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.

Tobacco Road.

Review #1827: Tobacco Road.

Cast: 

Charley Grapewin (Jeeter Lester), Marjorie Rambeau (Sister Bessie Rice), Gene Tierney (Ellie May Lester), William Tracy (Dude Lester), Elizabeth Patterson (Ada Lester), Dana Andrews (Capt. Tim Harmon), Ward Bond (Lov Bensey), Slim Summerville (Henry Peabody), Grant Mitchell (George Payne), and Zeffie Tilbury (Grandma Lester) Directed by John Ford (#398 - The Last Hurrah, #1324 - 3 Bad Men, #1349 - Stagecoach, #1372 - Fort Apache, #1392 - The Searchers, #1409 - The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance, and #1778 - 3 Godfathers)

Review: 

"We have no dirt in the picture. We’ve eliminated the horrible details and what we’ve got left is a nice dramatic story. It’s a tear-jerker, with some comedy relief. What we’re aiming at is to have the customers sympathize with our people and not feel disgusted.”

Sometimes even a famous director has a film falls through the cracks. This is one of those films, even with the source material it arose from: the 1932 novel of the same name, which had been written by Erskine Caldwell, which in turn was successful and controversial enough to spawn a play that had been written by Jack Kirkland that premiered on December 4, 1933. The play ran for nearly eight years over the span of two theatres for 3,182 performances, which is the second-longest running non-musical on Broadway. When it came time to possibly sign the right for a film adaptation, Kirkland wanted someone who would help to picturize the film with honesty and fearlessness (as they put it), or at the very least one that could make a useful profit. Of course, the idea to make a movie out of it took a number of years and negotiations due to objections from the Production Code, which thought the contents of the play would not be suitable for a film, which scuttled RKO Radio Pictures from their idea to do a film with Charles Laughton as the lead (as opposed to the lead star of the production, Henry Hull). By 1940, the responsibility would spring for 20th Century Fox, who the Production Code likely favored because they had just adapted The Grapes of Wrath (1940) into a feature film, and the director and writer would be the same for this one: John Ford and Nunnally Johnson, respectively. The studio decided to avoid any potential judgement by shooting in Sherwood Forest and Encino in California as opposed to Augusta, Georgia (since the title of the book refers to a road for tobacco, not the rivalry of the same name that involves the state of North Carolina). The film ended up making almost $2 million in box office returns on release, which means a fair success. Honestly, even peering at the synopsis of the book or play makes one curious on just how one really thought that making a rural comedy with such strange enthusiasm was a good idea. Aspects are familiar, since the play features tattered clothed sharecroppers with bad soil that means one can't make the crop or a proper living, and the family sees one of their own get married to a preacher before having to face the prospect of the bank taking over the property, complete with a prideful patriarch that wouldn't dream of working in a cotton mill. The play has been cited as a "challenging play", since it isn't just a tragedy or a comedy but a mix that ended up with bans in major cities as immoral; of course, the film doesn't feature the cleft lip for the character of Ellie May or the boneless nose of Sister Bessie, although apparently the constant honking of the car horn from the Dude character is actually in the book. The film runs at 84 minutes.

