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.

Goin' to Town.

Review #2007: Goin' to Town.

Cast: 

Mae West (Cleo Borden), Paul Cavanagh (Edward Carrington), Gilbert Emery (Winslow), Marjorie Gateson (Mrs. Crane Brittony), Tito Coral (Taho), Ivan Lebedeff (Ivan Valadov), Fred Kohler (Buck Gonzales), Monroe Owsley (Fletcher Colton), and Grant Withers (Young Stud) Directed by Alexander Hall.

Review: 

Mae West made twelve films as an actress, if you can believe that. She was 39 when she made her debut with Night after Night (1932), and it was a comic relief role that she wrote her own dialogue for. That isn't a surprise when you consider that the Brooklyn native, who had been involved in shows from a young age, had cultivated a reputation on the stage for several years before signing a short deal with Paramount Pictures. 1933 saw her rocket into film name status with the releases of She Done Him Wrong and I'm No Angel, both featuring her with Cary Grant. Her trip of stardom subsided after The Heat's On (1943), one of only two films that she did not contribute to the script or dialogue in any shape or form, although she continued to do work in the stage and clubs, free from the preening censor-happy boards that had hindered her later film work (let it be known that the only time I decry lewd amusement is when it isn't particularly funny, such as with, say, Myra Breckinridge). As such, Goin' to Town saw her write the screenplay based on a story by Marion Morgan and George B. Dowell. Not to be forgotten is Alexander Hall, a theatre actor from a young age who worked as a silent actor before eventually moving on to production of film with editing, assistant directing, and well, contract directing. He directed a handful of films from 1932 to 1956, with Here Comes Mr. Jordan (1941) probably being his most notable feature.

The point of picking films on a whim is not so much to give a spotlight to just the best films one has to offer but doing films that, well, will give someone a spotlight worth talking about and then see what goes from there. As a 74-minute attempt at musical comedy, it is fine. West dominates one's attention with her mannerisms and some of her lines that seem to hit and miss in the idea of curtailed risqué, as if the idea of a woman trying to become a lady while having fun with the bounds of courtship needs to be toned in some sort of way. But West always seems on her element, one who simmers what would probably a bland pot of plot with a lesser actress and makes it a worthwhile time (how can one go wrong with lines such as "Juge, wherever there's a man concerned, I always do my best"?). Her fun is our fun, if you get around to it, as if in some ways you might want to enjoy a film like comfort food (note: please do not think of actors as food). She even tries the opera with a staging of Samson and Delilah, which is somewhat funny to consider. Emery is probably the most interesting of the supporting cast, probably because one has to really not try to make a butler / assistant seem bland, and he keeps things on the level. Cavanagh makes do with tolerable material of just being someone that looks like the kind of person that could tolerate the antics that come from West being West and vice versa (which basically means not looking annoyed to be on screen as a second banana); Owsley, meant to be a fool willing to do a loveless marriage, is fine in that regard when briefly with West. Gateson makes a quality adversary, one who ices things with West as if she was a pest that needed to be taken out of commission. As a whole, the movie has a few decent gags when it comes to West remarking upon what seems odd her to her in the idea of people and "manners" when it comes to what really matters for titles. It might not be the first film one should go with to look upon West, but it serves as a decent middle ground of watchable entertainment for those who are interested in seeing her at work, whether as writer or actor.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.