The Milky Way (1936).

Review #2369: The Milky Way.

Cast: 

Harold Lloyd (Burleigh "Tiger" Sullivan), Adolphe Menjou (Gabby Sloan), Verree Teasdale (Ann Westley), Helen Mack (Mae Sullivan), William Gargan (Speed McFarland), George Barbier (Wilbur Austin), Dorothy Wilson (Polly Pringle), Lionel Stander (Spider Schultz), and Marjorie Gateson (Winthrop Lemoyne) Directed by Leo McCarey (#085 - Duck Soup, #1350 - Love Affair, #1394 - An Affair to Remember)

Review: 

It does hurt, in a sense, to reach the near end of the Harold Lloyd run. The Milky Way was the fifth sound movie that he starred in, which if you remember correctly, were not exactly comparable to his silent output in terms of audience appeal. By this point, he wasn't even the producer of his own movies and now he was 43 (to say nothing of the fact that every movie made after 1919 was done with a special glove to hide the fact that he had just eight fingers). The year after this movie was released, Lloyd sold the land of his studio to the Latter-day Saints, and the year after that saw him star in his last sound movie for nearly ten years. With this movie, it was based off Lynn Root & Harry Clork's 1934 play of the same name*, and three screenwriters are credited with this adaptation: Grover Jones, Frank Butler**, and Richard Connell. Evidently the movie was the byproduct of casting shuffles, as apparently it was originally developed in mind with Jack Oakie to star, and somehow Ida Lupino was in talks to play the role ultimately played by Dorothy Wilson before Lupino got sick and bowed out. This was the tenth of thirteen movies that McCarey made in the 1930s, one made in between Ruggles of Red Gap [1935] and Make Way for Tomorrow [1937] (incidentally, McCarey actually was the son of a fight promoter; the USC law school graduate even tried boxing before trying his hand at getting involved with film and went from gagman to director). A handful of cast mates and McCarey got sick during production and apparently it fell to Norman Z. McLeod and Ray McCarey to shoot a few sequences (uncredited). The play has been filmed one time since, with The Kid from Brooklyn (1946), as produced by Samuel Goldwyn with Danny Kaye in the lead role of a musical comedy (Lionel Stander happened to appear in both movies). As you might expect from the old days of trying to corner the market, Goldwyn had purchased the original negative of the 1936 movie, pulled them from circulation and nearly every print in order to destroy them. Of course, he didn't get all of them, and the best version of the movie actually is one that came from a print preserved by Lloyd himself. 

It does help to have some zip for a comedy, yes. The last of his sound movies with The Cat's Paw (1934) was relatively successful in having a pairing of Lloyd with an established supporting presence (George Barbier) that wasn't about just bumbling around with middle-ground romance, and even Movie Crazy (1932) had some promise too. The 88-minute runtime for this movie basically leaves the film with two distinct segments: Lloyd doing Lloyd elements (to a point) and the attempts at verbal jabs and occasional visual stuff. The movie does pretty well, for the most part, mostly because it has the composure of confidence for both filmmaker and in cast, mainly because it isn't just bumbling around with misunderstandings (it instead plays on one guy trying to hustle both the media and a fighter) that might be Lloyd's most accomplished movie since oh, probably Speedy (1928). You've got a guy being trained to fight by playing it tune to the waltz and antics with a horse to go with brief interludes in the ring (and a horse, I suppose). I like the distinct difference Lloyd gets to play before and after getting in the ring in terms of heightened confidence. Menjou and Stander makes their moments count with such worthy timing in terms of huckster pride (with the latter having a voice practically made for it) that keeps the movie fresh beyond just looking at Lloyd or the varying moments spent around Teasdale, Mack, or Wilson (who are equally fine). While you might know just what is coming around the corner for a chunk of its tenure, there is still enough interest generated by the energy that is present on screen, such as with its resourcefully quick ending to generate a worthwhile ending. As a whole, Lloyd's one play at the screwball movie with McCarey in tow is a fine one, having enough fun with antics and a game cast to make a worthwhile curiosity worth looking into.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

*It's funny to be semi-reminded of Battling Butler (1926), which dealt with Buster Keaton playing a guy being involved with a deception involving boxing, although that was based on its own play and is clearly distinct from The Milky Way; by coincidence, Chaplin also did a boxing sequence with City Lights (1931). But hey, never hurts to name drop.

