all dimple-cheeked smiles and goo-goo eyes. Even when the script has him backstabbing nominal villain Brian Donlevy (really not that bad a guy compared to Dion through most of the film, though presented here as someone to root against only because he's played by Donlevy), Power can't muster up enough gas to make his skullduggery convincing.
There's a tonal problem with the film. Director Henry King seems split between whether to make "In Old Chicago" a drama, a comedy, or a musical, so he tries for a bit of each, sometimes in tandem. The result is odd bits of pathos like Father O'Leary's death crammed up next to a scene where a fat woman is dropped in a mud puddle. Only in the last 20 minutes, when it becomes a full-fledged disaster film, does it find focus, and then only as spectacle with powerful scenics, like people walking on rooftops dwarfed by the fires raging behind them, or buildings raining masonry on the heads of fleeing victims.
The focus on the O'Learys remains, however, as tired and improbable as ever, with Brady and Power left to deliver some final lines to the camera about Chicago emerging stronger and better from this disaster. It's all such hooey you almost wish for a lingering piece of masonry to tumble down upon them. But then someone would have to make still another speech about how they didn't die in vain, and then "In Old Chicago" would never end.
Thin characterizations. Overtly posed close-ups. Clichéd dialogue. Strained humor. Implausible romances. Improbable coincidences.
It's all there in this early disaster movie, which depending on the version you see is either 100 minutes or 70 minutes of windy exposition followed by 25 minutes of fiery, building-crushing spectacle when the Great Fire of 1871 roars through Chi-town, courtesy of Mrs. O'Leary's cow.
Alice Brady won an Oscar playing the legendary Mrs. O'Leary, though her solid performance only looks stellar compared to the rest of the cast. History tells us it wasn't her cow that caused the fire, yet this cinematic retelling has Mrs. O at the heart of everything having to do with old Chicago, with one son (Don Ameche) an earnest reformer and another (Tyrone Power) the corrupt power behind the throne. Their father died foreseeing a time when the O'Learys would "put their mark" on the city, and this they do, even before they burn it to cinders.
The two O'Leary boys have this habit of coming to blows often but then reuniting very earnestly, facing the camera with happy smiles and declarations of sudden unity.
As they often say in this movie: "We O'Learys are a strange tribe." "Strange" doesn't cover it.
Power's character, Dion O'Leary, falls hard for saloon singer Belle Fawcett, whose job gives Alice Faye plenty of excuses for dressing up and delivering a series of hokey musical numbers. Dion pleads his case with Belle by wrestling her to the floor and ignoring her pleas to let him go until she returns his kisses passionately. Being he's Tyrone Power, this might even work. But could anyone get away with lines like his "We've fought, and maybe we'll go on fighting, but we'll do it – together!"
Power does get credited for shedding his pretty-boy persona later in his career with harrowing war service and some tougher parts, but here he's all dimple-cheeked smiles and goo-goo eyes. Even when the script has him backstabbing nominal villain Brian Donlevy (really not that bad a guy compared to Dion through most of the film, though presented here as someone to root against only because he's played by Donlevy), Power can't muster up enough gas to make his skullduggery convincing.
There's a tonal problem with the film. Director Henry King seems split between whether to make "In Old Chicago" a drama, a comedy, or a musical, so he tries for a bit of each, sometimes in tandem. The result is odd bits of pathos like Father O'Leary's death crammed up next to a scene where a fat woman is dropped in a mud puddle. Only in the last 20 minutes, when it becomes a full-fledged disaster film, does it find focus, and then only as spectacle with powerful scenics, like people walking on rooftops dwarfed by the fires raging behind them, or buildings raining masonry on the heads of fleeing victims.
The focus on the O'Learys remains, however, as tired and improbable as ever, with Brady and Power left to deliver some final lines to the camera about Chicago emerging stronger and better from this disaster. It's all such hooey you almost wish for a lingering piece of masonry to tumble down upon them. But then someone would have to make still another speech about how they didn't die in vain, and then "In Old Chicago" would never end.