The Rains Came.

Review #1351: The Rains Came.

Cast: 
Myrna Loy (Lady Edwina Esketh), Tyrone Power (Major Rama Safti), George Brent (Tom Ransome), Brenda Joyce (Fern Simon), Nigel Bruce (Lord Albert Esketh), Maria Ouspenskaya (Maharani), Joseph Schildkraut (Mr. Bannerjee), Mary Nash (Miss MacDaid), Jane Darwell (Aunt Phoebe - Mrs. Smiley), Marjorie Rambeau (Mrs. Simon), and Henry Travers (Rev. Homer Smiley) Directed by Clarence Brown (#423 - A Woman of Affairs, #433 - Angels in the Outfield, and #484 - Plymouth Adventure)

Review: 
If you want a disaster film to go along with your romance, I guess this could fit the bill. This was a film that 20th Century Fox spent nearly half of its 100-day schedule in making rain to go along with a flood sequence (using a 50,000 gallon tank of water on a studio soundstage), with 33 million gallons of water used, with a fifth of the $2.5 million budget being spent on flood and earthquake scenes. It surely paid off for its effects crew, since E. H. Hansen and Fred Sersen ended up as the first awardees for Best Visual Effects through this film. Who better to helm the film than veteran director Clarence Brown (a versatile director of romance, dramas and period pieces) and established actors like Loy (a versatile actress known for vamp roles prior to The Thin Man in 1934), Power (a matinee idol in the latter 1930s along with the 1940s), and Brent (a leading man for romances primarily in the 1930s and 1940s) to go with it. The film was adapted to the screen by Philip Dunne and Julien Josephson from the 1937 novel of the same name by Louis Bromfield. A remake would be produced by the studio with The Rains of Ranchipur (1955), which changed the ending (so no one dies). This is a glossy but finely crafted film,  where one will be pleased at what they get on a visual level alongside the romantic quartet when it comes to generating intrigue. Loy certainly seems to be having fun with such a mischievous (at least at first mischievous) headline role, brash but immensely watchable every time she is on screen, whether that involves playful banter or helping the sick. Power comes off a bit reserved, but it works out in making calm passion. This plays itself out with Loy's death scene, where Brown had told her to try acting it out with her eyes open through holding her breath. It is a striking scene, one must say. Brent plays a decent rogue, one that fits in contrast to whoever leading lady he is playing towards, whether that means a clash with Loy or a fresh (in that this was her debut role) Joyce. Bruce (a character actor since 1922 whose most famous portrayal was of Dr. Watson starting in 1939) certainly does fine with a boorish turn, and Ouspenskaya certainly proves a charmer from time to time. The romances play out fine for its 105 minute run-time, where one can see how they'll draw themselves out but not find themselves predicting everything (for a film with a title like this, at least).  In a year with plenty of romance and spectacle on numerous fronts, The Rains Came is a decent little gem among others. It makes for a decent show with its fair passion and well-done effects to make a diverting time to go with, utilizing a workable cast and an accomplished director to get things done without too many troubles.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Ah yes, the end of the month (and the tribute to the 1930s) has come. If you are wondering, I have not forgotten about doing films from the current year as well. Those will be sprinkled into March at their own time, apart from the primary goal of March, the third phase of Tribute to the Decades with the 1940s.

Love Affair (1939).

Review #1350: Love Affair.

Cast: 
Irene Dunne (Terry McKay), Charles Boyer (Michel Marnet), Maria Ouspenskaya (Grandmother Janou), Lee Bowman (Kenneth Bradley), Astrid Allwyn (Lois Clarke), Maurice Moscovitch (Maurice Cobert), Scotty Beckett (Boy on Ship), and Frank McGlynn Sr. (Orphanage Superintendent) Directed by Leo McCarey (#085 - Duck Soup)

Review: 
Sometimes, one just needs a quaint romance film. In that sense, I suppose it shouldn't be surprising to have it be from Leo McCarey. A graduate of USC Gould School of Law, he tried his hand at various professions from law to songwriting before being hired by Tod Browning as an assistant director in 1919, based on a referring by actor and future director David Butler. His subsequent work with Hal Roach at his studio helped with skills in humor for gags, such as with the Our Gang series or shorts with Charley Chase (who McCarey felt appreciation for helping him in his career). He started his feature career with Wild Company (1930) and had a career of four decades with numerous headline stars ranging from the Marx Brothers (Duck Soup) to Dunne and Cary Grant (The Awful Truth, 1937) to Bing Crosby (Going My Way, 1944), with his work resulting in three Academy Awards (twice for direction, once for story). This film was the work of five writers: Delmer Daves, Donald Ogden Stewart, S.N. Behrman for screenplay and director-producer McCarey and Mildred Cram for story.

I will admit that this film does succeed in working some of its charm on me to win me over. In lesser hands, this could have proven to be a mawkish and overly sentimental mess, particularly with its second half turn. However, a smooth duo and gentle direction makes this worth a look, particularly with a fair pace at 87 minutes. Dunne does a tremendous job here, pulling off an expressive and graceful performance that resonates with the charming and absorbing Boyer. The rest of the cast is decent enough, such as a warm but quick appearance from Ouspenskaya. Of course the turn with having one of the leads being run over nearly derails the experience. I suppose not telling your lover about the fact you couldn't walk to avoid being a burden could make sense (I favor brutal honesty), but McCarey manages to make the eyes focused on how these two will adjust apart rather than rolling over, where improvisation rules the day more than predictability. When it reaches its end, one will find satisfaction with how it served for entertainment, accomplishing what it sets out to do without too many troubles. At least one can say its main stars liked their experiences, since Dunne and Boyer both described it as their favorite in their careers, and the two would later star in two more films together. Interestingly enough, this film has been remade twice. The first was in 1957 with An Affair to Remember with Grant and Deborah Kerr directed by none other than McCarey again. It was then remade under the original title in 1994 with Warren Beatty, Annette Bening, and Katherine Hepburn with direction by Glenn Gordon Caron. In any case, one can find this in the public domain and not regret their decision, a film with some passion and effectiveness from its stars and director that go together nicely.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Stagecoach (1939).

Review #1349: Stagecoach.

Cast: 
Claire Trevor (Dallas), John Wayne (Ringo Kid), Andy Devine (Buck), John Carradine (Hatfield), Thomas Mitchell (Doc Boone), Louise Platt (Lucy Mallory), George Bancroft (Marshal Curley Wilcox), Donald Meek (Samuel Peacock), Berton Churchill (Henry Gatewood), and Tim Holt (Lieutenant Blanchard) Directed by John Ford (#398 - The Last Hurrah and #1324 - 3 Bad Men)

