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Kansas City Princess (1934)
Aimless Film
Joan Blondell went from playing more reserved and respectable comedy relief roles to playing a caricature. She had good roles like 'Flips' Montague in "Make Me a Star," Vida Fleet in "Big City Blues," and Anne Roberts in "Blonde Crazy." Then, in 1934 she had quirky, wacky, and embarrassing roles like Vicki Wallace in "Smarty," Marie in "I've Got Your Number," and Rosie Sturgess in "Kansas City Princess." I still like Joan Blondell even if her agent was misguiding her.
"Kansas City Princess" was a nonsensical movie that didn't have a concrete plot. A manicurist named Rosie (Joan Blondell) was seeing an unsophisticated brute named Dynamite Carson (Robert Armstrong). Their relationship was odd and a bit scary. Dynamite pretty much claimed Rosie and she was too afraid to turn him down. It would've been a suspenseful thriller if it wasn't a comedy. Dynamite threatened everybody, and he even threatened Rosie a few times.
At one point, Rosie and her friend, Marie Callahan (Glenda Farrell), had to flee Kansas City to get away from Dynamite after Rosie lost the engagement ring he bought her. Dynamite was such a lunatic he followed the two women all the way to Paris.
The Tom and Jerry routine between Dynamite and Rosie and Marie put them in contact with a millionaire named Junior Ashcraft (Hugh Herbert), who was trying to ascertain if his wife was cheating on him or not. One botched plan and a lot of goofiness later, Junior proposed to Marie (who wanted to marry him for his money), and Rosie was doting over the abusive and potentially homicidal Dynamite. It was bizarre, wacky, and worst of all, not funny.
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Our Daily Bread (1934)
A Humbler American Dream
One thing "Our Daily Bread" (ODB) had going for it is that it didn't feature any high society folks, nor did it feature a tawdry romance, nor was it about becoming rich. ODB was about people at the bottom helping one another survive and have a little something they could call their own. It did, however, have one head-scratching character in it which I think was shoved into the plot to create drama. ODB was mainly about working class folks who joined to form a community based on collectively supporting each other through trading goods and services.
John and Mary Sims (Tom Keene and Karen Morley) were days from being evicted when they received a lifeline from John's uncle. He gifted them a parcel of land in a remote part of the state. It was a worthless piece of land that he couldn't sell, so he handed it over to the struggling couple to make something of the property.
What the two did was open up the multi-acre property to folks who had skills and talents to help develop the land and build a community. John wanted carpenters, mason workers, and farmers, but he still accepted preachers, barbers, and others so long as they were willing to work.
The community was growing and they'd elected John to be their leader. John was doing a fine job until the introduction of Sally (Barbara Pepper). Sally was driving through when her car broke down. They gave her shelter and she decided to stay. She had eyes on John and she was able to woo him with her blond hair and sex appeal.
The reason I didn't like this aspect of the movie was because her presence there didn't add up. She was a city gal through and through. She was used to nice clothes, make-up, night clubs, and men spending money on her. There was NONE of that there. It was nothing but toiling, limited resources, and no amenities. Her being there seemed like a cheap way for the writers to add drama which she did. John was about to leave the community he established in its most dire hour because of Sally, and I didn't like it.
I actually liked the movie as a whole. It was about the working poor joining together to make something for themselves even though it wasn't much. Everyone got a fresh start in this new community and everyone was sacrificing for the good of the whole. There were plenty of pitfalls and plenty of obstacles to overcome, there was no need to make a cheap floozy one of them.
Free on Tubi.
Cleopatra (1934)
I Don't Know What to Believe
Admittedly, I don't know anything about Cleopatra. I only know the name because of the 1963 movie starring Elizabeth Taylor. Per "Cleopatra" 1934, Cleopatra (played by Claudette Colbert) had the dubious distinction of losing Egypt to the Romans. She attempted to keep Egypt and her crown by hooking up with Julius Caesar (played by Warren William), and when that didn't work she wooed Marc Antony (played by Henry Wilcoxon).
"Cleopatra" was one of at least three films between 1933 and 1934 about female rulers. The other two were "Queen Christina" (1933) starring Greta Garbo and "The Scarlet Empress" (1934) starring Marlene Dietrich. I'd say "Cleopatra" was closer to "Queen Christina" in that both focused on love.
Cleopatra presented herself to Julius Caesar in attempts to save herself and her crown. She fell in love with him and he fell in love with her. It bought her country a temporary respite from Rome's forces, but it brought Julius an early death by him being branded a traitor.
Marc Antony and Octavian (played by Ian Kieth) became co-rulers when Julius was killed. They were united in their belief that Cleopatra should yield and be put in chains. Marc Antony had a plan for Cleopatra, but then even he fell in love with her. Eventually, she fell in love with him as well, making "Cleopatra" a sappy movie about another woman who can't help but fall in love. Given the slanted nature of early films, especially when it comes to women and people of color, I don't know what part of this melodramatic movie to believe.
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The Gay Divorcee (1934)
"Chance is the Fool's Name for Fate"
"The Gay Divorcee," (TGD) coincidentally, did not feature a divorcee. Mimi (Ginger Rogers) wanted a divorce, but her husband wouldn't grant her one. Divorce wasn't a favorable thing on film for the main character back then even when divorces were sought. Usually, regardless of what may have occurred, the main character would remain married. A divorce was inevitable in TGD because Guy (Fred Astaire) was in love with Mimi and he wasn't her husband.
This was Fred Astaire's first starring role. He was in "Dancing Lady" (1933), but I don't even remember him in it. In TGD he plays Guy Holden, a well known singer and dancer. He's not quite Bing Crosby with the singing, but he's got him beat in the dancing department.
Guy was smitten with Mimi the first time he saw her even though she gave him the cold shoulder. That set up a standard man-doggedly-pursuing-woman scenario with Guy hunting down Mimi and harassing her into liking him. When he finally made a bit of a breakthrough there was a silly miscommunication/misunderstanding scene that was supposed to be comedic, but tends to be frustrating for the viewer unless you find it funny. You know the scenario in which one question, or a few more words of clarification would solve the whole matter.
I hate that.
Misunderstanding-scene aside, the movie was pretty good. It was a musical, of course, which allowed Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers to show off their singing and dancing. Even Edward Everett-Horton, the perennial square, got in on the singing and dancing. He played the attorney trying to help Mimi get a divorce. Hopefully, this was his first and last musical.
Free on YouTube.
Dangerous Corner (1934)
What is Truth and How Much Should We Know?
"Dangerous Corner" begins with text reading:
"This is a story of what really happened... and what might have happened."
We were then introduced to our main characters at different intervals. There was Ann Peel (Virginia Bruce) and Charles Stanton (Melvyn Douglas). They were the talent scouts, in a sense, of a book publishing company. There was Robert Chatfield (Conrad Nagel), co-owner of the publishing company Whitehouse-Chatfield, and he was married to Freda (Erin O'Brien-Moore). There was Gordon Whitehouse (Henry Wadsworth), the other half of Whitehouse-Chatfield, who was Freda's brother and married to Betty (played by Betty Furness). Finally, there was Martin Chatfield (Ian Keith) who also had a role in the Whitehouse-Chatfield firm.
Ostensibly, they were all the best of friends. Their friendship was challenged when $50,000 in bonds was found missing from a safe only the four men had access to. No one admitted stealing the bonds and there was no clear suspect until Martin was found shot to death. Everyone assumed he committed suicide because of guilt, but as they began questioning each other about the theft and the death, things began to get a lot seedier than they'd hoped.
"Dangerous Corner" was truly about the "truth": what is it and how much of it should we know. How much of it do we want to know? It leaves the viewer him or herself pondering that very thing. It was a bit salacious and soap opera-ish as well, but it was also a mystery which held the attention a lot more than the interpersonal drama. I liked it overall, and the ending was a bit unique.
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Judge Priest (1934)
Requiem for the Confederacy
"Judge Priest" could've been a wonderful movie except for two things:
1.) Stepin Fetchit
2.) It praised the Confederacy
"Judge Priest" took place in Kentucky in 1890, a time not too far removed from the Civil War and even closer to the end of Reconstruction. Judge William Pitman Priest (Will Rogers) was a "liberal" judge in a small Kentucky town (or county). His liberality was established at the very beginning when he opted not to punish Jeff Poindexter (Stepin Fetchit), a slow, dimwitted Black man* on trial for stealing a chicken.
