Blackmail (1929).

Review #2374: Blackmail (1929)

Cast: 

Anny Ondra (Alice White; Joan Berry as offstage voice), Sara Allgood (Mrs. White), Charles Paton (Mr. White), John Longden (Detective Frank Webber), Donald Calthrop (Tracy), Cyril Ritchard (Mr. Crewe, an artist), Hannah Jones (The landlady), and Harvey Braban (the Chief Inspector; Sam Livesey in silent version)

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, #977 - Frenzy, #1343 - The 39 Steps, #1739 - The Birds, #1828 - Rebecca, #2014 - The Lady Vanishes, #2032 - The Man Who Knew Too Much)

Review: 

"It was a simple yarn. It was a simple story. I never really did it the way I wanted to. It–– I was probably using “The Lodger” form. I was showing in the first reel the technique of an arrest."

So, it is time to see the dawn of sound with England, I suppose. Blackmail (1929) is the striking point between silent and sound for that particular country (it wasn't the first sound movie ever in England, but it's the one people know) and of course it was Alfred Hitchcock who was right there. The movie is based on Charles Bennett's play of the same name, which had premiered on the West End in 1928 that actually had Tallulah Bankhead as the star. Hitchcock and Benn W. Levy are credited with the screenplay for the movie. At any rate, Hitchcock had done nine silent movies (as started with The Pleasure Garden [1925]), with The Manxman having previously been released in January of 1929, seven months prior to this movie. Blackmail started as a silent film with British International Pictures, but Hitchcock was given permission to film a portion in sound. The result is, well, you have two versions to pick from (the silent runs at 77 minutes, the sound runs at 85 minutes), and the sound version happens to have a chunk of it that relies on imagery and not dialogue anyway, particularly with the opening six minutes and the chase sequence at the end (incidentally, here is a sound test of the movie online, complete with Ondra speaking). In the age of needing really audible voices, Ondra, an actress born to Czech parents, was essentially dubbed for her performance, as Joan Barry read the lines of the script off camera while Ondra mouthed the words, which, well, it was the 1920s.  Incidentally, a few future noted directors participated in the movie: Ronald Neame was a clapper slate handler on the movie and Michael Powell worked as a stills photographer.  Ondra may not have been a Hitchcock mainstay, but she did maintain a constant career in acting (in German, French, and Czech) and even forming her own production company (while also being relatively in profile as the spouse of famed boxer Max Schmeling, although they were not big on a certain growing German regime); she appeared in her last movie in 1957 prior to dying in 1983 at the age of 87. As for Barry, she actually did get the chance to appear physically in a Hitchcock movie with Rich and Strange (1931) before she decided to focus on starting a family in 1933 and never returned to acting before her death in 1989. Hitchcock would be a busy man, as he directed three movies alone in 1930 (Juno and the Paycock, Murder!, Elstree Calling) on the road to doing sixteen sound movies in his native Britain before America came calling.

A restoration of the silent version of Blackmail occurred just fifteen years ago (also, if you want to hear about someone comparing both versions, you can inquire with this fellow reviewer here)*. Incidentally, in the year 2025, you can see the movie in the public domain, as is the case with movies from the year 1929 (there are versions of the movie of shoddy quality that can be found for cheap, but, well, avoid that). Sure, there are plenty of Hitchcock movies to choose from in trying to see what all the fuss is about, and you won't go wrong with this one. You get a movie with aspects that will seem right at home with a typical Hitchcock experience with a lead character entrapped in a web of trouble, a chase sequence that takes placed in a noted place (in this case, the British Museum), and a clash of aggression and vulnerability where the ending is not going to be that easy. It takes its time to set things in place when it comes to its one focus (people in peril, namely), but it is a curious enough procedural without straining in all of the cliches dealing with crime having to pay, and it goes to show that making a foray into sound did not have to be creaky to get something across to interested audiences (at least the ones who weren't seeing all of the American products). Besides, sound can be a hell of a thing to generate suspense in what comes to one's attention and what *strikes* at your attention. The performance of Ondra/Berry relies on the strange things that come with having one person for being in a fugue state for a chunk of it and the other just being a voice that is probably best played with the scene of "Knife!" that certainly sticks out in one's mind in unnerving tension. The others are fine with the conundrum that comes in procedure and the seedy smarm of Calthrop and the strait-laced Longden. Apparently, the climax involves a bit of effects trickery, as the Museum wasn't lighted enough to film the chase properly, so Hitchcock used the "Schufftan process", which deals with taking still photos of the place one wants to film and reflecting the photos in a mirror that deals with a mirror having scraped slivering. Hell of a thing, folks. The last shot at the end involving a callback to what we just saw does lend the fact that the movie isn't necessarily ending on a certain happy note, at least. Interpret at your own (fun) peril at what version of Blackmail is best for you**, but what you get in either event is a neat movie from a craftsman of suspense like no other.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

*I'll be real, I don't follow too many writers because I am a bit lazy. But I check this person from time to time for fun.

**Hell, I am not watching the silent movie to compare the two. Since I'm told that a good chunk of folks prefer the silent version, I would rather split the difference and say that a 8/10 for Blackmail works for either movie.

The Wild Party (1929)

Review #1992: The Wild Party.

Cast: 

Clara Bow (Stella Ames), Fredric March (James 'Gil' Gilmore), Marceline Day (Faith Morgan), Shirley O'Hara (Helen Owens), Adrienne Dore (Babs), Joyce Compton (Eva Tutt), Jack Oakie (Al), Jack Luden (George), and Phillips Holmes (Phil) Directed by Dorothy Arzner (#1648 - Sarah and Son and #1810 - Working Girls)

Review: 