**That would future Academy Award-winning writer Frank Butler to go along with future Academy Award winning director/writer McCarey, as Butler's collaboration with Frank Cavett for the screenplay to McCarey's Going My Way [1944] won an Academy Award, although that was a weird year in general, because McCarey's story for the film also wound up getting him an Academy Award for "Best Story" which well, goes to show what awards come and go.

The Three Musketeers (1921).

Review #1868: The Three Musketeers.

Cast: 

Douglas Fairbanks (d'Artagnan), Adolphe Menjou (Louis XIII), Léon Bary (Athos), George Siegmann (Porthos), Eugene Pallette (Aramis), Mary MacLaren (Anne of Austria), Nigel De Brulier (Cardinal Richelieu), Thomas Holding (Duke of Buckingham), Marguerite De La Motte (Constance Bonacieux), Willis Robards (Captain de Treville), Boyd Irwin (Comte de Rochefort), Barbara La Marr (Milady de Winter), Lon Poff (Father Joseph), and Walt Whitman (d'Artagnan's Father) Directed by Fred Niblo (#1677 - The Mark of Zorro)

Review: 

Surprise! It is time to do another themed August - Action August! Throughout the month, I will cover a variety of action movies, from old-fashioned to the current times. The goal is to cover a minimum of ten features with wide degrees of action that isn't just reserved for the United States, so let's see where that road takes us...

If you remember correctly, Hollywood loves their book adaptations, particularly if they can find some fighting in the prose to put into its feature. This is the case with this film, an adaptation of the 1844 novel of the same name, which had been written by Alexandre Dumas (the elder Dumas is referred to as père [French for father] to distinguish him from his son of the same name). Musketeer Charles de Batz de Castelmore d'Artagnan proved the inspiration for Dumas, as Gaiten de Courtilz de Sandras had utilized d'Artagnan for his own novel with certain fiction. Dumas wrote two further novels that were published in serial form involving the Musketeers that are called The d'Artagnan Romances (1844, 1845, 1847-50); the first novel has the most adaptations, although the third novel in The Vicomte of Bragelonne has had numerous adaptations as well, generally adapting the third part of the book in "The Man in the Iron Mask" (since the book in general has 268 chapters). The movie was apparently set to be shot in France, but time constraints and the decision of Fairbanks to not travel abroad meant that the movie would be done in the Pickford-Fairbanks Studios lot in Hollywood with a few exterior shots in France. Edward Knoblock served as the adapter for the material from film to screen, while Lotta Woods served as scenario editor while Douglas Fairbanks was uncredited for his writing of the screenplay, and Fairbanks also served as producer. Fairbanks, De La Motte, De Brulier, and Bary would reprise their roles for The Iron Mask (1929).

If you've seen The Mark of Zorro (1920) or his later work with Robin Hood (1922), you pretty much know what you are going to get with Fairbanks in terms of swashbuckling dazzlement. Granted, at 120 minutes it does run a bit long for comfort, but it is a useful comfort that generally rewards the patience of its viewer with dazzling costumes and select moments of action with swords that does pretty much what you would expect from a silent era movie without troubles. Fencing expert H.J. Uyttenhove choregraphed the fight scenes, which worked well right up until one had to tell Fairbanks to try to be orthodox about handling a rapier, which results in him jumping around with a certain kind of energy that could make a fencer go mad but make others go wild. Imagine a 38-year-old going around with a blade and not having a degree of fun show once, particularly since it is a silent venture where Fairbanks thrived best. Since he is the one behind a loose adaptation of the material (in other words, a sanitization meant to send the folks home happy), it results in a fairly engaging experience, one in which he is the main attraction without making it sound like an ego-trip for the sake of chewing all of the attention, moving with energy in ways that would make an audience member await adventure avidly. The others are by and large fine at the costume stuff in never doddering their eyes, with Menjou courting the camera well enough to go with De Brulier and his invasive presence behind the scenes. Siegmann and the other two title members are mainly there to accompany action shots, but they do okay, if only because the whole point is to watch Fairbanks with company. MacLaren, De La Motte and La Marr make quality contrasts to one another in grace and guile, and generally one doesn't lose things in the shuffle. The action with the blades proves quite diverting and never seems to override one's senses or suspension of disbelief.  The action film has been around since film began, right down to The Great Train Robbery (1903). The action film has had many faces over a century, whether involving swashbuckler adventures or war-adventures or with jidaigeki films or with detective features. As a whole, The Three Musketeers maintains a worthy level of excitement with its rendition of the swashbuckler that makes it a useful piece to consider in the history of action films or with the history of its actor/producer/writer in Douglas Fairbanks that makes for a fair recommendation for those into silent cinema or to see the seedlings of action cinema take shape.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

A Farewell to Arms.

