The Cat's-Paw.

Review #2220: The Cat's-Paw.

Cast: 

Harold Lloyd (Ezekiel Cobb), Una Merkel (Petunia Pratt), George Barbier (Jake Mayo), Nat Pendleton (Strozzi), Grace Bradley (Dolores Doce), Alan Dinehart (Mayor Ed Morgan), Grant Mitchell (Silk Hat McGee), and E. Alyn Warren (Tien Wang) Directed by Sam Taylor (#667 - The Freshman, #727 - For Heaven's Sake, #758 - Safety Last!, #864 - Hot Water, #903 - Dr. Jack, #918 - Why Worry?, #938 - Girl Shy, #1331 - Coquette)

Review: 

Amusingly, this was the first film starring Harold Lloyd in which his character name was something other than "Harold" since Hot Water (1924; of course in that movie, that character was named "Hubby"). The movie was the eighth and final film collaboration between director Sam Taylor and star Harold Lloyd. You may remember that Taylor got his start as a director with Dr. Jack (1922) after a number of years as a writer. He directed Lloyd alongside Fred C. Newmeyer (back when co-directing was the rage) from that film all the way to For Heaven's Sake (1926) before going on to direct a variety of other stars such as Will Rogers and Mary Pickford. Taylor may not have been a distinct director of his time in say, personality, but he was a dedicated filmmaker regardless. This was near the end of Taylor's career as a director, where the release of his next film in Vagabond Lady (1935) was his penultimate feature before closing his career out with a Laurel and Hardy production in Nothing but Trouble (1944); Taylor died in 1958 at the age of 62. At any rate, the genesis for this film came from a novel that had been first serialized in The Saturday Evening Post by Clarence Budington Kelland (a prolific writer that had plenty of stories turned into films, such as Mr. Deeds Goes to Town [1936]) that Lloyd had liked enough to buy the rights to when only the first chapter had been out for the public. Taylor and an uncredited Clyde Bruckman did work for the script adaptation while Lloyd did a bit of uncredited directorial work (as one probably expects from someone producing his own film). The next feature film with Lloyd would come in 1936 with Leo McCarey's The Milky Way.

It's funny that a two-year gap between this and Movie Crazy was something critics of the time needed to point out with Lloyd, as if one was checking problems in an assembly line. To be fair, some of the films did fall along the same outline with Lloyd in bumbling nature. Admittedly, when one is considering the fact that Movie Crazy (1932) was the only good feature of Lloyd's first three sound efforts, it sort of seems easy to say that The Cat's Paw (the name refers to a guy being used as a dupe) ends up being just as decent (at least this time, the "well-meaning boy or fumbler type of character", as I said in my last Lloyd review, doesn't seem too much on the nose here). Sure, it is a bit weird (take a guess at the stereotypes and wonder where the line is drawn), but it is pretty efficient at 102 minutes in letting Lloyd grow up just a bit. Not packing as much slapstick but still pretty loaded in useful principles, he may be playing a "fish out of water", but it is a compelling one to watch that straddles the line between silly and the eventual figure of actual interest without needing a climax involving stunts (unlike a handful of previous Lloyd films). Making light of dirty politics is handled in a silly way that at least is funny for a little while Merkel and Lloyd make a pretty decent pairing to go with a worthwhile honest dishonest man in Barbier. So yes, the climax involves a bout of trickery that amuses me because well, who doesn't love a bit of stage magic. As a whole, Lloyd may have a strange time getting into the groove of making consistent sound features, but The Cat's-Paw is a worthwhile example of Lloyd still trying to make his style of comedy connect to the audiences at large. While not everything has probably aged well in the nine decades since its release, it will likely be worth one's time.

 

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

The Black Cat (1934).

Review #2111: The Black Cat (1934).

Cast: 

Boris Karloff (Hjalmar Poelzig), Béla Lugosi (Dr. Vitus Werdegast), David Manners (Peter Alison), Julie Bishop (Joan Alison), Lucille Lund (Karen Poelzig), Egon Brecher (The Majordomo), and Harry Cording (Thamal) Directed by Edgar G. Ulmer (#797 - People on Sunday, #803 - Detour, #943 - The Man from Planet X, #1364 - Bluebeard, #2058 - Strange Illusion)

Review: 

Well, if you can make a movie loosely (loosely) based on the "Murders in the Rue Morgue", why not another? Universal did that in 1932 with Bela Lugosi as the star in a "mad doctor" role, and while the reception was not particularly favorable at the time, here we are anyway. The movie shares the title of an Edgar Allan Poe short story "The Black Cat". Edgar G. Ulmer co-wrote the story with Peter Ruric, which was one of the pen names for pulp writer George Sims (who also used Paul Cain as a name); they were inspired by psychiatry and the eccentricities of occultist Aleister Crowley; Ulmer apparently was quoted later as saying that the Poe story is "not a story you can dramatize". It is probably one of Ruric's better known efforts, since his other film credits include films such as, uh, Mademoiselle Fifi (1944). This was the first and only film Ulmer (who had one noted film with the co-directed People on Sunday to his name) made for a major studio, as he was soon blacklisted from the major studios after it was found that he had an affair with a woman (the script assistant on this film and later his wife) that happened to be married to the nephew of Carl Laemmle, the co-founder and owner Universal Pictures. As such, he would be relegated to a litany of lower-budget studios that saw him direct films that ranged from ethnic dramas to melodramas. It wasn't the first film to use the Poe story in loose inspiration, as evidenced by Unheimliche Geschichten (1919, 1932). By coincidence, Maniac (the exploitation film) was released the same year as this film that used the Poe story for loose inspiration. Seven years after the release of the film, Lugosi would star in a comedy horror remake that turned it into a mystery house feature. The next attempt at covering the Poe story came with Tales of Terror (1962). This was the first film to feature both Boris Karloff and Lugosi (both previously featured in Universal horror films as Frankenstein and Dracula, respectively) together, and they would appear in five further films for Universal (along with two others), such as The Raven (1935), which was an even looser inspiration from the Poe story of the same name.