There are three things to note with this film: it is the earliest surviving film in the career of Dorothy Arzner, as each of her first four works (Fashions for Women (1927), Ten Modern Commandments (1927), Get Your Man (1927), Manhattan Cocktail (1928)) are lost, save for select parts in two of the four. It is also the first "talkie" film featuring the Brooklyn native Clara Bow, who was considered the "it girl" of the 1920s, specifically within silent films. The 1930s would bring more sound films than silents, but Bow (never a fan of the sound process despite receiving reasonable reviews) appeared in just ten more films before retiring in 1933. Malcolm St. Clair was originally slated to be director for the film, but disagreements with Paramount led to the hiring of Arzner, who had directed Bow earlier with Get Your Man. It is also one of the first starring roles for Fredric March, who had been appearing in small roles for various years (while making his Broadway debut in 1926) before making his star turn in films such as this, which was the first of four appearances in an Arzner film. For theaters without sound capabilities, a silent version was constructed (this is also the case for Bow's next film in 1929 with The Saturday Night Kid). There were various writers involved: Samuel Hopkins Adams, known as an investigative writer, wrote the story under the pseudonym Warner Fabian (he also wrote a handful of novels featuring young women in the Jazz Age). E. Lloyd Sheldon was credited with "adaptation", while George Marion Jr and Sheldon wrote the titles and John V.A. Weaver was left uncredited. Apparently Bow was quite nervous when it came to filming in sound, to the point where a microphone exploded on the first day of filming. To help Bow out, Arzner tied a microphone in a fishpole, which basically makes this the first movie with a boom mic. 

The movie is a pretty decent one. It may seem to be a carefree movie about young women having fun, but there is a question that comes through in just what it means to see people treat life like one wild party, seemingly aiming for nothing but cheap sensation. But it is a useful 77-minute feature filled with energy and zip from Bow that goes well with an unconventional romance set by Arzner and company for a decent time with mild laughs and a semi-interesting romance. Reviews of the time were varied on the film, but they all generally focused on the sound of Bow and her voice, but she does quite well here, probably since she doesn't seem constrained to stiff habits that would doom a lesser early sound film. She seems engaging and compelling to view in charm in art of wandering youth. The space created by Arzner of these youthful women works out to reasonable sequences that invite the viewer into the proceeding by stringing them along to what might happen next without chattering time away. They make for a quality group of bad behavior (read: 1929), whether that means the light O'Hara or the feisty Compton. As for March, he makes a bemused counterpart to the action, one where you can see how he might become a bigger name in movies, which mostly means he has a useful growing rapport with Bow, whether that involves a friendly rescue of the latter (with fists, obviously). As a whole, it is a mostly carefree film about the joys of finding a party worth having with people, whether that means in romance or on the wild side. When it comes to viewing Arzner the director or Bow the star, you can't really go wrong here.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Next Time: Where Are My Children?

Man with a Movie Camera.

Review #1962: Man with a Movie Camera.

Cast: 

Mikhail Kaufman (The Cameraman) Written and Directed by Dziga Vertov.

Review: 

"My film therefore signifies: The struggle between everyday vision and cinematic vision, the struggle between real space and cinematic space, the struggle between real time and cinematic time."

The story of the director behind the film is basically the entire review, if you think about it. Born as David Abelevich Kaufman, he was a pioneer documentary film and newsreel director that was raised in the Russian Empire (in Bialystok, Poland, which at the time was in the Empire) born to Jewish intellectuals. After a childhood spent at the Białystok Modern School, he studied music theory before he began studying at the Psychoneurological Institute, as operated by psychologist Vladimir Bekhterev. His family fled to Moscow when the German armies made their advance during World War I. He eventually changed his name to be referred to as Dziga Vertov, with both names roughly translating from phrases about spinning (the former is the Ukrainian word for spinning top while the latter comes from the verb vertit’sia). The Revolutions of 1917 served as his guiding point to becoming a filmmaker, as he (aged 21) began as a newsreel camerawork during the Russian Civil War. He developed an idea involving film truth with Kino-Pravda, a series of newsreels directed by him alongside Elizaveta Svilova and Mikhail Kaufman in 1922. His Kino-Glaz theory, as he would put it, would propose that the camera is an instrument like the human eye that is suitable for seeing the happening of real life without the need for artifice like studio staging. In the next decade, he would direct various features with A Sixth Part of the World (1926) or Enthusiasm (1931), a sound feature with mechanical sounds that he called a "complex interaction". His last film with artistic control was Lullaby (1937), for which afterwards he was relegated to newsreels, as the age of Stalin did not favor his methods in the Soviet Union. His methods of filming have proven influential to several film movements, most notably with cinéma vérité. His two brothers Boris and Mikhail Kaufman became filmmakers in their own right, the former being a cinematographer on esteemed features such as On the Waterfront (1954). Vertov died at the age of 58 in 1954, but his legacy as a filmmaker grew in the next couple of decades, ranging from a group being named in his honor to the dawn of various cinema movements that all had some relation to his style, such as Direct Cinema, for example.

The resulting film is a documentary in numerous formats: it documents a day in the life of the Soviet Union, it documents the audience watching said film and it documents the editing of the film. There exists pages that visualize Vertov's intent with shooting the camera, whether that involves a camera lens that filmed like a gun. The best way to watch a movie that is just 68 minutes long is to just allow the images to sift through your mind to see how the rhythm moves on a visual level, where it isn't so much just describing things that happen more so than seeing how sincere Vertov is in actually wanting to make a movie that is just a camera in motion. Sure, movies would absolutely never get rid of actors or artifice, but the film is still sincere enough in its visual curiosity for the ordinary. People are born, people die, but the images endure all the same. It never comes off as pretentious for what it wants to show within the space of the camera, balancing the fine line of showing wonder without overextending oneself. It shows the magic of what can be shown in a camera alone without making it a novelty that can be exploited like cattle. It experiments even when showing a camera "moving", much in the same way an artist experiments when doodling. As such, seeing shots captured when the camera is strapped somewhere that isn't just a static shot or the use of montages is something that still looks far more than just ordinary when it is used in a film like this.

The reputation of the film at the time was not particularly favorable. Sergei Eisenstein called it "pointless camera hooliganism". It alienated those who believe it was more of a case of trickery or alienating. However, the reputation of the film has improved greatly in the next nine decades, to the point where some have called it one of the greatest movies ever made. As the movie is in the public domain, it is readily available, although there have been several soundtracks that have been released in the last 40 years (the original film was accompanied by live music), whether that involved Un Drame Musical Instantané, or British jazz with The Cinematic Orchestra, or even with multi-theremin ensembles. As a whole, Man with a Movie Camera is all of the things you would think could come from a film without actors and plenty more, one that endures for what it says on and off the camera about ourselves.