Review: 
When the right actors and directors are in place to tell a tale of the Old West, it can make for great entertainment. In the early parts of the 20th century, there were plenty of Western films to go around, whether made with a bit of ambition in budget or made on the cheap. John Wayne served as star to several films of the latter category for a majority of the 1930s, most notably with Poverty Row company Monogram Pictures (although there were films he made with the bigger studios, albeit as B-pictures). Although one recognizes his good performance from his feature starring debut in The Big Trail (1930) now, it was considered a financial flop at the time, which did not help his career. But one man knew he had some promise. Who better to exude such confidence than John Ford? For his first Western in thirteen years, Ford tried to attract interest from the major studios to make his film the way he wanted, but it was Selznick International Pictures (founded by noted producer David O. Selznick) that found itself attracted to it more than the majors. Of course, Selznick wanted big name stars to headline the film like Gary Cooper or Marlene Dietrich as opposed to Wayne, but Ford stood firm and eventually found his producer in Walter Wanger with United Artists, albeit with a budget of just $500,000. The film is an adaptation of Ernest Haycox's 1937 short story "The Stage to Lordsburg", done so by Dudley Nichols, who had won an Academy Award for his screenplay in a previous collaboration with Ford earlier with The Informer (1935). A film like this would not come easy - for the director nor its stars. Ford was a man who liked to keep his actors on their toes, describing Devine at one point as a "big tub of lard" and Wayne as a "big oaf". Of course Devine provides a well-done performance (complete with his riding of six horses, which helped him get the part) and Wayne is the everyman that all should look up to, with Ford being the guide in challenging his actors to new heights. Of course one cannot forget Monument Valley, a region on the Arizona-Utah border with plenty of sandstone buttes to behold. Ford loved the place so much that he would return to use it for several films in the following decades, with its wide open spaces blending in with the studio-filmed coach sequences and the backlot usage for the town parts. One who should not be forgotten for their contributions is stuntman Yakima Canutt. The first is his help in suggestions when it came to trying to pull off a sequence with the stagecoach floating across a river with passengers in it (his solution? hollow logs tied to the coach). The second is his stunt-work with the memorable attack of the stagecoach by the natives, in which he rode full speed alongside the coach on a horse, with the most notable stunt being him falling between two lead horses before hanging from the rig before letting go to allow for the horses and the stagecoach to pass over him. Of course the way they handled the horses for filming during said sequence is not as astonishing, as they used a "Running W" device that essentially circled the legs of a horse with an iron clamp and strong wires for when they needed a horse to tumble after its rider was "shot" (with the obvious result being an effective trick but plenty of injured horses). The attitude towards Native Americans that this film has (as is the case with numerous Westerns of the time) is certainly dated, but I am sure it will note adversely affect the general enjoyment of the film as a whole.

One cannot forget about the ensemble in all of this. It is a brilliantly assembled group, each of which being clearly defined in their presence that does not get lost in the shuffle of adventure. A group of eccentric but well definable (and therefore relatable) folks on a trip wracked with some sort of problem either internally or externally seems fairly familiar, but this is a well-executed one at that, moving with the rhythm of a horse on the move. One cares for this group of travelers during this 96 minute trail, and it all starts with Wayne and his memorable close-up entrance. He provides wonderful dignity in a manner that extends to his time spent with Trevor. They share careful chemistry with each other, rolling with the tension that comes with a journey without needing to resort to cliches of the heart, which goes well with the weary vulnerability she exudes. Devine provides squeaky charm of the best sort - you would be proud to have him around for a ride or a story. One cannot forget Carradine (who went from stage company to 300-film company in a six decade career) and his sleek gambler nature that aligns with Platt in contrast quite well. Mitchell (in an Oscar-winning turn) provides warmth and eccentric nature through the wise drunk man routine that pays off in spades for each moment. Bancroft provides grit with authority that is to be expected to the ends the film needs to go to, while Platt, Meek and Churchill each provide distinct qualities that make them seem more than just in the background, wrapped in either dignity, meekness, or prejudice. By the time the film gets to its sequence involving the chase of the stagecoach through dangerous territory, one has found themselves never really wanting the trail to find its end, riveted at what they see go on with a crew at the top of their game for the perfect time (this of course did not stop someone from remaking it in 1966). The build-up to the final showdown is just as exquisite, magic in delivering tension without needing to show a big gun-fight to make an impact. Wayne became a star because of this film, and he would team up with Ford in several productions over the following three decades, most of which (but not all) being Westerns. 1939 was a great year for films, and this is one of those films, a legendary tale worth viewing to understand what one can do with an ensemble cast and a hard-nosed determined director at the helm to make history.

Overall, I give it 10 out of 10 stars.

Algiers.

Review #1348: Algiers.

Cast: 
Charles Boyer (Pepe le Moko), Sigrid Gurie (Ines), Hedy Lamarr (Gaby), Joseph Calleia (Inspector Slimane), Alan Hale (Grandpere), Gene Lockhart (Regis), Walter Kingsford (Chief Inspector Louvain), Paul Harvey (Commissioner Janvier), Stanley Fields (Carlos), and Johnny Downs (Pierrot) Directed by John Cromwell (#1008 - The Racket and #1341 - Of Human Bondage)

Review: 
It should only figure that some films come from doing it over again for a different audience. As much as one can bemoan the shrinking originality of doing the same source material numerous times (then and now), interest does tend to rise a bit when it comes to how a remake fares in a different country. In this sense, Algiers is a remake of Pépé le Moko (1937), a French film based on the novel of the same name by Henri La Barthe, featuring Jean Gabin as star and Julien Duvivier as director (there also was a musical remake with Casbah in 1948). Of note is the American debut of Sigrid Gurie (who was born in New York but had grown up primarily in Norway) and Hedy Lamarr, who had made appearances in five films (all but one being from either her native Austria or Germany) from 1930 to 1933, with an encounter of Louis B. Mayer scouting for European talent helping to lead her to a Hollywood career, with Walter Wanger serving as producer for this feature. Another emigrant serving as star for this film was Boyer, who had started his career in his native France in 1920 before making a move to do Hollywood films alongside his French films in 1930. He soon gained a reputation as a leading man for romantic dramas, with his work being recognized through four Best Actor nominations (including one for this film) before his last film in 1976. The remake would keep certain aspects of the original, most notably with a majority of the music alongside background sequences (at least ones that weren't shot in Algiers and later integrated later into the film by cinematographer James Wong Howe), although censor demands led to the ending being different (murder rather than suicide), along with other aspects. Boyer was not a big fan of his work on the film, since Cromwell wanted him to emulate Gabin (even running scenes from the original), which he disliked doing as an actor, although Cromwell later gave compliment to Boyer on how his performance had been different from each other in terms of nuance. He certainly does a fine job with this film, where one gets a sense of allure and curiosity from whenever he is on screen, a certain kind of confidence that resonates whenever on screen with someone like Lamarr or his on-screen cohorts. The romance that occurs within this triangle comes out with a bit of passion, although Cromwell felt that Lamarr's problem was that she could not act (stating that he could take some of the credit for making her acting passable, while sharing it with Boyer). She provides some exotic charm, a raw but expressive presence that does tend to benefit when on-screen with Boyer more than anyone (which I suppose isn't too surprising). Gurie pulls off an anguished side of this triangle neatly enough, not getting lost in the shuffle too much. Calleia makes for a decent adversary, while Hale provides a bit of wise levity alongside an effective sniveling Lockhart among the rest. The film moves at a fair pace with 99 minutes, although one does not really seem to sense too much suspense inside it. One gets a fair amount of fleeting pleasure, which should be enough for most. At least one can see why it served as one of the inspirations to be patterned for Casablanca (1942). It goes on the strengths of curiosity over its atmosphere and romance with agreeable results, and its free status in the public domain makes this a curiosity worth seeking out without any doubt.

Next Time: It won't be Love Affair, since an addition has been made to go right before that film to make for a 1939 trifecta to close out February's 30s tribute. That film will be Stagecoach.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

The Life of Emile Zola.

Review #1347: The Life of Emile Zola.

Cast: 
Paul Muni (Émile Zola), Gloria Holden (Alexandrine Zola), Gale Sondergaard (Lucie Dreyfus), Joseph Schildkraut (Captain Alfred Dreyfus), Donald Crisp (Maitre Labori), Erin O'Brien-Moore (Nana), John Litel (Charpentier), Henry O'Neill (Colonel Picquart), Morris Carnovsky (Anatole France), Louis Calhern (Major Dort), Ralph Morgan (Commander of Paris), Robert Barrat (Major Walsin-Esterhazy), and Vladimir Sokoloff (Paul Cézanne) Directed by William Dieterle.

Review: 
"I've never tried to learn the art of acting. I have been in the business for years but I still can't tell what acting is or how it's done"

As redundant as it may sound, one needs a bit of history now and then. Who better to headline a biographical film than Paul Muni? The son of actors, he had started a career in Yiddish theatre in Chicago after emigrating there from Lemberg (a city that was in the Austro-Hungarian Empire but is now referred to as Lviv, Ukraine). He was noted for his makeup skills, appearing as an 80-year old man to debut on stage while being just 12. He spent three years on Broadway before being signed by Fox Film in 1929, making two films (The Valiant and Seven Faces), but he went back to Broadway before being enticed to return in 1932, with Scarface and I Am a Fugitive from a Chain Gang leading to him being signed by Warner Brothers. Muni was noted for his preparation for roles, particularly for biographies, which served him for films such as The Story of Louis Pasteur (1936), which won him an Academy Award for Best Actor. Muni made 13 of his 23 films in the 1930s, having script approval over what he wanted to do, a rare thing at the time. He ended his career the same way he started it: with an Academy Award nomination (he had five in total). 