Somehow, one finds a film (66 minutes) about revenge of genocide, preserved dead people, offscreen skin shedding, odd music cues, and a would-be cult ritual in a very modern looking house. On the middle of the clash is Manners and Bishop (who went by Jacqueline Wells until the 1940s). One only cares about the straight men (the former was in both Dracula and The Mummy) for about the length it takes to write a sentence when it comes to Universal horror films. Evidently, Ulmer felt the best way to deal with Lugosi and his apparent tendency to overact (combined with his accent) was to "cut him down" when it came to focusing to reaction shots with him on screen. Karloff (playing a character named after Hans Poelzig, who worked on The Golem like Ulmer did) on the other hand is let loose to do his impression of evil, which results in a tightwire act that makes for fairly useful struggle, even if the film itself is built on the loosest of motivations. It is an odd film that can't really decide whether to be a revenge film or a weirdo cult film, and the way they shoehorn the film title is especially amusing, as it is revealed that Lugosi's character is deathly afraid of cats and the main mansion (with its distinct architecture and strange choices and history) has a pack of black cats around. It is Lugosi and Karloff who carry the film (because it certainly isn't going to come from the two squares), a calm cat and mouse game waiting to fester that works best depending on which style of acting works best in bluster, since Lugosi seems to act with his eyes just as much as when you let the camera stay on him to contrast with Karloff having that cold stare of devilish intent. There of course can be credit for the weird stuff that is present (on screen or not) for a film released in 1934 while also noting that it is a weirdly constructed film. It has an odd runtime / pace comparison that might as well serve right for an odd film where the villains are more interesting than the heroes (you've got one blatant one and basically a co-conspirator waiting to strike). In general, it's a weird delight that sounds about right for an Ulmer film or for those interested further in the Universal line of wired horror films. 

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Next up: 20 years later, what lies beneath The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2003)?

Liliom (1934).

Review #2066: Liliom (1934).

Cast: 

Madeleine Ozeray (Julie/Her Daughter with Liliom), Charles Boyer (Liliom), Robert Arnoux (Strong Arm), Roland Toutain (Sailor), Pierre Alcover (Alfred), Alexandre Rignault (Hollinger), Raoul Marco (Detective), Antonin Artaud (Knife Grinder), Maximilienne (Madame Menoux), and Florelle (Madame Moscat) Directed by Fritz Lang (#333 - M, #500 - Metropolis, #1365 - Scarlet Street, #1619 - Destiny, #2009 - You and Me)

Review: 

Remember Liliom (1930)? who can't articulate their emotional feelings for each other beyond a spiritual connection that, well, made for an okay mess from Fox Film Corporation. But what about the other Liliom film, done for Fox within their "Europa" company in French? The only possible curiosity to watching a film that came out just four years after someone already made their production for Fox Film Corporation is the fact that Fritz Lang also apparently liked the film most among the ones he made. He was quoted a couple of years before his death as saying that he always liked it very much and even called it one he almost liked "best of all". You may or may not find what he is talking about here, but you have to remember that this was the film he made between The Testament of Dr. Mabuse (1933) and Fury (1936). Not exactly the easiest competition, although one wonders what the French Catholic clergy thought of those, since they did not like Lang's ideas involving Heaven. If you remember, the Austrian-born director (with Jewish heritage) found that he should leave Germany when the release of the Mabuse film saw bans by the Nazi regime, which actually had offered him an enticing position involving leading a studio. Obviously, he saw better than to do that, for which he left the country for good by the summer of 1933. He first settled in Paris before he eventually moved (and settled) in America after this film became a flop; his next film not directed for English-speaking audiences would not be until 1959. Lang, landing in a studio run by Erich Pommer, was offered the story for this film apparently over the choice of doing another one that involved detectives (that film, called A Man Has Been Stolen [On a volé un homme], was done by Max Ophüls but is now lost). It was written by Robert Liebmann (in adaptation) and Bernard Zimmer (dialogue).

Boyer had cultivated years of stage experience and supporting roles to eventual stardom in the 1930s, although he bounced around productions in Hollywood and his native France for the first number of years, which involved films such as this. He basically dominates the show in the manner you would expect from him, which works so well because of just how much he throws into a role that could have just been sunken by someone playing the role as just a miserable lout. It isn't a role that he is sent to make seem light (far from it, remember the source), and he does the job required in making a pathetic force of knowing unknowingness work within the bounds of a film that isn't exactly too tethered to reality. Ozeray is left with the other challenge that comes with having such a distinct lead presence in playing her role to a delicacy that won't be construed as just a doormat. The Belgian makes a fine case for going with Boyer in the face of what seems to be a foolishly doomed romance, one that only they can understand but can't quite say in clear words as to why they are there with each other. The film does take a deliberate pace within 116 minutes, but once it does settle among the place of gates in heaven and hell, it all comes together for curious viewing, (Rudolph Maté and Louis Nee did the cinematography for the film and do quite well with making the film look about right for whatever sort of "frivolous" level you can accuse Heaven as being depicted). For the film, one really can't just escape what decisions one makes "just like that", and I appreciate the irony set in depicting bureaucracy and even reviewing a clip from earlier in the movie. When it finally dawns upon one to reach back into the Earth after so long only to find themselves talking themselves into a corner, it does ultimately prove rewarding in the weirdest sense to see just how just one little motion can stoke old memories back in the favor of justice. As a whole, it is an odd little affair, but it is told with obvious interest from Lang to deal with life and death in a way that doesn't insult one's time or intelligence in the dealings of fantasy and illusion. It is a solid effort and one that could fit right into the dedicated structure that Lang favored when making films for as long as and effectively as he could for which we have the pleasure of searching for.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

Well, you may already have an idea of what August will be all about judging by the title card. Last August dealt with action films and the one before that dealt with anniversaries...so for this August, why not go "Around the World"? That is correct, an entire month dedicated to as many world cinema films as possible, which could go anywhere from Russia to Japan (already a popular country here but you get the idea) to...somewhere new. I can't guarantee a set number, but I'm sure there will be at least ten interesting films to cover for interesting reviews in the month that seems right for such an odd little month. Enjoy.