Review #1611: A Farewell to Arms.

Cast: 

Helen Hayes (Catherine Barkley), Gary Cooper (Lieutenant Frederic Henry), Adolphe Menjou (Major Rinaldi), Mary Philips (Helen Ferguson), Jack La Rue (Priest), Blanche Friderici (Head Nurse), Mary Forbes (Miss Van Campen), and Gilbert Emery (British Major) Directed by Frank Borzage.

Review: 

It is easy to say a film is overdue to cover when you can see it any time you like, which is particularly true for this film. It was originally distributed by Paramount Pictures, but somehow it managed to fall into the public domain when its copyright was not renewed. This was a film released in the middle of the career of established director Frank Borzage, who by this point in time was the second director to have received two Academy Awards for Best Director (he started his career in 1916, after having appeared in a few short films) with dramas such as 7th Heaven (1927) and Bad Girl (1931). The screenplay was done by Benjamin Glazer (who also co-produced the film) and Oliver H.P. Garrett, which was based on the novel of the same name by Ernest Hemingway. He had written the novel in 1929 that was based on his experiences in World War I, in which he served in the Italian Front (his stint in a Milan hospital with treatment from a nurse that he fell in love with, was dramatized into a film of its own with In Love and War decades later). This is the first of two film adaptations, with the other being released in 1957. This film was released before the advent of a tighter Production Code (hence content like abandoned duty and babies born out of wedlock and such), which means that one has a mix of romanticism and cynicism that proves quite enjoyable.

The film received four Academy Award nominations with Best Picture, Best Art Direction, Best Cinematography, Best Sound, and it won in the latter two categories, certainly earning a merit as some sort of prestige picture for its time. In other words, it is the kind of movie that you can look to and highlight from the curious era of the 1930s, just making its way out of the silent era while continuing the trend of adapting notable works of literature with spin for its target audience that just happen to deal with either war, romance, or a bit of both (besides, the Best Picture winner that this film lost to happened to involve drama and coverage of war - the inferior Cavalcade (1933), naturally). In that sense, even if Hemingway wasn't exactly thrilled by the film's tone compared to his book, I'm sure one will find enough to enjoy in a romance rift with energy and tragedy. Featured as our stars are two rising stars that would become famous names in time. Hayes was already an actress by the time she was a teenager (she is known as "First Lady of American Theatre" for a reason), and her debut in feature film with The Sin of Madelon Claudet (1931) garnered an Academy Award for her. She reportedly developed a crush on Cooper during production, and it is clear to see a brimming honesty coming from her that makes for a well performance in vulnerability. Cooper had been established as a star with film roles such as The Winning of Barbara Worth (1926) and The Virginian (1929), so it only seems appropriate to see him in a strong brimming kind of film like this, where he towers a bit over Hayes (by at least a foot, although the camera angles certainly help sometimes) that makes for an interesting romantic courtship. He composes himself well in careful charisma like a mighty oak tree, one might say. Not to be forgotten is Menjou, a name actor in silent and sound films (with a select group of lead roles owning to his suave nature that served for a five decade career), playing cavalier with Cooper that works quite well in turning the screws for what is needed without fiddling the mustache in scene-chewing. Philips goes along okay, although it is La Rue who makes memorable effort in a "wedding" sequence in the middle of the film. There were actually two endings to the film, depending on preferences of the theater at the time of release, with one following the novel and the other being more optimistic. Hemingway, displeased already by the altering of tone with his novel into less cynical, was angered by the decision for theater owners. One silver lining is that he struck up a friendship with Cooper that lasted for over 20 years (and he surely must have found it engaging to see Cooper star in another adaptation of his work a decade later). In any case, what we have here is a fine film to see play out for 88 minutes in classic traditional fare for those who like that sort of thing. It isn't great, but it certainly represents a well effort for its stars and director in entertainment, for which one can fit their curiosity for any time they like.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

The Front Page (1931).

