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Kiss and Make-Up (1934)
Sucks to be Bald
"Kiss and Make Up" had one chance and one chance only for it to be of any value: the other guy had to get the girl. The main guy was Dr. Maurice Lamar (Cary Grant). The other guy was Marcel Caron (Edward Everett Horton). The girl was Annie (Helen Mack).
Dr. Maurice Lamar (Cary Grant) was a handsome plastic surgeon that owned and operated Dr. Lamar's Temple of Beauty in Paris, France. He had women all over the world heeding his advice. He did a daily broadcast telling women what they could do to look more beautiful. Inuits in the frozen tundra and tribal African women in the plains of Africa were donning his face cream.
Unbeknownst to him, yet extremely predictably, his secretary Annie (Helen Mack) was in love with him. She was hypocritically in love with the doctor. She tried to make us believe that all the other women were in love with the beauty expert while she was in love with the man. That was impossible when he was nothing more than a shallow beauty expert twenty-four hours a day. The truth: she was in love with the same guy all the other women were in love with.
Dr. Maurice's masterpiece, Eve Caron (Genevieve Tobin), was infatuated with him. She was willing to cheat on her husband, Marcel Caron (Edward Everett Horton), with the doctor. Marcel didn't like the new Eve and as a result he left her. Dr. Maurice loved the new Eve, so he married her.
What Dr. Maurice loved in Eve was her newfound beauty--the beauty he bestowed upon her with surgery, ointments, creams, and whatever else. Maurice married Eve then divorced her in short order. He found that her beauty wasn't to be enjoyed except by the eyes. She spent so much time trying to remain beautiful that Maurice couldn't enjoy any part of her; even on their honeymoon.
Had her beauty been something that he could enjoy, then he would've remained married to her even though she was a vapid woman.
Left in the cold was plain ol' Annie until she met Marcel (Eve's ex-husband). Marcel loved natural beauty. He loved Annie just the way she was, and Annie at least liked Marcel for his appreciation of her natural beauty. They were all set to get married until Annie saw that Marcel wore a toupee. With that, she left Marcel and proclaimed her love for Dr. Maurice who was now single after leaving the vain monster he'd married.
Recap:
Marcel (Horton) divorced Eve (Tobin). Maurice (Grant) married Eve. Marcel hooked up with Annie (Mack). Maurice divorced Eve. Annie left Marcel right before their wedding to be with Maurice.
What would have been better is if Annie married Marcel. No, he wasn't the looker that Dr. Maurice was, but he also wasn't the shallow narcissist he was either. Sure, Dr. Maurice supposedly saw the error of his ways after marrying Eve, but hadn't Annie suffered enough watching Dr. Maurice slay one woman after the other? It was like she was begging to be one of his conquests as well.
The handsome protagonist getting the plain and principled girl is not always the best ending, and I don't think it was here either. In the end it was beauty that mattered most. Marcel, with his average looks and heartfelt sincerity couldn't compete with the Adonis that was Dr. Maurice. The fact that baldness was Marcel's undoing sends a powerful message. Good thing I got married when I did or else I may have also been single the rest of my life.
Free on YouTube.
The Old Fashioned Way (1934)
For W.C. Fields Fans
A man by the name of The Great McGonigle (W. C. Fields) had a traveling theater troupe that was struggling. He had to run out on hotel bills and food tabs for lack of money. His next stop was Belfontaine if he could make it out of the city he was in without being arrested. How he kept the traveling act afloat at all was the bigger question.
If you've seen W. C. Fields in anything, then you know his act. He speaks in a grand manner and likes to use hyperbole and metaphors. He is good as a supporting character; not so good as the main character. His schtick is OK when adding to a comedy; his schtick can get wearisome when it's the only comedy.
Free on YouTube.
We're Rich Again (1934)
Southern Storm Comes Through Santa Barbara
This was one dumbass movie. It had no redeeming qualities. My only hope with a title as shallow as "We're Rich Again" was that the movie would be funny, and it failed miserably at that.
The Page family was going through financial straits. Things were so bad that a process server was camped out in their front yard waiting to serve Wilbur Page (Grant Mitchell) who was so spent that he dared not leave the house for fear of getting served. In the meantime his eldest daughter Carolyn (Joan Marsh) was preparing to marry a stiff named Bookington 'Bookie' Wells (Reginald Denny).
The whole house was put into a twitter when cousin Arabella arrived (Marion Nixon). She came through like a country bumpkin tornado with her southern accent, dumb ideas, and impositions. Once she hit the scene the movie was all about her, and you knew that underneath that idiot veneer that she was just smart enough to save the day.
And that's what happened.
She convinced Erp (Buster Crabbe), a silent swimmer who spent the entire movie shirtless and in swim trunks, to marry Victoria Page (Gloria Shea). As sudden, impulsive, and upsetting as such a marriage was, it turned out to be a Godsend because Erp was rich, which made it all good. And if you're wondering what kind of name is Erp, it's an acronym. It stands for Eragnous Rockwell Penington, but Victoria was too brainless to think of a better nickname than Erp.
Arabella also gave Wilbur, the patriarch, a stock tip that she overheard that was set to make Wilbur five times his money. At first it seemed like it was going to tank him further, but she made some simple suggestions to Bookie which was set to make the stock skyrocket.
As for Carolyn and Bookie's wedding, Arabella effectively busted that up. But that was OK because Carolyn realized she didn't want to marry him anyway, which made him available for Arabella to marry because, like I said, this was a dumbass movie.
This was one of those movies where the apparent well-intentioned imbecile isn't as bad or as dumb as she appears even if she is extremely irksome. I contend that Arabella was conniving even if she had some good intentions.
I say she was conniving because she was making moves--however subtle--on Bookington. It worked out for everyone in the end, but it was still sleazy disguised as innocence. It started when she took one of Carolyn's best and sexiest dresses. What cowpoke goes for a glamorous dress when she simply needed something different to wear? And who borrows any woman's clothes without asking? She then used her talkative country faux innocence to explain that "cousin Carolyn would just simply not mind because she wouldn't want me in the old rags I had on" or whatever she said to justify it.
After the clothes stealing, she occupied just about all of Bookington's time when that idiot should've been getting ready for his wedding. So, when Carolyn opted not to marry him, Arabella the southern succubus stepped right in.
Yeah, it was a movie with a happy ending for everyone except the viewer. It was shallow, stupid, and totally unsatisfying.
Free on YouTube.
Murder in the Private Car (1934)
A "Deflector" on the Case
There's nothing like putting "murder" in the title to make sure the viewers know what's going to happen: "Murder on the Orient Express," "The Canary Murder," "Murder on the Blackboard," and on and on and on.
Sooooo, now we have "Murder in the Private Car." I don't think I have to tell you what happens. I will mention, however, that the private car here is a Pullman car on a railroad train.
A switchboard operator for a company called Allen & Co. Was told that she won the heritage sweepstakes. Ruthie Raymond (Mary Carlisle) found out that she was the long lost daughter of a multi-millionaire named Luke Carson (Berton Churchill). It turns out that she was kidnapped by her uncle when she was a toddler and taken to Los Angeles. After years of searching, Mr. Carson had finally found her. Per his instructions, his lawyer, Alden Murray (Porter Hall), was to escort her back east where she could unite with her father.
Strangely, yet fortuitously, a man named Godfrey D. Scott (Charles Ruggles) began following her. He called himself a "deflector." A "deflector," unlike a detective, prevents crime from happening. He knew that a woman who just came into a lot of wealth would need a "deflector."
It turns out that Ruth needed a deflector and divine intervention to stay alive. Someone wanted her dead and they were bumping off those in her vicinity to get to her.
"Murder in the Private Car" was a comedic murder mystery. Godfrey was a bumbling, stammering "deflector" who couldn't be taken seriously even if he did stumble upon important evidence. Between Charles Ruggles and Fred 'Snowflake' Toones (the scared Black man), I didn't find this movie the least bit entertaining. The only part that I would consider entertaining was the runaway train car at the end. Maybe the director also knew the movie needed a shot in the arm and threw it in.
Free on Odnoklassniki.