The Man Who Knew Too Much (1934).

Review #2032: The Man Who Knew Too Much.

Cast: 

Leslie Banks (Bob Lawrence), Edna Best (Jill Lawrence), Peter Lorre (Abbott), Frank Vosper (Ramon Levine), Hugh Wakefield (Clive), Nova Pilbeam (Betty Lawrence), Pierre Fresnay (Louis Bernard), Cicely Oates (Nurse Agnes), D. A. Clarke-Smith (Binstead), and George Curzon (Gibson) 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, and #2014 - The Lady Vanishes)

Review: 

 "Let's say the first version is the work of a talented amateur and the second was made by a professional."

It isn't often you get to see films where the same director would do it again decades later, but here we are. The Gaumont British production was one of the most noted features released by Alfred Hitchcock in his years in England, and he would do an updated version of this film (each involve an international crime plan with kidnapped children for extortion) that ran for two hours and was done in VistaVision for a distinct feature in its own right. The initial idea with Hitchcock was for him to do an adaptation of a Bulldog Drummond story (as originally created by H. C. McNeile as adventure novel series), which apparently would've been called "Bulldog Drummond's Baby". When that fell through, they just kept the idea of doing a conspiracy film with parents and cribbed the title from a 1922 novel of the same name (as written by G. K. Chesterton) that Hitchcock had select film rights to. The film was written by Charles Bennett and D. B. Wyndham-Lewis (Bennett asserted that he wrote the film with little, if anything done by Lewis). while Edwin Greenwood and A.R. Rawlinson provided the scenario for a film that runs at 75 minutes. This was released in the wake of such previous Hitchcock films as Number Seventeen (1932) and Waltzes from Vienna (1934), which are not exactly as remembered as the films that quickly followed after 1934 with The 39 Steps (1935) and Secret Agent (1936). It certainly ranked as the most curious film Hitchcock did in the sound era since probably his first one with Blackmail (1929), that much is for sure.

Admittedly, for such a little thriller, it actually is quite a vibrant feature in all the little things it does around building tension with a compact amount of time and composition. Banks and Best may not be the most recognizable names among features, but they were solid regulars for dozens of films for good reason, because it sure is something to play to what Hitchcock wants within the ordinary-turned-extraordinary here. This becomes pretty apparent after the opening sequences (such as introducing themselves to the future threat or trying to do a shooting contest) dispense away from their time as just wry parents and goes right into vulnerable panic. The startup to that sequence involves a would-be dance turning into whispers and then panic to effective execution that all involves a secret message (but it isn't the real important thing when it comes to coming up with one's own plan). Hitchcock does find time to pass that might inspire a wry chuckle without seeming wasteful, though, one of which involves a meeting with a dentist or (lest we forget) a church of sunworshippers. Lorre isn't forgotten in the main run of course, choosing his words carefully in menace - he had exactly one other English-language film under his belt with M (1931), which had an English version (remember that he left Germany in 1933), but this was the one where numerous English productions would follow in its wake. He has the physical presence that others wish they could match as a threat, and its clear to see how that could be used for films down the line. By the time that the film lumbers to the climax at the Royal Albert Hall, it has made its setup with key distinctions in one sound that makes the overall execution of said scene all the more better in tension and release. The gun fight that follows was actually inspired by the Sidney Street Siege, a real shootout in the East End of London in 1911 (which was actually captured on camera from a news outlet, some of which featured rising politician Winston Churchill), although obviously the gunfight here ends up different than the actual siege (which involved a collapsed building that killed a fireman), which isn't exploitative or played out with false notes. As a whole, in a lengthy career of several decades, The Man Who Knew Too Much shows Hitchcock in a favorable position when it comes to directing tension that he would cultivate for further success in further productions with most of the right moves already present here in a pretty good time.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

One Night of Love.

Review #1953: One Night of Love.

Cast: 

Grace Moore (Mary Barrett), Tullio Carminati (Giulio Monteverdi), Lyle Talbot (Bill Houston), Mona Barrie (Lally), Jessie Ralph (Angelina), Luis Alberni (Giovanni), Andrés de Segurola (Galuppi), and Nydia Westman (Muriel) Directed by Victor Schertzinger.