Until the end, the most dramatic issue was the budding romance between Priest's nephew, Jerome Priest (Tom Brown), and Ellie May Gillespie (Anita Louise).
The movie took a dramatic shift when Bob Gilis (David Landau) was put on trial for stabbing a coward named Flem (Frank Melton). Jerome Priest had to defend him, but that's not the important part. The important part is that a man named Rev. Ashby Brand (Henry B. Walthall) gave a moving testimony about Bob's bravery and character in respect to the Civil War and fighting for the Confederacy. The testimony Brand gave was so serious, detailed, and laudatory that you would've thought he was testifying about a man who helped good triumph over evil.
And that's when I had a stark change in attitude towards this movie. Can a person be brave even if they're fighting for slavery and oppression? Certainly he can, but that doesn't mean we extol it. The way Brand spoke about Confederate soldiers and the Confederacy, it was as if he were talking about soldiers of God. Like no finer men ever walked the Earth. I was tensing up with each passing second as Brand continued his nostalgic retelling of heroism replete with flashback footage and patriotic music playing. He even referred to the Confederate flag as "stars and bars."
Brand's testimony finished to a burst of excited shouting and applause. There was no doubt that Bob was to be acquitted, but IT WASN'T EVEN EVIDENCE!! Brand didn't provide a shred of testimony that could be considered evidence--and especially new evidence to reopen the case as it was. So, never mind the fact that Bob stabbed Flem out of self-defense (which he did), what was most important was that he was a good Confederate soldier!!!???
The movie ended with a grand parade marching down Main Street with Bob in the lead proudly holding the Confederate flag. It was a sight to behold. For some, it was a source of pride. For others, like me, it was a source of revulsion.
I've never seen anything like it. The closest thing I've ever seen to praising the Confederacy was "Dukes of Hazzard" when I was a kid. "Judge Priest" was a requiem for the Confederacy. I've never seen it held in such high esteem. I began to wonder had they thought they won the war or maybe the movie was set in an alternate universe in which the North was fighting for slavery while the South was fighting to free the slaves. With nothing to support the aforementioned scenarios the only conclusion is that they believed they were on the side of right and, more importantly, so did Hollywood.
So, instead of the movie being about a man who was adequately defended because he acted in self-defense, we got a movie about how great the Confederacy was. I simply cannot
*Stepin Fetchit was a stage name and his stage persona was always the same in every movie. He was a slow moving, slow speaking idiot. He never stood up straight, rather he was always slouching. He'd talk slowly with a little bit of a whine and mumble so badly you could barely understand most of what he said. His name became an insult among Black people in the '60s along with Uncle Tom.
Easy to Love (1934)
Monogamy in High Society is a Joke
Right after watching "Easy to Love" I went searching for the nearest Man in Black to have my memory erased. Then I thought, "First I must warn people," so I started angrily banging away on my keyboard just to let people know how abysmal this movie is.
The whole plot centers around adultery, which was a very common topic back then. There were always mistresses and lovers, especially among society folks. Even the most committed, monogamous, and dedicated married couples would fall victim to infidelity. "Easy to Love" decided to make it comedic.
Funny it was not.
Not only was this movie not funny, it simply wasn't good. John (Adolphe Menjou) was cheating on his wife, Carol (Genevieve Tobin), with Carol's best friend, Charlotte (Mary Astor). Meanwhile, John's best friend, Eric (Edward Everett Horton), was in love with his (John's) wife. Yeah, it sounds like a trashy soap opera or an episode of Jerry Springer.
John would hook up with Charlotte everyday; telling his wife he was playing polo. She got suspicious and hired a PI to tail him and see where he was really going. When she found out where he was going and who he was going to see, she decided to play a game instead of being an adult and confronting him with the information.
She pretended to be in love with Eric and, not so subtly, let it "slip" so that her husband would find out. It led to John hypocritically confronting Carol about the relationship that poor stupid Eric thought was real. The entire childish act went on until the inevitable end: they remained together and recommitted to one another.
I don't mind the overall message: couples should remain married. Hollywood has done that before. They did several movies reinforcing marriage over divorce even in the face of adultery. The problem is that most of them, if not all of them, treated the matter so trivially. The offended party would get upset, some type of rumblings would happen, then they'd stick together as if nothing ever happened; as if no trust was eroded.
Because "Easy to Love" was a comedy it really trivialized the adultery. John was lying to Carol DAILY and he was banging her best friend. Her idea of getting even was to make John jealous by claiming to be in a relationship with Eric. Not only was it a weak, feeble-minded attempt at revenge, it also clouded the issue. The issue was that John had a steady relationship with another woman and it was never addressed. She was too cowardly to address it, so she opted for some lame trick to bring it out into the open. Then, once the cat was out of the bag, she went on pretending to love Eric to keep the gag going instead of sitting down like adults and hashing it out.
John never apologized and he never explained himself. He and Carol simply complied with their daughter's wishes and remained together, presumably, eschewing the other would-be lovers in their life. To say the resolution was unsatisfying would be like saying that a thimble of water won't quench an elephant's thirst. But, unfortunately, this movie was in line with the sentiment at that time. Mistresses were expected, so long as they were kept hidden. John messed up by marrying a woman who still loved him and wanted his affection after nearly twenty years of marriage. Had she been a stale set piece, his inattention to her would've been ignored as well as his frequent games of "polo." But Carol still loved and adored him, so she was heartbroken to find out he was cheating. "Easy to Love" unequivocally failed to capture that heart break.
Carol was an anomaly. She was part of high society and she had been married many years, which means she should've expected her husband to have a mistress, and she should've had a lover of her own--or at least she should've chosen the willful ignorance route. The fact she didn't have a lover and she actually cared that her husband was cheating on her made her a rare breed, hence it made her a joke. It was laughable that such women like Carol existed which makes "Easy to Love" a sad movie.
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The Lemon Drop Kid (1934)
When Storks Brought Babies
Movies like "The Lemon Drop Kid" are so bad they tire me out. I've gotten less exhausted running a 5k. It didn't help that Lee Tracy was the star. He's one of those funny types that you either like or you don't. I'm firmly in the "don't like" camp with regards to Lee Tracy, Jimmy Durante, Frank McHugh, and Jack Oakie. They all have a particular schtick that annoys me. Lee's thing is being a fast talker. Oh, they're alright as co-stars or smaller roles, but I don't like them as the lead actor.
Lee Tracy played the Lemon Drop Kid aka Wally Brooks, a conman and a thief. He had to split from Baltimore when he conned an old guy out of $100. He fled to a little town called Kibbsville where he found a sweet woman named Alice Deering (Helen Mack) and settled down. It would've been cute if it wasn't so revolting.
To start with, Wally forcibly kissed Alice when he was a guest at her home. They hadn't known each other ten minutes and he took it upon himself to kiss her. She did the respectable thing and slapped him, but still she was like every other woman in that her indignation stopped right after slapping him. In other words, there were no other repercussions: she didn't scold him or kick him out--just a simple slap which means "I'm a lady."
After that interaction Alice got word from the town's phone operator that the police were looking for Wally. Alice decided to keep that information hidden. She'd only known the guy a few hours at most and she was protecting him from the law. She had no idea what he was wanted for, but she surmised that he couldn't be bad because he gave pa a ride home. Truthfully, all it was was small-town-girl-gets-breath-taken-away-by-big-city-guy.
Eventually it came time for the two to get married. Still, Alice didn't know Wally's past and, what's more, she didn't want to know. She wanted to be blissfully ignorant, leaving Wally a blank canvas for her to paint an imaginary picture upon of who she was in love with. Even when Lee tried to tell her, she shut him up, afraid that he'd ruin the ideal image of him she'd created in her head. This was a common occurrence of both men and women in 30's movies as if not knowing about a person makes the love purer. Personally, I think it's reckless and stupid. Furthermore, I don't think that you can say you truly love a person unless you know all there is to know about them. Otherwise you're in love with a fictional character. I say test your love and find out what there is to know. If you find out he's Ted Bundy and you still stick with him, then that's love.