Of course, some folks (me) did not actually watch The Grapes of Wrath, but I am sure there are more folks who haven't seen Tobacco Road, particularly with all the other John Ford films out there; of course, I do imagine there are some folks who aren't quite as familiar with Ford's non-Western output. I am astounded at the idea that one could turn a book that features folks being burned to death and grotesque descriptions and utter depravity...and turn it into a weird mix of comedy and drama with a hopeful bow on top of it all but such is the life under a Production Code. Grapewin certainly must have been the lucky one in the whole proceedings, since it might have been strange to see a different studio try to consider someone like Walter Brennan or even Henry Fonda for the role. Instead, it went to a man that ran away from home to dabble in the circus and Broadway before becoming a film actor, with one of his films coincidentally being The Grapes of Wrath; one can only imagine how it feels to have a starring role at the age of 72. Actually, he does fine with the performance here, if only because he maintains a stubborn sense of lazy pride is probably the most endearing of the cast-mates, engaging without awful caricature. Rambeau does chew the scenery a bit as a ham, but at least it is a serviceable ham performance that homes in some sort of interest when it comes to weird hypocrisy that entails a bit of singing. Tierney is seemingly used just for shots of longing that might have worked in a more desperate film. Patterson does fine alongside Grapewin in terms of long-standing diligence in the face of squalor. Tracy fares the worst, if only because one does not want to hear so much hooting and hollering, which indeed includes him honking a car horn from time to time. Andrews and Bond are in the background for most of the film as if they are just name actors, but at least they seem game for "mild presence" and "goofball foil" types. Honestly, while I can understand the appeal of optimistic features, the movie just doesn't seem to ring the right notes to actually make it sound believable enough to work for a whole time. It seems too easy, too nice-looking, and too loud to really belong to the pantheon of memorable Ford films. Maybe there is something "subversive" in the maintained status of a proud family from Georgia or something, but one knows that even an average Ford film is still better than a mediocre movie, since it does manage to be efficient with its time in not wasting all of it. I can't exactly recommend the movie as one to start on when it comes to looking at John Ford, but I can say that it does what it wants to do in mild amusement and engagement without becoming completely interminable, so I suppose that can be more than enough for those curious enough for a film from long ago.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

It Happened on 5th Avenue.

Review #1613: It Happened on 5th Avenue.

Cast: 

Don DeFore (Jim Bullock), Gale Storm (Trudy O'Connor), Victor Moore (Aloyisius T. McKeever), Charles Ruggles (Michael J. "Mike" O'Connor), Ann Harding (Mary O'Connor), Grant Mitchell (Farrow), Edward Brophy (Patrolman Cecil Felton), Arthur Hohl (Patrolman Brady), Alan Hale, Jr. (Whitey Temple), and Dorothea Kent (Margie Temple) Directed by Roy Del Ruth (#395 - The Maltese Falcon (1931), #432 - The Babe Ruth Story, #807 - The Alligator People, #949 - The First Auto) 

Review: 

Once upon a time, there was a studio called Monogram Pictures. They were created to make cheap movies under the guise of two folks: Trem Carr and W. Ray Johnston in 1931. Several series came out of the scraps of former stars and fresh unknowns, whether it involved Westerns or the Bowery Boys. Fifteen years passed before an argument was made by producer Walter Mirisch to do work in costlier productions to evolve. The result was a new unit in Allied Artists Productions that would make more expensive films - in other words, they went from making films at a fraction of the usual Hollywood production to trying to make Hollywood budget-level films. Monogram Pictures continued on until 1953, while Allied Artists would make a variety of films for 31 years (which ranged from films like Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956) to Love in the Afternoon (1957) to Cabaret (1972), which they co-produced). This was the 63rd of 75 films that were directed by Roy Del Ruth, who one will recognize from his plentiful output of dramas, crime films, and various others (some obviously better than others). The film fell into the hands of Ruth after the rights of the story were brought to Allied Artists after Frank Capra let the rights to the script go. The film was written by Frederick Stephani and Herbert Clyde Lewis, who later received the only Academy Award nomination regarding this film for Best Story (for 17 years, the Academy Awards honored films with Original Screenplay, Screenplay, and Best Story...confusing, but this was the case), which it lost to another classic involving Christmas in Miracle on 34th Street (1947), which like this film also received subsequent remakes in television and radio.