Naturally, one is to expect a few wrinkles of inaccuracy, which the film anticipates with a title card stating that the while the production has basis in history, the historical basis was "fictionalized for the purposes of this picture". Relating to that, a cursory search of Zola leads me to a fact I didn't discover in the film: he wrote a cycle of twenty novels named Les Rougon-Macquart, for which Nana (mentioned in the film) was part of. The obvious sticking point with history is how the film deals with the Dreyfus affair when relating to anti-Semitism of the time that was key to the case since he was Jewish (the word isn't even mentioned in dialogue, only shown on screen once), which has been argued to be due to the timidity of studios when it came to dealing with Nazi Germany. There are numerous quibbles that can be freely noted, ranging from how he is brought into the Dreyfus case (not over the tears of the wife) to the fact that his death (carbon monoxide poisoning through a badly ventilated chimney) was not in fact the day before exoneration of said general. But as Zola once said, "The truth is on the march, and nothing shall stop it." The film relies on the sentiment of truth and justice eventually prevailing in the end, with German actor-turned-director Dieterle being the one to help do it, having directed Muni to three biographical films (the aforementioned Pasteur film and Juarez) in a directing run that spanned forty years. The film has a stagy quality to it, where one senses a speech with some sort of platitudes to pop up sooner than later, which can work out well when a moment of dignity is required. In that sense, Muni makes the best of it, where one sees the dedication in bringing an icon of writing to the screen come out without seeming too much like overacting (which Muni has been criticized for, with Dieterle even accusing him of doing occasionally). One can see his conviction on display without hesitation in the monologue scene for the court, a six minute scene of dedication to making the measure of a man. The rest of the actors (including a Oscar-winning performance from Schildkraut) do just fine, keeping up with Muni in displaying some dignity in keeping the momentum going without too many bumps in the road, whether as people who stand with Zola for truth or stand among keeping it buried to not have to deal with an army admitting fallibility. Granted, the resulting film that comes from said statements seems a bit long at 116 minutes, but at least one can say that this worked better with being a biography than the previous biographical Best Picture winner in The Great Ziegfeld (1936), even if it is at best a fairly okay experience to spend time with. One can be inspired to inquire further about the famed author than the mild snapshots that this provides. It may not be the most prime material for its decade, but it still finds a way to create curiosity through its attempts at entertainment along the lines of other films of its ilk in most of the right places.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Topper.

Review #1346: Topper.

Cast: 
Constance Bennett (Marion Kerby), Cary Grant (George Kerby), Roland Young (Cosmo Topper), Billie Burke (Mrs. Clara Topper), Alan Mowbray (Wilkins), Eugene Pallette (Casey), Arthur Lake (Elevator boy / Bell boy), Hedda Hopper (Mrs. Grace Stuyvesant), Virginia Sale (Miss Johnson), and Elaine Shepard (Secretary) Directed by Norman Z. McLeod (#688 - Horse Feathers)

Review: 
One needs a gimmick sometimes to make a comedy click with interest. One involving fun-loving ghosts haunting their stuffy friend sounds like a good one to go with. The main trio of actors involved with this film each have their own versatile qualities to help make this a quite enjoyable experience. Bennett was known for her work in melodramas alongside comedies that made her a prime star of the 1930s (having also made the shift from silent to sound films), while Grant was slowly gaining recognition for his suave charm (having moved from vaudeville to film in 1932), and Young was known his diverse work in comedies, mysteries, and dramas. Of course a film needs a good director to lead the actors together, with Norman Z. McLeod being a worthy one to help with comedy. The WWI fighter pilot-turned film-man started his career as an animator with comedy shorts, and it was his skills as a gagman that would serve him well for his eventual directing career. His big break was assistant director on the 1927 film Wings, and he had his directorial debut with Taking a Chance (1928). Before his death in 1964, McLeod directed films with notable comedy actors that ranged from W. C. Fields to the Marx Brothers to Bob Hope. The film was an adaptation of the 1926 novel (known as both Topper and The Jovial Ghosts) by Thorne Smith. The sequel novel Topper Takes a Trip (1932) would also be adapted into a film in 1938, with a further film named Topper Returns (1941) coming to theaters a few years later. Young and Burke appeared in all three films, while Bennett and Mowbray appeared only in the sequel. In any case, this is an entertaining comedy, full of charm with little moments and entertaining chemistry between Bennett, Grant, and Young that makes the 97 minutes go without too many hitches. It's a silly charmer (for a film that has its main couple die in the first 25 minutes, anyway) that runs its gags to good mileage, whether that involves sight gags where special effects help make things look like they move on their own (such as a ghost driving a car) or whimsical screwball dialogue (which helped sell Grant on doing the idea when hesitant on the supernatural material). Bennett and Grant thrive on inspiring fun and charm, while Young succeeds on his dryness alongside a daffy Burke. Playful and absurd, it should be no surprise that turned out the way it did as a neat little supernatural comedy gem, deserving of a watch to see charm display itself on screen with such effective power that is executed well enough to make for interesting entertainment.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

Pigskin Parade.

Review #1345: Pigskin Parade.

Cast: 
Stuart Erwin (Amos), Jack Haley (Slug), Patsy Kelly (Bessie), Arline Judge (Sally), Grady Sutton (Mortimer), Fred Kohler, Jr. (Biff), Johnny Downs (Chip), Tony Martin (Tommy), Dixie Dunbar (Ginger Jones), Betty Grable (Laura), Judy Garland (Sairy), Si Jenks (Baggage Master), and the Yacht Club Boys. Directed by David Butler (#1334 - Just Imagine and #1342 - Bright Eyes)

Review: 
It always seems the lightest entertainment can provide the best debut for a star, no matter how big or small the role is. This was the feature film debut of Judy Garland, a thirteen year old singer and actor who was born to vaudevillian parents and toured with her sisters (under her original name of Gumm at first) before being discovered and soon brought to Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. While she would spend 15 years with the company, her debut would be with newly merged 20th Century Fox in this film. MGM didn't know what to do with her at first, so they loaned her to Fox for a few weeks, with her role being a small but notable one, having two songs to herself to sing.

Who better to make a light mix of comedy and song than David Butler. He was the son of an actress and a stage director, and he soon found his way into acting starting in 1910, appearing in various parts directed by people such as John Ford and D.W. Griffith. He made his directorial debut with The High School Hero (1927), and he directed films in five different decades for multiple studios with numerous stars, ranging from Doris Day to Shirley Temple to Walter Brennan, with the latter two being honored by the Academy with awards for acting in a Butler film. This is an ensamble piece, filled with a slim plot that goes by the numbers you can see coming right away (take one guess about if this team will lose to Yale), but there is a charm to it that makes things roll comfortably without seeming dopey. It's a humble movie, full of actors who mostly were just known for small roles or b-movie films (with Garland, Haley, and Grable being exceptions), but they zip the film along through 93 minutes with moderate zingers and decent production value. The songs aren't really anything grandly memorable, but the actors (more so for Garland) sing them adequately enough. Highlights include a fair turn for Erwin (garnering a surprising Oscar nod) as a barefoot college football star, Haley and Kelly as a couple with a few biting wisecracks on and off the field, and a charming Garland (whether singing or not) whenever on screen.  One knows there are better football films or better musical comedies out there than this, but one can't go wrong with a movie like this when it comes to achieving quality escapist entertainment without being too empty inside, serving with a fair cast and fair direction to make an equally fair time. Average isn't a bad place to be with a film like this.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

The Great Ziegfeld.