The point of this banal romance was that Wally would have to go straight and live a square life in order to be with Alice, which meant that he would probably be met with the demons of his past life at some point to test his strength and commitment to Alice.
The two got married and six months later Alice was pregnant. As we all know, she would never say the word "pregnant" on screen. We have to use silly context clues to figure that out. Alice was such a child that after whispering her secret to her friend Maizie (Minna Gombell) she went and hid, too shy and embarrassed to tell her own husband. He found her ducking behind a cabinet like a guilty toddler where he had to kiss her to reassure her that everything was alright.
That was yet another trope of 30's movies I couldn't stand: women afraid to tell a man they were pregnant. And I don't mean that they were afraid to say the word pregnant (that was a cinematic no no) because they would use euphemisms like "I'm having a baby" or "you're going to be a father" or "our family is growing," etc. I mean that women were afraid as though the news would be too much for the man to bear and they dare not upset him or scare him off. Alice's case was even more extreme than most. Firstly, they were married, and what do married couples do but have kids? Secondly, it's a known fact that she had to have sex with him in order to get pregnant, so the fact that she was too shy to tell him she was having a baby is puzzling, and it portrays a false type of innocence like they still believed in storks. She looked like a frightened mouse at the prospect of telling Wally he knocked her up.
To further paint Alice as this innocent and fragile creature, she got sick during her pregnancy. It was almost ladylike and dainty for a woman to faint while pregnant (they fainted for everything). Alice not only fainted, but she contracted a life threatening illness as well. No, that wasn't normal, but it was necessary for the plot of this film.
The doctor told Wally that he'd have to take her to a specialist if he wanted to save her, which meant Wally would need money. And this is where his past revisited him. The only way Wally knew how to get real money was by hook or crook. He chose to rob his boss, Martin Potter (Clarence Wilson). It was all for naught because Alice died right after giving birth. While Wally was still grieving, the police arrested him for the Potter robbery. Just like that he'd lost his wife and his freedom.
A couple years passed and Wally was in prison being a bad inmate because he was angry at the world. The warden guessed correctly that a visit from his baby boy would liven him up and give him something to live for. Wally had nowhere to go but up. And that's what he did. He got out of prison on parole and found that Mr. Griggsby (Robert McWade)--the old man he conned back in Baltimore-- had not only dropped the charges against him but gifted him $4,900 ($5,000 less the $100 Wally stole), and reunited him with his son. I have to say, as much as the movie sucked to this point, I was happy to see Wally back with his son. I may have hated the movie, but I'm no black heart.
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The Case of the Howling Dog (1934)
Perry Mason's Debut
Warren William has the distinction of playing Philo Vance after William Powell and playing Perry Mason before Raymond Burr. "The Case of the Howling Dog" was Perry Mason's debut and Warren William was a perfect fit. I doubt anyone knew it would spawn decades of Perry Mason relevancy.
Perry Mason (Warren William) was a successful Los Angeles lawyer who had so many people clambering for his services he had to turn many away. One man had a seemingly uneventful request, but Perry's secretary, Della Street (Helen Trenholme), insisted he see him.
The man, Arthur Cartwright (Gordon Westcott), wanted to make a will and he wanted to complain about a howling dog. He spoke very cryptically as if he were going mad. His simple request led to tales of infidelity, cheating, and murder. What started with Arthur Cartwright wanting to shut up a dog morphed into a murder case involving Bessie Foley (Mary Astor), her philandering husband, Clinton Foley (Russell Hicks), and a police dog. There were a lot of moving parts and a lot of characters to get familiar with. A couple of the actors of note were Allen Jenkins, who played the police sergeant, and Grant Mitchell, who played the D. A.
What made "Howling Dog" different from a lot of the murder mysteries of that era was that it was more of a courtroom drama than most. Usually murder mysteries ended with the investigator piecing everything together and no trial is ever seen. "Howling Dog" stars a very savvy attorney, so we see the investigation as well as the court proceedings. You can think of it as an early "Law & Order."
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The Trumpet Blows (1934)
Tepid and Uninteresting
"The Trumpet Blows" was an unexciting and flavorless movie. Of course, it didn't help to have George Raft starring in it. He's on my list with Gary Cooper and William Boyd as the biggest stiffs of the 1930's.
The movie took place in Mexico. Manuel Montes (George Raft) had just returned home after attending college in America. His older brother Pancho Montes (Adolphe Menjou) had goals for him. He wanted him to be a "gentleman" and marry into a good family. Manuel wanted to be a bullfighter and he had no interest in the woman his brother made arrangements for him to marry. Who Manuel did like was Chulita (Frances Drake) and he didn't know that his brother was madly in love with her.
That set up the two brothers after the same girl scenario. For two brothers or two friends in love with the same girl see "The Flying Fool" (1929), "Central Airport" (1933), or almost any movie with a love triangle.
Manuel moved a lot faster than Pancho and he wasn't going to let a thing like marriage be an impediment to him getting freaky with Chulita. After the two slept together Manuel found out that Pancho was in love with her. Manuel never divulged that he'd already deflowered Pancho's crush, he just left to become a bullfighter. He did the standard gentleman thing which is to go away when you are in direct competition with a better man for a woman's love. That's something else that you can see in a lot of movies from that era.
Eventually, Pancho discovered the romance between Manuel and Chulita and he cut them both off. They went their separate ways until Manuel was gored by a bull and fell into depression. Chulita wanted to save her man so she went to Pancho to ask for his help restoring Manuel to the man he once was.
It was all pretty lame. In the end they were all chummy with each other. Thank you and good night.
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One Night of Love (1934)
Bello
It's quite interesting that an 80 minute movie could be tanked by one scene. "One Night of Love" wasn't quite tanked, but one scene did do considerable damage. The movie went on to recover from that damage, but I still think it's worth mentioning. It was a lame frame-up to make a man look like he was cheating. It's been done in so many movies and it always amazes me how well the frame-ups work. It's like the relationships were just waiting for a reason to be fragmented.
Giulio Monteverdi (Tullio Carminati) was an operatic maestro. If he took a student she was sure to be a success. He was tired of his current student, Lally (Mona Barrie), because she'd fallen in love with him and became difficult to teach. Love and teaching don't mix well. Where does the role of teacher end and lover begin? Monteverdi stated that his next pupil would be forbidden from falling in love with him--which is a telltale sign that she will.
Monteverdi's next pupil was an American woman named Mary Barrett who was in Italy for the express purpose of breaking into opera. She was performing at a cafe when Monteverdi discovered her. He took her under his wing and became her whole world much like John Barrymore did with Carole Lombard in "Twentieth Century." Monteverdi dictated her eating schedule, her sleeping schedule, her training, her social life, and everything in between. If she was to be a success, she was going to have to pay a heavy price.
The intense training worked and Mary aka Maria became a success, but Monteverdi remained strict with her and didn't allow her hardly any freedom. Although she complained bitterly about him and his training, and would openly declare she couldn't stand him, a small hint of admiration could be detected. At one point she was ready to quit when Monteverdi went on a date with his old student. This is when it became obvious she had feelings for Monteverdi; exactly what she wasn't supposed to do.
When Mary's ploys didn't keep Monteverdi from his date, she emphatically declared that she was done with the opera and that she was going to marry Bill Houston (Lyle Talbot), an American in Italy who was infatuated with Mary. She looked so resolved until Monteverdi coaxed her back onto the stage. He eventually had to admit that he loved her to get her to perform again. So, just like George Raft said he'd never do in "Bolero" when he fell in love with his dance partner Carole Lombard, Monteverdi had fallen in love with Mary, and she couldn't have been happier.
Which leads us to the weak and unimaginative frame-up scene.
Monteverdi was back at home preparing a romantic meal for Mary and himself when Lally barged in on him. Lally wanted to perform at the Metropolitan in New York and she wanted Monteverdi to make it happen.
He refused and he demanded she leave.
Lally wasn't leaving until she got what she wanted. She wanted to witness Monteverdi call the director of the Metropolitan and propose her for their newest addition. As she was arguing with Monteverdi, Mary walked in. Right then and there Lally put her arms around Monteverdi and said something to make it seem as though she was reciprocating his love and affection. Then, in the cliche manner it had become, Mary marched right past the two of them and started preparing to leave. She wouldn't listen to Monteverdi or give him a chance to clear up the misunderstanding; she walked out of his life, presumably forever.