What we have here is the quirky story of folks that move into a mansion while the owner happens to be away for the holidays...which just happen to lead into a love story, a redemption story, and so on and so forth (how the rich man disguised as a hobo is never recognized by anybody besides his ex-wife and daughter as the actual owner of the house is up to you to interpret, because I suppose house portraits aren't present). Basically, it is the kind of film that goes for the heart string of being a better person than just the size of a wallet, where the tramp can be a king, and heartwarming goo is plentiful. Actually, it is an okay film, although its place on the totem pole of Christmas movies depends on one's preferences. I certainly was surprised at first to hear about the connection with Capra and this film (or more specifically, the "almost" connection), but then I realize that Capra had done It's a Wonderful Life (1946), which was released four months before this film - the funny thing is that this was actually delayed for some unknown reason, as research suggests that this film was delayed six months in its release to line up with Easter of all things (as much as I would like to mock this for not being released on Christmas like it should be, Miracle on 34th Street was released a month after this film) - Capra, alongside other famous folks of the time, also gave a recommendation to the film. It sure is a shame too, because one is a film that became a (public domain) classic after it wasn't an initial success with audiences (which is played every year as a tradition), while the other was a light success (making $1.8 million on a budget of $1.2 million budget) that had a shelf life with other Monogram and Allied Artists films for a few decades that has a fair amount of air-time. Besides, both have those moments of trying to sweet-talk their audience with sentiment, but it just so happens one is more efficient at handling what is needed with a film like this at 115 minutes. In other words, it can be funny for those who like what it offers in sentiment, while others will want it the same as getting a hole drilled in their head. The acting is certainly alright from what is needed in earnest from a few solid actors that while not quite well known were at least ones known to give effort. For example, Moore had been an actor on Broadway (in 1896) before being brought in to appear in films beginning in 1915, and this was his fifth-to-last role; here, he is the patron of interlopers with warm kindness, which obviously makes for worthy appeal. DeFore had a steady work in theater and film that would find footing with the advent of television in the following decade, and while he may not make a great romance angle, he at least makes for a spirited effort in the can-do attitude that the film wants. Storm was an actress that spent twelve years acting with a variety of low-budget studios, mostly with Monogram (she ended her film career for television, which worked out for two lengthy sitcoms) - however, the strangest thing to note is that fact that while she sings in the film, it is actually just her lip-synching to someone else (decided by Ruth, much to her disappointment); she does fine here, although the idea of her playing a teenager (while being six years older) is probably a bit much to swallow. Ruggles (who did work in the theater, film, radio, and television in six decades of work) plays the stuffy comic elements well, although the redemption aspects seem a bit more silly in being drawn out. Honestly, it might have worked better with one real story to it, either keeping with the interlopers or the redemption of the rich man into a rich happy man, since instead we have a muddle heap of sap that can only go so far, one that makes a few gags go fine but otherwise feels like an odd egg in the cornucopia of Christmas material to look around for. If one is curious for something that isn't just the usual classic Christmas fare done every time, this might work out just fine. As a curiosity in the eyes of seeing a low budget studio trying to re-invent themselves, it most definitely has a place for cinema, average or not.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Movie Night: The Man Who Came to Dinner.

Review #501: The Man Who Came to Dinner.

Cast
Monty Woolley (Sheridan Whiteside), Bette Davis (Maggie Cutler), Ann Sheridan (Lorraine Sheldon), Richard Travis (Bertram H. Jefferson), Jimmy Durante (Banjo), Grant Mitchell (Ernest W. Stanley), Billie Burke (Daisy Stanley), Reginald Gardiner (Beverly Carlton), Elisabeth Fraser (June Stanley), George Barbier (Dr. E. Bradley), and Mary Wickes (Nurse Preen) Directed by William Keighley.

Review
Based on the comedy play of the same name, The Man Who Came to Dinner tries its best, and while it doesn't always succeed, it certainly hits more than it misses. Monty Woolley certainly is the big attraction of the film, and while he certainly is an odd fellow to watch, he is at least moderately funny to watch. Bette Davis is our leading actress, reportedly wanting the role solely due to wanting to play a comedic role for once, and she does a decent job at it. The rest of the cast is all well and good, and Durante is frantic, but effective. The film starts a bit slow, but it has its fun, and while it could be more, it's well enough, I suppose.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.