Review #1344: The Great Ziegfeld.

Cast: 
William Powell (Florenz Ziegfeld Jr.), Myrna Loy (Billie Burke), Luise Rainer (Anna Held), Frank Morgan (Billings), Fannie Brice (Herself), Virginia Bruce (Audrey Dane), Reginald Owen (Sampson), Ray Bolger (Himself), Ernest Cossart (Sidney), Mae Questel (Rosie), Joseph Cawthorne (Dr. Ziegfeld), Nat Pendleton (Sandow), Harriet Hoctor (Herself), Jean Chatburn (Mary Lou), and Paul Irving (Erlanger) Directed by Robert Z. Leonard.

Review: 
I did not foresee a thousand word review that took longer to write than it did to get through the film. And yet, here we are.

One needs a bit of history now and then. Or at the very least needs a big show to really drive up attention. This is a film based on the life of Florenz Ziegfeld Jr and his Ziegfeld Follies, which made numerous productions from 1907 to 1931 (with two further revivals after Ziegfeld's death). There were numerous entertainers that appeared in the show over the years, ranging from W. C. Fields to Will Rogers to Louise Brooks to Fanny Brice. Who else to deliver a film with elaborate costumes, dances and sets but Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, with the most notable set being for the set for "A Pretty Girl Is Like a Melody", which spent roughly $220,000 on a 100 ton, 175 spiral stepped towering rotating volute. The music for the film was done by Walter Donaldson, Irving Berlin, and lyricist Harold Adamson, while Seymour Felix did the dance direction, and William Anthony McGuire wrote the film. I suppose it shouldn't have proved a surprise that this won the Academy Award for Best Picture. It happened to be one of the highest grossing films of the year, right next to another fellow MGM Best Picture nominee with San Francisco. Of course it also shouldn't be surprising that this is a tremendous long spectacle, running 176 minutes (185 for roadshows). One expects a veteran director to serve as a reliable hand for a big production, which is the case with Robert Z. Leonard. He had studied law at the University of Colorado before moving to Hollywood to start his film career acting in various short subjects in 1908. Five years later, he would take up directing the subjects to go alongside his career. It was not long before he got into directing feature-length films, starting with the mostly lost serial The Master Key (1914). In his five decade career, he directed two films nominated for Best Picture and Best Director (this and The Divorcee from 1930). He is known for his association with MGM, where he made most of his features for (starting with their predecessor Metro Pictures) from Peacock Alley (1922) to The King's Thief (1955).

One thing that is easy for me to say is that I don't know too much about the life of Florenz Ziegfeld Jr. After this film, I still don't think I really know much about the man that seems substantial. Even his death is wrongly depicted, as if him dying of pleurisy in Hollywood didn't seem impactful enough to depict for film. It all seems carefree, where the ups and downs seem more catered for its audience to escape with than something that presents anything other than bloated lavishness. In trying to cover all the bases of production value, it soon becomes a hollow experience that seems dated more than anything, although I suppose big-budget effects extravaganzas have some sort of link with this film in attempts at trying to hide hollow plots with some sort of flash. One seems to feel the passage of time of this film like it is taking 30 years rather than three hours. Powell does seem like the man for a role like this, having risen from heel roles in his early years since starting a career in Hollywood in 1922 to leading man roles, most notably with The Thin Man (1934). He starred in five further films in that series, each with Myrna Loy (they appeared in 14 total features together). He received three nominations for Best Actor (1934, 1936, 1947), and although he never won an Oscar, he cultivated a 33-year career with class and charm. I like seeing him here, even if he is playing a role that begs to have at least one flaw show itself on screen. He seems like a nice rogue, but he almost seems lost in a sea of pep and convenience. Loy has the disadvantage of time, since she doesn't show up until over two hours in. In that sense, she pulls off an okay performance playing a living actress (after Ziegfeld's death, she had sold off the film rights to try and pay off his debts and subsequently worked as technical consultant for this film), where one will say it has some stature but not too much else. Rainer (who aspired to be an actress at 16) was in her fifth role in film, having moved from the theatre to film after seeing A Farewell to Arms (1932), describing it as "beautiful". She moved from her native Germany to Hollywood three years later, signing with MGM, with her first American feature being Escapade, which also happened to have Powell and Leonard. She had a peak like no other actress, being the first actress to win back-to-back Academy Awards (Spencer Tracy would do the same for actors for 1937 and 1938), having won for this and The Good Earth (1937). She made fifteen film appearances in her career, owing to the pressure in living up to audience expectations along with dissatisfaction with MGM head Louis B. Meyer with getting roles she found to her liking (as opposed to the other way around). The one highlight scene for Ranier is the phone sequence, a heartbreaker that likely gave her the edge in winning an Academy Award for Best Actress. She does fine with delivering vulnerability, but the film's melodramatic approach does tend to make some of her scenes a bit over-the-top. The others prove hit and miss. Morgan and Brice deliver a bit of levity, but the rest seem to get a bit lost in the shuffle.

There would be further ventures with the Ziegfeld name by MGM, who released Ziegfeld Girl (1941, also directed by Leonard), and Ziegfeld Follies (1946, directed by Vincente Minnelli), which was composed of musical numbers and sketches. At the end of the day, this could prove a curiosity, for either the right or wrong reasons. One could hold up the musical pieces and its designs with some respect, alongside its boundless optimism in the face of marginalizing some of the facts. Or perhaps one could find it to be an overlong affair that can't quite satisfy in every department that creaks with age. I wish I liked this better than I did, because there is some entertainment value present in the film. Its a film that aspires to be the cream of the crop and instead seems to have a bit too much sugariness to really get there and stay on top. 

Overall, I give it 6 out of 10 stars.

The 39 Steps (1935).

Review #1343: The 39 Steps.

Cast: 
Robert Donat (Richard Hannay), Madeleine Carroll (Pamela), Lucie Mannheim (Annabella Schmidt), Godfrey Tearle (Professor Jordan), Peggy Ashcroft (Margaret), John Laurie (John), Helen Haye (Mrs. Louisa Jordan), Frank Cellier (Sheriff Watson), and Wylie Watson (Mr. Memory) Directed by Alfred Hitchcock (#219 - Rope, #223 - North by Northwest, #446 - Spellbound, #447 - Psycho, #450 - Vertigo, #455 - Rear Window, #553 - Strangers on a Train, #800 - Shadow of a Doubt, #910 - Notorious, #963 - The Lodger: A Story of the London Fog, #964 - The Ring (1927), #965 - Downhill, #970 - Mr. and Mrs. Smith, and #977 - Frenzy)

Review: 
"The chief requisite for an actor is the ability to do nothing well, which is by no means as easy as it sounds. He should be willing to be used and wholly integrated into the picture by the director and the camera. He must allow the camera to determine the proper emphasis and the most effective dramatic highlights."

One can never say enough about Alfred Hitchcock and the films he made throughout seven decades. He had started his work in film as a title card designer for Famous Players-Lasky in their London studio in 1920. He gained experience from this work before his next job with Gainsborough Pictures as an assistant director. He had worked on numerous short subjects (including an attempt deubt with the curtailed Number 13 in 1922) and films, most notably with Woman to Woman (1923), which he designed the set and wrote for. In 1925, he made his directorial debut with The Pleasure Garden, a flop that now only exists in the viewing markets as a bootleg. His breakthrough came with The Lodger in 1927, inspired by Expressionist techniques of Germany. After the success of The Man Who Knew Too Much (1934) came this film, his 22nd of his career and sixth-to-last before his departure to Hollywood in 1939. This was an adaptation of the adventure serial (and subsequent publication as novel) The Thirty-Nine Steps by John Buchan, which first came out in 1915. It was the first in what turned out to be a thriller series by Buchan, who wrote four further novels with its main character of Richard Hannay over the next 21 years. The novel has been adapted three times for film along with once for television, with several radio adaptations and even a theatrical production for the stage.Obviously there are a few liberties taken with the work, such as three newly created characters (both female leads along with the brief but important use of someone named "Mr. Memory" for the opening and climax) and even the explanation for the title (an organization in the film, actual steps in the book), but  Charles Bennett and Ian Hay generally followed the outline of the original work.