Review: 

Admittedly, you sometimes have to pull a name out of a hat when it comes to looking for directors to spotlight for the first time. Sometimes you have to take stock and realize that some folks can fall by the wayside in the annals of time. Did you know that Victor Schertzinger was an Academy Award nominee? In the first ten years of the ceremony, roughly over two dozen people were considered for the award for Best Director combined, and Schertzinger was one of them, nominated in an brief time with just two other nominees for 1934. So yes, I would say losing to Frank Capra while W. S. Van Dyke is your other competition is possible grounds for a spotlight for a director dead for eight decades. But a man from Mahanoy City, Pennsylvania surely has more to note than something as weird as awards. For one thing, he was a violinist in his childhood, performing with orchestras and bands while attending Brown University and the University of Brussels before moving onto songwriting by the 1910s. His first venture into film came at the request of Thomas Ince. He, along with Reginald Barker and Raymond B. West, were directing the film Civilization, and Ince commissioned him to compose the orchestra accompaniment for the film. He was then recruited to become a director, starting with The Pinch Hitter (1917), the first of a handful of films with Charles Ray (popular for at time in the silent era as a "young wholesome hick") as star. Schertzinger has been called the first artist to write a musical score for a film. In all, Schertzinger directed films in both the silent and sound eras before his sudden death in 1941 from a heart attack at the age of 53. He had directed over eighty films and composed fifty scores, which included: Something to Sing About (1937), which featured a singing and dancing James Cagney, The Mikado (1939), an adaptation of the Gilbert and Sullivan opera with participation from the D'Oyly Carte Opera Company and Road to Singapore (1940), the first of a string of road films with Bing Crosby, Dorothy Lamour, and Bob Hope (there were seven in the next two decades, with Schertzinger directing the first two).

The film was based on an unproduced play developed by Charles Beaahan and Dorothy Speare, while James Gow, S.K. Lauren, and Edmund H. North helped write the screenplay. At the helm as star for this film was certainly a distinctly interesting choice: an operatic soprano nicknamed the "Tennessee Nightingale". She had a couple of film credits to her name at the turn of the 1930s, which included a debut with Irving Thalberg as producer in A Lady's Morals (1930). Moore went to Broadway first in 1920 before making her debut in opera in 1928, where she spent many seasons at the Metropolitan Opera singing countless operas (most notably Louise). She dabbled in film, appearing in eight of them from 1930 to 1939, but opera is generally her most known forte, aside from performances in support of the Allied Forces during World War II. Moore died in 1947 at the age of 48 in a plane crash. Her performance is manageable, one that seems best when performing opera or with songs (such as the title song, as written by the director), while the attempts at romance teeter a bit in credibility. You can see how this ended up being her most noted film as an actress: it hones appeal in her singing with a bit of naturalistic acting that lives and dies on the material. Carminati (an Italian film actor busy since the silent era) fares better, because his wry steely sensibility seems far more interesting as a contrast that doesn't seem implausible. Of course, since it is a film that has to eventually chug its way through misunderstandings, it can only maneuver itself so far with familiar beats. It may interest you to know that Talbot was a member of the first board of directors of the Screen Actors Guild in 1933, with his involvement in the labor union apparently affecting his career when it came to getting leading roles by the mid 1930s. He makes a decent straight man in support, never without edge but not looking to roll their eyes at such oddness. The movie is more of a curiosity with its opera and singing elements than any real romantic push, and it should be mentioned that the film was more of a hit with getting bookings in bigger theaters than with the rural circuit (a positive for Columbia, which saw two of its films vie for awards in the year that was the one for It Happened One Night). It proves involving with the singing done by Moore, which doesn't seem stilted to my ears. The film received six nominations for the Academy Awards, which ranged from its director to its star to its technical production, which resulted in wins for its music scoring and its sound recording alongside a technical award for Columbia Pictures due to its "Vertical Cut Disc Method". As a whole, the movie is a somewhat serviceable romance movie, achieving more interest with its dabbling in opera and singing more than the slowly developing game of insult-and-romance. Average, but a general winner for the folks that needed it most with Moore and Schertzinger to make it a useful curiosity for those interested.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

The Thin Man.

Review #1887: The Thin Man.

Cast: 

William Powell (Nick Charles), Myrna Loy (Nora Charles), Maureen O'Sullivan (Dorothy Wynant), Nat Pendleton (Lt. John Guild), Minna Gombell (Mimi Wynant Jorgenson), Porter Hall (Herbert MacCaulay), Henry Wadsworth (Tommy), William Henry (Gilbert Wynant), Harold Huber (Arthur Nunheim), Cesar Romero (Chris Jorgenson), Natalie Moorhead (Julia Wolf), Edward Brophy (Joe Morelli), Edward Ellis (Clyde Wynant), and Skippy (Asta) Directed by W. S. Van Dyke (#231 - San Francisco)

Review: 

Admittedly, a movie with a director known as "One Take Woody" sounds like a recipe for an interesting time. W. S. Van Dyke entered film in 1915 after a wide variety of time spent in business school and numerous part-time jobs and theater company tours. He went from assistant director with D. W. Griffith to director in the span of two years. When it came to sound, he was adept in his craft that made him a solid company man for Metro Goldwyn Mayer that served him well until his death in 1943. Of course, this is something worthwhile to mention because of the fact that he was one of the key parts behind what ended up becoming a film series. The Thin Man saw five further features: After the Thin Man (1936), Another Thin Man (1939), Shadow of the Thin Man (1941), The Thin Man Goes Home (1945), and Song of the Thin Man (1947). Van Dyke would direct three of the sequels while its main stars in Powell and Loy starred in each of the movies (one would notice that the "Thin Man" actually originally refers to a missing man played by Ellis, but people referred to Powell as "Thin Man" pretty early on). The movie, if you didn't know, is an adaptation of the 1934 novel of the same name by Dashiell Hammett. Hammett was a member of the Pinkerton National Detective Agency (both private law enforcers and aggressors against organized labor) before he was a writer, which led him to write numerous stories and novels with characters such as Sam Spade (as it turned out, this was the last novel written by Hammett, who dealt with tough health and other struggles before his death in 1961). Husband-and-wife duo Albert Hackett and Frances Goodrich wrote the feature, with instruction by Van Dyke to loosely adapt the novel while having concentration on providing witty banter for its lead actors, with Van Dyke often shooting the first take due to his belief that actors lose spontaneity with every passing take.