Overall, I give it 10 out of 10 stars.

Spite Marriage.

Review #1937: Spite Marriage.

Cast: 

Buster Keaton (Elmer Gantry), Dorothy Sebastian (Trilby Drew), Edward Earle (Lionel Benmore), Leila Hyams (Ethyl Norcrosse), William Bechtel (Nussbaum), John Byron (Scarzi), Joe Bordeaux (Rumrunner), Ray Cooke (The Bellboy), Mike Donlin (Man in Ship's Engine Room), and Pat Harmon (Tugboat Captain) Directed by Edward Sedgwick (#774 - The Phantom of the Opera and #1774 - The Cameraman) and Buster Keaton (#757 - Seven Chances, #762 - College, #805 - The Navigator, #877 - Three Ages, #908 - The General, #926 - Our Hospitality, #941 - Sherlock Jr, #1037 - Go West, #1058 - Battling Butler, #1173 - Steamboat Bill, Jr,, #1774 - The Camerman)

Review: 

It may be an odd film to term as a "swan song", but this is one such case where it applies. This was the second feature film with Buster Keaton as star at Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, a decision that he later called the worst mistake he ever made. But The Camerman (1928), his first effort for the studio, was actually pretty good, since it had plenty of spontaneity along with scope to make a fun comedy. As such, Keaton wanted to make his second MGM feature a sound film, but the studio did not have enough of the recording equipment for that they felt was just another comedy. The following year, he did his first sound film with Free and Easy, but Keaton never directed a full feature after this film (which he didn't even receive credit for anyway), aside from a handful of gag direction assignments. In fact, the film was more in the control of the studio, who clearly wanted to cultivate a moneymaker with their star rather than the decent success of the last film. In short: the long and wavering road of improvisation became washed away by a studio that just wanted to see things run smoothly. Well, for the last Keaton silent film, there is one key exception: The film has a musical score and sound effects that come in from time to time. The film runs from 74 to 80 minutes, depending on what kind of print you find of the film.

The story was written by Lew Lipton, while Ernest Pagano also wrote for it, and Robert E. Hopkins wrote the intertitles. It certainly isn't the best Keaton feature when you consider the ones that came before it, but the movie is generally entertaining in the general ways that you would expect to make a worthy high note to finish the silent era for Keaton. His physical performance seems quite adept to what is needed for the general climax (on a yacht) while playing just fine with the loose plotting and scenario. The movie basically seems like two loose scenarios presented into one: a lovable oddball tries his hand at marriage when a lady wants to make someone else jealous (after trying his hand at acting that goes how you would expect) that eventually segues into adventure on the sea when the marriage falls out of hand (before falling into hand). Sebastian does make a decent leading lady in charm, while Earle makes a suitable cad. Undeniably, the highlight sequence might be one where you get to see an attempt by one inebriated person to get another inebriated person to bed without waking them up. The comic timing of the film may feel as fresh as one sees from Keaton, but the scene is still quite diverting in execution. Of course, Keaton participating in a Civil War melodrama play is a last little gasp at Keaton trying his hand at something only to fall down the pit of amusement, which works to the level one would hope in silly falls without riding the joke down to the ground. The climax does have semblances of his previous works such as The Navigator (1924) and Battling Butler (1926), but even familiar Keaton material is still fun material to watch play out, mostly because Keaton still has the energy to make the chuckles come out. As a whole, it is a light charming movie, a last hurrah for Keaton in the silent era that closes out his run of visual gags and physical comedy with a solid enough impact to make it worthy to view last among the accomplishments done by the actor/director. 

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

Big News (1929).

Review #1882: Big News.

Cast: 

Robert Armstrong (Steve Banks), Carole Lombard (Margaret Banks), Louis Payne (Hensel), Wade Boteler (O'Neill), Charles Sellon (Addison), Sam Hardy (Reno), Tom Kennedy (Ryan), Warner Richmond (District Attorney Phelps), and Helen Ainsworth (Vera, society editor) Directed by Gregory La Cava (#1787 - My Man Godfrey)

Review: 

Remember the good ol' days of directors being tasked to make movies on the quick and low that had a semblance of a plot to go with sound? Well, okay, maybe you are quite familiar with films of the late 1920s that saw plenty of filmmakers try to mold themselves away from the silent era with new output of sound and all the challenges that came with doing so. Gregory La Cava was at least familiar with making a number of films with romantic or comedic interludes before this one, cultivating himself with two-reel comedies before moving into features in the 1920s. and this one that was spearheaded by Pathé Exchange, Inc (the American subsidiary of Pathe-turned independent spinoff that did a number of movies from the 1910s until 1930). The film was based on the play For Two Cents by George S. Brooks, while the adaptation was done by Walter DeLeon, Jack Jungmeyer and Frank Reicher. Strangely enough, the film has a sound gimmick within its plot, because the climax involves a Dictaphone record. Well, that, and a reporter who has to fight alcoholism and a crime ring that wants to frame him for murder...of the boss that just fired him (yea, okay). The film features Carole Lombard, billed as Carol Lombard for the second-to-last time in her career, with this being one of three sound films in 1929. Of course, the real fresh face is Robert Armstrong, who actually had studied law at the University of Washington before becoming an actor while nearing the age of thirty in 1919 and a film actor in 1927. 

Somehow, this just didn't become one of those sound movies that people really remember. Maybe it was just too low budget to really dazzle audiences curious for hearing people talk, or maybe it just was something else (for curiosity, I looked up any contemporary review I could see of this film, and the only one called it a movie that "will make money wherever it is shown" - this was released only a month before the Wall Street crash, incidentally). When it comes to newspaper wisecrackers, The Front Page (released two years later as an adaptation of a Broadway play) probably ends up being one of the first ones you would mention among the early sound features, mostly because of its own snappy dialogue and eclectic timing. Of course, both movies were made before the rigid enforcement of the Production Code, so there's that to consider. Big News is merely just a thing that exists in mediocrity, not exactly writing the wheel on camera movement or snappy newspeak, but it can work out for those who want to spend 75 minutes on something that moves in a straight line. Sure, there are a few moments where it explores the trouble of trying to let go a good bottle, but you probably know where it will go in setting the steps to inevitably laying off the stuff (because hey, this was the 1920s), for better or worse. Armstrong in that sense makes a quality lead to follow, one who can play things with wryness that doesn't aim for straight pity, earning stripes of charm gradually over time for general interest. The newspaper scenes are breezy and worthy in what you might see from banter that doesn't plod too much, and Lombard shows withering devotion that has the bare promise of having screen presence with better material. Hardy plays the heavy with relatively no trouble, while Kennedy and Ainsworth make goofy support. As a whole, the movie looks exactly what you'd see from something with two sets and a climax that is not nearly as built together as it thinks it is (with a haphazard setup that is solved haphazardly) in a confusing muddle of a movie. Watching the movie seems like watching rainwater slowly move down gutters - it might seem nice for a while, but you won't really remember much of it when it passes by. It just doesn't do enough to win out in the end, but at least the main folks got to do more promising things.