Dr. Monica (1934)
Fantasy
The more I watch 30's films the more I'm convinced that being part of high society means being a sociopath. I've never seen a whole species of creatures so able to compartmentalize and suppress emotions like them. When they do show emotion I believe they do it just to prove that they are human.
"Dr. Monica" was another high society movie about women and their men problems. In other words, it was nauseating.
Dr. Monica Braden (Kay Francis) was married to John Braden (Warren William) who was banging Mary Hathaway (Jean Muir). That was nothing new or novel for that era. You could spin a wheel and land on a 1930's movie that involved high society folks and their rampant infidelity.
In this case Mary got pregnant with John's child. That was something a little different because usually "gentlemen" had more sense than to get their side chick pregnant.
We knew Mary was pregnant because she fainted inexplicably. That was a sure sign of pregnancy because in 1934 they still weren't saying the word PREGNANT on screen. Just typing it makes me feel dirty. Such a lowly word. Gone are the days of purity when a movie would romanticize affairs, yet make sure not to show or even say the word pregnant. And because of Poe's Law regarding internet sarcasm not being understood, I'm telling you now that I was being sarcastic.
Mary had every intention of not notifying John that he had a baby. That was another common thing back then. If a woman wanted to spare a man any hardship or obligation, she would withhold that she had his child (see "Ann Vickers" (1933), "Only Yesterday" (1933), "Mary Stevens M. D." (1933), "Coming Out Party" (1934), and many others). The women back then were so wholly committed to the satisfaction of the man, and not burdening him with their troubles, that they would keep a child a secret so that he could go on and be free while she bore the burden of the child alone. What strong noble women they were (remember Poe's Law).
Mary was in an interesting predicament. Her obstetrician was none other than John's wife, Dr. Monica. How about that for irony? She never told Dr. Monica who the father was and she didn't plan on telling her. With that being the case, if she had any decency she would've gone somewhere else to have the baby, but this woman was carved out of stupidity.
From the point Dr. Monica informed Mary that she was pregnant, the movie took on a strange surreal atmosphere. Almost nothing that occurred after that point resembled reality or what real people do.
Remember how I said that Mary wanted to keep the father of the baby a secret from the father (John Braden) and from Dr. Monica? Well, while she was in bed waiting to deliver she decided to call John. She finally caved. She couldn't give birth alone, so she called John in a fit of panic. It needs to be known that she was giving birth in a house which was more private than a hospital. EVERYONE in that house could hear her call John. Even though she didn't get a hold of John, Dr. Monica still overheard her crying, "I must speak to John, it's important!"
Monica is no fool. She knew there could be only one reason she was so desperate to talk to her (Monica's) husband at that time. John had to be the father.
What does Monica do? She kept that knowledge to herself like a good sociopathic society girl should and delivered the baby. Sure, she was a bit cold towards Mary during and after the birth, but she wouldn't say why. Meanwhile, mush-brain Mary couldn't fathom why Dr. Monica was suddenly so cold towards her.
I wanted to scream, "SHE HEARD YOUR DUMBASS ON THE PHONE! THE NEIGHBORS PROBABLY HEARD YOU CALLING FOR JOHN!!"
She asked Monica, "Why don't you ever kiss me?" My assumption is that kissing is a normal greeting among society women, though there was no indication that Monica ever kissed Mary before. Still, I found the question strange. Instead of asking why she was so distant or cold towards her, she asked why she doesn't ever kiss her.
The two went back and forth with Mary keeping concealed what she unwittingly revealed, and Monica keeping concealed what she'd overheard. It was a dumb dance that was rooted in sparing the feelings of the other when in reality no such attempts would've been made.
Monica decided that she too would keep the baby a secret from John. So now the baby's mother AND the wife who was cheated on decided to spare John the burdensome knowledge that 1.) his affair is now known and 2.) he has a baby.
This was a society trope that always makes me lose my mind. Many many many movies involved infidelity and knowledge of the infidelity that is kept secret as though it's worse to confront the cheater than it is to cheat. It was a bizarre custom that would've kept me far from their circles. There's no way I'm keeping quiet if I know that my wife is cheating or that someone is cheating on a friend of mine. Later for such decorum.
Monica opted to spend two fantastic weeks with her husband before telling him what she knew and then breaking it off. She was going to compartmentalize her feelings about his affair, then be the better woman and bow out gracefully, thereby leaving him to raise a child with his mistress. Yet another society cliche I can't stand: being the "gentleman" or the "lady" when you've discovered that your S. O. loves another. They are so disgustingly diplomatic about it. They dare not interfere with the happiness of their S. O., so they quietly remove themselves from the dreaded love triangle as though there's some nobility in that.
Monica (the wife) would gracefully disappear out of John and Mary's life as though she were just a dream. She would swallow her pride and any feelings to make sure that she was no impediment to the happiness of two people, as though she had no stake in the matter at all. I really don't get it and I don't care to.
Monica's martyrdom would be co-opted by Mary's. When Mary heard that Monica planned to leave John, she simply couldn't allow such a happy marriage to be ruined on account of her. She made the move first and left. She essentially committed suicide (flew a plane across the ocean with no preparation); one of the surest ways to eliminate one side of a triangle.
That left two matters: would Monica take the baby, and would Monica finally tell John he fathered a baby.
Of course Monica took the baby. It was serendipitous because she couldn't have one of her own. And what's more--SHE NEVER TOLD JOHN SHE KNEW ABOUT THE AFFAIR OR THAT THE BABY WAS HIS.
Nope.
She just told him she adopted a baby and they lived happily ever after, while I sat dumbfounded, yelling GTFOH you apes. You're not people, you're robots or single-celled amoeba because real people don't behave like this.
This was yet another movie that left me asking, "Who writes this bleep?" It says Charles Kenyon, Laura Walker, and Maria Morozowicz-Szczepkowska, but I contend that they are not real people. They couldn't have been. I contend that they were aliens or perhaps children because adult human beings don't write such nonsense without labeling it "Fantasy."
Free on Odnoklassniki.
The Last Gentleman (1934)
There was No Gentleman to Speak of
If this movie was at least mediocre I could've stomached it. It was a bad production with a nonsensical plot that was further ruined by annoying characters.
"The Last Gentleman" was a comedic poke at the rich family trying to make themselves appealing for the old patriarch's wealth. It's a concept that has been done in many different fashions and will always exist.
The patriarch was Cabot Barr (George Arliss), an old codger who deemed everyone unworthy of the Barr wealth and the Barr name. He only wanted to leave his money to a male Barr heir and his underhanded and unworthy son was the only male heir. He did take a liking to his granddaughter Marjorie Barr (Charlotte Henry), but alas she was a girl.
If there was a chance she could be an endearing character in spite of her annoying mousy voice, she ruined it early on.
When her grandfather laughingly stated that he wished she'd been born a boy, her response was, "I've always liked being a girl. But now I wish I weren't."
"Why?" Cabot Barr asked.
"Because you wish I weren't," she said in a heartfelt and touching manner.
It was enough to turn Laura Ingraham feminist. Then she bent her head down and kissed her grandfather's hand in the most deferential manner imaginable.
Mind you, Cabot Barr had been nothing but a bully up until this point. Only the simplest minded person or a shameless sycophant would show him the level of respect Marjorie was showing her surly grandfather.
It got worse.
Grandpa Barr sorrowfully added, "If only you'd been born a ... ah well. It's too late now. You're a female. When you marry you'll become your husband's possession. Even to the extent of sacrificing your name."
"Well, I won't marry," Marjorie proudly chirped. "If it will make you happy I'll stay single. I won't mind being an old maid, then I can keep on being a Barr."
By this time, I was in desperate need of a barf bag. This was one of those scenes that made me openly question what was so good about the early twentieth century, especially the movies. Fortunately, I've seen enough 1930's movies to know that they do have some quality movies amongst the racist and sexist piles of rubbish.
Almost as bad as Marjorie deprecating herself for her backwards and tribal grandpappy was her hamfisted romance with Allan Baine (Frank Albertson). Marjorie and Allan were like cats and dogs when they first met, which generally means they will be in love by movie's end. In this case, without prompting, indication, or warning, they were in love and engaged to be married. Quite literally, from one scene to the next, and within a couple of days, they were engaged.