For such a prolific director, one can't forget to mention its solid cast. Donat had already made the transition from the English stage (done since 1921) to film in 1932. He made just 20 films before his death in 1958 (affected in part due to his chronic asthma), but he made the most of it, even winning an Academy Award for Goodbye, Mr. Chips (1939). In any case, he does a tremendous job here, a confident performance in being swept up as the wrong man on the run (a common thing present in numerous Hitchcock films), a wise-cracker wise to carrying an 86 minute film with that stiff upper lip one should see coming from someone of his disposition, careful but dynamic, such as the scene where he needs to make a speech to introduce a candidate he knows nothing about. Carroll proves just as careful with the present scenario, where she is never too far from our mind (with quite a bit of time passing before she shows up after the train sequence), but she makes the most of it. If the two seem at home with panic when handcuffed together in a scene together, that was because Hitchcock had them handcuffed for a few hours (while pretending to have lost the key) to get them in the right sense of mind for such situation. In that sense, the two seem just right with chemistry, which you can see the relaxation as the film goes on. Mannheim shows up for only a few minutes, but she makes the most of it count. Tearle makes for a fine lurking presence, in that one doesn't need bellowing to make a conniving presence count but control. The rest prove fine for a film that has touches of humor to go alongside thrills to make for quite an interesting ride, going from scene to scene with no trouble, where the suspense comes to the viewer without needing to be spoonfed all at once. In the end, this is a wonderful film from Hitchcock in its execution of suspense, rolling itself with controlled ambition and a game cast that make for wonderful entertainment belonging on the level among Hitchcock's past and future prime efforts.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

Bright Eyes.

Review #1342: Bright Eyes.

Cast: 
Shirley Temple (Shirley Blake), James Dunn (James "Loop" Merritt), Lois Wilson (Mary Blake), Judith Allen (Adele Martin), Charles Sellon (Uncle Ned Smith), Theodor von Eltz (J. Wellington Smythe), Dorothy Christy (Anita Smythe), Jane Withers (Joy Smythe), Brandon Hurst (Higgins), Jane Darwell (Elizabeth Higgins), Walter Johnson (Thomas), and George Irving (Judge Thompson) Directed by David Butler (#1334 - Just Imagine)

Review: 
When it comes to needing a charming and good-natured kid presence for a film or two, one can't really go wrong with Shirley Temple. Born in 1928, she had been enrolled at Meglin's Dance School with encouragement from her mother by the time she was three years old, and she was noticed by a producer from Educational Pictures, known for their one-reel comedies in the 1920s and 1930s. In 1934, she was given her first major breakthrough with Stand Up and Cheer!, a musical from Fox Film that served as a vehicle for various actors to sing. In that year alone, she made appearances in nine films (two of them without credit), with this being her last one released (done so on December 28), which happened to be the first one made specifically as a starring vehicle for her, which was written by director Butler and Edwin J. Burke. Her run was a quick but memorable one, starring in at least two films until 1940 while making appearances in thirteen further films before her last in 1949. Her main features were usually made on the cheap, with songs and dances to go alongside sentimental and melodramatic situations, which certainly must've proven to inspire plenty of hope when it comes to escapist fare for Great Depression audiences. In that sense, this proves to be an okay piece to look back upon with the age of nearly 85 years behind it. If one can get behind a kid singing "On the Good Ship Lollipop", one could probably get behind any sort of sugary stuff for 83 minutes. It isn't so much a predictable film as it is just one that will go exactly where it wants to go and nowhere else. Oddly enough, the best parts of the film are usually when Sellon or Withers (who would star in her own kid films) are on screen, delivering a good share of the laughs despite having cranky characterizations. This is especially true for the latter, who was defended by Butler from calls of being cut down by Temple's mother - the contrast between the two is importantly distinct and amusing, right down to one being slapped again and again. Temple carries the film enough, in that one really doesn't need much to go along with a nice kid for a film (barring a lack of personality of course), but she makes the experience worth it in her enthusiasm. Dunn goes along fine, carefully crafted to suit Temple when it comes to being a guardian of the clouds. The rest are here and there, lending help to try and make this fairly predictable tale of spunky kids cheering up old cranks and young people go without trouble. The film received one award for its main star in an Academy Juvenile Award, which was given out to twelve child performers until it was discontinued in 1960. Temple is (and remains) the youngest recipient to be honored by the Academy. The curiosity is fair, and it should prove fine for the young ones looking for some old-fashioned charms like Temple can provide.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Of Human Bondage.

Review #1341: Of Human Bondage.

Cast: 
Leslie Howard (Philip Carey), Bette Davis (Mildred Rogers), Frances Dee (Sally Athelny), Kay Johnson (Norah), Reginald Denny (Harry Griffiths), Alan Hale (Emil Miller), Reginald Sheffield (Cyril Dunsford), Reginald Owen (Thorpe Athelny), and Tempe Pigott (Agnes Hollet, Philip's landlady) Directed by John Cromwell (#1008 - The Racket)

Review: 
What is there to say about Bette Davis that hasn't already been said before? Davis is one of the most famous actresses of film to ever grace the screen, but one only needs to point to her six decade career of various sardonic roles that ranged from various dramas that garnered multiple Academy Award wins (two) and nominations (only three other people have more nominations than her ten). One nomination that is not technically recorded is for her role in this film (for which she received write-in votes for in one of only two ceremonies to allow said votes), which is generally considered her breakthrough role. She had started her career on the stage in 1929 before moving to Hollywood the following year to screen test for Universal Studios. She made her film debut with a supporting role in Bad Sister (1931), but her time with the studio was characterized by a dearth of roles before her release from her contract the following year. On the verge of leaving Hollywood, it was the decision of George Arliss to have her cast as the fiancee to his character in The Man Who Played God (1932) with Warner Bros. that gave her the foot in the door she needed, as she soon signed a contract with the studio after they liked the rushes. She would subsequently stay with the studio until 1949, although there were not always easy times. She notably attempted to breach her contract in 1936 when presented an offer to make two films in Britain, owing to be faced to perform in parts she felt were mediocre (incidentally, it was her appearance in a film named The Cabin in the Cotton (1932) that led director Cromwell to want her for this film). In any case, Davis had wanted the un-glamorous role despite the reluctance of studio head Jack L. Warner to let her star in what was to be a production by RKO Radio Pictures. A chance to trade actresses for a part led to RKO being allowed to borrow Davis for this film while Warner Bros borrowed one of their contract players for a film of their own. Davis proved to be dedicated to making this role the first of many noted performances of her career, from hiring a housekeeper with a Cockney English accent to prepare for the role to even designing her own makeup for her final scenes when downtrodden with tuberculosis.

For a film released just as a strengthened Motion Picture Production Code was coming into effect in July of that year, this is sure a daring film to inspire such shock and passion. This was an adaptation of the 1915 novel of the same name by W. Somerset Maugham, which has a mix of autobiographical and fictional elements, as admitted by the author (with both him and the main character having a physical calamity, being an orphan at an early age, and studying medicine). It was the first of three adaptations, with ones to follow in 1946 and 1964. Obviously the work is going to be changed a bit for a film adaptation, especially a 600-page book going down to an 83 minute film. A curious synopsis glance notes that the film only mentions the main character's uncle at the end when he dies, as opposed to showing his experiences growing up with his uncle. The film has a stagey if somewhat dated feel to it at times (this proves true with some of Cromwell's decisions like the perspective shots), but it is the dominant performance of Davis that keeps the film rolling with curiosity. She has a fearlessness and tenacity to making this role worth viewing to see her run the gamut in cruelty, most notably when she chews the main character out near the end. We all have had at least one experience or knew at least one person in our lives with that kind of emotional recklessness, the kind of person we think we need in our lives no matter how they might treat us. It doesn't mean that Howard's character is completely in the right either, but it is a film that uses most of its time (save for its obligatory moralistic line for the ending) to show two people who really just don't belong together who keep lining up that way. Sure, the main character still finds someone to be with after his obsession is lifted, but the film still hits on those basic points without too much trouble. Howard (a man of theatre and film who was an idol in his own right for the decade) comes off as stiffly sensitive, quiet yet fairly easy to follow along with despite some of the offbeat decisions his character can make. With lesser actors, this could've been easily turned into a vamp piece and nothing else. But these two make for a worthy duet to view, which go with a decent supporting cast to make for a decent piece to study. Interestingly enough, this is a film readily available for viewing, since the copyright for this film was not renewed in the 28th year of publication, meaning that this is in the public domain for easy viewing. I recommend this one without any doubt, a fairly entertaining film on the strength of Bette Davis in the role that made her a star worth viewing with interest.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

42nd Street.

