EightyProof45 Reviews

The Flower Girl (1951)

A Rare Gem

[10/10 · 28 May 2019]

This year's retrospective at the Hong Kong International Film Festival featured a special quartet of "four treasures" starring legendary Chinese actress Li Lihua, one of which was titled 'The Flower Girl,' from 1951, apparently filmed in Hong Kong and described in the festival programme as "a highly emotional drama."

I wasn't entirely sold on the idea at first. To be perfectly honest, I was lot more excited for the next day's Li Lihua screening, billed as a "sparkling romantic comedy" that "satirizes bourgeois manners and social climbing..." But I hadn't any other plans on that dreary Monday evening. And I love classic American and European films from the era, so why not take a chance on a Chinese one? Thus, after work, I made the short trek from my office to Tai Kwun and bought a ticket. "How bad could it be?" I reasoned.

The screening, touted as the "world premiere" of the new print, was briefly introduced by Diana Fong, granddaughter of the film's producer, who told the history of its making and described the struggle to restore it to its former glory. Then the lights dimmed, and the scratchy black-and-white main titles flickered across the screen.

In the opening moments, I was reminded of Walter Percy's foreword to 'A Confederacy of Dunces,' where he recounts his efforts to avoid reading a manuscript he fears will be utterly dreadful, only to discover it may in fact be a masterpiece.

"In this case," he writes, "I read on. And on. First with the sinking feeling that it was not bad enough to quit, then with a prickle of interest, then a growing excitement, and finally an incredulity: surely it was not possible that it was so good."

In that dark cinema, I was Percy, so entirely hooked after only a few minutes that I couldn't tear my eyes from the screen for the remainder of the brisk, ninety-six minute running time. Suddenly my mind was racing with thoughts: "How have I never heard of it before?" "Why isn't such a marvel better known?" "Are there more movies like this out there?" "Is there, in fact, an entire unearthed universe of similar treasures yet to be discovered?"

Liberally adapted from the famous short story 'Boule de Suif' by Guy de Maupassant, 'The Flower Girl' transposes the action from the Franco-Prussian War to the Second Sino-Japanese War. It also combines numerous echoes of Josef von Sternberg's 1932 classic 'Shanghai Express' with a generous helping of John Ford's 1939 stunner 'Stagecoach.' And if you've ever yearned for a Shanghai Express that features more Anna May Wong (and, let's be honest, who hasn't?), this is the flick for you.

Bringing together a gallimaufry of characters attempting to travel between two cities under the ever-watchful eyes of dictatorial Japanese warlords who have restricted the free movement of the local population, 'The Flower Girl' opens in a bus depot, where a pair of inspectors scrutinize the papers of hopeful passengers, sternly questioning them on their travel motives before granting access to the coach: a businessman, a banker and a merchant, each with his wife... then a loafer and a pair of sisters headed home to visit an ailing mother... and, last, a beautiful young lady named Flora, immediately recognized by the guards and revealed to be a (possibly ex-) prostitute, fed up with city life and determined to reunite with her faraway young son whom she hasn't seen for several years.

The characters now introduced, they set off on their journey. Chatting with one another as they bump along the country highway, it quickly becomes clear the three respectable couples do not want anything to do with a woman of Flora's standing. Only the sisters treat her with compassion and pleasantness, while the rest do their best to simply ignore her.

After hours of arduous travel, our group is forced to stop at a country inn due to the Japanese-imposed curfew only allowing for movement during daylight hours. It is here that a local general makes a startling demand. It seems he, too, knows of Flora's reputation, and unless she will submit to spending a night with him, he will not allow any of the group to move on. Naturally, Flora refuses, so nobody is permitted to leave.