I'd had enough. All that was left was to wrap it up and get on with the sappy ending. The ending gave us a prerecorded will reading in which the cantankerous Cabot gave everyone something to show just how good he was, and to show that whoever put up with his boorishness must really have loved him.
I call BS. People will put up with a lot for money and this movie didn't disprove that. It only fooled the dumb and naive. This movie was terrible and Cabot was no gentleman.
Free on Odnoklassniki.
Money Means Nothing (1934)
Like a Bad Sitcom
"Money Means Nothing" is equivalent to a one hour bad sitcom. It was full of terrible comedy, odd characters, and strange situations. The only thing it was missing was the laugh track: which I desperately needed, to know when to laugh.
The key parts of the movie were a girl meeting a boy, them getting married, them facing adversity, and them overcoming the adversity. Based upon the key elements, this was a universal plot that should've been enjoyable on some level. The problem was the characters, the nature of the adversity, and other supporting elements.
The movie started very oddly with a young rich girl named Julie Ferris (Gloria Shea) following a gang out of a diner and tailing them. It really made no sense. I guess the implication was that she loved adventure and excitement up to the point that she'd even follow this group of criminals on their caper just to get some of that excitement.
Well, that small adventure, which was the jacking of some tire delivery trucks, led her to meet Ken McKay (Wallace Ford). Ken helped her with her stalled car and for some inexplicable reason she was in love with the guy after that. Maybe no man had ever done a small favor for her before. It certainly wasn't how he came on to her because he never did. However, from then on she was stalking him every day at his place of business until they became an item. Her family was not really receptive to her romance. They were the typical wealthy family who didn't approve of dating outside of their class, and Ken McKay was a working class guy from Brooklyn.
Against her family's wishes, and with threat of being cut off financially, Julie decided to marry - no she insisted that she marry Ken. In fact, she went to his job and threw herself at him. She proposed to him. Initially he denounced the idea due to his own financial straits, then he defiantly accepted the idea out of spite when Julie's sister came by and said they would not get a dime if she married Ken.
The next time we saw them, they were playing husband and wife in his small apartment. That's when the aggravating characters increased from the one (Julie) to three. Ken and Julie had a horribly annoying couple as neighbors, and the husband was his boss. They were very intrusive, and the wife, Kerry Green (Maidel Turner), was terribly obnoxious, talkative, and nosy. It was clear that they were supposed to add spice and perhaps comedy to the overall production but all they did was drag it down further.
The McKays would face adversity when Ken was fired by his boss, Herbert Green (Edgar Kennedy), upon the urging of his wife. Herbert was so petty he fired Ken because his wife (that would be Herbert's wife) told him that Julie said he looked like a butler.
Like I said: sitcom stuff.
He even went so far as to smear Ken when other companies called for references. It left Ken and Julie struggling.
Julie had to resort to even hocking her fur coat, but she was determined to stick by the side of the poor man she hounded into marriage. It was Hollywood's attempt to show that a woman in love would stick by her man's side through thick and thin. I saw it as an adventuresome woman trying out the hard life and sticking with it out of pride. I only say that because of how absurd and impetuous her relationship was with this really basic working man.
Ken would get his job back in a very improbable way. He was hired to drive a truck for a tire company. It just so happened that the tire company that hired him was stealing tires from his old company. Why would criminals involve a straight-laced guy who could very well be the fly in their ointment; one will never know. By the time Ken found out who they were and what they were doing, he was already driving the stolen tires and the police had been dispatched. Somehow, once the trucks were all pulled over, the police were able to ascertain that Ken wasn't a willing participant in the caper. I guess he had an honest face. At any rate, yada yada yada, he got his job back and he and Julie lived happily ever after.
Free on YouTube.
Murder on the Blackboard (1934)
Always Good to See Miss Withers
After I watched "Penguin Pool Murder" (1932) I wrote a review titled, "More of Miss Withers Please," so I can't tell you how pleased I was to see Edna May Oliver reprise her role as Hildegarde Withers, the teacher and crime solver.
In "Murder on the Blackboard," Miss Withers found a teacher named Louise Halloran (Barbara Fritchie) dead in her classroom. Miss Withers, being the perspicacious person she was, kicked into detective mode. Because she wasn't a detective by profession she called Inspector Oscar Piper (James Gleason), the inspector she solved the Penguin Pool Murder with.
The two of them would go on to chase down clues and suspects. Miss Withers was her normal nosy, yet helpful self. She is easy to like because she's comedically prim and proper, and always carries her umbrella. Her look and style was so different from many of the carbon copies they used for female leads back then. She was older, a little plain, and comical without being exaggerated or silly. I sort of put her in the category of a Marie Dressler or Alison Skipworth, except younger and thinner, but they were all atypical.
As Sade sang, "It's never as good as the first time." That's to say that "Murder on the Blackboard" wasn't as good as "Penguin Pool Murder," but don't let it stop you from enjoying Miss Withers again.
Free on YouTube.
He Was Her Man (1934)
Flat
1934 doesn't seem like it was a good year for Joan Blondell. So far I've seen her in "I've got Your Number," "Smarty," and "He Was Her Man," and they were all bad. And, as a tandem, this was the worst movie I've seen James Cagney and Joan Blondell paired in of the five I've now seen them headline.
In "He Was Her Man," a recently released convict named Flicker Hayes (James Cagney) was hired to crack a safe. Instead, he double crossed the guys and called the police on them. One was shot and killed while the other got away. Flicker beat it out of town and headed to California.
While he was holed up in a hotel in San Francisco Flicker met Rose Lawrence (Joan Blondell) who was on her way to Santa Avila, CA to get married to a Portuguese man named Nick Gardella (Victor Jory).
We could draw the conclusion that the two were intimate in that San Francisco hotel. They were in the same room together, a romantic soundtrack was playing and the scene faded to black with Flicker taking off Rose's jacket. Furthermore, the next time we saw the two of them, Rose was behaving very fidgety with Flicker like a guilty woman or like a conflicted woman who wanted to distance herself from the man causing her conflicted feelings.
All suspicions were confirmed later on when they reached Santa Avila. Nick (her fiance) had to go fishing and Rose wanted to go with him. It was a strange request because he was going to be working on a boat with several other men. Why was she so desperate to go with him?
If I'd learned anything from watching these early-thirties movies it is that a woman who begs to go with her man or begs him to stay with her, is a woman who doesn't trust herself alone.
Well, later that night she had sex with Flicker and fell in love with him (or maybe she fell in love then had sex). If it was merely a question mark before, it was a period now, and it only confirmed that women back then couldn't be trusted alone with another man. I can't count the movies in which a woman was left alone with another man and she either fell in love with him or was emotionally confused because of him.
Even though Rose chose the wrong guy, she would get a mulligan. Flicker went on to be killed while Nick went on to marry Rose even after she told him of her infidelity. Nick was one of those guys who was so happy Rose chose him that she could've done anything and he would've still married her. It's a happy ending today, but wait til the honeymoon period is over.
Free on YouTube.
Now I'll Tell (1934)
Watch For Sixty Seconds of Shirley Temple
"Now I'll Tell You" was a bit familiar and a bit of a rerun. It mirrored several gambler/gangster movies of that era. The formula is known. A gambler starts small, makes it big, and takes a fall.
Murray Golden (Spencer Tracy) was a small-time gambler who was as crooked as the day is long. If he could fix a fight, a race, or a roulette wheel, he would do it. He started as a nickel-and-dime gambler and worked is way up to a big shot.
He was also lucky. And he attributed his luck to his gilded wife, Virginia (Helen Twelvetrees). She was in love with Murray, and even though she disdained his lifestyle, she couldn't leave him. He kept her stored away in a nice apartment while he tended to his gambling and catted around with his side piece Peggy Warren (Alice Faye). Virginia was so tucked away and so trusting that the entire outside world knew about Peggy while Virginia was clueless. Peggy was his outside woman, whom he saw more of than his own wife, while Virginia was his homebound woman whom he could not dispense with. As much as he lied to and cheated on Virginia, he would do anything for her (except stop cheating and gambling).
That's always a funny line: "I'll do anything for you." Most of the time the people who say that don't fully mean it. Like the Meatloaf lyrics:
"I'll do anything for love, but I won't do that."