This part of the movie riled me up so much for two reasons:
1.) It's trite. It was overdone even by 1934. There were so many movies in which a third party intentionally caused a rift between two lovebirds. Sometimes it was out of jealousy, sometimes out of greed, sometimes for the good of one or both lovers, and in "Flirting with Danger" (1934) it was a joke. Most of the time the conflicts could've been cleared up in a matter of minutes.
2.) How is it that these romances burn so hot with love, yet they are extinguished with the slightest misunderstanding or miscommunication? When the writer wants a love to be strong, nothing will break it. Conversely, when it suits the plot, they make the relationships as fragile as a spider's web.
The entire scenario led Mary to the decision of going to New York to join the Metropolitan opera. Monteverdi didn't think she was ready, but he'd lost all sway over her once she saw Lally's arms wrapped around him.
Shortly before Mary was set to make her debut in New York it seemed as though she was going to go down in a ball of flames. She was all nerves and said that she could not go on. Should she fail to perform or perform well, it was surely to be the end of her operatic career. But, then, as if he heard her inner cries, Monteverdi was there just below the stage to be the calming influence she needed. She would go on to be a sensation. We don't know if she reunited with Monteverdi or not because the movie ended with her on stage receiving rousing applause. I like to think that they straightened things out, which is one of the little treasures of this movie: that the end is left to the viewer's imagination.
Despite the poor rating, I liked "One Night of Love." It was a little "Bolero," a little "Twentieth Century," and a little "Tonight or Never." Normally I don't like such concoctions, but for "One Night of Love" it worked. If you like opera singing, this movie has plenty of it. I'm not a fan, but I don't hate it either.
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The Barretts of Wimpole Street (1934)
A Possessive Patriarch
Charles Laughton. Man, this guy can act, but he is ALWAYS the antagonist. He's not a strong imposing fellow, so he's normally a weaselly bad guy like in "Devil and the Deep," "Payment Deferred," "Island of Lost Souls," "White Woman," and even "The Private Life of Henry VIII" to some degree.
In "The Barretts of Wimpole Street," Charles plays an overbearing patriarch of a mid-19th century English family. He was the male version of Laura Hope Crews in "The Silver Cord" (1933), or Louise Closser Hale in "Another Language" (1933). He was stern, mean, controlling, and manipulative. He ruled his family with an iron fist, yet he desired love from them--especially from Elizabeth (Norma Shearer).
Elizabeth, also called Bar by her siblings, was a sickly woman. She had a mysterious illness that kept her in one room and her father seemed set on keeping her sick. He spoke as if he wanted her well, yet he defied the doctor's orders as though he knew better. She was non-ambulatory for some time until she eventually learned to walk.
Things were always contentious between him and Elizabeth, but the tension ratcheted up a notch when Elizabeth found love. Suddenly, Edward Barrett (Charles Laughton) found himself in competition with a poet named Robert Browning (Fredric March) for Elizabeth's love. It was a position he couldn't bear to be in and he only knew how to use fear and manipulation to keep Elizabeth near him physically and emotionally.
I was all into the dysfunction of the Barrett family. There was so much tension and such a tug-of-war going on at all times. The sons in the family were inconsequential, but the two of the three daughters, Elizabeth and Henrietta (Maureen O'Sullivan) were front and center in their battle against their father. They wanted love and happiness and Edward was a direct impediment to that.
I really thought I would tire of the proper, stuffy, high society English family, but I didn't. Sure, their manner of speaking and properness were annoying, but past that was a family in a passive aggressive, subtle and open war of wills that had my full attention.
Free on YouTube.
Belle of the Nineties (1934)
Witty West Wins Again
Mae West is back to her sassy self. I shouldn't say "back" because she never left off being sassy. Mae West began her career by finding a character she liked and faithfully sticking with it; and it can't be said that it was someone else's doing. Mae West wrote the scripts she performed. She wrote "Night After Night," "She Done Him Wrong," "I'm No Angel," and "Belle of the Nineties," and she was the same character in all of them--just a different name.
"Belle of the Nineties," like "She Done Him Wrong," took place in the late 19th century. Ruby Carter (Mae West) was a club performer in St. Louis dating a boxer named Kid Tiger (Roger Pryor). When a ploy by Kid Tiger's manager broke them up, she took her talents to New Orleans. Ruby was just like every other Mae West character: a vamp. She was smart, sassy, sexy, witty, flirtatious, and ALL the men wanted her. Mae's characters never break a sweat, never lose, and are never in a hurry. She's too cool for any of that.
In New Orleans Ruby had a contract with Ace Lamont (John Miljan) to perform at his Sensation House. Ruby packed the place. She had to deal with Ace as well as the throng of panting men who paid to see her. Her chief suitor besides Ace was Brooks Claybourne (John Mack Brown). He lavished her with expensive jewelry in hopes of winning her heart. She entertained the compliments and charms of them all, but she didn't give her heart to any of them.
Things were rather easy going until Tiger Kid came to New Orleans for a fight. He hooked up with Ace, who was bad news, and he saw Ruby again after their break up. It was anybody's guess how things were going to turn out, but Ruby would be the victor no matter what.
I think I liked this movie more than the previous two Mae West movies because the vamping was tempered more to focus on the scheming aspects of the plot. Instead of this being so much about the men who desired her (they were still there, just not as heavily as "She Done Him Wrong" and "I'm No Angel"), it was a little of the men who desired her and more of the scheming men in her life (principally Ace). It played out rather nicely.
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The House of Rothschild (1934)
Money Money Money
Rothschild. That's a name I would hear when someone was referring to mega-money, along with Rockerfeller. I don't know how factually accurate "The House of Rothschild" is, but it would seem that the Rothschilds overcame incredible odds and made a huge gamble that paid off.
The movie began sometime in the late 17th century I'm guessing. Jews were corralled into the ghettos and were being generally mistreated. A financially shrewd man named Mayer Rothschild (George Arliss) had a vision for his sons and his family. As the story goes he told his five sons to open banks in five major cities throughout Europe but to act as one bank with Nathan (also George Arliss), in London, being the head. That way they'd amass money after which would follow power to uplift themselves and their race.
It would seem that Mayer Rothschild was prescient. Even though Jews were being persecuted, the five sons were able to realize their father's dream up until the Rothschilds became one of the most pivotal banks during France's war with Napoleon.
There was also a bit of a love story embedded in the movie if you need such a thing. Nathan Rothschild's daughter Julie (Loretta Young) was in love with Captain Fitzroy (Robert Young). Their love was interrupted by anti-semitism and a protective father.
The message of "The House of Rothschilds" was very clear: amass money. If I heard any word I heard money. Amass money, make money, money is power, money money money moooonay. Mooonaay; as the O'Jays sang it. Should any family or people amass enough money, they could turn things into their favor. Maybe they can't change everyone's sentiment, but they can at least be powerful enough to change how they're treated.
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The Scarlet Empress (1934)
I Took a Chance on Marlene and it Paid Off
"The Scarlet Empress" is a period piece taking place during the mid-eighteenth century in Russia. The Empress of Russia at the time, Empress Elizabeth Petrovna (played by Louise Dresser) desired a suitable wife for her son Grand Duke Peter Theodorovich (played by Sam Jaffe). Her search netted her Princess Sophia (pronounced so-fie-a) Frederica (played by Marlene Dietrich). Sophia was a beautiful woman of Prussian royalty; precisely what Empress Elizabeth wanted.
Sophia was escorted to Russia by a royal aide named Count Alexei (John Lodge). He was a big handsome man, one like Sophia hoped her husband would be. When she asked what the Grand Duke looked like Alexei responded with, "would you like him to be handsome?"
"Isn't he?" Sophia asked.
"Would you like him to be better looking than all other men, and tall and gracious?" Alexei added.
"Yes, I think I would," Sophia demurely replied.
"Well, he is all that and more," Alexei stated.
This brief dialogue at the beginning of the movie did a few things. First, it made me laugh. The entire exchange was quite comical. Second, it showed me something from Marlene Dietrich I hadn't seen before: emotion. I was only used to the impassive I'm-to-pretty-to-have-to-try Marlene that I'd seen in "Dishonored," "Blond Venus," and "Morocco." Finally, the dialogue made me more interested in the movie.