Review #1336: The Front Page.

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

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

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

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

The Sheik (1921).

Review #1318: The Sheik.

Cast: 
Rudolph Valentino (Sheik Ahmed Ben Hassan), Agnes Ayres (Lady Diana Mayo), Ruth Miller (Zilah), George Waggner (Yousaef), Frank Butler (Sir Aubrey Mayo), Charles Brinley (Mustapha Ali), Lucien Littlefield (Gaston), Adolphe Menjou (Raoul de Saint Hubert), and Walter Long (Omair) Directed by George Melford.

Review: 
It is interesting to see where a career can go when it comes to a person's legacy. What does one think when they see the name of Rudolph Valentino? They see a matinee idol, a person who became a romantic symbol for Hollywood whose star rose like a comet and vanished just as quickly, with a leading career that lasted less than a decade. He had gotten his start in films as an extra after emigrating to the United States from Italy in 1913, with his debut allegedly being in a lost film named My Official Wife (1914). His major break was the film The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse (1921), which occurred after June Mathis had discovered him during one of his extra appearances. In any case, the film proved to be a major success, making him into a star overnight. He appeared in four further films in that same year, but this is the one that would help seal his reputation and image as a "Latin lover" for the rest of his brief career. This was an adaptation of the 1919 romance novel of the same name by Edith Maude Hull and was adapted for the screen by Monte M. Katterjohn. It should be noted that James Kirkwood, Sr was the original choice for the title role before he declined due to salary concerns. Valentino had jumped studios to do this film (done at Paramount), feeling less than satisfied with Metro Pictures (who you may recognize from their 1924 merger with Goldwyn Pictures and Louis B. Mayer Pictures to make Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer).

In any case, one wonders how this desert romance holds up when looked at through the lens of a near century since its release. The immediate thought that went through my head before viewing it was "Stockholm syndrome" (involving someone developing a psychological alliance with captors during captivity). If one views it as a period piece, perhaps one can find a bit of surreal enjoyment, particularly for a film that even uses one of its final title-cards to say that its title character is actually European (English/Spanish, actually, but whose counting?). Look, the film is a bit weird. However, it cannot be denied that there is still a bit of fiery staying power for this film, having a hypnotically passionate Valentino that rises above being billed second to Ayres (whose career also started with small roles in 1914) to make something that keeps the eyeballs focused on something that teeters on corniness while trying to fit into escapism. Ayres does fine, although one might think the romantic angle was more of a tease than anything (the novel was far more controversial with its duo involving rape and plenty of stereotypes, so imagine the studio trying to be careful with the censor boards). The others are okay, in the same way that they certainly look like they want to be there making gestures and seem useful to something that seems mildly ready to inspire passion for 80 minutes. The film is fairly diverting enough to overcome its rickety foundations, where one can look at its main stars without it seeming completely off-putting or ridiculous. There were two more films involving the Sheik, with The Son of the Sheik (1926) starring both Valentino (in a double role that proved to be his last before his death that same year) and Ayres. A comedic role reversal named She's a Sheik with Bebe Daniels was released the following year. This is one of those unlikely films that finds a place in movie history. One wonders how it would've endured if was made in any other time other than the early 1920s, such as if it was made seven years earlier or later, but there is something mystical about it attracts attention even after nearly a century. Valentino may have lived as an idol for only five years, but his mark still comes through today as someone to look at on the screen.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

A Woman of Paris.

Review #1041: A Woman of Paris.

Cast: 
Edna Purviance (Marie St. Clair), Clarence Geldart (Marie's Father), Carl Miller (Jean Millet), Lydia Knott (Jean's Mother), Charles K. French (Jean's Father), Adolphe Menjou (Pierre Revel), Betty Morrissey (Fifi), and Malvina Polo (Paulette) Directed by Charlie Chaplin (#353 - Monsieur Verdoux, #599 - The Kid, #600 - City Lights, #759 - The Gold Rush, #775 - Shoulder Arms, #820 - Modern Times, #923 - The Pilgrim, and #1025 - The Circus)