Golden would do anything for Virginia except the two things she wanted most of all for him to do. I guess love has its limits.
"Now I'll Tell You" wasn't anything special. It was fairly rote and lacked anything distinguishable. Fox Film Corp went with a flat movie that was probably considered safe and easy. Spencer Tracy isn't going to float anyone's boat, but he was a known face, and Helen Twelvetrees (the little we saw of her) was more of a second tier actress; recognizable enough, but not a very big star. If there was any good reason to watch this movie, it was for the sixty seconds or so of Shirley Temple. Who can resist her smile?
Free on Odnoklassniki.
The Key (1934)
Tennant the Marriage Fixer
"The Key" attempts to convince us that we should let our spouses scratch their itch because it will be better for our marriages in the long run.
The movie takes place in Ireland circa 1920. British soldiers are everywhere and they are clamping down on Irish rebels aka freedom fighters. A man named Captain Andrew 'Andy' Kerr (Colin Clive) was a British spy. He spent many nights hunting for Britain's most wanted: an Irishman named Peadar Conlan (Donald Crisp). He was committed to his job much to the consternation of his wife Norah (Edna Best), and this would become a serious problem later on.
Also in the King's army was Captain Bill Tennant (William Powell), a rather carefree gentleman who seemed like he should've been enjoying parties, not serving in the military. Tennant was relocated to Ireland to help tamp any kind of Irish uprising. He rented a flat in a building right below Andy and Norah. It turned out that he knew both Andy and Norah, but not as a couple. He had a romantic fling with Norah years ago. Andy wasn't aware of it and the two wanted to keep it that way.
At this point I could see the scandal on the horizon. Norah's old flame was back in the picture plus Andy wasn't a romantic; it was easy math.
As anyone could predict, Tennant and Norah hooked up. They happened to hook up the same night Andy caught Conlan (Britain's most wanted), and they didn't even have the decency to part ways before Andy got home. He left the two together, thinking nothing of it (he still didn't know they knew each other), then came back hours later that night to find Tennant still at his home with his wife. Norah looked guilty, Tennant looked a bit smug, and Andy was crushed.
It was such an awkward scene I thought they planned it that way. I couldn't believe that they were so caught up in passion that time and caution gave them the slip. What I thought was that Norah re-fell in love with Tennant and fell out of love with Andy, and their plan was to tell him.
Norah did tell Andy what happened.
Well, no she didn't because 1934 social mores don't permit such things to be said on film, but all the context clues were there to convey that she and Tennant had sex.
What was she supposed to do at home alone with her old flame? She had begged Andy not to go out to work that night. Andy didn't know that her plea was for her protection, not his. As Norah put it when she tried to explain to Andy what happened:
"It was like a fire that I thought had gone out, but suddenly it flared up again."
She was talking like she had hemorrhoids.
Andy did what most guys would've done in that situation and left the house. He was devastated. Then Norah was devastated, because it was when Andy left that she realized how much she loved him. But! She had to have sex with Tennant to truly realize that she didn't really love Tennant and that she really loved Andy.
"She merely thought she was in love with me once perhaps. But she knows different now... Norah's been in love with a memory. Glamorous memory. For three years she was struggling to kill it. It's the thing that's always stood between you two.
"I came into her life and went out. I became a sort of unfinished chapter," Tennant carefully explained to Andy.
And here is the important part, the essence of Tennant's power.
Tennant continued, "If I hadn't come back that chapter might never have been finished. She might have gone on for years cherishing a romantic dream. But I did come back. It killed all the romance for her; all the glamor. It's you she loves Andy. She knows that now."
I must pause because I want these words to sink in. I want you to understand EXACTLY what Tennant is saying.
Let me translate.
"I was a blessing to your pitiful marriage. She was pining for me and you didn't even know it. You could never live up to the lasting impression I left upon her.
"So, I had to come back and make love to her so that she could get it out of her system and realize that I was just a romantic idea, not a true lasting thing like you are Andy. Sure, I may be handsome, suave, and know how to charm the pants off a woman, but you're husband material and I made her realize that."
Well excuse me. Allow me to show my deepest gratitude oh wise one. And here it is I thought you screwed my wife for your own pleasure. Pardon me good sir.
Tennant. Do me a favor and don't do me any favors. What a line of garbage. And Andy stood there listening to it like it was Gospel. He ate that stuff up. The movie ended with Andy and Norah side-by-side watching Tennant being taken away. Tennant was arrested for a heroic yet illegal stunt, but it was almost like the scene in "The Green Mile" where Michael Clark Duncan had accomplished what he was sent there for and it was time for him to go.
Tennant, with his magical penis, had fixed Andy and Norah's marriage, now he could go somewhere else and fix another struggling marriage.
Sorry, I don't know any marriage that needs to be fixed with cheating. That's some marriage counseling I want no part of.
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Operator 13 (1934)
What Poor Black Maid Wears Make-Up?!
When I saw the synopsis:
"Union spy Gail Loveless impersonates a black maid in the early days of the Civil War, but complications arise when she falls in love with a Confederate officer."
I knew I was going to hate the movie, it was just a matter of how much. Either one of the clauses mentioned in the synopsis was enough for me to hate the movie, so to have both: a woman impersonating a Black maid AND her falling in love with a Confederate officer, was enough to make me vomit.
Let's look at both clauses shall we. This will be a lengthy post, so the TL;DR of it is racism and sexism. Hopefully, that will save you time and energy. If you still want to read on, I'm happy to have you.
"Operator 13" takes place during the Civil War. Marion Davies played Gail Loveless, an actress recruited to be a spy for the North. She was given the codename Operator 13. She was partnered with another female spy named Pauline (Katharine Alexander) who went by Operator 27.
When it was time for Gail to choose a disguise, she chose to disguise herself as a Black maid. Now, since this was during the Civil War and not after it, in the South she would've realistically been a slave. That term was never used at any time during this movie which is just one of its many failures.
Its other failure was having Marion Davies in blackface. White people donning blackface is a sore subject. It was done for racist reasons--either to further denigrate Black folks or to keep them from entertainment jobs that were given to whites--and it was done in one of three ways:
1. A white person was playing the role of a Black person ala Amos n' Andy, or Victor Kilian in "The Ox-Bow Incident" (1942), or one of the actors in "White Zombie" (1930). There really is no defending this because they could just as easily had found a qualified African-American for the role.
2. Minstrel shows ala "Glorifying the American Girl" (1929), "Sweetie" (1929), "Happy Days" (1929), "Love Among the Millionaires" (1930), "Footlight parade" (1933), "Kid Millions" (1934), or "Wonder Bar" (1934). Minstrel shows were steeped in racism as the performers usually had black faces and white lips, and they would play out a hyperbolic version of every known stereotype of Black people.
3. A disguise or some other purpose for the character within the movie ala "Tropic Thunder," "Silver Streak," "Soul Man," or "Operator 13." In this case I actually don't have a problem with it TO A POINT. Within the context of the movies it made sense for the actors to make attempts to look Black.
So, what is that point to which I don't have a problem with whites (or otherwise) being made up to be Black (when it fits in the context of the movie)? To the point it looks believable.
In "Tropic Thunder" Robert Downey Jr. Played an Australian actor so given to his method acting he made himself up as a Black man for a role; and it was very convincing. The make up was excellent and his vernacular worked because the movie was a comedy and it wasn't exaggerated nonsense.
In "Soul Man" C. Thomas Howell pretended to be Black to get a scholarship to Harvard after his father refused to pay for his tuition. Although the make up was a bit iffy it was somewhat believable; and he dispensed with any changes in speech because by 1986 people were smart enough to know that a Black man going to Harvard probably didn't talk "Black."
The remaining two movies ("Silver Streak" and "Operator 13") crossed that point of believability. In "Silver Streak" Gene Wilder was nothing more than a caricature. There was no way he would fool anybody though he put brown shoe polish on his face to disguise himself. If "Silver Streak" were to be given a pass, it would only be because it was a comedy.