Overall, I give it 6 out of 10 stars.

The Love Parade.

Review #1881: The Love Parade.

Cast: 

Maurice Chevalier (Count Alfred Renard), Jeanette MacDonald (Queen Louise), Lupino Lane (Jacques), Lillian Roth (Lulu), Eugene Pallette (Minister of War), E. H. Calvert (Sylvanian Ambassador), Edgar Norton (Master of Ceremonies), and Lionel Belmore (Prime Minister) Produced and Directed by Ernst Lubitsch (#1026 - The Shop Around the Corner and #1358 - To Be or Not to Be)

Review: 

"I made sometimes pictures which were not up to my standard, but then it can only be said about a mediocrity that all his works live up to his standard."

So, here we are with an example of film directors honing their craft with the dawn of sound in features. Ernst Lubitsch had been a director after honing his craft in the early 1910s as an actor in his native Germany, doing so with a mix of comedies and historical dramas before notice abroad led him to leave for Hollywood in 1922. He directed for various studios over the next two decades, and one wouldn't be surprised that his first part-sound film in The Patriot (1928) earned him an Academy Award nomination. The Love Parade, which premiered in late 1929 but not released to the public until January of 1930, is his first true sound feature. Go figure that his first sound film featured two singers for actors. Chevalier became a performer in his native France since the turn of the 20th century, with only a stint as a prisoner of war in World War I serving to interrupt his career (apparently his two years as a POW is where he learned English). He did appear in a number of films before this one, which included Innocents of Paris (1929), but it is this film that made him a key name, although he had to be convinced by Lubitsch that his voice (a working-class one) would fit the style that Lubitsch wanted with a fantasy-land European sounding country. As for MacDonald, she was in the business of performances since she was a child, complete with touring in kid shows before becoming a teenager and soon doing stints on Broadway. Strangely enough, the way to her becoming involved with this film came from a screen test for a film she wasn't allowed to do (due to contract), since Lubitsch happened to look through old screen tests and found the one he wanted with her, with this being her debut feature. MacDonald and Chevalier would do a couple of films together (most notably with The Merry Widow (1934), which had Lubitsch as director).

The film is based on the play The Prince Consort, a French play written by Jules Chancel and Leon Xanrof (which in turn had been a Broadway play in 1905). Guy Bolton and Ernest Vadja wrote the screenplay for the film. Lubitsch made a musical different from the early approaches of doing a sound movie that folks saw with The Broadway Melody (1929) in having songs performed in front of a static camera. In other words: sometimes to tell a story, you tell it with a song, complete with a solid supporting cast to back them up in amusement. When it comes to good-natured escapism, you can't go wrong with something like this, one that makes for a solid achievement of entertainment. It does so with gusto of energy from its director that gives its main stars things to do beyond just being vehicles to sing, as their chemistry together proves quite refreshing. It is a romance of assessment, one where the wooing isn't as important as the process of finding out just what love really means to people living in a royal place where everyone seems to have their noses in business. Chevalier makes a quality rogue to follow with from the very first sequence we see and hear of him in the 107-minute feature, which involves him dealing with a scorned lady and even sees him address the audience for a moment (singing won't come for quite a while, and he isn't even the first one to sing) before fake weapons get used for playful fun. He has a sly charisma that seemed exotic for audiences in need of someone like him in a time for new sounds and charms. Of course, MacDonald isn't to be lost in the shuffle, because her self-assured charm and collected confidence make a worthy match, one who can sing as well as she can delegate with him in graceful charm. Being a royal is one thing, being a happy royal is another, one might say. Lane and the others (including the distinct voice of Pallette) make worthwhile contributions in chuckles along with a bit of singing that make it a splendid romp across romance and the lines between being just someone's spouse and being in love. In that sense, it works out quite well, complete with having Lubitsch find ways to get around early sound quirks, complete with directing two couples to sing the same song in alternative places by having two sets built (orchestra between them off camera) that he could then piece together with editing. As a whole, it may move within the expectations that encapsulate romantic musicals, but it still manages to move with resourceful timing and pace from cast and crew that worked beyond the dreams of what one thought sound movies could be that still seems engaging today. For that, Lubitsch seems just as interesting to look back now more than ever.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

The Cocoanuts.

Review #1850: The Cocoanuts.

Cast: 

Groucho Marx (Mr. Hammer), Harpo Marx (Harpo), Chico Marx (Chico), Zeppo Marx (Jamison), Mary Eaton (Polly Potter), Oscar Shaw (Bob Adams), Margaret Dumont (Mrs. Potter), Kay Francis (Penelope), Cyril Ring (Harvey Yates), with Basil Ruysdael (Detective Hennessy), the Gamby-Hale Girls, and the Allan K. Foster Girls. Directed by Robert Florey (#531 - Murders in the Rue Morgue) and Joseph Santley.