Even though, given the exaggerated description, we expected that the Grand Duke wouldn't be quite how Alexei described, it was even more shocking to see just how ugly and spastic he looked. Sophia was equally shocked as I'm sure all the viewers were when Grand Duke Peter presented himself with his eyes open too wide, his hair disheveled, and an odd grin on his face. It was going to be a real trial for Sophia, now named Catherine Alexina, to be married to Grand Duke Peter. He was not only a chore to look at, he was also dim witted.
"The Scarlet Empress" was good because it was a good story, an outstanding production, and had fine acting.
It also succeeded where the Greta Garbo starred "Queen Christina" had not. Catherine used her title and power to protect herself and to protect Russia from a madman. She wasn't so consumed with a man's love that she let herself be derailed. Greta Garbo as Queen Christina, the queen of Sweden, desired love and as a result abdicated the throne to go after it. I had the utmost respect for Catherine and what she overcame to rise to power and do what was best for Russia. "The Scarlet Empress" as a movie and as a woman was commendable.
Free on YouTube.
The Age of Innocence (1934)
More Tortured Lovers
Love triangles, high society, tortured lovers: all the stuff I hate wrapped up into one crappy movie.
"The Age of Innocence" is one of those mushy romances that romanticizes infidelity and selfish behavior in the name of love. The movie in which the man tells the woman that conformity is bad, doing what's right is cowardice, and casting aside social mores is freedom.
Newland Archer (John Boles) was engaged to May Welland (Julie Haydon) some time in the late 19th century when engagements lasted a year and people were more innocent. Or as Slick Rick put it: "Once upon a time not long ago when people wore pajamas and lived life slow. When laws were stern and justice stood and people were behavin' like they ought to, good."
That was the era, and Newland and May were so in love. They couldn't wait to tie the knot, but they had to wait because both of them were decent folks not looking to upset the apple cart.
Then along came a bogey. May had a cousin named Ellen (Irene Dunne) who was seeking a divorce from her husband. The way the women in her family spoke it was as if she was looking to have him murdered, divorce was such a no-no. Ellen was the black sheep of the family. She came from Europe where society was more liberal and her behavior reflected it.
Well, wouldn't you know it, Newland fell in love with her. She was such a woman, unlike his fiance who was beholden to familial fealty and social mores. As the slow soundtrack played Newland passionately told Ellen how her lifestyle was much better than that of high society Americans.
"When we say dignity, we mean fear of what others will say. When we say good taste, we mean glossing over the truth. When we say decency, we mean hypocrisy," he said, speaking from his limited scope.
Newland was from society where those words applied, but he spoke like it was a universal truth. And really, I don't believe he believed what was coming out of his mouth. The dude was in love by this point, he was liable to say anything. Things like, "nothing and no one in the world matters but you."
Get outta here with that. The sh-t people say when they're drooling over someone. It is so sappy and so hyperbolic. They're all trying to say how much they "love" the other person, but seeking new and inventive ways to say it. And Hollywood is trying convey a message: go after who/what you love. Don't be concerned about opinions, money, obstacles, and not even duties and responsibilities sometimes--just go after your love.
In the end Newland was a forlorn man because he had to let his love go. After making the mistake of marrying his fiance, he made the further mistake of getting her pregnant, so then he couldn't leave even if he wanted to, lest he be a real jackass. He opted to forgo his own happiness for duty, but you always got the distinct feeling that even that may not have been the right thing.
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Blind Date (1934)
Extra Sappy
"Waiter! Give me a plate of romance with syrup, and make it extra sappy."
"Here we are with a dish called blind date. I hope it suits your taste, it's the sappiest thing we have on the menu."
This was just another one of Hollywood's many lessons to us all, which is that blonde beauties can never be poor and loveless. They may be poor, but they definitely will have love, but by and large they will have both prosperity and love.
This sorry movie was yet another tortured beauty who has to choose between two men.
"Oh woe is me! No one has suffered as I am now. There are two great men I have to choose from and I don't know what to do!"
These movies are so pretentious and off-base because they make it seem as though no one in the world is as bad off or as tortured as the beautiful girl who has multiple suitors. And generally, one of the men plays the gentleman and gracefully steps aside for the sake of the woman's long term happiness.
Ann Sothern plays Kitty Taylor, a working girl from a poor family struggling to make ends meet. She is engaged to a working man named Bill Lowry (Paul Kelly) who is trying hard to build up his tow garage business. Like all working men in 1930s films, he is unromantic. For romance, you have to get a society man (i.e. Man with a lot of money). When Bill makes the fatal mistake of choosing to work and earn money over taking Kitty out for her birthday he essentially loses her. She hooked up on a blind date with a rich playboy named Bob Hartwell (Neil Hamilton) and Bill was no match for Bob. Bob put some smooth moves on Kitty, plus Bob had everything Bill didn't: he had money, charm, and time; all the things a woman could and would want from a man.
Caution! All working class men who have to put in many hours just to provide and many hours just to have some extra spending cash for their lady; rich boys with plenty of money, time, and charm are just waiting to take your women (for reference see "The Easiest Way," "Sinners in the Sun," "Skyscraper Souls," and others).
It wasn't even a fair fight. As much time and effort that Bill put in he lost kitty in a matter of one night. He couldn't compete with the charm and money of Bob Hartwell. Even if they tried to downplay the money angle, the money angle had everything to do with it. Without money, Bob Hartwell would not have had the time to spend with Kitty. Without money, Bob Hartwell would not have had his own driver to take he and Kitty on romantic drives. Without money, Bob couldn't have gotten Kitty a job where she could be near him. So even though the writers wrote it where Kitty truly loved Bob for himself, it was still money that allowed Bob to be Bob, and if Bill had the same amount of money that Bob had, he would've had the amount of time that Bob had to spend with Kitty as well, and he wouldn't have had to be working on Kitty's birthday.
That's one of the main reasons I can't even stomach movies like this because the message is always the same. And the 1930s had so many of these romances with society men and society women with nothing but time to play, and wine and dine, and romance. Every so often, like in "Blind Date," they would make it seem as though the society man or society woman was truly in love with the working class girl or the working class boy, when the truth is they were probably just curious and wanted to satisfy that curiosity.
So chalk this movie up to another crappy romance from the 30s where flowery talk, expensive lavish gifts, and plenty of recreational time to spend lusting over a woman wins over a guy who has limited resources and limited time to give to the woman he loves.
Free on YouTube.
The Count of Monte Cristo (1934)
One of the Best Tales of Revenge
In 2002 I watched the Antonio Banderas starred "The Count of Monte Cristo" and I found it so-so. The 1934 version was superior in every way. This is one of the best tales of revenge ever written.
The Count of Monte Cristo, the man, was forged in the dungeons of France. He began life as Edmond Dantes (played by Robert Donat). He was a first mate on a French ship during a time when Napoleon was exiled and the king of France was executing anyone with allegiance to Napoleon. Those with fealty to Napoleon kept it hidden lest they lose their life. Edmond was not one of them, but Edmond was a dutiful first mate to his captain who was a Napoleon supporter.
When his captain gave him a message to deliver, he was arrested immediately after delivery. Edmond was unconcerned because he had done nothing wrong. He was sure the matter would be cleared up in court. In the meantime he was thrown in a dungeonous jail where he was expected, unbeknownst to him, to rot for eternity. Three men plotted against him for no other reason than their own nefarious aims.
Raymond de Villeforte (Louis Calhern), the king's magistrate, put Edmond away to shield his own father, the recipient of the message, from being outed as a supporter of Napoleon. Such a discovery would mean certain death for his father and a ruined career for Raymond, so he signed the paperwork to have Edmond locked up for life with no trial.
Danglars (Raymond Walburn) bore false witness against Edmond for a payday. He claimed that Edmond wasn't simply a delivery boy, but a more involved person in a wider plot to aid Napoleon.
Fernand Mondego (Sidney Blackmer) helped put Edmond away to have unfettered access to Edmond's fiance Mercedes de Rosas (Elissa Landi). She and Edmond were madly in love and with Edmond's removal Mondego had a better chance at gaining Mercedes' hand in marriage.