As for "Operator 13" there was no excuse for what they did. Marion Davies trying to pass for a Black maid with a little bit of dark make-up is about as convincing as Tyler Perry playing a woman. If an alien came from outer space and had never even encountered the human race, it would know that Marion Davies wasn't a Black woman. Yet, with a little bit of dark foundation and a piss poor attempt at Black vernacular, she supposedly convinced everyone she was a Black woman.
What made it worse is that they didn't even try. What poor Southern Black maid (aka slave) wears make-up and earrings!!! She still had drawn on eyebrows and nothing wrapping her hair. Furthermore, white men were fawning over her which was a huge taboo. It was as if to show that white men knew their own kind even if they didn't recognize her, or the only beautiful Black woman is one with white features. It was racist dreck no matter how you look at it.
And it needs to be noted that all of the Black people in this flick were smiling, dancing, and having a good time while all of the white people, Southern or Northern, were patronly and matronly as though they treated Black folks so well.
Another gross misrepresentation that is steeped in white guilt, white fragility, as well as racism. Because of the guilt and fragility they can't bear to show themselves in a negative light when it comes to race relations, and the racism because still they put Black people in a dumb, child-like position whereby they need whites for their guidance and education. It's appalling.
Gail Loveless (Marion Davies) only did the blackface routine for about a third of the movie. Eventually, she went back north where she received another assignment which wouldn't require her to be in disguise. This assignment though, would require her to get in close with a charming handsome man; and you know what that means.
Capt. Jack Gailliard (Gary Cooper) was suspected of spying for the South. Gail was tasked with trying to get near him to find out what she could and to lead Northern operatives to him.
Her first response was a frightful "No!" She had already encountered Jack and it was clear she felt something for him. When giving her CO's a briefing about him she had a wistful look on her face as she mentioned how very attractive he was. To any sensible officers this would've been a red flag. She was opposed to getting involved with him in an espionage sense which was probably due to her A.) female frailty that they loved to highlight in the 1930's or B.) the possibility she had feelings for this man. Either of those scenarios was enough to send someone else besides her for the purpose of spying, yet they sent her anyway.
Even though Gail was falling in love with her mark like women were known to do (see "Dishonored" (1931), "Mata Hari" (1931), or "The Man with One Red Shoe" (1985)), she still followed through with passing on critical information to the North which helped them get the jump on a Southern plot. With Gail's intel, the North was able to attack the South first at a place called Drury's Bluff.
It was a resounding victory for the North, but Gail would have you believe it was a travesty. Her feminine sensibilities were on full display as she openly mourned the loss of Confederate soldiers. She was most aggrieved by the loss of a man named Johnny, the fiance of a Southern belle she befriended. It would seem that she forgot that she was simply a spy and legitimately began to like the people.
Since we're talking sexist tropes, I have to mention how Gail got her intel. That Southern belle she befriended had a big mouth. She gaily told Gail all the pertinent details of the Confederate plan to be enacted at Drury's Bluff that her fiance, a captain, told her. It just goes to show that you can't trust a woman with a secret.
After Dury's Bluff, it was discovered that Gail was a Northern spy. This concerned Jack most of all because he'd professed his love for her. What kind of woman could be so low as to earn a man's love and be spying on him at the same time? How did Jack put it? Oh yeah:
Gail: "You're a spy yourself Jack."
Jack: "Yes I am, but I'm a man, a soldier. I'm not a woman who lets people befriend her because she is a woman, then stabs them in the back. I'm not a woman who gains the confidence of a sweet trusting girl then destroys her life's happiness."
Gail: "I didn't know that he... how could I?" she was speaking in reference to her intel getting Johnny, a Confederate soldier, killed.
Jack: "You led her on deliberately, just like you led me on--pretending you loved me."
And like that Jack laid down the rules of spying. You can't be a woman, and you certainly can't be a woman that makes a person trust you or fall in love with you.
I can't say that I've never heard such ridiculous hogwash in my life, because I've heard a lot, but this is some seriously, upper-level ridiculous hogwash. I couldn't roll my eyes enough. I couldn't curse it enough. The logic of it was so twisted and distorted due to the sexist nature of it. SHE DID EXACTLY WHAT SPIES ARE SUPPOSED TO DO!
How in the hell is she supposed to get sensitive information if she doesn't gain the trust of those with the information? And as far as making people fall in love with her, that was your bad, but I will say that it was the sexist mind of the writer to even put it in the script that she fell in love and made her mark fall in love.
Because this was a romance, they were able to unite at the end. Once the war was over and "there was no more north and no more south, just a United States" they were able to wed and be a happy couple as if both sides immediately dropped their beef the moment the war was over.
Psshhhh. I still know Southerners mad at Yankees for the war. When they say "the South will rise again," they're not talking about a bread.
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Many Happy Returns (1934)
George and Gracie Get Married
This is the fifth early movie I've seen with George Burns in it, and it looks to me that he didn't do anything without his partner Gracie Allen. The two were a comedy tandem in which he played the straight man and Gracie played the ditz.
In "Many Happy Returns" George Burns and Gracie Allen again play characters with no name change. They worked for Gracie's father, Horatio Allen (George Barbier). Horatio owned a radio station which Gracie was attempting to get torn down and converted into a bird sanctuary or something like that.
Why?
Who knows why Gracie does the things she does.
Horatio had Gracie see a psychoanalyst. The psychoanalyst concluded that Gracie was stuck on George, or as she called him, Georgie Porgie. Perhaps if she married George she would stop monkeying with her father's business and behave normally. Upon hearing that, Horatio offered George his daughter, Gracie, except George wasn't amenable to marrying Gracie if he had anything to say about it.
Horatio wouldn't be denied his request, or should I say demand. He gave George an ultimatum: marry his daughter or be fired. When George again rejected the offer, Horatio offered him $10/mile of travel on their honeymoon from New York to California. That came out to $30,000, which George couldn't refuse.
So they were married.
The rest of the movie would be more of Gracie and her goofiness, George trying to remain sane, and a kidnapping plot involving Florence (Joan Marsh), Horatio's other daughter.
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Fog Over Frisco (1934)
Exciting Murder Mystery
"Fog Over Frisco" was the second movie in a row from 1934 I watched that was based in San Francisco. The other was "Wharf Angel."
"Fog Over Frisco" is a murder mystery that was a little more exciting than most of them at that time. A lot of that is thanks to Bette Davis. Firstly, it's Bette Davis in a significant role. She was one of the bigger stars of that era. Secondly, the role Bette Davis played was full of mystery and intrigue.
Ms. Davis played Arlene Bradford, a rich party girl who dabbled in stolen bonds. She was helping a gangster named Jake Bello (Irving Pichel) while everyone thought she'd cleaned up her act since being engaged to the respectable Spencer Carleton (Lyle Talbot). Meanwhile, she was deeply admired by her stepsister Val (Margaret Lindsay) while her stepfather, Everett Bradford (Arthur Byron), had had just about enough of her.
There was plenty going on in this flick full of well known names; names like Bette Davis, Lyle Talbot, Hugh Herbert, Arthur Byron, Robert Barrat, Irving Pichel, Douglass Dumbrille, and Gordon Westcott. Make sure to follow the bouncing ball as the plot takes you everywhere.
I thought the movie was firing on all cylinders until one part.
A reporter named Tony Sterling (Donald Woods), who was in love with Val Bradford, found her sister Arlene's dead body. Instead of telling Val like a decent human being, he left her to keep believing that Arlene was alive, which eventually led to Val being kidnapped.
I thought his true colors showed at that point and that there was nothing he could do to make up for it. I thought that he would be squarely in the doghouse with respect to Val from then on.
Imagine you believed your missing sibling was alive while your sweetheart knew your sibling was dead but kept it hidden for a big news story. Now add to that the fact that you were running headlong into trouble because you believed your sibling was still alive. What would be your feelings and attitude toward your burgeoning romantic interest once you found out he/she lied about something as important as your sister being dead?
Maybe I'm less forgiving than most, but we'd be done effective immediately.
Not so Val. Once she was saved from her kidnappers all was forgotten and forgiven. The movie ended with her in Tony's arms as if he didn't betray her for a stupid story. She didn't have one negative word to say to him.
That didn't sink the movie, but it sure had me grumbling.