Review #1340: 42nd Street.

Cast: 
Warner Baxter (Julian Marsh), Bebe Daniels (Dorothy Brock), George Brent (Pat Denning), Ruby Keeler (Peggy Sawyer), Guy Kibbee (Abner Dillon), Una Merkel (Lorraine Fleming), Ginger Rogers (Ann Lowell), Ned Sparks (Barry), Dick Powell (Billy Lawler), Allen Jenkins (Mac Elroy, the stage manager), and Edward J. Nugent (Terry) Directed by Lloyd Bacon (#562 - It Happens Every Spring and #898 - Larceny, Inc)

Review: 
"Sawyer, you're going out a youngster, but you've got to come back a star!"

For the 1930s, the musical had numerous phases of development. Film had gone a long way from musical short films in the earlier half of the 1920s to The Jazz Singer (1927) to The Broadway Melody (1929) and so on, with ones even done in color. However, the craze of doing musicals had stalled quickly in 1931, owing to over-saturation in the market. Of course this small lull would not last long, it just needed some evolution. One key figure in contributing the remedy was Busby Berkeley. By the time of the 1920s, he had already been a field artillery lieutenant in World War I before becoming a dance director and choreographer on Broadway musicals such as A Connecticut Yankee, which were known for their complex choreography. His film choreography career started with Whoopee! (1930), and he would soon be known for his distinct arrangements, which were usually large and/or geometric, complete with a "parade of faces" (kind close-ups of chorus girls distinctly). Berkeley spent 1933 on several films (including his directorial debut with She Had to Say Yes), with Footlight Parade (also directed by Bacon), Gold Diggers of 1933, and this film all turning out to be major successes for Warner Bros, each of which ranking in the top ten in the box office for 1933. His career would continue for the rest of the decade, serving as both choreographer and director on several films, with his last credit being Billy Rose's Jumbo (1962). Who better to do a film like this than Lloyd Bacon, who had previous experience in musical films such as The Singing Fool (1928). The film, as you might expect, is adapted from a novel of the same name by Bradford Ropes, with the screenplay from Rian James, James Seymour, and Whitney Bolton, while Harry Warren and Al Dubin contributed the music and lyrics, respectively. This material would later turn into a hit musical for Broadway in 1980, which ran for nine years.

All of this background material goes to show what you can say about an interesting film when your curiosity is stimulated. This is an entertaining backstage musical, full of rough ambitious energy with a game ensemble cast (a mix of established actors and newcomers) and a reasonable pace at 89 minutes that finds time for some fairly charming songs and a bit of plot to go with it. Simply put, it is a prime musical for its era, lively without seeming too stagey that had plagued other musicals before. Baxter carries the ship with careful control, a man filled with desperate energy that is burning to the last flicker of a waning flame, a familiar type if you've ever seen someone trying to manage people to some form of success. Daniels does reasonably well with her role, doing a fair bit of dancing and having fair chemistry with Brent, who pulls the thin romance off just fine for what is needed. Keeler shows enough spunk for a film debut (her first film appearance had been a cameo in Show Girl in Hollywood three years prior) to make you interested in her path and see her sing her way through. Kibbee certainly works fine with bluster for the brief time one sees him speak. Merkel and Rogers deliver a chuckle or two before doing their part on the stage with singing. In any case, the real spectacle of the show is Berkeley's choreography, most notably with a tracking shot done between the legs of the dancers until it reveals Powell and an un-credited Toby Wing. Other highlights include the "Shuffle Off to Buffalo" sequence, a catchy tune that soon shows a train compartment opening up to reveal plenty more cast mates behind it while showing a shot of the orchestra and audience viewing it (or at least that's what the camera wants you to see). The black backgrounds help when showing the geometric part of the dance numbers, which are quite a treat when seeing this sleek execution work out magnificently. The film certainly tries to capture the grind of its decade when relating to hard struggle of exhausting work and commitment to a craft that one hopes comes to fruition with adulation and not crushing failure, which is made clear with its carefully crafted last scene, with a drained director quietly listening some of the patrons opinions by himself. Sure, he overcame tough odds, but all the opinions are about how he "supposedly" will take credit for the show and discovering the new star, since "some guys get all the breaks". In the end, the film is one that resonates just as well back then as it does now in its basic tenants: that one can make it with enough talent, luck and flat out hard work for the chance at some success to be proud of. It works with Depression-era crowds and it can still work with those curious at heart now.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

Cavalcade.

Review #1339: Cavalcade.

Cast: 
Diana Wynyard (Jane Marryot), Clive Brook (Robert Marryot), Una O'Connor (Ellen Bridges), Herbert Mundin (Alfred Bridges), Beryl Mercer (Cook), Irene Browne (Margaret Harris), Tempe Pigott (Mrs. Snapper), Merle Tottenham (Annie), and Frank Lawton (Joe Marryot) Directed by Frank Lloyd (#099 - Mutiny on the Bounty and #1321 - The Sea Hawk)

Review: 
It is easy to say in retrospect what films are memorable or striking for a particular year (particularly when talking about awards for said films of a year). When one thinks of 1933, one would likely think of certain films like King Kong, The Invisible Man, or perhaps even Morning Glory before Cavalcade. This is a strange one, since this was the highest grossing film of the year, and it eventually went on to win the Academy Award for Best Picture in its year, the first and only win for studio Fox Film Corporation before its merger in 1935 along with an award for Lloyd, the second director to win two Academy Awards. Lloyd had a forty-year career directing films for a variety of studios, and this was one of his noted films (the war sequences, however, were directed by William Cameron Menzies). Maybe this is perhaps of its home video history, since its first VHS release came only in 1993, while the first stand-alone release on DVD and Blu-Ray came out in 2013, after being included in one of those prestige movie packs in 2010. This 2013 release came after winning an online write-in poll, which made it the last Best Picture winner to do so (of course it also is available on streaming services, but those don't count for anything). One must note the source material it comes from, a play by famed playwright Noël Coward, which had premiered in 1931 in London, which used hydraulics and moving components on a big stage for great effect. One can give credit for the ambition in making a British production (in terms of stars and writers while Lloyd was born in Scotland), but this generosity does not quite help the film when it comes to actually watching it.