Her fellow passengers are kept in the dark about the reason for their delay. When it is finally revealed, they rally in support of their compatriot, outraged that a foreign commander would insult a Chinese woman in such a manner. However, as days (and days and days) wear on and their own personal circumstances make a departure ever more urgent, they conspire together to convince Flora to accede to the tryst, their self-seeking aims usurping the importance of the young woman's honor. The catty wives and pompous husbands attempt to cull together noble reasons to achieve their objective, barely masking their selfish intent.

I don't want to spoil the many developments that keep the story moving forward. To paraphrase Percy, better let you discover them on your own. But rest assured, each scene continues building tension, introducing subplots and unveiling unexpected twists. You're in for a treat because the film operates on so many levels. On its surface, it's simply a compelling story, with well-drawn characters faced with moral, emotional and physical problems. But it also works in a much deeper way, presenting an exposé of the hypocrisy of the then-contemporary Chinese middle class, all the while highlighting the brutality of the Japanese occupation and its harrowing effects on the local townspeople. And, from a filmmaking perspective, it's just an incredibly well-made production, with stunning camerawork, impressive sets and solid performances from a cast of troupers.

When the screen faded to black and the house lights came up again, I cheered loud, lustily and long. So did many others in attendance. I felt like I had been granted access to a secret masterpiece, exploring themes of loyalty, patriotism and the bonds of friendship. And I experienced one of the rarest, most joyous emotions one can feel at the conclusion of a movie screening: gratitude. I was truly appreciative at being given the chance to attend such a special event. And I've been singing the film's praises to anyone who'll listen since that night.

If the results of my early investigation are any indication, 'The Flower Girl' is currently not available on DVD, and I can't find mention of any future planned screenings. But if you do come across the rare opportunity to encounter this gem, I wholeheartedly recommend catching it. I doubt you'll leave disappointed. Every inch a classic, 'The Flower Girl' deserves to take its rightful place in the essential canon of world cinema.

The Flower Girl (1951)

A Well-Made, Engrossing Cinema Classic

[10/10 · 4 April 2019]

Each year, when the Hong Kong International Film Festival comes to town, the city's moviegoers are granted ample access to a fortnight's worth of top-flight entertainment. With over two hundred movies representing more than sixty countries, the festival brings together crowd-pleasing favorites, critic's darlings, obscure indies and a healthy dose of "restored classics" from decades past. It's a mind-boggling mixture of the great, the good, the 'interesting,' the mediocre, the disappointing, and, on only the rarest of occasions, the terrible. All in all, it's wonderful.

This year's retrospective featured a special quartet of "four treasures" starring legendary Chinese actress Li Lihua, one of which was titled "The Flower Girl," from 1951, apparently filmed in Hong Kong and described in the festival programme as "a highly emotional drama."

I wasn't entirely sold on the idea at first. To be perfectly honest, I was lot more excited for the next day's Li Lihua screening, billed as a "sparkling romantic comedy" that "satirizes bourgeois manners and social climbing..." But I hadn't any other plans on that dreary Monday evening. And I love classic American and European films from the era, so why not take a chance on a Chinese one? Thus, after work, I made the short trek from my office to Tai Kwun and bought a ticket. "How bad could it be?" I reasoned.

The screening-touted as the "world premiere" of the new print-was briefly introduced by Diana Fong, granddaughter of the film's producer, who told the history of its making and described the struggle to restore it to its former glory. Then the lights dimmed, and the scratchy black-and-white main titles flickered across the screen.

In the opening moments, I was reminded of Walter Percy's foreword to "A Confederacy of Dunces," where he recounts his efforts to avoid reading a manuscript he fears will be utterly dreadful, only to discover it may in fact be a masterpiece.

"In this case," he writes, "I read on. And on. First with the sinking feeling that it was not bad enough to quit, then with a prickle of interest, then a growing excitement, and finally an incredulity: surely it was not possible that it was so good. I shall resist the temptation to say what first made me gape, grin, laugh out loud, shake my head in wonderment. Better let the reader make the discovery on his own."