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Wharf Angel (1934)
Unnecessary Drama
"Wharf Angel" is a movie that took place on the docks in San Francisco for the most part. It's a romance with unnecessary drama. I don't mean unnecessary in that a movie does not need drama, because every movie needs some type of drama to even be interesting. What I mean is that the nature of the drama in this movie was unnecessary.
At the very beginning a man named Como Murphy (Preston Foster) burst into a bar where he let them know he was running from the police. A patron named Turk (Victor McLaglen) and the proprietor, Mother Bright (Alison Skipworth) gave him refuge as they weren't all that fond of the police themselves. No one knew what he was running from the police for, but they helped him anyway.
While trying to hide, Como found himself in a flat belonging to a woman named Mary aka Toy (Dorothy Dell). Toy also gave refuge to Como. Her profession kept her on the wrong side of the law as well, so in Como she saw a kindred spirit.
For good measure Toy pressed Como about why he was wanted by the police. He told her that they suspected him of a murder he didn't commit.
Como and Toy had an instant attraction. He was a nice enough guy and she was available, so they fell in love on the spot. But Como could not stick around the docks and play boyfriend because he was a wanted man. As a result he decided to board a ship headed to China where he would work in the boiler room amongst a bunch of other sailors.
Como was one thread of the unnecessary drama.
The other thread was Turk (Victor McLaglen). Turk was a big, gruff, brute who happened to believe that Toy was into him. He thought Toy's affections were a sign of something more than her doing her job, which was prostitution. He took her signs as actual love as though he was the best thing since sliced bread and she recognized it. The truth is he was a john, and the moment she found Como she forgot all about Turk and she forgot all about that entire lifestyle of hers. However, Turk was not ready or willing to let Toy go, but he had to board a ship so he had to leave her alone for at least the next six months.
That was the Turk thread of the unnecessary drama.
Aboard the ship, Turk and Como became the best of friends. Turk saw that Como was a real standup guy and he befriended him. What Turk and Como did not know is that they had eyes on the exact same girl. Como, for good reason, because she was truly in love with him, and he was in love with her. Turk, however, had no good reason to be waxing poetically about Mary when he didn't even know where she lived, who she was, or if in fact she truly loved him. You knew this would become an issue later and it did, and that's the biggest bone of contention I actually had with this movie.
The two threads intertwined when both Turk and Como docked back in San Francisco. The drama truly stemmed from Turk having this obsession with Toy and this bewildering understanding that she actually loved him and wanted him. He was an absolute moron, but I don't think he was so dumb as to take subtle signs of affection to be actual love and desire. It was like this guy had not been a sailor his whole life.
For whatever reason, he thought that Toy was not like other janes. Toy did not help matters when later, after Turk and Como returned from sea, she accepted money from Turk in order for her and Como to skip town. She had to know that Turk had serious feelings for her. He proposed to her God's sake! So, for her to then take money from Turk was none other than a clear sign to him that she at least had some feelings for him. Another woman--a smarter woman, less desperate woman--would've shut him down the moment he mentioned marriage. She would've said clearly and unequivocally that she was not in love with him, and that she did not want to marry him, but Toy was too shy or too distracted to do that.
It ended with Turk doing right by Como, but not until he had done wrong by him. It was a frustrating mess because of Turk's irrational behavior. There was drama to be had without Turk being emotionally stunted, the writers only needed to look a little harder.
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Little Miss Marker (1934)
Little Miss Adorable
Shirley Temple graces the silver screen with her cuteness in "Little Miss Marker." She played Markie Jane and she was used as a "marker" by her dad for gambling purposes. For those of you not familiar with what a "marker" is, it is basically an IOU. Her father wanted to place a bet, but he didn't have any cash. He left Markie as a "marker" while he went to rustle up the $20 he needed.
He left her with a gambler named Sorrowful Jones (Adolphe Menjou). Sorrowful was a surly man who was seemingly untouched by Markie's smile. When Markie's father didn't come back, Sorrowful found that he would have to take care of the adorable little five-year-old.
Even though "Little Miss Marker" wasn't as good as "Bright Eyes," it's hard not to like Shirley Temple regardless of the movie.
"Little Miss Marker" had a solid cast that featured Charles Bickford, Warren Hymer, and a new face to me in Dorothy Dell as Bangles Carson. As pretty and talented as she was, I wondered why I never saw her before. Per IMDb, this was only her third project and she died the very same year (1934) in a car accident. Sadly, she was only nineteen. I'm sure we would've seen her featured in many more films had her life not been taken.
As for her role in "Little Miss Marker," she played Big Steve's girl. Though she had an affinity for jewelry, she also had a heart and she was the moral compass in this film. Shirley Temple was around a seedier element in "Little Miss Marker." Sorrowful (Menjou) and his associates were all connected to gambling one way or another. In some ways the movie was a bit too adult, especially compared to the lighter, more kid-friendly nature of the movie "Bright Eyes." Still I liked it. I didn't think I would by the way it began, but "Little Miss Marker" found it's bearings and stayed upright.
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Smarty (1934)
This One is a Head Scratcher
This movie was just strange; and not in a good way.
Vicki (Joan Blondell) was married to Tony Wallace (Warren William). They seemed to be in complete bliss. It was a fairly normal looking relationship for two people that are fond of each other. Then, within the first five minutes, Vicki playfully called Tony "diced carrots" during a bridge game, which drove him into a rage, then he flipped the card table over and slapped her.
It was bizarre.
And if that wasn't bizarre enough, Vicki went on behaving in a cheery, jubilant manner like some sort of Stepford wife, yet she insisted on a divorce. Her mood truly defied the nature of what had occurred and what she was requesting. She was slapped and she wanted a divorce, but she looked and behaved like she was in the best of moods-- as if she was totally unaffected by the matter. She still had a smile plastered on her face and not the least bit of angst.
Her friend Anita (Claire Dodd) only added to the weirdness of this movie. After the slap she had a sly grin on her face like she just saw something she wasn't supposed to and she was happy to be a witness. Even when Anita informed Tony's neighbor George (Frank McHugh) she was smiling ear to ear as if she was excited by it all. Then, later she said, "A good sock in the eye is something every woman needs... at least once in her life."
WHAT!?
What am I watching??? What is going on??? Is this a sci-fi and all of these events are occurring on another planet? Are Vicki and Anita even human? Are they some sort of robots unable to properly emote?
Moving forward.
Vicki got her divorce then immediately married her lawyer Vernon Thorpe (Edward Everett Horton). She went on with her life as if she'd never experience love, loss, or any mature feelings. Later, Vicki enthusiastically invited Tony (her ex) over to the house for a dinner party. To call it poor taste is putting it mildly. When Tony got there she was wearing a backless dress that her husband (Vernon) forbade her to purchase, and she was throwing herself all over Tony.
Her next move was to provoke Vernon to hit her, which he did. She behaved like such an impudent child Vernon lost himself and slapped her. She then used that as grounds to run right back to Tony. Once she was back at Tony's and Vernon had given up his quest to win her back, she began provoking Tony! He then ripped off her dress and slapped her... AND SHE LIKED IT! It was like some kinky role playing stuff. The last words spoken in the movie were: "Tony dear. Hit me again."
The whole affair was queer.
This was by far the worst role I've ever seen Joan Blondell in. I normally like her in everything I see her in, but this was just lousy. I wonder if it was a contractual obligation or a money issue.
And what were the writers thinking, or the director for that matter? Were they high at the time? I know this is a comedy, but there was no rhyme or reason to it. Honestly, this movie just left me scratching my head.
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Death Takes a Holiday (1934)
Too Shakespearian for Me
In 1930 sin took a holiday, in 1934 it's death that takes a holiday. When sin took a holiday it was figurative. Death taking a holiday was quite literal.
"Death Takes a Holiday" takes place in Italy. Death, tired or bored of his regular routine, decided to take a three day holiday to primarily "discover why men fear him like they do." On his holiday he would take the form of Prince Sirki (Fredric March), the prince of some foreign country. He would take on the full human form, anatomy, and biology so that he could fully experience what it is to be human.
He stayed as a guest at the estate of Duke Lambert (Guy Standing). Lambert was the only one who knew what Prince Sirki really was and he was forbidden to tell any other guests.