Review: 

Admittedly, my knowledge of the Marx Brothers is limited in all-around know-how when compared to other classic comedians of film in the 1920s and 1930s like Charlie Chaplin. And yet, the story of how a group of brothers succeeded in vaudeville, Broadway, and film for decades is inherently compelling. They were the sons of Jewish immigrants (their father was a tailor, and their mother handled the affairs of her older brother to enter show business before handling the Marx affairs). Obviously, each of the children had nicknames that stuck with them for their act: Leonard "Chico" Marx, Adolph "Harpo" Marx, Julius "Groucho" Marx, Milton "Gummo" Marx, and Herbert "Zeppo" Marx. Their act had started in the early 20th century with vaudeville before it would start to include comedy in 1912. Gummo and Zeppo left the act in favor of business interests (and World War I). The four Marx brothers made their debut in Broadway with I'll Say She Is, a 1924 musical comedy revue. There were thirteen feature films with the Marx Brothers as the key focus, with two distinct phases (five with four Marx Brothers and the rest with just three). This was their first feature film, but only by accident: they had done a film in 1921 called Humor Risk that was shot in Fort Lee, New Jersey but was never formally released (research from better sources reveal that the film was either not finished or not released). Years went by with attempts by studios to offer up a Marx movie such as with First National Pictures in 1926 and United Artists in 1928. The movie is an adaptation of the 1925 play of the same name, which had been written by George S. Kaufman with music and lyrics by Irving Berlin; Morrie Ryskind served as writer for the movie (obviously not the parts where the Marx brothers came up with things themselves). Florey was born in France but raised in Switzerland before he moved to America at the age of 20 (after writing articles on film and doing film-work in Switzerland), which resulted in a career filled with mostly B-productions (this was his sixth feature after a couple of shorts) along with a handful of television credits before he retired in 1964. Santley on the other hand was an actor, writer, singer and dancer from a young age in the early 20th century before he did his first feature with this movie, his most famous work in a career that ended in the 1950s.

Paramount Pictures would release five films with the Marx Brothers that ended with Duck Soup (1933), and they did not listen to the apparent desire of the Marxes to buy the negative and discard the movie when it was shown in previews, which resulted in success for all. It should only make sense that turning it into a sound feature would be perfect for the growing age of sound movies, which would have two directors responsible to balance out the dialogue in Florey and Santley for the musical elements (such as "When My Dreams Come True", sung by Oscar Shaw and Mary Eaton). The other thing that is important to know about early sound (besides needing static shots with glass booths) is that they actually had to find a way to make sure paper wouldn't ruin the sound quality. Believe it or not, they actually dampened the paper by making it wet. So, with all that in mind, one will probably find this movie to be a moderately engaging experience in differing returns with music and comedy. Obviously, there would be refinements made with the next few Marx vehicles, who kept the sense of anarchy going with sharp lines that wouldn't be just the best thing standing in the way of okay supporting people. Groucho is the easy one to follow with his sharpness in wit, one that maneuvers the 96-minute run-time with efficient hustle, while Harpo utilizes props (like a horn) to wordless effectiveness to go alongside the verbal charmer in Chico, particularly with the "viaduct" scene or with the auction scene (where telling one to keep putting a bid goes wrong). This was the first of seven pairings of the brothers with Dumont, who would basically serve as the straight man (woman in this case) that endured long after the other narrowly straight one (Zeppo, who left in 1933) wasn't there. She handles the humor thrown her way (mainly by Groucho) with refined timing. Zeppo was one described as "handsome, obtuse, slightly wooden" by his brother Groucho, and perhaps one might be forgiven for sometimes forgetting there were four brothers in these movies. But there he is, on the side near Groucho; the plot not involving the Marxes is absorbed by Eaton, Shaw, Francis, and Ring, who are only marginally compelling. As a whole, it is the comedy that drives the movie forward more so than the chorus sequences or the plot involving jewels and would-be romances, but it never teeters too much in general quality (sound is marginable, but this was 1929). It doesn't quite gel into just a "good" movie, but it makes a reasonable start for Marx mayhem that will prove a useful start to further digging in terms of seeing the zany outsider personas of the Marxes, and that makes it a sure winner.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Thunderbolt (1929).

Review #1837: Thunderbolt.

Cast: 

George Bancroft (Thunderbolt Jim Lang), Fay Wray (Ritzy), Richard Arlen (Bob Moran), Tully Marshall (Warden), Eugenie Besserer (Mrs. Moran), James Spottswood ('Snapper' O'Shea), Robert Elliott (Prison Chaplain), Fred Kohler ('Bad Al' Frieberg), E. H. Calvert (Dist. Atty. McKay), and George Irving (Mr. Corwin) Directed by Josef von Sternberg (#1325 - Underworld and #1337 - Shanghai Express)

Review: 

It is interesting to consider what the turn of a decade or the turn of new technology can do to (or for) a director. In the case of Josef von Sternberg, going from silent films to sound would only keep him right where he needed to be to express his vision of filmmaking. This is his ninth feature film (three are lost, with two of them not even having a full release), one that started in 1925 that would span three decades over various studios; he had a distinct style that did not always lead to box office success, but most of his films generally still seem ripe for further research and curiosity, with the level of that depending on just what film of his you see, whether that was his debut with The Salvation Hunters (1925) or Underworld (1927) or The Last Command (1928, where he directed his lead actor to an Oscar) or The Docks of New York (1928). If you remember, Bancroft was the star in Underworld, and this film was the fourth and final collaboration between him and von Sternberg, with all of them featuring him getting swept up in crime (two as gangsters, one as a brawler, and one as a police captain) with two of them involving him trying to cope with the loss of his girl. He went from serving on merchant ships and a stint in the Navy to becoming an actor on Broadway and film, having a career in the latter for seventeen years, but it was the early parts of his career that saw him as a name star (complete with a nomination for an Academy Award for Best Actor with this film) before moving into supporting roles before moving into ranching full-time in 1942, which he did until his death at the age of 74 in 1956.