In that dark cinema, I was Percy, so entirely hooked after only a few minutes that I couldn't tear my eyes from the screen for the remainder of the brisk, ninety-six minute running time. Suddenly my mind was racing with thoughts: "How have I never heard of it before? Why isn't such a marvel better known? Are there more movies like this out there? Is there, in fact, an entire unearthed universe of similar treasures yet to be discovered?"

Liberally adapted from the famous short story "Boule de Suif" by Guy de Maupassant, "The Flower Girl" transposes the action from the Franco-Prussian War to the Second Sino-Japanese War. It also combines numerous echoes of Josef von Sternberg's 1932 classic "Shanghai Express" with a generous helping of John Ford's 1939 stunner "Stagecoach." And if you've ever yearned for a "Shanghai Express" that features more Anna May Wong-and, let's be honest, who hasn't?-this is the flick for you.

Bringing together a gallimaufry of characters attempting to travel between two cities under the ever-watchful eyes of dictatorial Japanese warlords who have restricted the free movement of the local population, "The Flower Girl" opens in a bus depot, where a pair of inspectors scrutinize the papers of hopeful passengers, sternly questioning them on their travel motives before granting access to the coach. A businessman, a banker and a merchant, each with his wife, then a loafer and a pair of sisters headed home to visit an ailing mother and, last, a beautiful young lady named Flora, immediately recognized by the guards and revealed to be a (possibly ex-) prostitute, fed up with city life and determined to reunite with her faraway young son whom she hasn't seen for several years.

The characters now introduced, they set off on their journey. Chatting with one another as they bump along the country highway, it quickly becomes clear the three respectable couples do not want anything to do with a woman of Flora's standing. Only the sisters treat her with compassion and pleasantness, while the rest do their best to simply ignore her.

After hours of arduous travel, our group is forced to stop at a country inn due to the Japanese-imposed curfew only allowing for movement during daylight hours. It is here that a local general makes a startling demand. It seems he, too, knows of Flora's reputation, and unless she will submit to spending a night with him, he will not allow any of the group to move on. Naturally, Flora refuses, so nobody is permitted to leave.

Her fellow passengers are kept in the dark about the reasons for their delay. When it is finally revealed, they initially rally in support of their compatriot, outraged that a foreign commander would insult a Chinese woman in such a manner. However, as days (and days and days) wear on and their own personal circumstances make a departure ever more urgent, they conspire together to convince Flora to accede to the tryst, their self-seeking aims usurping the importance of the young woman's honor. The catty wives and their pompous husbands attempt to cull together noble reasons to achieve their objective, barely masking their selfish intent.

I don't want to spoil the many developments that keep the story moving forward. To paraphrase Percy, better let you discover them on your own. But rest assured, each scene continues building tension, introducing subplots and unveiling unexpected twists. You're in for a treat because the film operates on so many levels. On its surface, it's simply a compelling story, with well-drawn characters faced with moral, emotional and physical problems. But it also works in a much deeper way, presenting an exposé of the hypocrisy of the then-contemporary Chinese middle class, all the while highlighting the brutality of the Japanese occupation and its harrowing effects on the local townspeople. And, from a filmmaking perspective, it's just an incredibly well-made production, with stunning camerawork, impressive sets and solid performances from a cast of troupers.

When the screen faded to black and the house lights came up again, I cheered loud, lustily and long. So did many others in attendance. I felt like I had been granted access to a secret masterpiece, exploring themes of loyalty, patriotism and the bonds of friendship. And I experienced one of the rarest, most joyous emotions one can feel at the conclusion of a movie screening: gratitude. I was truly appreciative at being given the chance to attend such a special event. And I've been singing the film's praises to anyone who'll listen for the past week.

If the results of my early investigation are any indication, "The Flower Girl" is currently not available on DVD, and I can't find mention of any future planned screenings. But if you do come across the rare opportunity to encounter this gem, I wholeheartedly recommend catching it. I doubt you'll leave disappointed. Every inch a classic, "The Flower Girl" deserves to take its rightful place in the essential canon of world cinema.