Go figure that a movie shot in less than three weeks ended up being a complete success for all involved.  The chemistry between Powell and Loy in banter is one that other filmmakers would be jealous enough to wish they could steal for themselves. Van Dyke knew he had magic with these folks, so he made a movie with resourceful pacing and spontaneity that makes for a capable mystery with chuckles to go around. Powell may have been considered a bit too old for the part (42) when compared to Loy (29), associated with exotic roles at the time. But they are so dazzling here, zinging off each other without serving as distraction for tired plotting. Powell knows exactly what to lend to the material in his timing and mannerisms, sophisticated in deduction without coming off as a Sherlock pastiche. He glides through 91 minutes as if the plot wasn't particularly important to having fun. It wasn't his first crack at playing a detective (he had played the character Philo Vance in four films from 1929 to 1933), but it was his first crack at having a film that wanted to show him with sophistication and charm. Powell and Loy would star in fourteen total movies together. Loy makes a quality partner in her own wiry charm that pushes things along with easygoing flair that matches wit (and alcohol) with Powell all the same in pure escapism. O'Sullivan and the others have to play a bit of catch-up in maintaining the plot to some sort of believable level (i.e. things that you've probably heard from a detective story but not completely cliche), in order to not be completely overshadowed by the duo, much less the dog and his paw movement. The dinner sequence where all are seated in order to gradually explain the whodunit is particularly effective in execution in closing the romp. This is the kind of movie where a guy can sock someone from behind before getting into a scuffle or have lines like "didn't come anywhere near my tabloids", you should have a real good time with this movie. Regardless how the follow-up films went, Dyke cultivated in record time a work of useful entertainment that saw one of the best pairings in film history (Powell and Loy) come together for one of the most interesting films of its era that practically walks on air with its sophistication that all would be proud to be part of.

Overall, I give it 10 out of 10 stars.

The Old Fashioned Way.

Review #1883: The Old Fashioned Way.

Cast: 

W. C. Fields (The Great McGonigle / Squire Cribbs), Joe Morrison (Wally Livingston / William Dowton), Baby LeRoy (Albert Pepperday), Judith Allen (Betty McGonigle / Agnes Dowton), Jan Duggan (Cleopatra Pepperday), Tammany Young (Marmaduke Gump), Nora Cecil (Mrs. Wendelschaffer), Lew Kelly (Sheriff Walter Jones), Jack Mulhall (Dick Bronson), Oscar Apfel (Mr. Livingston), Samuel Ethridge (Bartley Neuville / Edward Middleton / The Drunkard), Ruth Marion (Agatha Sprague / Mary Wilson), and Richard Carle (Sheriff of Barnesville) Directed by William Beaudine (#463 - Billy the Kid versus Dracula, #535 - Bela Lugosi Meets a Brooklyn Gorilla, and #1153 - Jesse James Meets Frankenstein's Daughter)

Review: 

There was plenty of time for director to have their assignment involve W. C. Fields, who ended up in countless comedies over the 1930s, with varying results. William Beaudine was a director who churned out movies at a rate in quantity and genre distinction like no other, which meant that there is a crop of varying quality with his films, which he directed for decades when he started at the age of 23 in the 1910s (with features in next decade, with plenty of comedies around). Of course, Beaudine was the man for hire with Paramount Pictures in a string of movies that he done on assignment for various recognizable names such as Fox Film (later in the decade, with studios chafing at meeting his salary finances, which meant he eventually had to go with cheaper studios). This film was written by Jack Cunningham based on a story by "Charles Bogle", which was just another name for W. C. Fields that I'm sure you are familiar with him doing the same thing in other movies such as It's a Gift, released the same year as this. This is an interesting presentation: it shows scenes from a play that the characters in the movie play for a crowd with The Drunkard: or, The Fallen Saved, (written primarily by William Henry Smith with unknown collaborators) which was first performed in 1844. The play was a temperance play, which meant that it was a play meant to warn of the dangers of consuming alcohol (remember that the United States did an entire Amendment dedicated to banning it in the early 20th century). It was actually quite popular as something to produce across the States in the 19th century. While it may seem like dated melodrama of its time, there actually is a little theater in Tulsa that has done a production of the play one time a week for nearly seven decades. Even Buster Keaton made fun of the play with his own parody in 1940.

Million Dollar Legs (1932) was his first Paramount appearance (with a few shorts sprinkled in that were done by Mack Sennett), while International House (1933) made him even more popular that would keep on a road to taking the primary lead in films that came out later such as Tillie and Gus and then this film (there were a few little anthologies along the way to go with other films like David Copperfield (1935), of course). Of course, the film shows the play within audiences that would engage with the drama on its own terms (i.e. reaction shots) in emotional involvement, whether that means a woman telling her husband to watch his heart or a couple asking if they think "this" is a good play. The film verges on the huckster played by Fields and not so much on the weirdness of the play, because you think of it for yourself (so can either look on the nostalgia of 19th century audiences enjoying a play or whatever). He approaches things with lofty patience for what he knows will be amusing sequences for himself besides the necessary parts involving would-be romances or other things. He's a misanthrope in the most fun way possible, weaving his way through oddballs of adults and children for general interest…and he also shows his juggling skill to the audience, which he was pretty adept in the old days of vaudeville that is a key highlight. As a whole, the movie works best in his time on screen in general huckster amusement, where he can maneuver select lines and facial expressions without the semblance of tiredness or forcing it in, down to the logical conclusion set at the end. He seems adept at trying to convince folks (read: studio executives) that he can carry his own film without needing to be just part of the ensemble, which seems easy to prove now but obviously needed to be shown for clear enjoyment there, such as when he plays sly in the opening when trying to reach a train looking for his deadbeat self...which he handles adeptly. The stuff with Allen and Morrison is okay, mostly since it isn't just a single-minded pursuit of a girl (because hey, she wants him to get a life in college). Baby LeRoy is a baby, which means if you care for stuff involving him "throwing" stuff, then it works fine. If one prefers to see Fields play a charlatan rather than a family man, then go right ahead. I thought it worked out fine for a serviceable pace that is easygoing enough for most folks to enjoy without losing focus. It isn't exactly his most distinct feature, but it works out in all the useful ways needed to make it worth a watch.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

It's a Gift.