One can say that the transition into sound did not hinder the qualities shown by von Sternberg when it comes to making curious features of entertainment (there was a silent version of this film made for theaters without sound). He doesn't seem stilted by the addition of a microphone for sound, if only because he utilizes his sets and actors for interesting arrangements and dialogue that makes its 85-minute run-time go by fairly smoothly. The screenplay was written by Jules Furthman and Herman Mankiewicz while the story was done by Charles and Jules Furthman. So yes, the movie is about a guy named "Thunderbolt" and his attempts at trying to get what he wants from his girl and the law before a fateful climatic decision; the movie spends a good chunk of its time in a prison set with a small assortment of characters that used for a bit of humor, since a musical group does play in certain scenes, for example. As such, it is Bancroft who dominates the film with the way that he commands attention with his ego that makes him a curious figure to view in the lines of crime, because there are layers that come out in a rough exterior without falling into easy sentiments (granted, there is a dog that he has a soft spot for, but this isn't too distracting). Wray got into acting as a sixteen-year-old Canadian in 1923, which can't be forgotten in a six-decade career that saw her known for being a "scream queen". She does fine with what is needed here in terms of calm allure, one who seems perfectly fine with "normalness" without being wrapped in hokum. Arlen makes an ideal square without falling into mockery, looking just fine when paired with Wray for their scenes together (Besserer being paired as his on-screen mother is a bit amusing, if only because one doesn't usually see mother figures...for non-criminals in these kind of movies). Marshall proves a worthy foil for Bancroft in generating a bit of amusement as bumbling authority, such as letting a prisoner get out of their cell to subdue a prisoner who grabbed a gun...which results in a punch-out. No matter how much the climax could be thought of as inevitable, the movie does handle its final moments well without springing for maudlin overkill. As a gangster film, it proves okay when compared to his previous work Underworld was in terms of overall excitement, but even being a minor work in von Sternberg's lineup is still a nice compliment to hand it for recommendation, proving a useful curiosity with a suitable lead presence that makes for a relatively charming time.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Coquette.

Review #1331: Coquette.

Cast: 
Mary Pickford (Norma Besant), Johnny Mack Brown (Michael Jeffery), Matt Moore (Stanley Wentworth), John St. Polis (Dr. John Besant), William Janney (Jimmy Besant), Henry Kolker (Jasper Carter), George Irving (Robert Wentworth), and Louise Beavers (Julia) Directed by Sam Taylor (#667 - The Freshman, #727 - For Heaven's Sake, #758 - Safety Last!, #864 - Hot Water, #903 - Dr. Jack, #918 - Why Worry?, and #938 - Girl Shy)

Review: 
"I am no longer in pictures for money. I am in them because I love them. I am not in vain. I do not care about giving a smashing personal performance. My one ambition is to create fine entertainment."

Mary Pickford was a star in a time of transition for Hollywood in 1929. Born in Toronto, Canada in 1892, she had grown up with the theatre from a young age, with her mother having taken the suggestion of one of her boarders, a theatrical stage manager to give her two daughters small roles in a production. Years of touring with her family in the theatre were soon changed in 1909 after encountering D. W. Griffith (of the Biograph Company at the time) for a screen test, which led to her being hired to appear (both in bit parts and lead roles) in the company's films; despite not being credited, she received notices from audiences. She left for Adolph Zukor’s Famous Players studio in 1912 and found continued success with films such as Tess of the Storm Country (1914) and The Poor Little Rich Girl (1917). Pickford was also an innovator when it came to studios, as she was one of the co-founders of United Artists in 1919 alongside Griffith, Charlie Chaplin and Douglas Fairbanks, which was formed on the premise of giving creative control to the actors and directors. The burgeoning of the sound era did not deter Pickford from acting. Although she had famously said that adding sound to film would be "like putting lip rouge on the Venus de Milo", Pickford was nervous but ready to debut her voice onto film (she had not appeared in a film since My Best Girl in 1927). When she heard her voice for the first time for a test, she remarked that she sounded like a pipsqueak (ironic for someone who had played numerous child characters since a teenager). She soon did voice training to try and get herself ready to play this southern role with equipment that would try to stick out from the stagey static sound films that encompassed the early sound films.

The film was adapted to the screen by John Grey, Allen McNeil, and director Taylor from the play of the same name by George Abbott and Ann Preston Bridgers, which had featured Helen Hayes in the main role. The play was about a flirty young woman who has to decide what to do after her father kills the man she loves. The manner of who commits suicide is actually the choice of the main character (who was pregnant), as opposed to the film, where it is the father who does so in the midst of his court trial, where his daughter struggles to try and save her father from a death sentence. As for the film itself, it is one that seems more appropriate to give slack for rather than one to give much credit for. It is a middling affair, helmed by a fairly confident Pickford and not much else. It is a fairly clunky affair, filled with plenty of stagy staleness begging to be drawn out more through a 76 minute time that somehow seems ten minutes too long. One would wish more from Pickford, only to realize that she is the key in keeping it from collapsing into being forgettable all together. She seems bright and vivid in a way that the rest of actors are left to act around her with a bit too much camp to go around. There would be plenty of stories to tell about flirtatious or quirky Southern folk to come, some classics and some not: this is one that twists in the wind of the latter category.

Pickford (a founding member of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences) lobbied with a publicity campaign when it came time to awards season (whereas other nominees didn't even know they were nominated), the first of its kind that seems routine nowadays (with this case being inviting the judges for tea at her estate Pickfair). In any case, Pickford won for Best Actress at the 2nd annual ceremony. She would appear in four more films in the next four years before retiring from acting (although she would keep producing before selling her UA stocks in the 1950s). While the film may not hold itself too well after nine decades, it has not stopped Pickford from enduring as one of film's first and brightest stars, where the term of "America's Sweetheart" just seemed fairly appropriate for her.

Overall, I give it 6 out of 10 stars.

Next Time: As you could tell, Tribute to the Decades decided to go all out and actually try to cover each year for the 1920s. As such, it will continue for the 1930s.

The Broadway Melody.

Review #1330: The Broadway Melody.

Cast: 
Anita Page (Queenie Mahoney), Bessie Love (Harriet "Hank" Mahoney), Charles King (Eddie Kearns), Jed Prouty (Uncle Jed), Kenneth Thomson (Jacques Warriner), Edward Dillon (Stage Manager), Mary Doran (Flo), and Eddie Kane (Zanfield) Directed by Harry Beaumont

Review: 
It can be an interesting experience looking at an old film musical and think about the effort that it must have taken to make it come out to the screen, particularly when it comes to talking about the beginning of the sound era along with the studio of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. The company had begun in 1924 as a merger of three studios: Metro Pictures Corporation, Goldwyn Pictures, and Louis B. Mayer Pictures, since Marcus Loew desired better quality for films to distribute with Loew's Theatres along with find someone to run operations in Hollywood, which is where Mayer comes into the picture, alongside with Irving Thalberg (whose first notable film as a producer was The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1923), which he did at 24) as production head. The studio became prolific very quickly, releasing major films such as Ben-Hur (1925), with a desire to tap into a need from the audience for stars and stories to go alongside them (whether through adapting works or big spectacle). Interestingly enough, MGM could have had a different fate before the decade would pass. William Fox from Fox Film Corporation had desired to expand his grip, seizing an opportunity to buy the holdings of MGM upon the death of Loew in 1927. Strong connections from Mayer, combined with an severe automobile accident involving Fox in late 1929 and the Wall Street crash ended any possibility of a possible merger. In any case, it should only figure that MGM's first full-talkie film would be a musical - what better way to attract appeal than with singing, talking, and dancing in one film. The original version of the film even had a Technicolor sequence included (which is now lost to time).