Tenderness (2013)

A Gentle Comedy Full of Tender Moments

[9/10 · 25 March 2013]

From its opening shot tracking two skiers gracefully winding their way down an alpine slope to its gentle, perfect ending, Marion Hansel's lovely gem of a film is a surprisingly affecting portrait of love, both romantic and filial.

The above-mentioned opening shot, breathtaking and disarming, is immediately interrupted by the sound of a crash, as we cut in close to discover that one of the figures has fallen. "It's broken for sure," Jack bluntly tells his companion. "Call for help." This simple opening sets in motion a very poignant and tender tale.

The young man, it turns out, has been working as a ski instructor in Flaine for the past couple of months. Although his injury occurs in France, he is actually from Belgium, where his separated parents Frans and Lisa still live.

Early in the morning, Lisa wakes up to the alarming telephone call informing her that her son is in the hospital. Though the injury does not appear to be too serious, she is naturally concerned, as any parent would be. She relays the news to her ex-husband, and the two decide to make the nine hour drive to Flaine to bring their son home.

The odd couple, at once so different yet at the same time magnificently complimentary, set off at 6:30am and have a journey full of nostalgia, regret and more than their fair share of minor catastrophes. We can see exactly why they were once in love and understand instantly that they very well may still be.

Finally they reunite with their son, meet his girlfriend Alison, enjoy a couple of meals together, and then pack his things into the car and head back to Brussels. It's as simple as that. No major plot twists, no big, emotional scenes and, best of all, no fanciful or unbelievable happy endings—just a series of everyday conversations between real people, highlighting both their attractive and less-than-savory qualities.

Full of wit and humor, the film is almost picaresque in nature, as little vignettes unfold to show new aspects of each relationship: ex- husband and wife, boyfriend and girlfriend, mother and child, father and son. Hansel finds comedy and poignancy in equal measure in the sometimes awkward, sometimes touching situations in which her characters unexpectedly find themselves.

The cast members all breathe life and truth into their characters, especially the magnificent Marilyne Canto as Lisa and Olivier Gourmet as Frans. In a small cameo, Spanish actor Sergi Lopez also contributes a memorable performance as a hitch hiker.

In the end, it's true, perhaps little has changed in the lives of the characters, but as Bourvil croons the title tune over the closing credits, the lovely, quiet truths of the story resonate to confirm what a special film has just ended. And what a perfect title the author has chosen for her tale.

Dancing Co-Ed (1939)

Unbelievably Beautiful Lana Turner

[9/10 · 14 July 2004]

This is perhaps Lana Turner's finest vehicle. It showcases her unbelievable beauty and vitality, and it also spotlights her generally undiscovered comedic talents. The plot of this film involves a nation-wide search for a "dancing co-ed" to replace a movie-star in a big budget film. Lana's character has been planted at one of the colleges under consideration, however the student-editor of the school newspaper suspects that the company has already chosen its girl. Under the theory that Sherlock Holmes never suspected Watson, Lana becomes his assistant, and successfully evades his search...of course, the two fall in love....

This movie gave me some of the biggest laughs I've ever had. It is simple, yet wonderful, and one of the most enjoyable films. Chalk up Dancing Co-Ed as another of 1939's countless cinema classics.

Chaplin Today: Monsieur Verdoux (2003 TV Movie)

Good Documentary

[9/10 · 20 June 2004]

Each of Chaplin's films showcased in The Chaplin Collection on DVD has a special feature documentary called Chaplin Today. Each of these half-an-hour shorts has well-known filmmakers discussing a particular film's influence on his career.

Chaplin Today: Monsier Verdoux is not up to Chaplin Today: City Lights, but it is one of the best of the Chaplin Today documentaries. The director chosen to speak is French cineaste Claude Chabrol, and he wildly hails Monsieur Verdoux as Chaplin's chef d'œvre. He guides us through the film, and discusses the scenes and shots he finds "most brilliant." He also talks a little of Chaplin's shooting style, and how that influences the final product.