Review #1858: It's a Gift.

Cast: 

W.C. Fields (Harold Bissonette), Kathleen Howard (Amelia Bissonette), Jean Rouverol (Mildred Bissonette), Julian Madison (John Durston), Tommy Bupp (Norman Bissonette), Tammany Young (Everett Ricks), Baby LeRoy (Baby Elwood Dunk), Morgan Wallace (Jasper Fitchmueller), Charles Sellon (Mr. Muckle), Josephine Whittell (Mrs. Dunk), Diana Lewis (Betty Dunk), and Dell Henderson (Charles Abernathy) Directed by Norman Z. McLeod (#688 - Horse Feathers, #1346 - Topper, and #1829 - Topper Takes a Trip)

Review: 

There are quite a handful of movies one could watch that feature W. C. Fields (silent or sound), whether it features him playing a hard-drinking misanthrope or an everyman. Generally, the characters he played in those movies (starring roles at least) were in the former category, but this is one of his roles in the latter. Jack Cunningham is the credited writer for the movie, although it is the adaptation material that matters most. J.P. McEvoy was the original author of the musical revue that became The Comic Supplement, a 1925 production that had W.C. Fields write his own scenes (incidentally, when he did film scripts, he liked to go under false names like Otis Criblecoblis); you may remember that Fields had done many years of vaudeville and Broadway before he did movies. Fields was a vaudeville star. Fields cribbed routines from the 1910s and 1920s with this film, most notably with the sketch involving a back porch that he had done in It's the Old Army Game (1926). Fields was quite busy in 1934, with this being the sixth feature he appeared in that year, with a sudden decline in health eventually leading him to less roles over the next couple of years.

Fields obviously knows what is best when it comes to light fare that feature select wisecracks for 68 minutes that has the bare minimum in plot for a decent experience. He handles the routines presented here with careful timing and preparation that stages things exactly the way one hopes for, whether that involves a scene where he tries to go to sleep amid a series of inconveniences. Being the hen-pecked man in the middle works out for the most part when paired with Howard in razor-sharp edge more so than the child presences in Rouverol and Bupp that are more in the background with occasional bits to pop in (such as a picnic or a winding sequence with a mirror). This is the third and final feature to feature Baby LeRoy in a Fields movie (he and Fields also made cameo appearances separately with Alice in Wonderland (1933), also directed by McLeod), with the first two being Tillie and Gus (1933) and The Old Fashioned Way (1934). Yes, there was a time when babies were billed like this; Ronald Le Roy Overacker was featured in ten movies from 1933 to 1935. McLeod stated that Fields had a phobia of the baby (and infants in general) to the point where he swore at the baby in front of the camera. Honestly, there isn't much to really say about him, since it's just one scene of a baby doing things that are meant to be wacky like touching a molasses spigot or whatever. Young, Wallace, and Sellon are all featured in one scene with the grocery store: one plays a blind man that Fields tries to make him not suffer mishaps, one who really wants kumquats, and a bumbling fool. This works out for a couple of chuckles in a vignette Fields handles with worthy consistency to the foils presented to him in arrangement. In total, a steady amount of sequences that run for a few minutes at a time make for a decent experience, one that goes pretty much the way you think a movie ostensibly about a man trying to buy an orange grove. The fun is seeing what gets accomplished in generating humor with its key man freewheeling his way through for leisure and laughs that make for a decent experience to breeze through for those with an hour to spare or for those who want to see a Fields movie in his era of effectiveness.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

The Private Life of Don Juan.

Review #1845: The Private Life of Don Juan.

Cast: 

Douglas Fairbanks (Don Juan), Merle Oberon (Antonita), Binnie Barnes (Rosita), Melville Cooper (Leporello), Benita Hume (Dona Dolores), Owen Nares (Antonio Martinez), Heather Thatcher (Anna Dora), Joan Gardner (Carmen), Gibson Gowland (Don Alfredo), and Barry MacKay (Rodrigo) Directed by Alexander Korda (#1678 - The Private Life of Henry VIII)

Review: 

If there had to be a swansong for an actor that you could appreciate for what it did to generate a proper sendoff, I think this one might be appropriate for an actor at the stature of Douglas Fairbanks. At one point in time, he was "The King of Hollywood", one who went from comedy roles to swashbuckling features that made him one of the most memorable acting presences of the silent era, and it comes from an actor who entered film at the age of 32 after years of acting in the theater. Perhaps fittingly, the movie was distributed by United Artists, which Fairbanks had help co-found in 1919. His escapades in the silent era (which included him serving as producer and writer on several works) worked well right to his final silent feature in The Iron Mask (1929), which actually had a few select moments with sound. The Taming of the Shrew (1929), his first sound feature, was not particularly successful, and he slowed down his output of features with his health slowly declining due to years of smoking; his son, Douglas Fairbanks Jr, also became an actor with moderate stature that his father oversaw for a time. So yes, it wasn't just a case of Fairbanks having an unsuitable voice for sound films, he just happened to already had his great peak come and go in the previous era.. Now, at the age of 51, he was recruited by director/producer Alexander Korda (having made films in Hungary, Vienna, Berlin, the United States, and France) and his company London Film Productions, which had received attention the previous year for The Private Life of Henry VIII (incidentally, Korda would do an adaptation of The Thief of Bagdad in 1940, just sixteen years after Fairbanks had starred in the last one). It was his last starring role (he had a cameo appearance in one more film), as Fairbanks died five years later of a heart attack in 1939.