With all that in mind, one can then note how the film hasn't quite aged as well as others of its decade. It was a big hit with audiences and Academy voters for its day, but to me it is a bit of a clunker. Not every great film gets to have awards or initial recognition, but they manage to find a way to having staying power and interest after several decades. This is one of those cases where one can acknowledge some of the triumphs it must have had nine decades ago while still seeing it as a pretty mediocre experience. Beyond the clunkiness of the dialogue and okay direction is a movie that can do a bunch of singing and dancing but can't really sell its characters as anything other than cliches. Is it really a cliche if its the 1920s? If it seems like a cliche and looks like one, by golly it must be a cliche. Nobody seems to have chemistry with anybody, and the conclusion of its love triangle (or perhaps square since it really involves four people) seems awkwardly silly (getting punched out by a rich jerk when trying to help the younger sister of the girl you were involved with and then getting with said younger sister? ...sure, why not). The singing (aided through the music of Nacio Herb Brown and lyrics by Arthur Freed, both key MGM music figures) is fair, in the sense that one isn't checking their watch as much when compared to seeing a barely moving camera with mild actors trying to warm up pale characters on screen. Page and Love come out decently enough, in that they seem fitting to see perform on a screen moreso than when trying to be on-screen sisters. King may have been a vaudeville and Broadway actor, but that doesn't mean he brings the screen presence needed to really drive himself forward in interest. In other words, I don't really find myself gravitating attention to him in interest when on screen. Technically Prouty attracts attention, in that one can't really forget a stutterer - he isn't exactly funny, but then again the film's best hope is trying to not be unintentionally funny to pick at with its characters, so there's that. Look, this is a film that comes and goes at 100 minutes without too much trouble in delivering a fair bit of sound without devolving itself too much into noise for the sake of it. It has that kind of dated quality like The Jazz Singer had, but that film managed to pass off better with its sentiment and charm than this does. There exist three further Broadway Melody films (1936, 1938, 1940), in the sense that they aren't necessarily sequels but rather share a basic premise involving putting on a show, and there was even a remake with Two Girls on Broadway (1940). Whatever one prefers when it comes to a musical, there exist plenty to choose from, whether in starting with the 1920s or later. This isn't a bad one to go with as a companion to early talkie musicals, even if it isn't necessarily a great one to cherish as much as others could.

Next Time - Coquette, with Mary Pickford. Also, an announcement.

Overall, I give it 6 out of 10 stars.

Pandora's Box (1929).

Review #1329: Pandora's Box.

Cast: 
Louise Brooks (Lulu), Fritz Kortner (Dr. Ludwig Schön), Francis Lederer (Alwa Schön), Carl Goetz (Schigolch), Krafft-Raschig (Rodrigo Quast), Alice Roberts (Countess Augusta Geschwitz), Daisy D'ora (Charlotte Marie Adelaide von Zarnikow), Gustav Diessl (Jack the Ripper), Michael von Newlinsky (Marquis Casti-Piani), and Sigfried Arno (The Stage Manager) Directed by G. W. Pabst.

Review: 
One could apply the cliche that any year is a turning point for film, or say that it was a year of big change. To add another cliche, 1929 was a special year for film in numerous aspects. The era of the silent films was soon to be a thing of the past (or at the very least wasn't as popularly used). Musicals were now getting to be a trend to look for in the rushes (along with making sure they can say the words in the microphone without trouble). The first Academy Awards were presented by presented by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences on May 16 (with winners announced months before the event), where it had silent films regarded as the most outstanding and unique (Wings and Sunrise, respectively), which wouldn't happen again for over 80 years. But hey, every decade brings in and lets out film stars onto the screen (some on their own terms), and one who burned just as bright as others in terms of electric presence was Louise Brooks. Brooks had spent the earlier parts of the decade in dance, having joined the Denishawn School of Dancing and Related Arts company at 15 in 1922, although she was dismissed two years later. Her work with the Ziegfeld Follies (noted for their revue productions on Broadway since 1907) led to interest from Paramount Pictures and a contract in 1925. In the four years prior to Pandora's Box, she had appeared in thirteen films (the last one being The Canary Murder Case, a film she refused to do sound re-takes for). She made three films in Europe (the last being Miss Europe in 1930), but she appeared in just six more films in the following eight years, which she had attributed to be informally blacklisted from Paramount (declining an offer to star in The Public Enemy did not help matters either). As for Pabst (born in Austria), he had begun his film career in 1923 with The Treasure, had a knack for developing talent as a important director during the Weimer Republic. He had directed films with actresses who would become stars, such as Greta Garbo and Leni Riefenstahl. The film was based on two plays (generally referred to as the Lulu cycle) from German playwright Frank Wedekind - Erdgeist (Earth Spirit) and Die Büchse der Pandora, which were performed in 1895 and 1904, respectively. The two plays also served as the basis for an opera by Alban Berg that would premiere in 1937, and the first play had been adapted for film in 1923.