Almost instantly, two female guests were hopelessly attracted to Sirki: Alda de Parma (Katharine Alexander) and Rhoda Fenton (Gail Patrick). They fawned over him, but he was attracted to neither of them. He was irresistibly attracted to Grazia (Evelyn Venable), daughter of Princess Maria (Kathleen Howard), and also a guest in Lambert's home. This was going to shape up to be something of a problem because Grazia and Corrado (Kent Taylor) were an item.
"Death Takes a Holiday" lost me by and by as it pivoted off of being comical and contemporary into being serious and archaic. I don't find romances dripping with pretentious poetic and figurative speech interesting at all. In the attempt to sound profound, movies like this leave the viewer behind as he/she tries to figure out what the speaker means. Some things were clear, then others weren't; almost as if the writer wanted there to be a thousand different understandings.
In the end, my takeaway was that Grazia was suicidal.
Think about it. She felt a connection to Cirki right away. She then left and felt compelled to come back to Duke Lambert's estate. Then she fell in love with Cirki (death) very quickly and she was inexorably stuck on him. And if the viewer came to the conclusion that she was in love with Cirki the man-- when Cirki changed back to his regular form Grazia was just as entranced with him as before. So, now you tell me what does that mean?
She was suicidal and this movie romanticized it.
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Search for Beauty (1934)
As Shallow as its Name
"Search for Beauty" was something like "Star Search" if the search criteria was beauty and health.
A recently released convict named Larry Williams (Robert Armstrong) got out of prison and was already brimming with an idea to make money. This idea was supposed to be legitimate unlike his idea that landed him and Jean Strange (Gertrude Michael) in prison. He wanted to print a health and fitness magazine. He needed Jean's help and Dan Healy's money. Both would take considerable persuasion to join him.
First he got Jean on board with a lot of persistence. She was still sore at him for the non-existent oil wells he told her about. The two then went out to get two representatives of the magazine. For that they went to the 1932 Olympics held in Los Angeles. They found a swimmer by the name of Don Jackson (Buster Crabbe) and a diver by the name of Barbara Hilton (Ida Lupino). Both were beautiful and healthy, the exact image and message they wanted to present to sell magazines.
After getting the two athletes, Larry (Robert Armstrong) began working on Dan Healy (James Gleason) for the money needed to fund the whole thing.
With all the pieces together they were off, except that Don and Barbara (the athletes) wanted to run the magazine legitimately and ethically, while Larry, Dan, and Jean wanted to do whatever it took to get the money rolling in. They would battle until the very end.
"Search for Beauty" wasn't very compelling. It was an anemic plot to begin with and it wasn't helped any with the performances. Perhaps they were relying on selling tickets with all the beautiful faces and bods, but that only has so much appeal. No one's going to pay to stare at nice bodies for over an hour unless they are doing something interesting. "Search for Beauty" was about as shallow as it sounds, and I prefer something a tad deeper. At least something that comes up to my knees.
The Thin Man (1934)
Powell Solving Crimes Again
William Powell is great at solving crimes. He's wonderful at it as Philo Vance and he was good at it as Donald Free in "Private Detective 62," and as Nick Charles in "The Thin Man," even though "The Thin Man" wasn't as good as the others.
Nick Charles (Powell) was a retired police detective who was reluctantly dragged into a murder investigation. He was trying to enjoy retired life with his wife Nora (Myrna Loy), but no matter what he did to avoid the murder case, he was pulled in more and more.
The criminal activity jumped off when Julia Wolf (Natalie Moorhead*) was killed. Julia was the two-timing girlfriend of Clyde Wynant (Edward Ellis), a well-to-do inventor.
There were all kinds of shady and dubious people, which meant all kinds of suspects. Nick Charles (Powell) would have to find out who the murderer was because the police were sure to fail.
"The Thin Man" tried to make William Powell a different kind of crime solver by making him appear to be (or really be) disinterested in the case. That would make him different than his Philo Vance character who's always interested. It did suffer from the oft-used trope of the detective who is always jumping the gun on naming a suspect. I thought the movie was OK. There wasn't enough to make it stand out as a good murder mystery.
*Poor Natalie Moorhead can't catch a break. She's always a bad (or flawed) character. See "The Benson Murder Case" (1930), "Shadow of the Law" (1930), "The Office Wife" (1930), "Illicit" (1931), "Three Wise Girls (1931), "Discarded Lovers" (1932), "Forgotten" (1933), and "Corruption" (1933),
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Murder at the Vanities (1934)
Risque Murder Mystery
"Murder at the Vanities" was fun for a murder mystery. To begin with, the movie was produced in the
Hayes Code era, but I think this movie may have slipped through the cracks. They pushed the limits with outfits in this one. Loretta Young and Carole Lombard were shown in just their bra in "Born to Be Bad" (1934) and "Twentieth Century" (1934) respectively, yet the outfits in this movie were as skimpy as I've seen up to this point. In one scene the women were using only their hands to cover their breasts, and other outfits were showing plenty of side boob.
That was about as spicy as the movie got. As a murder mystery, it was standard fare. A producer named Jack Ellery (Jack Oakie) was putting on a big production called The Vanities. His two leads, Eric Lander (Carl Brisson) and Ann Ware (Kitty Carlisle) were engaged to be married which upset another main character named Rita Ross (Gertrude Michael).
Rita Ross was a mean one. She was bitterly jealous of Eric and Ann even though she and Eric were no longer an item, and she was abusive to her hired help, Norma (Dorothy Stickney). Jack was having a difficult enough time handling the three personalities without murders happening on his set, which is what happened backstage.
A female private eye was killed in the rafters where dangerous items had been falling from near Ann (Eric's fiance). Jack was trying to keep the show going while also allowing the police to investigate. It was a tough juggling act.
Rita Ross would be killed before the movie ended. I only bring it up because she was killed by a bullet while a prop gun was being fired. It's the same thing that was done in "The Death Kiss" (1932), "The Crime of Helen Stanley" (1934), and "Journal of a Crime" (1934).
What truly differentiated "Murder at the Vanities" from other murder mysteries was Jack Ellery doing his level best to prevent the cops from shutting down his production before it was over. He had to do a lot of convincing and it made for some comedic scenes.
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Thirty Day Princess (1934)
Taronia Needs a Spokesperson
"Thirty Day Princess" is one of those movies that used the same actress to play two different identical roles. "Strangers in Love" (1932), "Twin Husbands" (1933), as well as a couple of other movies did the same thing in the early-thirties. You know that it will lead to some sort of mix up or confusion.
In "Thirty Day Princess," the small country of Taronia was in need of a loan to build affordable housing and provide hot water to many of its citizens. An American banker named Richard M. Gresham (Edward Arnold) had the idea of selling bonds in America to fund the Taronian project, but Taronia was such an unknown country that selling bonds for them would prove nearly impossible. Taronia would need a spokesperson to go on an American tour to garner the interest of the American people. That job would go to Princess Catterina Theodora Margarita aka Zizzi (Sylvia Sidney). She had the looks to interest the simpleminded Americans.
Zizzi got sick with the mumps upon her first day in America. It seemed as though all hope was lost until Gresham (the banker) came up with another idea. He had private investigators scour New York City to find Zizzi's doppelganger, and they came back with an identical woman named Nancy Lane (also Sylvia Sidney). Nancy Lane was already an actress which made her doubly perfect. With a little coaching she could master the Taronian accent, culture, and history all for the nice sum of $10,000. And there was an additional $5,000 in it for her if she could schmooze Porter Madison III (Cary Grant), a newspaper owner who mercilessly attacked Gresham whenever he could. You knew that Nancy (acting as the princess) and Porter would fall in love. You also knew that her true identity would eventually be revealed.
I liked "Thirty Day Princess" for the most part, although I was waiting for the moment it would be revealed that Nancy was an imposter. How would they reveal it? How badly would Porter (Cary Grant) be hurt since he fell in love with the princess (really Nancy), etc.?
Her revelation was standard fare. It went about as I expected, yet the movie still hit a major pothole that made me give it a mandatory demerit.
After Nancy's identity was revealed and she was paid for her performance, the only thing left was the happily ever after between her and Porter. Porter would have to get over his anger and humiliation and realize he loved her.