The film is based on the 1920 play L'homme à la Rose by Henry Bataille, with a screenplay written by Frederick Lonsdale and Lajos Bíró. The legend of the character Don Juan had been covered before with plays by Tirso de Molina, an opera with music by Mozart, and even an epic poem. This particular version of Don Juan reflects the actor clearly: middle-aged and trapped by his own legend to the point where the image is what survives most more so than the man (which reminds me of the image one would prefer to have about figures in their lives, such as an athlete or maybe an old friend). In that sense, the filmmakers have made an interesting farce that briefly muses on the dilemma that occurs for all folks reaching middle-age: how does one know when to leave the spotlight gracefully? You have a guy who thinks the best thing to escape the challenges of old age and a long-running bit is to have people assume he is dead, only to realize that the image of a young Don Juan in glory is more suitable for Seville rather than admitting the actual image. In short: you have to grow up sometime, because the adversary for the film isn't even one person, it is the idea that time will pass one by without looking (unless one counts authors documenting his exploits with artistic license an enemy). Fairbanks is surrounded by a cascade of women that hides his lessened cavalier action (i.e. climbing one wall rather than a handful), since this is a romantic comedy. With a run-time of 89 minutes, it does start off a bit slow, but it eventually gets its footing together with light chuckles with a fairly game Fairbanks trying to coast through what is needed. Oberon and Barnes make up a capable list of would-be lovers that inspire a bit of interest for the vague sensibility the movie has about men and women. Besides, it is Hume that is the one involved for the rapidly developed climax, one who is desperate for anything to latch onto with her wayward partner. Cooper is the beleaguered companion to the proceedings, wry to the situation presented without dragging the proceedings into anything other than light humor. As a whole, it doesn't quite reach the heights of Korda's big hit with Henry VIII (despite having a bit less studio-bound atmosphere than that film), but it at the very least seems solid enough for light enjoyment with semi-effective charm that matches its star with a look upon one's last journey without turning into an eulogy.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Double Door.

Review #1839: Double Door.

Cast: 

Evelyn Venable (Anne Darrow), Mary Morris (Victoria Van Brett), Anne Revere (Caroline Van Brett), Kent Taylor (Rip Van Brett), Guy Standing (Mortimer Neff), Colin Tapley (Dr. John Lucas), Virginia Howell (Avery), and Halliwell Hobbes (Mr. Chase) Directed by Charles Vidor.

Review: 

Sure, what is there to really expect from a movie that is billed in its opening credits as "The play that made Broadway gasp"? The play was written by Elizabeth A. McFadden and had been performed in 1933. The film script was done by Jack Cunningham and Gladys Lehman, who each wrote dozens of films in Hollywood. Who knows where the inspiration came from, but one can always wonder where the minds of eccentric millionaires go to wander, whether that involves the current age or famous ones like the Wendel family, a New York family with a famously frugal head brother that ruled over the affairs of his sisters with iron grip (the last of the Wendels died in 1931). Morris and Revere are reprising their roles from the original production, as done in New York for over a hundred performances. This was the third feature film for Charles Vidor (second credited). Born in Hungary, he developed an interest in film after serving in World War I, and he moved to the United States in 1922. He worked as an assistant to Alexander Korda alongside other jobs in productions before his first film in The Bridge (1929 short) got him his first chances to work with studios. He worked with a variety of studios such as MGM, Monogram Pictures, and Paramount Pictures before his death in 1959 at the age of 58.

Well, it is a chamber thriller full of petty domestic strife that seems ripe for a stage-bound film like this, one with name actors in a production that doesn't need many sets or much to really drive itself beside careful pacing. Think about it: you really would not change too much going from stage to film even now, if only because adding shades of gray to the lead character wouldn't really add to much to the overall story that can be boiled down to "crazy relatives with too much money and time to spend on people". The 75 minute run-time means a fairly efficient film that doesn't go off to any unnecessary tangents or become overdrawn in hysterics. Morris (not to be confused with the Fijian-British actress of the same name) studied at Radcliffe College and made her professional debut on stage in 1916 (where she would act for the next forty years); she made exactly one film appearance: this film, doing so at the age of 39. Yes, you read that right, because here she is playing a character likely twice her actual age and doing so with no real trouble at all. This results in quite a steely performance, one with the timing of a rattlesnake waiting to stalk prey that fits the bill of one loves to hate. Venable is technically the other main star (i.e. the outsider in a family drama), and she does fine in making a suitable presence to follow without just being a goody-goody broomstick actor. The climax between the two involving a soundproof vault door proves suitable in terms of wicked interest (seeming a bit like The Cask of Amontillado). Taylor is the man in the middle, and he does alright in maintaining balance for useful chemistry with Venable without being a pale square, capturing the machinations that come with trying to break free from what one was to become what one believes they should be. This was the first feature film for Revere, who would star in roughly three dozen features as a character actor alongside work in television and theater that resulted in an Academy Award and a Tony Award. She does well here in a performance built to be wrapped around Morris with desperation that proves quite convincing. Standing and the others are okay in being the neutral set-pieces to the action (that word is used for confrontations of words, remember), since no one really overacts or under-acts the scenarios presented. The final shot is a doozy, since it actually ends with someone giving out a scream before the "The End" title card appears. As a whole, the movie proves suitable for a watch for what it draws in its effective one-of-a-kind performance from Morris and the rest of the crew with useful pacing from Vidor that makes for a solid recommendation on a curious day.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

The Goddess.

Review #1786: The Goddess.