The three unscrupulous men successfully conspired to put Edmond away for good, and they nearly succeeded but that Edmond met a man named Abbe Faria (O. P. Heggie) while in prison. Over the years Abbe gave Edmond the knowledge, guidance, patience, and wealth for him to emerge a new man and exact revenge--not for himself, but for society at large which was being continually wronged.
It was a wonderful movie. It was done so well it made me interested in the book by Alexandre Dumas. As a production, it was everything you'd hope for. The script was on point, the set design and costumes were grand, and the story... the story made it all worthwhile.
What made this such a spectacular tale of revenge was how he exacted his revenge. Edmond didn't want to kill the men or physically torture them; he wanted to ruin them, which in some ways is worse than death. He wanted to tear them down and expose them to the public. This was one of those rare times in which I was hoping that the antagonists, who tried to destroy a man, lived. I was hoping that they lived long enough for Edmond to escape and continued to live after Edmond began his revenge tour. I wanted the men to live with the shame, ignominy, and public ridicule. Only a story that is written well and written right could put the reader (or viewer in this case) right where it wants him/her to be. "The Count of Monte Cristo" did just that.
Free on Amazon Prime.
Dames (1934)
Another Early-30's Movie with too Much Runtime Dedicated to a Musical
One of the problems with movies in the early 30s was that the talkie era overlapped with and competed with Broadway, Vaudeville, and other stage productions. Just by the subject matter of a lot of movies you can tell that Broadway and off-Broadway was still very popular, hence you have movies that had large chunks of it dedicated to theater productions that were being made within the movie such as "42nd St.", "Murder at the Vanities", "Footlight Parade," "Glorifying the American Girl," and more. It was as if they were trying to have the best of both worlds: talking films and Broadway productions. In most cases it was an overall negative and instead of having the best of both worlds, they just did a disservice to both worlds. That is especially true for this movie. It seemed this movie was a pretext for a lousy play with terrible singing, and Joan Blondell was the worst offender.
Speaking of Joan Blondell; 1934 was a bad year for her. She was in some awful movies with some awful roles*. In this movie she played an actress who wasn't above sleeping in a man's bed to make it seem like he was two-timing. Even that behavior wasn't worse than her singing.
The entire first half of "Dames" was just a set up for a theater production. A man named Horace Hemingway (Guy Kibbee) was summoned by his eccentric, millionaire cousin-in-law, Ezra Ounce (Hugh Herbert), to discuss his fortune and how he planned to divy it out. Like in most movies with a rich progenitor, everyone sucked up to him because of his wealth.
Ezra planned on giving Horace and his family $10M provided they were morally upright and provided they didn't associate with the outcast James 'Jimmy' Higgens (Dick Powell) who was considered "bad fruit" because he was into theater. Ezra despised immorality and he saw that it was mostly propagated on stage. He even started an organization called the Ounce Foundation for the Elevation of American Morals.
Horace and his wife Mathilda (Zasu Pitts) would capitulate to any of Ezra's demands including joining his association and distancing themselves from cousin Jimmy (the playwright). They didn't associate with Jimmy, but what they didn't know was that their daughter Barbara (Ruby Keeler) was dating Jimmy (they were thirteenth cousins per Jimmy).
So began the quick march toward Jimmy Higgen's production titled "Dames."
When musical numbers from a play within the actual movie run 10 to 20 to 30 minutes, that is a sign to me that they don't even have a full movie so they're just filling time with content that people may like. I've said it regarding other movies and I'm saying it again, it is a terrible way to make a movie. It's one thing to make a movie a musical; it's another thing to insert musical numbers from a play into the movie as though they're congruent with the plot when they're not.
*None worse than "Smarty." In that movie she bounced from husband to husband, finally landing on the first one (Warren William), who beat her and she liked it.
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Million Dollar Ransom (1934)
Million Dollar Problem
What do we know about Hollywood and love? We actually know quite a bit; like love is stronger than anything, everyone has a true love, love can occur between people when they experience trauma together, and whoever the two most attractive people are on screen--they're the ones that will fall in love.
A gangster named Vincent Shelton (Edward Arnold) was released from prison to cheers and headlines. He had to let his fellow criminals down when he told them he was going straight. It's been done before (see "Picture Snatcher" (1933) or "The Little Giant" (1933)), but it's never easy.
In a set up you could see coming a mile away, a drunk rich kid named Stanton Casserly (Phillips Holmes) followed Vincent home from a club on Vince's first night of freedom. It was so out of the ordinary that I figured that A.) Stanton wasn't drunk, he was just pretending to be to get close to Vincent or B.) the writers were stretching their limited imagination in order to make a story.
It was B.
Stanton was legitimately drunk and he bizarrely followed a stranger home and even entered his house to sleep off his inebriation. It didn't make sense and it looked contrived, hence my enjoyment of the movie from then on was compromised.
I didn't know what kind of story would become of this event, but I knew one thing: he was going to fall in love with Vincent's daughter Francesca (Mary Carlisle). Just read the points I made about Hollywood and love at the beginning. Stanton and Francesca were the two most attractive people on screen.
As for how Stanton's drunken behavior unimaginatively created drama; it began with his mother and a newspaper article.
Stanton's mother, Elita Casserly (Marjorie Gateson), was set to marry a French con man named Pascal. Stanton tried his best to talk her out of it--he even showed her a telegram stating that he was a crook--but she made up her mind to sail to France and marry Pascal anyway.
Not long after Stanton's quarrel with his mother he saw Vincent's name, photo, and criminal history in the newspaper below an unrelated headline about kidnapping. That's when he came up with the idea that he'd pay Vincent to kidnap him and hold him for ransom. His mother would never leave while her baby was kidnapped, and she would pay handsomely for his safe return.
Stanton was taken to a remote cabin to hide out until Mrs. Casserly paid the ransom. Remember how I said that Stanton and Francesca had to fall in love? Guess who happened to be staying not too far from that remote cabin. Ah, yes. Francesca. She was staying with two old folks called Ma (Jane Darwell) and Pop (Spencer Charters). She met Stanton at a stream and you can guess the rest.
Even though I knew they would fall in love, I wasn't prepared for Francesca to be so deep in love after a few days that she'd risk her own life and safety for Stanton.
When Vincent's foes found out about his kidnapping scheme, they had plans to cut in on it themselves. There was no way they could've known about the kidnapping, but with one frayed string of evidence they were able to knit a full quilt. The deduction skills of people in the 30's was uncanny. Criminals and detectives alike only needed the smallest shred of tenuous evidence to figure things out when it was needed to advance the plot. As a result, they kidnapped Stanton and Francesca with plans to get the ransom money for themselves. They didn't know who Francesca was, but they knew who Stanton was.
Vincent found out where they were being held and arranged to see the two of them. He feigned not knowing who Francesca was so that he could get her to safety, but here is where the bafflingly deep love connection came into play.
"I won't leave without him," she said defiantly. "No. I'm in love with Stan."
Ugh! Stupid young girls frustrate me.
It's not like she's known this guy for years, or even months, and she knew nothing about him! She just found out that he roped her dad into a fake kidnapping plot and somehow that wasn't a red flag. Furthermore, it wasn't like she could do anything to help him. All she could do was die by his side, or be a hindrance because he'd have her to worry about.
Fran stayed in the cellar with Stan while her father cooked up a scheme that involved their kidnappers taking them to be married--and that's what they did.
Who writes this nonsense?
The movie ended with Stan and Fran happily married, Stan's mother sans Pascal, and Vince taking down his rivals even though it cost him his own life. If the story had been better written the ending would've been more appreciated. It wasn't and it wasn't.
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The Defense Rests (1934)
Everyone Wins Except the Viewer
If there was one thing that most early movies suffered from, it is being too elementary. It wasn't that they followed a basic formula, because we have that today, it was that they made things too obvious: the lessons learned, what a person was feeling, if a person was lying or not, who was good, who was bad, who would be reformed, who would be punished, etc. Sure, there were some movies that did follow that pattern, but they were rare. For the most part things were didactically spelled out.
And the women they created. I've seen cardboard cutouts with more dimensions and individuality.
"The Defense Rests" stars Jack Holt as Matthew Mitchell, a lawyer for the guilty who never lost. He could get anyone and everyone off, and he did. He didn't even like his clients, but they paid well and they got him more publicity.