For an epic that spans 30 years, one would be surprised to note that the pace of the 112-minute film makes one feel like they are spending 30 years watching it. Events come and go, but these characters remain flat for most of its run-time, as if the "stiff upper lip" is the only thing worth mentioning of these people. This is a march of platitudes (a fancy word for cliche) that is in search of an idea. Oh sure, one gets to see glimpses of history such as the Boer War, the Titanic, and World War I. But all of it feels tremendously empty, a by-the-numbers kind of romantic drama that seems dated now but certainly must've reeled others more familiar with the dawn of the 20th century than I. With such stagy qualities, one can't quite fault the actors for not quite living up to film standards, where one is left with a sense of detachment. Wynyard was an actress of the stage (before and after being borrowed for this film, a nominated performance), while Brook had fair success abroad from Hollywood before moving back to Britain in a few years later, reportedly in part because of kidnapping threats on his children. In any case, they seem unflappable as one could expect, but it seems hollow nowadays. At least Wynyard proves effective when it comes to the war sequences, checking on to see if her husband (and in another sequence, son) are still alive. The cliches have collapsed into other cliches, honestly. The best instance of that is a sequence involving a newly wed couple, speaking about romantic cliches while aboard a ship on April 1912. Gee, I wonder what ship these folks are on. Of all the events portrayed in the film, this is the only one that seems brushed aside, with the famous wreck of the Titanic and the fate of said characters being talked about just once in dialogue. One can depict flashes of war, the death of Queen Victoria, someone getting run over by horses, but I guess the Titanic is a bit too much. Seriously though, the way in people come and go in this film is astounding, where one would find more emotion present in someone's death in a children's book. At least the film looks like it spans a couple of decades, as opposed to being done on the cheap (not that there's anything wrong with that). On the whole, this is a film that has little enduring power, doing so on the basis of awards from decades ago and milder-than-mild spectacle that make it an antique above usual antiques. If you're into this kind of film, you might find something worth looking into, but for me I found mild disappointment above all, a piece that fits the 1930s in ambition but not one in terms of ultimate enjoyment.

Overall, I give it 6 out of 10 stars.

Grand Hotel (1932).

Review #1338: Grand Hotel.

Cast: 
Greta Garbo (Grusinskaya, the dancer), John Barrymore (Baron Felix von Geigern), Joan Crawford (Flaemmchen, the stenographer), Wallace Beery (General Director Preysing), Lionel Barrymore (Otto Kringelein), Lewis Stone (Dr. Otternschlag), Jean Hersholt (Senf, the porter), Robert McWade (Meierheim), Purnell B. Pratt (Zinnowitz), Ferdinand Gottschalk (Pimenov), Rafaela Ottiano (Suzette), and Morgan Wallace (Chauffeur) Directed by Edmund Goulding (#1332 - Hell's Angels)

Review: 
"Grand Hotel. Always the same. People come. People go. Nothing ever happens."

Theatricality goes a long way when you have the star-power to go with it. Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer was the studio for stars in the 1930s, and Irving Thalberg was precisely the person to create big films through the power of picks - selecting scripts, gathering staff, etc. He had purchased the rights to adapt the novel Menschen im Hotel (1929) by Vicki Baum (who had been a chambermaid at a few high-class Berlin hotels), which was turned into a play by William A. Drake the following year (a musical of the same name was also adapted from the novel and play in 1989). Drake, alongside un-credited writers in Béla Balázs and Edgar Allan Woolf, helped to turn it into a film through writing, which comes together like a series of vignettes or an anthology piece, but it was one of the first films to utilize more than two stars to serve as headliners, which now seems like a common thing (as proven by future big-name productions in the following decades to be covered another time). It also has one key distinction - the only Best Picture winner to have no nominations in any other category. MGM would continue this trend with the comedy Dinner at Eight (which also features both Barrymores and Beery) the following year, and it would be re-made by the studio in 1945 as Week-End at the Waldorf. In any case, this is a film that has an undeniable staying power with its core five cast that a lesser cast or less capable director would've turned into plain old-hat melodrama. At 112 minutes, it pulls off entertainment that worked for Great Depression audiences and still works for modern audiences, where one shining star doesn't shine too bright over everybody else, mostly because not all of them share the stage at one point in the film. One starts with Garbo, who had risen from parts in films in her native Sweden to star in Hollywood in the span of six years, with her naturalistic acting (which worked well for silent and sound) being just as known as her reclusive nature, right down to the most memorable line of the film being how she just wants to be alone. She fares just fine, mostly when sharing the passion and focus with Barrymore, with her personally requesting red front-lighting for her love scenes, which certainly work. J. Barrymore (nicknamed "The Great Profile" with a noted career of stage and film since 1903) fares just as calmly, where one does not dwell on the considerable age difference between him and Garbo but instead focuses on his charm, which can go for either romance or dialogue with L. Barrymore. Crawford (a resilient star through self promotion alongside talent) shines with resourcefulness, a lady for the moment, whether it is hope or desperation (a role that was trimmed by the censors of the time for various reasons). L. Barrymore proves to be a fair surrogate for the audience, where one wants to see someone's attempt at a mild-mannered attempt at a first and last great gesture of life, although that makes it seem more tragic than it really is, particularly since this part could've been more grating (or on the other hand a sad one) with a different actor. Beery goes for the ham with a German accent in tow (with a promise that only he would have to put on an accent convincing him to sign on), with mixed results, really, although if a heavy is needed, one can't go wrong with someone like Beery. In any case, one will find themselves pulled into a film with spectacle to spare, from its production quality (most signified in its lobby scenes, along with art direction from Cedric Gibbons) down to its reasonable direction from Goulding that keeps everything going to the right room without missing a beat, which makes it endure to this very day.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

Shanghai Express.

Review #1337: Shanghai Express.

Cast: 
Clive Brook (Captain Donald "Doc" Harvey), Marlene Dietrich (Shanghai Lily / Madeline), Anna May Wong (Hui Fei), Warner Oland (Henry Chang), Lawrence Grant (Reverend Carmichael), Eugene Pallette (Sam Salt), Gustav von Seyffertitz (Eric Baum), Louise Closser Hale (Mrs. Haggerty), and Emile Chautard (Major Lenard) Directed by Josef von Sternberg (#1325 - Underworld)

Review: 
One needs a little adventure in their life. Of course they also might need a good partner to go along with it to make it really come alive. Naturally, one could think of Marlene Dietrich when asking for a description of someone glamorous and exotic enough for said adventure. Born in Berlin, she had studied the violin and briefly worked in a pit orchestra for a cinema and their silent films before becoming a chorus girl and eventually finding small parts for film and theater, with her first appearance on film being The Little Napoleon (1923). However, it was in 1930 that she received her breakthrough opportunity with the UFA production of The Blue Angel (1930), directed by Josef von Sternberg. He is a director who admitted that he regarded actors as "marionettes, as pieces of color in my canvas...I watch a motion picture as a surgeon watches an operation." That film proved to be a success, and the two would go on to work together at Paramount Pictures for six films in the following five years, with this being the fourth overall collaboration between the two. One can only appreciate the magic occurring on and off camera, with this being a journey with many stops worth checking out in terms of style and charisma, where even the dialogue seems like it is being spoken like a train. As one would expect, there is a vibrant group of characters to view with this adventure, where no one is exactly who they seem at first, much like how one can find themselves revealing things about themselves to strangers if on a trip long enough, and this film fits the bill of satisfaction at 80 minutes. Brook and Dietrich provide a one-two punch of workable chemistry, where one is absorbed in their passion, which works itself quite well with Dietrich when it comes to the camera and focusing on her absorbing qualities, captured neatly by cinematographer Lee Garmes alongside guidance from von Sternberg, who clearly knows what he wants in capturing a star in the midst of shining. Wong proves as resilient in her time on screen, as one could expect from a veteran star that had found success in both Hollywood and Europe despite the prevailing typecasting of the time. Oland, a Swedish born actor whose famous/infamous portrayal of the Chinese-American Charlie Chan remains a topic of discussion decades after his death, does a fine job in making for a compelling adversary, a scoundrel that we at first see with empathy before taking control. Grant provides some sort of moral edge alongside the motley crew of Palllette and the rest to make for an engaging sit-through, where one is entranced to see what goes on like a dream. Simply put, it is a charmer when it needs to be. Onscreen credits refer to this film being adapted from a Harry Hervey work referred to as both "Sky Over China" and "China Pass", although it apparently was never published. In any case, the script from Jules Furthman and Hervey served as the basis for two remakes in Night Plane from Chungking (1942) and Peking Express (1951). It shouldn't prove surprising that this was the hit of its year, even exceeding the star-studded Grand Hotel, which this film was compared to "on wheels". In any case, this is a fair charmer of entertainment, filled with romance and adventure with a wonderful Dietrich performance in a ride from von Sternberg that you never really want to see end.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

The Front Page (1931).