Cast: 

Ruan Lingyu (The "Goddess"), Zhang Zhizhi ("Boss" Zhang), Lai Hang (The Son), and Li Junpan (The Principal) Written and Directed by Wu Yonggang.

Review: 

"When I first set out to write about the goddesses, I wished to show more of their real lives, but circumstances would not permit me to do so."

Undoubtedly, there are quite a few stories to feature in the cinema of China (one that saw its first film made there in 1905), particularly with its golden age, for which the 1930s is generally considered the prime era. Silent and sound films both came out in this era, and it was the "progressive" features of that era that attracted the most popularity, ones that emphasized class struggles (of course, the invasion of the country by Japan in 1937 would put an end into the era). Yonggang Wu was born in Shanghai in 1907. He had gotten into film as an art director and costume design before he made his first film with this one, which he also wrote the script for. He would work for over half a century in film for various companies in China such as the Lianhua Film Company. Of course, one can't forget about Ruan Lingyu, whose star performance here ended up being one of her defining roles. She had been an actress since 1927 (at the age of 17). In her eight years of acting, she became a well-noted film star in the country. However, this was also her penultimate film before her death at the age of 24, owing to struggles in her personal life that led to suicide (her funeral ended up being wildly covered by her fans, while Center Stage (1991) covered her life to the curious interest of many audiences in China and beyond).  

It is responsibility that drives the film when it comes to making a movie involving self-sacrifice. There had been quite a few movies involving a lead character striving to make a better life for their offspring (such as say, Stella Dallas, for example), but I'm sure most folks would agree that the movie does well in wringing interest in a subject matter that isn't exploited in the way one might see from a lesser filmmaker (or standards); of course, I'm sure most of you can guess that the title actually has a double meaning in both occupation and in protection. In other words: it doesn't go for straight pity, instead providing perspective on the suffering that comes in the life of both adult and child without needing to provide an easy solution (granted, it explores a bit of the social cause of said profession through one character, but still). At any rate, it has quite the emotional appeal to make its 85-minute run-time all the more worth seeing, owing to Lingyu first and foremost. She plays a tender hand to vulnerability with the right sense of timing and patience that does everything needed to generate a warm and loving presence that the film needs to shine with all the poignant moments needed, whether when paired against Zhang or with Lai. The film might not have any obvious answers to consider by its climax, but its gritty nature and general tone make a worthy winner. Ultimately, it isn't hard to see why this serves as one of the key achievements of Chinese cinema. In terms of silent films, it also ranks well pretty well on that scale, wrangling in a curious drama with a carefully confined cast with one shining light and an adept director making their first mark in cinema.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

Next Time: My Man Godfrey (1936).

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.

Babes in Toyland (1934).

Review #875: Babes in Toyland.

Cast:
Stan Laurel (Stannie Dum), Oliver Hardy (Ollie Dee), Charlotte Henry (Little Bo-Peep), Felix Knight (Tom-Tom Piper), Henry Brandon (Silas Barnaby), Florence Roberts (Mother Widow Peep), Virginia Karns (Mother Goose), Pete Gordon (The Cat and the Fiddle), Angelo Rossitto (Elmer the Pig), Zebedy Colt (Willie the Pig), Payne B. Johnson (Jiggs the Pig), Marie Wilson (Mary Quite Contrary), Johnny Downs (Little Boy Blue), Alice Moore (the Queen of Hearts), John George (Barnaby's servant), Kewpie Morgan (Old King Cole), Ferdinand Munier (Santa Claus), Robert Hoover (Bobby Shaftoe), Charley Rogers (Simple Simon), Jean Darling (Curly Locks), Billy Bletcher (the Chief of Police), and William Burress (the Toymaker) Directed by Gus Meins and Charley Rogers.

Review:
Considering that I had never seen a Laurel and Hardy film in the near six year run of Movie Night, it only made sense to do this film right near the holidays. Based off the operetta of the same name, Babes in Toyland (later re-released under the title March of the Wooden Soldiers) is a fairly engaging movie that has a good deal of sets, imagination, and songs that really make for an entertaining watch. Laurel and Hardy have great chemistry and timing together, sharing rip-roaring scenes, such as the peewee scene. They also have some fine exchanges, along with some good wordplay. The rest of the cast is also pretty good, with Henry and Knight sharing a few songs and some chemistry together that contribute to make for such a lively and interesting film. The climax with the wooden soldiers is also pretty charming, filled with joy and some technical achievement, complete with Laurel and Hardy getting in on some fun. The costumes are also pretty good as well, with a world like Toyland being so creatively designed. There are different versions of the film (one of which cuts the film to 67 minutes from the original 77), with a colorized version also existing, which looks fairly decent, but if you're interested in the film, always try to find the best version for a movie as good-hearted as this.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

Movie Night: It Happened One Night.

Review #456: It Happened One Night.

Cast
Clark Gable (Peter Warne), Claudette Colbert (Ellie Andrews), Walter Connolly (Alexander Andrews), Roscoe Karns (Oscar Shapeley), Jameson Thomas (Westley), Alan Hale (Danker), and Arthur Hoyt (Zeke) Directed by Frank Capra (#102 - Mr. Smith Goes to Washington and #319 - It's a Wonderful Life)

Review

It's been a while, but after a little (six day) break (also replace that word with: laziness), I got back on to watching a movie, and this was the film I landed on. Clark Gable does a fine job in this film, he doesn't overcrowd the film itself, Colbert also does a fine job, she manages to be engaging, and she also shines well in the hitchhiking scene, probably one of the more memorable scenes ever filmed. It's just so amusing to see her lift up her leg and immediately get a ride. Capra as usual does a fine job with his characters, and it has its moments of amusement. It's the basis for many, many, many romantic comedies, but this one is still the best. It's a fine film overall.

Overall, I give it 10 out of 10 stars.