He did just that, then Nancy did the irksome thing. She ripped up her check. She tore up her payment for pretending to be the princess because she never meant to fall in love and she never meant to hurt Porter.
Why o why do people do that? Why do people tear up, burn, or otherwise destroy the money they earned for doing what they promised they'd do? Sure, you may have a change of heart, but don't tear up the money!! Donate it if you must, but you earned it!! It's yours!!! I'd rather be morally embattled with money in my pocket rather than morally embattled and broke. Ugh that grinds my gears so much.
Besides that utterly bewildering and objectionable move by Nancy Lane, I had no real qualms with "Thirty Day Princess."
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You're Telling Me! (1934)
Loveable Loser
A perennial screw-up named Samuel Bisbee (W. C. Fields) can't do anything right. Of course, he doesn't help himself by getting drunk just about all the time. His follies and faux pas have the added effect of ruining his daughter's hopes of wedding bells. She desired to marry the rich Robert 'Bob' Murchison (Buster Crabbe), but his society mother (Kathleen Howard) would have none of it due to his fiance's father.
Just about the only thing he did with any kind of competency was invent. Many of his inventions were useless with the exception of his puncture-proof tire. If he could sell that to a big name manufacturer he'd be set.
Sam Bisbee was a guy you wanted to root for, but he made it hard to do. After so many gaffes, flubs, and downright dumb decisions there becomes a point when you have to withdraw your support.
"You're Telling Me!" was carried by W. C. Fields who I think is a lot better as a support actor rather than the lead. For instance, he was great in "If I Had a Million" (1932). In "You're Telling Me!" he was surrounded by small set pieces in Joan Marsh (playing his daughter), Louis Carter (playing his wife), and Adrienne Ames (playing Princess Lescaboura) that didn't contribute all that much to the overall film. This movie was just a bit too W. C. Fields heavy which is fine if you like his brand of comedy, but not fine if you like his brand of comedy in small doses.
Free on YouTube.
Born to Be Bad (1934)
Saints and Sinners
"Born to be Bad" was a movie that was stuck in the middle for me. It wasn't good, that's for sure, but it wasn't quite bad either.
A very young woman named Letty Strong (Loretta Young) had a seven-year-old boy named Mickey (Jackie Kelk) who was a wild one. He stayed in trouble and was constantly skipping school. We find out that his behavior is directly attributable to his mother. Letty bore him at a young age and she was so spurned by life in general that she raised Mickey very atypically. She taught him life's lessons early and unfiltered, and she didn't harness him with tales of morality and ethics. She, herself, was tricking to take care of them.
When a driver for Amalgamated Dairies hit Mickey while he was playing in the street, we got our first view of Cary Grant. He played Malcolm 'Mal' Trevor, the president of Amalgamated Dairies and he wanted to do right by Letty and her boy.
Initially, I thought Malcolm was single with the way he approached Letty. It wasn't overtly romantic and desirous, but it certainly was a little more than business-like.
Malcolm would end up adopting Mickey in order to keep him out of a group home. That's when we found out that Mal was married.
Now I'm thinking, "How are you and Letty going to be a romantic item? Is your wife ugly or mean? Is your wife an invalid? Or is your wife out of the picture altogether?"
I was wrong on all accounts.
Mrs. Alyce Trevor (Marion Burns) was pleasant, pretty, and present. She was the perfect wife. We didn't even hear a fuss from her when Mal brought home a seven-year-old with behavioral problems. Likewise, she didn't fuss about a very beautiful and seductive Letty staying at her home. And she barely fussed when Letty pretty much stole her husband.
Yeah, that happened.
Letty worked on Malcolm to get her son back. Her main weapon was sex and she knew how to use it. And she did. Malcolm fell for Letty and he fell hard. He even told his wife that he was in love with Letty. And that's where I had a problem.
By all accounts and by all depictions, Malcolm was a saint. He was wealthy, big-hearted, and never raised his voice even when he had been wronged. This guy could practically walk on water. So, when he cheated on his wife--and make no mistake about it, he cheated on his wife--I thought, "There it is! He's no saint. He wants what every other man wanted from Letty (she even paid her doctor's bill with sex). Now we're going to see the real Mal." But then they made him a saint even in cheating!!!
Malcolm professed his undying love for Letty, which she captured on phonograph. She thought she entrapped him which would give her the leverage she needed to get Mickey back. Come to find out, he told his wife that same night!!
Come on man. Gimme a break.
Malcolm was so sickeningly saintly that he told his wife he cheated on her and was, in fact, in love! No, it wasn't a fling with him. It wasn't that his sex drive got the best of him. This fool was genuinely in love. And he was a fool because he couldn't see that Letty was playing him.
And even more saintly than Malcolm was Alyce. She had a few unkind words for Letty, but ultimately she was more matronly towards her than catty. Where most women (decent women too) would be trying to claw Letty's eyes out, Alyce simply yielded her position to the new lady in Mal's life and gave her some good advice on how to keep him. She lectured Letty on how much of a gentleman Malcolm was and went on singing his praises even though he just cheated on her.
The whole thing was surreal. It definitely didn't resemble anything I would call realistic. It was a Hollywoodland scene for sure.
As much as I didn't like Malcolm and Alyce (for being too unreal), I liked Letty. She was a little bit much with the constant smoking and perpetual use of her sexuality, but she was apologetic about it. Letty was rough around the edges. She'd been beaten up by life and it showed. For my part, I liked that she remained hard boiled even after the virtuous and divinely-crafted Malcolm professed his love for her. In another movie his love would've reached her soul and reformed her.
His love and kindness did reach her; as did the kindness of Alyce, but it wasn't like Letty ran out to join a convent as a result. She didn't follow through with her plan to take Mickey away, but we could see that it didn't affect her overall character.
In the end Letty did the right thing and bowed out of the picture. Mickey would be better off in a loving home with two saints raising him than he would be with her grinding out a living. And Mal would be better off with Alyce than being married to her.
Free on DailyMotion.
Twentieth Century (1934)
I was in Stitches
There's a movie called "Sunset Blvd." which stars Gloria Swanson. In it she plays an actress whose best days are behind her, yet she lives her life as though she is always on stage. Well, imagine two of her and you'd have "Twentieth Century," and it is hilarious.
I can't readily recall a movie from the early-thirties that I laughed at as much. This was the finest role I'd ever seen Carole Lombard play. As for John Barrymore; he'd played many fine roles and he was even better than normal.
John Barrymore played Oscar Jaffe, a theater play producer. He is a big name in producing and he had recently discovered a woman by the name of Lily Garland (Carole Lombard). Truthfully, her name was Mildred Plotka, but Oscar changed it to something more actress-worthy.
Lily was a model turned actress with zero experience. She was considered unusable by the director, Max Jacobs (Charles Lane), but Oscar would hear nothing of it. Oscar took over directorial duties and worked Lily so hard he just about broke her. Then, when she was at her nadir, he gave her the complement necessary to push her forward and into stardom.
The two of them became a professional and romantic item. Oscar behaved like a jealous, overprotective boyfriend who would barely allow Lily to breathe without his knowledge. If he wasn't around her, his accountant, Oliver Webb (Walter Connolly), or his gofer, Owen O'Malley (Roscoe Karns), was. He was referred to as Svengali, which was funny because he played the role of Svengali in the titular movie.
Oscar was a ham. His entire life was a production. Everything he did was exaggerated and hammed up for show. And he carved Lily in his image. She became just as much an actor as Oscar, and when the two were together... watch out. Lily said it best when she told Oscar, "That's the trouble with you Oscar. With both of us. We're not people, we're lithographs. We don't know anything about love unless it's written and rehearsed. We're only real in between curtains." It was so very true, and I didn't want them to change.
I couldn't get enough of Lily Garland and Oscar Jaffe. When they weren't having me in stitches we got excellent chip-ins from Oscar's accountant, Oliver. But the fact is, Barrymore and Lombard's characters made every other character worthwhile. Everyone played off of them which made their roles just as funny.
Neither of them is worth a darn without a good script, and "Twentieth Century" was an excellent script. "Twentieth Century" was a blast.
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