Review #1336: The Front Page.

Cast: 
Adolphe Menjou (Walter Burns), Pat O'Brien (Hildebrand "Hildy" Johnson), Mary Brian (Peggy Grant), Edward Everett Horton (Roy V. Bensinger), Walter Catlett (Jimmy Murphy), George E. Stone (Earl Williams), Mae Clarke (Molly Malloy), Slim Summerville (Irving Pincus), Matt Moore (Ernie Kruger), Frank McHugh ("Mac" McCue), Clarence Wilson (Sheriff Peter B. "Pinky" Hartman), Fred Howard (Schwartz), Phil Tead (Wilson), Eugene Strong (Endicott), and Spencer Charters (Woodenshoes) Directed by Lewis Milestone (#901 - The Racket)

Review: 
As the phrase goes, laughter can be the best medicine. The silent era had plenty of comedies to go around, whether short or feature-length, all with their own level of imagination in terms of craftsmanship of gags and actors to play with amusing situations. Obviously this would continue with the sound era, only now you had a voice to go with amusing situations, along with the rise of one notable section of the comedy genre: the screwball. There exists plenty of subgenres to comedy, ranging from slapstick to romantic comedies. The screwball associates with those particular genres with its own twists on the conventional love story alongside characteristics such as fast-paced overlapping dialogue, situations bordering on farce and other various tactics helping with making prime escapist fare. The decade was prime for the screwball comedy, with the most famous example being It Happened One Night (1934). Plenty of directors found a name for themselves in the decade, or at the very least settled into the transition of the silent era without too many snags. Lewis Milestone fell into the category of continued success. Although his body of work for the decade was nearly half from the last decade, he managed to create several interesting and memorable films in varying genres (after all, he is the only man to win an Academy Award for Best Director for comedy and drama), such as the epic war film All Quiet on the Western Front (1930), or the novella adaptation Of Mice and Men (1939). Simply put, Milestone had a career spanning six decades for good reason. It should not prove surprising to see Howard Hughes listed as producer, with this being his follow-up after Hell's Angels, since he had produced Milestone's Two Arabian Knights (1927) and The Racket (1928).

The film was adapted to the screen by Bartlett Cormack and Charles Lederer based on the Broadway play of the same name, which had first premiered in 1928 from the creation of Chicago reporters-turned-playwrights-turned-film writers Ben Hecht (who you may remember from his work on Underworld in 1927) and Charles MacArthur. Louis Wolheim was to play the lead role, doing nearly a week of rehearsals before he died unexpectedly of what is now attributed to stomach cancer. In his place is Menjou, who had a near five decade long career in silent and talkie films. He does a tremendous job in garnering sharp laughs, spot on for a rough-and-tumble yet resilient role like this, never turning it into a complete cliche. O'Brien handles himself fairly well, rolling well whenever needing to generate interest with making chemistry with a gamely strong Brian or with the quirky co-star reporters, such as the banjo-playing Moore, and others such as Wilson prove just as well in inducing chuckles. The film has a compact pace, juggling its subplots in 101 minutes with the strokes of a director in his element to make entertainment that impacts the viewer with enough sense in humor and style to keep the audience locked in their seats with anticipation for what amusement could come next, mixing cynicism and sentiment without too much trouble. By the time the film wraps up its subplots up neatly (complete a memorable way of getting around the censoring of a certain word), one is left fairly satisfied by what they have seen. The play would not stop with just one adaptation. In 1940, it was adapted again, this time with the Hildy character being a woman and ex-wife to the Burns character in His Girl Friday, with director Howard Hawks attempting to have even faster-paced dialogue present. Like this film, it also happens to be in the public domain. The film was then remade in 1974 by Billy Wilder and subsequently revised to have the character work in television reporting with Switching Channels (1988), for which neither were particularly big hits. In any case, The Front Page is a fine piece for its era, worthy of a viewing for the curious that yearn for some quick sharp laughs for a worthwhile time in a worthwhile age.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

Tabu: A Story of the South Seas.

Review #1335: Tabu: A Story of the South Seas.

Cast: 
Matahi (The Boy), Anne Chevalier (The Girl), Bill Bambridge (The Policeman), and Hitu (The Old Warrior) Directed by F.W. Murnau (#256 - Nosferatu and #499 - Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans)

Review: 
It should only make sense that F. W. Murnau would be behind one of the last great films of the silent era. He had directed twenty films (with eight now being lost) since beginning his career at the age of 31 in 1919 with Der Knabe in Blau (The Boy in Blue), having survived numerous plane crashes and being a prisoner of war during his time in World War I for the German Empire. He had grown up inspired by the works of Nietzche and William Shakespeare, viewing the cinema as an art form for the director to sketch with his camera, which he used to great effect with films such as Der letzte Mann (The Last Laugh) from 1924, which eschewed using multiple intertitles to try and help its story, or his film based on the German legend Faust in 1926 - his last German work before migrating to the United States. He had made two further films for Fox Film after the memorable Sunrise with Four Devils and City Girl, which did not prove successful. Similarly dissatisfied with the film studios over his vision was Robert J. Flaherty. He had began his career with the seminal Nanook of the North (1922), with his next feature being the first docufiction film with Moana (1926). However, he had gotten into disagreements with MGM over his meticulous way of shooting when doing White Shadows in the South Seas (1928), which led him to quitting production. The two had a common acquaintance in Flaherty's brother, and Murnau's desire to make a film in Tahiti combined with Flaherty's connection to natives led to a story written by the two for a film. By 1929, they had gotten started in location scouting and wound up with their lead actress in a cocktail bar. They had intended to receive funds to produce from a small company, but delayed transactions led to Murnau deciding to fund it himself. The following year, they had began production, with Flaherty filming the opening scene before technical issues led to Floyd Crosby being brought in to help shoot the film. These three were the only professionals on the film, with everyone else from the cast to the crew being natives (trained by Murnau). The changes made to the script to incorporate a love story did not please Flaherty, who spent most of his time developing the film in a lab, perceiving Murnau as arrogant and selfish. The film was made over the span of ten months before eventually being signed for a deal of distribution with Paramount Pictures for March 18, 1931. Tragically, Murnau would not survive to see the film premiere, having died in a car accident the week before. The film did not prove to be a success, although Crosby would win an Academy Award for his cinematography work; the film managed to survive despite World War II destroying the original negative, and time has helped the film's reputation as a fascinating silent piece that almost plays like poetry.

One does not have to wait long to see its hypnotic power take affect. It manages to tell a concise 84 minute tale on the power of its images (and occasionally translated messages) without needing to use overblown theatrics or sentiment to get its tragedy the right kind of meaning. One wonders what Murnau would have done when it came to direction if he had survived further in the sound era, really. Its tale of romance that falls prey to the demands of others and fate trying to deny them is a familiar one that can be said in any decade, which most certainly can make for great entertainment, or at least ones that are moving enough to inspire curiosity. This does fine in that sense because of its craftsmanship. Matahi and Chevalier certainly make the most of it, being figures for Murnau to mold for effect to where we see clear chemistry between them throughout the two chapters (fittingly named "Paradise" and "Paradise Lost"). Hitu rounds out the small cast with an imposing nature through old eyes that sell the dangers of forbidden love trying to persist over superstition. One doesn't need to have a complete understanding of the culture the film tries to depict to find themselves absorbed by what they are seeing, where patience does not wear thin or lead to much frustration. By the time the film gets to its tragic but swift ending in the seas, the film has sealed itself as a fascinating finishing point for an era where music and images took precedent over voice. On the whole, while it isn't quite as striking in every composition as his other works, Murnau manages to create a lasting great piece to sadly close out a career on with this film, a mesh of drama with his flourishes in camera combining with a depiction of people from another culture to make a useful curiosity piece that you should check out for yourself.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.