Review: 
The film (sometimes referred to as A Woman of Paris: A Drama of Fate) begins with a preamble: "To The Public -- In order to avoid any misunderstanding, I wish to announce that I do not appear in this picture. It is the first serious drama written and directed by myself. Charles Chaplin." This was the first film that Chaplin distributed through United Artists, which he had founded with D. W. Griffith, Mary Pickford and Douglas Fairbanks in 1919; the film was released seven months after the release of The Pilgrim (#923) through First National Pictures. The film was meant to help boost Purviance's career, although this did not happen. This was her last starring role prior to her retirement from acting in 1927. At the time, Chaplin was well known for his comedic works, and despite Chaplin's statements over how one should enjoy this film as a drama, it didn't prove too appealing for audience and thus it was not a success. The film was re-issued in 1976 by Chaplin with a new musical score along with having a shorter run-time due to cuts, which shortened the run-time from 82 minutes to 78.

With all of that history that I mentioned, how is the film? I think that the movie is fairly well-made, much like other Chaplin-directed films that preceded and followed this film, being constructed fine enough within its drama. I wouldn't consider it any too great, but I'd say that it would likely fit as a hidden gem. The film doesn't fall prey to too many cliches with regard to its characters, having a bit of originality along with some clever touches. Purviance does a fine job with what she's given, having a bit of alluring nature to her while not falling prey to being too obvious with her movements. Miller does an okay job, giving a performance that isn't anything too special, but it isn't anything that ruins the mood. Menjou is the one who stands out the best, having an air of sophistication that works to his advantage in making an entertaining performance. The other cast members do fine jobs for what they are meant to do, with the parents being interesting contrasts to their offspring. It's a bit of a morality play, but at least it isn't any too overblown or too out of the bend, for lack of a better phrase. It may take a bit of time for the film to really get itself going, but it manages to have some sort of impact by the time it gets to its climax.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

A Star Is Born (1937).

Review #973: A Star Is Born.

Cast: 
Janet Gaynor (Esther Blodgett/Vicki Lester), Fredric March (Norman Maine), Adolphe Menjou (Oliver Niles), May Robson (Grandmother Lettie), Andy Devine (Daniel "Danny" McGuire), Lionel Stander (Matt Libby), Owen Moore (Casey Burke), Peggy Wood (Miss Phillips), Elizabeth Jenns (Anita Regis), Edgar Kennedy (Pop Randall), and J. C. Nugent (Mr. Blodgett) Directed by William A. Wellman (#349 - Wings, #494 - The Public Enemy, and #866 - Nothing Sacred)

Review: 
A Star Is Born is certainly a interesting film about the insides of Hollywood (made by people in the system), with a fair amount of melodrama and good performances all around. A Star Is Born is a neat flick that has had the fortune of being remade three times (1954 and 1976, with one coming out in 2018), but this one and its legacy cannot be understated; the fact that the film is in the public domain and is readily available doesn't hurt either. Gaynor has a fine capable charm to her that makes it easy to follow along with her on her path, and she even makes some neat impersonations of actors of the time. March does a fine job as well, portraying his self -destructive arc quite capably that fits in line with the tone of the film. They have a fine amount of chemistry together, seeming quite at ease with each other, with their last scene being quite fitting. Menjou is fairly interesting, making a decent and convincing impression. Robson and her character are quite quirky along with being useful to the film for the most part. Devine and his distinct raspy voice make for a fine side role that makes for some amusement. Stander does a fine job, showing the smarmy nature of his character that comes off as convincing along with helping to giving the film an edge of cynicism. It's not a film mired in optimism (nor pessimism), as it's a film that wants to show the glow along with the drama that goes on with Hollywood, albeit with some inspiration from real life, such as the marriage of Barbara Stanwyck and Frank Fay, though the film has some similarity to What Price Hollywood? (1932), and the studio that had made that film (RKO) had thought about suing Selznick International Pictures (the production company for this film) for plagiarism but had decided against it.

The cinematography by W. Howard Greene is quite nice, showcasing a fair amount of color that certainly stood out for the time. He was given an honorary Academy Award for his color photography on the film (fun fact: from 1936 to 1938, Special Achievement Academy Awards were given for color films, and from 1939-1967 (except for 1957), there were separate awards for black-and-white and color cinematography). This won the Academy Award for Best Writing (Original Story, which is now known as Best Original Screenplay), and it's not hard to see why. It has its heart and mind in the right place while running at a smooth pace of 110 minutes that doesn't have a minute of false nature to it.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.