If Matthew was to be the hero though, he'd have to have a change of heart about the way he did business. As it was he was unethical, and an unethical lawyer couldn't be the protagonist.
In steps Joan Hayes, played by the weak-voiced Jean Arthur. She would be Matthew's moral compass.
Joan began her relationship with Mitchell as a sycophant. She practically worshiped Mitchell. She became a lawyer because of him and she wouldn't work for any lawyer but him. Mitchell wasn't in the market for new employees, but she was pretty and she gassed him up with enough flowery speech that he couldn't help but hire her.
Joan would find that the emperor had no clothes. The man she revered resorted to lies and cheap tricks to win his cases.
Say it ain't so.
She stuck with him out of some strange sense of loyalty, or maybe even love. She drew the line, though, when he agreed to represent Cooney (John Wray), a suspected kidnapper and child-killer. She tendered her resignation which Mitchell rejected. His rejection of her resignation was odd being that having someone so principled in his office could easily be his undoing.
The move would come back to haunt him. Joan went on a side quest to unravel a case Mitchell had recently won. Once she had enough evidence to bury her boss, she presented it to him. She stated that she would go to the DA with what she had and get him disbarred and/or arrested. Mitchell's response was pretty much, "bring it on!" He was cocky enough and good enough to withstand whatever some little rookie came at him with.
Joan's response was pitiful. She was so enamored with her idol that she broke down crying and stated that she'd have to go to jail with him if she turned him in. She was in such awe of him she surmised that she couldn't leave his side, even if she sent him to prison. Her behavior was nauseating.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Evans (Sarah Padden)--the mother of the boy who was killed--killed herself in Mitchell's office. She couldn't stand the thought of him getting her son's killer off, so she shot and killed herself in his office to either change his mind, or bring negative publicity down on him.
Mission accomplished.
Mitchell had a change of heart and figured out a way to have Cooney convicted without him throwing the case or stepping down. It was too blissful, especially for Joan Hayes. Her idol had turned out to be praiseworthy after all.
But there still remained that matter of the evidence she had regarding another case that could get him sent to prison.
No worries. Only two people could testify on that evidence: Gentry (Robert Gleckler) and Joan. As for Gentry, he'd been killed. As for Joan, she proposed to marry her celebrity crush which meant she couldn't testify against him. Everyone wins except the viewer.
Free on YouTube.
Gallant Lady (1933)
Strange Times
One of the toughest decisions prospective mother's in bad predicaments have to make is whether or not to keep their child. Sally Wyndham (Ann Harding) found herself having to make that choice. She was pregnant and jobless, AND she hadn't married the father of her child before he died in a fiery plane crash. That left her with few options. I thought she would marry the first nice guy she met; that has happened in a few movies. She decided to give her baby boy up for adoption rather than face the wrath of her family or try to raise the child alone with little resources.
Unlike many women in 1930's cinema who were tortured by having to make a decision between two men, Sally was legitimately tortured by having to make the decision of giving up her child. To help her make the decision was a disgraced doctor named Dan Pritchard (Clive Brook). He gave the distinct impression that he'd assisted in the suicide of a terminally ill patient, hence his license was taken away and he was thrown in prison. He wasn't a bad person, he just had a difference of opinion with the medical and state laws.
If Sally wasn't tortured enough already, she'd be tortured again when she happened to encounter her son Deedy (Dickie Moore) while she was on holiday in France. She wanted back into his life, but how would that be fair to her, fair to him, or fair to his adopted father Phillip Lawrence (Otto Kruger) (the adopted mother passed away)?
I thought the movie was pretty good. It was a bit different and it presented a real quandary. I was surprised to see Gilbert Emery as a co-writer for this film. I'm so used to seeing him on screen, I didn't know he had some behind the camera credits as well.
I can't end this review without mentioning one particularly galling character: Count Mario Carniri (Tullio Carminati).
He saw Sally while she was visiting Italy. He began to serenade her and pursue her heavily. She kindly rebuffed his advances while he audibly made wedding arrangements for the two of them. He followed her to France and even back to the U. S., trying so desperately to win her over. He never succeeded, and Sally never got stern with him which, apparently, was the only way to make a man understand that no means no.
His unrequited pursuit was annoying, yes, but worse than that was his eventual annoyance with Sally. At one point he criticized the fact that all she did was work and didn't play. His attitude had me dumbfounded and upset. This guy had been a constant bugaboo and took it upon himself to follow Sally to another country, so for him to act like a petulant child because she wasn't giving him attention only showed how entitled he was.
It was really telling that he had such an attitude with her. Here it is, he chased her around the globe and she's done nothing but give him the air, yet he felt some kind of ownership. It's almost as if he believed that he was owed some sort of affection for the work he'd put in.
He'd been a nice guy.
He serenaded her.
He pursued her.
He poured out his heart to her.
Wasn't he owed something?
It was a weird dynamic back then, and I've seen it in a few movies. Any nice man who kept up a pursuit deserved the woman he was pursuing, and sometimes it didn't matter if she was already in a relationship. If she giggled, smiled, or humored him in some way--even while rejecting him--it was encouragement for him to continue his pursuit. If she didn't outright shut him down with a stern and resounding rejection, it was a signal that he just needed to be (more) persistent.
As a result, Count Mario was all the way in America being a sourpuss because Sally hadn't given in to him yet.
Strange times.
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Chained (1934)
Standard Fare
"Chained" was a very basic, run-of-the-mill romance. I think they thought that they could get away with such blandness just because Gable and Crawford starred in it.
Joan Crawford played Diane Lovering, a woman dating her boss, Richard Field (Otto Kruger), a married man. He wanted to marry her, and he would if his wife would grant him a divorce. When his wife flatly refused to grant him a divorce he told Diane that he was sorry it was over. Diane said that it didn't have to be. In other words: she would go on being his mistress.
Richard was a smart man. I guess him being older made all the difference. He told her not to make the decision right then, but to go away for a while to think, then come back with a decision.
The script just wrote itself from then on. I already guessed what was going to happen and sometimes I hate when I'm right.
My guess: she'd travel, fall in love despite her best efforts not to, become emotionally conflicted, then decide on the new love.
Just like all movies when a woman goes somewhere alone or is left alone by her significant other, Diane was swept off her feet by another man (for reference see "Man of the World" (1931), "Transgression" (1931), "It Happened One Night" (1934) and many others). How quickly the woman will fall in love with a new man all depends on how long she will be alone. If it's a day, she'll fall in love in hours; if it's a month, it'll take her days, etc.
Diane fell in love with Michael Bradley (Clark Gable).
Naturally.
He put on a full court press. He didn't go for mushy romance, he went for the fun angle ala Leonardo Di Caprio in "Titanic" or most poor men when they want to sweep a woman off her feet. You see, wealthy men go for wining, dining, and sweet words while working class men go for showing a woman how to have fun and how to really laugh.
As could be predicted, Diane was emotionally conflicted, but being with Mike felt right. Now she only needed to tell Richard. She decided that she'd go back to New York to tell him face to face.
Here is where I was able to correctly predict things again.
I figured that Richard had to be divorced by the time Diane got back because that would create a true quandary. If Richard was still married, Diane could leave him and feel OK about it. If Richard was divorced and free to marry Diane, well then she'd have an issue.
As I predicted, Richard was divorced. Diane was still going to break the news to him that she found someone else, but he wouldn't let her. He simply wouldn't let her speak and she ended up marrying him out of some sense of duty. We all know that anything done out of a sense of duty will not yield happiness like doing something out of love.
My next prediction was that she'd get a divorce and run away with Mike.
I was right, but it didn't go down the way I expected.
Mike came to New York and just so happened to run into Diane (wink wink). Mike was still single and in love a year later. Just seeing Mike brought all of Diane's suppressed feelings to the surface, but what was she to do?
She and Richard were scheduled to take a trip in the next day or two. Diane asked Richard if they could take their trip even earlier. It was the universal 1930's female signal for "I don't trust myself so let's get out of here" (for reference see "A Lost Lady" (1934), "He Was Her Man" (1934), "The Key" (1934) and others). If a woman says, "Please take me with you," or "Let's get away now," or "Please don't go," they all mean the same thing: there's a man lurking that I have feelings for and if I stay here any longer I will give in to those feelings.