In any case, it would seem the choice by Pabst to use Brooks (with Marlene Dietrich as a second choice) paid off in the long run. Who else could pull off such an exotic and absorbent performance? It may be a silent role, but she sure likes someone doing a modern performance, one that stood out from other performers of the era with such magnetic desperate energy that compels attention each minute she is on screen, driving chemistry (and ruin) with her co-stars in a frank and honest manner, which still resonates after over nine decades and plenty of dramas across the world, whether silent (like this one) or not. She just has the energy to be oneself in passion without needing a trick in hand. Kortner and the others follow along with fair results, where one can see themselves drawn in to a spark from their eyes without needing to fall back to sentimentality, which go well for Lederer and Goetz. It clicks on its sensibilities with an eye for the crowd without needing to overload the senses, where shock for a scene (such as its death scenes) doesn't seem inauthentic. For such a transgressive film, it is no surprise that there were numerous versions shown in theaters with notable edits. In one version, Lederer's character is changed from being Kortner's son to his secretary. In another, the ending gets rid of Jack the Ripper and has the main character join the Salvation Army. In any case, the film has managed to survive to find in the market of curiosity at 133 minutes alongside other films of its ilk, a winner for the 1920s that maintains standing after several decades on the heels (and bob haircut) of its main star, who endures now on the basis of work abroad like this - and for good reason.

Next Time: As it turns out, 1929 is a triple-header extravaganza. What better way to move forward with seeing the progression of film than The Broadway Melody? 

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

Welcome Danger.

Review #1304: Welcome Danger.

Cast: 
Harold Lloyd (Harold Bledsoe), Barbara Kent (Billie Lee), Noah Young (Patrick Clancy), Charles B. Middleton (John Thorne), Will Walling (Captain Walton), Edgar Kennedy (Police Desk Sergeant), James Wang (Dr. Chang Gow), Douglas Haig (Buddy Lee), and Blue Washington (Thorne's Henchman) Directed by Clyde Bruckman (#908 - The General) and Malcolm St. Clair.

Review: 
It does seem interesting to finally reach the sound era when it comes to Harold Lloyd. He appeared in eighteen feature films, with just seven of them being sound. The production of this film came a few months after the release of Speedy (1928), with the intent to shoot as a silent production with the same director in Ted Wilde. However, Wilde (who subsequently died of a stroke in 1930 at the age of 40) became sick during production, which would continue for nearly a year. The idea to change it into a sound feature coming after it had already been shot after Lloyd felt that sound would not be just a passing fad. Extensive re-shoots where done, namely by re-doing half of the silent version into sound and dubbing the other parts. If one thinks the film seems a bit long at 115 minutes, this evidently was even longer in previews, reportedly being edited from roughly 165 minutes. Admittedly, nerdy botanist (and son of a famed San Francisco police chief) meets dope ring in Chinatown does seem like the kind of thing to inspire shenanigans for a premise. 

It sure is a shame the resulting film is a jumbled mess, racked with inconsistency when it comes to delivering gags that actually land. I suppose this was bound to happen if one thinks of it like with the law of averages, where one is bound to deliver a clunker at some point when it comes to Lloyd. After all, there are four credited writers for this film in Paul Gerard Smith, Felix Adler, Lex Neal and Bruckman. Maybe there were too many cooks present, or maybe this is an example of a film that really just doesn't have it. At least one can't say Lloyd sounds terrible in sound, seeming a bit more nervous to follow with the times than anything. The times unfortunately come with a slightly annoying lead and a pathetic villain alongside some dated humor to boot (while I do enjoy being amused at complaints from social justice loons for "cancel culture" stuff, the government of China at the time was actually offended at this, which led to Lloyd offering a sincere apology). Kent comes and goes from the film, which doesn't help make this little romance seem any more real than a coloring book. The others range from okay to awkward, where being used to the microphone (or dubbing) is something one needs to get used to but never quite does. I do wonder if the silent version of this film turned out any better, but this happens to be the longest feature Lloyd would ever do (the aforementioned Speedy lasted 86 minutes), with this going from focusing on Lloyd and Kent (i.e. lame physical gags) to the police stuff to Chinatown antics, which goes on and on before I eventually start twiddling my thumbs and start eyeing things on my shelf. Following the story of what actually is going on isn't much better, whereas a silent film seemingly could do more with its premise through imagination. Here, it just seems a bit less loose, and it results in a film that perfectly fits the mold of average old-timey filmmaking. If you want to spend two hours with a film that you could get a chuckle at while spending time with the newspaper or phone, this might work out if you prefer your films from 90 years ago.

Overall, I give it 6 out of 10 stars.

Applause.

Review #773: Applause.

Cast
Helen Morgan (Kitty Darling), Joan Peers (April Darling), Fuller Mellish Jr. (Hitch Nelson), Jack Cameron (Joe King), Henry Wadsworth (Tony), and Roy Hargrave (Slim Lamont) Directed by  Rouben Mamoulian.

Review
Two things brought me to watch this film: It was from 1929, a year I had not reviewed anything from (the 1920's is the 2nd least covered decade in the 5 years Movie Night has been around. 1930 and 1910-1914 also haven't been covered, though the former has more feature films released in that year), but the critical reason was the fact that it was an all-talking backstage musical (a musical with the plot revolving around production of a play/musical) in 1929 that shot on location in Manhattan (with shots also done at Paramount's Astoria Studios in Queens), released two years after The Jazz Singer, a groundbreaking movie that was the advent for talkie movies, though even that film was a "part-talkie", a hybrid of silent inter titles and sound. (Lights of New York, released in 1928, was billed as the first all-talking picture). With Applause however, it is a sound film, effects and all.

One thing I like is the camera shots, particularly ones low on the ground (such as the wheels of a train moving across a track), ones showing the performance of the performers, but I also like this one shot midway through the film, in which you see only the legs of a few of our characters, with dialogue being spoken through it. Yes, it pans up to show faces, but I guess I like the idea of not having to show faces to get dialogue across. One of my favorite location shots is the one of the Brooklyn Bridge, but there are other nice shots as well, especially ones showing buildings all across Manhattan like the Wolworth (if you're wondering, this is occurring during a date atop a roof by two of our characters). Shots aside, the movie certainly has a charm to it, especially with the musical aspects, but also due to Helen Morgan, a singer turned actress in one of her first films with a big role, stealing the show. While the romance between Peers and Wadsworth could be characterized as "spur of the moment", it sure makes for good quirky charm. Applause is an interesting little movie that stands out for being a sound musical not bogged down by static sound or boring locations, instead being a movie of its own worth. It's not a great musical, but it is a charming movie, and for me that's more than enough.

Happy Festivus, everyone.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.