I thought that Richard was going to do what every other husband or sweetheart has done--tell her that plans can't be changed--but he fooled me. I think he sensed what I sensed so he said "Sure, let's leave at dawn."
Well, dawn didn't come quick enough because Mike paid them both a visit before they could leave. He told Diane he was going to have it out with Richard for her. "The matter doesn't concern you," he told Diane like many men used to say back then. It was funny to see two men arguing or fighting over a woman and totally ignoring her wishes at the same time. But, just like every case, she remains a silent partner in her own affair.
Mike and Richard never got around to discussing Diane. Richard knew why Mike was there and he made every effort to avoid the discussion. He poured on the nice and courteous routine so thick that Mike would've felt like a heel if he broached the topic of stealing his wife. So, Mike decided to leave without saying a word.
After Mike was gone, Richard told Diane that he knew all about Mike. He knew that she had found someone when she came back by the way she was acting, but he dared not give her the opportunity to mention it. He was too afraid to hear the truth so he bumrushed her with a proposal and everything else at his disposal to make her forget about Mike and remember the thing they had. It worked, but he only had half a wife and he knew it. The other half belonged to Mike, hence Richard let her go.
How Diane eventually got back to Mike was a little more circuitous than I'd expected, but I definitely expected her to live happily ever after with Mike. So, even though they added a tiny wrinkle, this was still a standard 1930's romance.
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Stand Up and Cheer! (1934)
If Timon and Pumba Ran the Government
A few things need to be noted before reviewing this movie.
1.) This was a political movie.
2.) Shirley Temple had about five minutes of screen time.
3.) Stepin Fetchit had about five minutes of screen time.
A man named Lawrence Cromwell (Warner Baxter) was selected by the POTUS to be Secretary of Amusement, a new position created in order to help people forget about the Depression. Already that gave me pause. The government would much rather spend $100M to entertain people in hopes that they'd forget about being poor and jobless, instead of putting that money to programs that would remedy their poverty and joblessness. There was even a musical number in which all of these poor folks in hopeless situations were singing about how they're "laughin'" even in their state "so can you."
"I'm laughin' with a dozen kids that I have to feed. So if I can laugh while I'm in need, sister so can you."
Laughin' with a mortgage around my neck.
Laughin' while I'm in the snow and sleet pounding the pavement.
Laughin' in my sweat and grime.
And on and on until Aunt Jemima (yes, like the syrup), played by Tess Gardella, was singing about laughin' while in her bandana and servants' clothing.
Where's the face-palm emoji?
Here's the deal: I don't disagree with the message in principle, I just disagree with the chosen messenger (ie the government). I don't care to hear the government telling me don't worry and be happy, I'll go to Bobby McFerrin for that. I want the government to tell me how and when they will get the country out of its bad economic situation.
In this movie the government decided to try to distract people with amusement while they figured things out. The Secretary of Amusement, Cromwell, employed a bunch of assistant secretaries to find talent throughout the country. He hired Mary Adams (Madge Evans) to find child acts. You would think that that's how we got to see Shirley Temple, but no. Shirley Temple was tossed in the middle with James Dunn to do a song and dance number. Besides a scene she was in before her routine, that's all we saw of her.
We also saw Stepin Fetchit. There isn't a movie that he's in except it's discredited. Stepin Fetchit was such a degrading character persona. His real name was Lincoln Theodore Monroe Andrew Perry, but he went by Stepin Fetchit. His whole act was a whiny, slow, dimwitted man who personified some of the worst stereotypes about Black men. He's an embarrassment to watch.
I don't blame him. I don't blame him at all. He was just doing what society allowed him to do. I blame systemic racism for the Stepin Fetchits, Fred 'Snowflake' Toones, Oscar Smiths, blackface, and the mammies. They refused to see or portray Black people any other way.
So, while it was a downer that we only got to see about five minutes of Shirley Temple, it was a downer that we had to see any of Stepin Fetchit at all.
Had "Stand Up and Cheer" dispensed with government involvement in entertainment, gave us more Shirley Temple and no Stepin Fetchit, then the movie would've been so much better.
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Red-Haired Alibi (1932)
Run It By an Average Joe
Sometimes I think these movies intentionally try to annoy me. Even when they have a good thing going they'll do something to muck it all up just to get under my skin. "Red Haired Alibi" waited until the end to be irksome.
It began with a mercurial guy named Trent Travers (Theodore von Eltz) meeting and employing a woman named Lynn Monith (Merna Kennedy). A condition of her employment was that she had to mostly keep her mouth shut. Lynn didn't have sense enough to ask anymore questions, but I would think that any job requiring you to "keep your trap closed" is a job you shouldn't take. Lynn and I didn't have the same upbringing, so she took the well-paying job.
Predictably, the job landed her in hot water. Trent killed a rival named Morgan (John Vosper) then gave the gun to Lynn to throw away. He also wanted her to alibi him by telling the police that he was in Cleveland instead of in New York CIty where the murder took place. Lynn did all of that then skipped town. She was done with Trent and his criminal lifestyle.
She went to White Plains, NY where she met up with Bob Shelton (Grant Withers), a man she'd already crossed paths with before. Bob needed a nanny and Lynn needed a job; it was perfect. Bob got an attractive red-headed nanny, and his daughter Gloria (Shirley Temple) got a surrogate mother. Eventually, Bob and Lynn fell in love and got married. Things couldn't have been more perfect, but you knew that Trent would enter the picture again at some point.
Trent spotted Lynn days, weeks, or months after she had split from him. He saw her at the train station in New York City then followed her home. From this point on the movie was a sh-t show.
Trent demanded $10,000 from Lynn. He had been on the lam for a while now and was all out of dough. I figured that he'd threaten to tell her husband about her and that she'd be so afraid of him leaving her that she'd give Trent the money. It was a regular trick used back then, however lame. But that's not what happened. He made a vague threat which I couldn't interpret, but Lynn interpreted it as he was going to kill her husband. A scary threat, yes, but a stupid one too. Lynn was the only person who could definitively place Trent at the scene of the crime. She had been quiet up until this point, so why would he upset the apple cart? Lynn was holding all the cards.
What Lynn should've done was flip the script and gave Trent an ultimatum. "Get out of this house. Leave me and my family alone, and I won't talk to the police," is what she should've said. Instead, she agreed to meet him and give him the $10,000.
She met Trent at a hotel in White Plains. Trent was feeling really good about himself, as though he was in the driver's seat. Instead of just wanting $10,000 to stay hidden, he wanted some of Lynn too. She meekly refused to entertain his fancies and she told him that she didn't even have the $10,000 either. She said she couldn't get that kind of money without arousing her husband's suspicions.
At this point Trent threatened to call the police.
"Huh? Why in the world would HE be calling the police?" is what you should be asking just as I was.
He said that he would tell the police that she handled the gun that killed Morgan.
Really!? Surely, he must be bluffing. Did he really plan to call the police and try to convince them that Lynn committed the murder? He may as well had handed himself over to the cops because that's what it would amount to.
Lynn should've seen this as either a bluff or a suicidal move on Trent's part, but instead she saw it as a legitimate threat to her freedom and/or marriage.
When Trent got on the phone (to the police oddly enough), Lynn pulled out a gun and shot him. Or so we thought. It turns out that she missed Trent at point blank range and some third party outside the window shot Trent in the back AT THE EXACT SAME TIME Lynn pulled the trigger.
The whole scenario was absurd. To begin with, Lynn should've gone to the police herself to protect her family. She should've at least used the threat of the police to back Trent off of her being that she was the only person who'd protected Trent's dumbass AND was the only one who could put him away. However, she went to meet with him anyway and decided that killing him was the only option. The writers made it so she shot AT him, but we were led to believe she shot him due to the highly improbable scenario which was her shooting at the EXACT same time as some mysterious figure off camera.
I didn't like it. I didn't like it one bit.
Trent was needed for drama, I get that, but sometimes writers try to be so clever that they look dumb in the process. In their efforts to be creative they overlook the simple things. If they were to run some of these ideas by an average person, a lot of times they'd see their mistakes. All they have to do is run the idea by an average Joe or Joanna and answer their questions. If the writer can't answer the simple questions, then rewrite it. If the writer can answer the questions, then put the answers in the script, but in a way that is seamless .
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