This short does a good job of putting the film in its historical context, giving plenty of nice background information on the film and why it is considered today to be a classic. Anybody who watches Monsieur Verdoux should most definitely check out this short afterwards, but be sure not to watch it before because it will ruin the film's many comic surprises.

Chaplin Today: City Lights (2003 TV Movie)

A Perfect Accompaniment to CITY LIGHTS

[10/10 · 14 June 2004]

CITY LIGHTS is easily Charlie Chaplin's most subtle comedy. The blatant humor is missing, and instead the comedy comes from the smallest, most inconspicuous things. In addition to putting the film in its historical context and tracing the history of the production, CHAPLIN TODAY: CITY LIGHTS also guides the viewer through parts of the film and points out the tiny little gems of humor Chaplin works into the film. Then when you watch the film again, you see the inner genius of Chaplin at work, and you begin to appreciate the film much more.

This short documentary is similar to an audio commentary, as it has a noted filmmaker voice-over his views on parts of the film, explaining what is going on. It is an invaluable accompaniment to this gem of a film. Be sure to watch it at least one time AFTER you have seen the full film.

The Rage of Paris (1938)

The Ultimate Screwball Comedy

[13 June 2004]

Although it is rarely cited by critics, The Rage of Paris is one of the breeziest and most charming of all of Hollywood's screwball comedies. It stars the lovely French superstar Danielle Darrieux in her greatest American role and second-generation Hollywood legend Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. Screwball films are famous for their attempts to push the censors to the limit. And The Rage of Paris does this amazingly. This type of comedy came about as a result of the Production Code, and the screenwriters and directors tried to go as far towards risqué as possible in them.

This picture begins with a young wanna-be model, Nicole (Darrieux). She is given an assignment to pose for a photographer, but she objects to the clothing (actually the lack of clothing) she is being asked to pose with. So the boss asks another model to come into his office to offer her the job. Nicole overhears the salary the model is going to get, and she changes her mind. While the boss and the new model discuss the job, Nicole sneaks over to the boss' desk and grabs what she thinks is the address of the photographer. But, she grabs the wrong address. Instead, she winds up at the office of Mr. Trevor (Fairbanks). Told by his secretary to "make herself comfortable" until Mr. Trevor arrives, she misconstrues and is in the process of undressing when he enters. It is perhaps the finest "meet-cute" in film history. When she finally realizes she got the wrong address, she leaves the office and returns to her dump-of-a boarding house, where her best friend Gloria lives.

Both desperate for money, Gloria and Nicole enlist the help of a head-waiter, Mike, to help them out. He has been saving some money to open his own restaurant, and he has $3,000 in the bank. Gloria proposes a scheme: use that money to buy Nicole some nice clothes, put her up in the hotel, and try to set her up with a rich husband; then, if they succeed, they will return his $3,000 and throw in the extra $2,000 he needs to open his restaurant. Reluctantly, Mike goes along with it.

The man they decide to "catch" with their beautiful bait is Bill Duncan, who "has ten million dollars and owns half of Canada." In a hilarious meeting, Nicole "accidentally" mistakes Bill for her old next-door neighbor. She runs up to him, kisses him, and talks excitedly in French. He tells her she is mistaken, and, embarrassed, she drops a glove and runs back to her room. Bill picks up the glove and begins to follow Nicole...the scheme has worked, and the next thing they know, Bill takes Nicole to the opera. It looks as though everything is going according to plan.

At the opera, Bill sees his best friend whom he hasn't met in a long time. He brings him back to his box, anxious to introduce him to his French aristocratic girlfriend. But it just so happens that his best friend is James Trevor, the same man Nicole was accidentally stripping for three weeks earlier. Instead of revealing her secret to his friend, James decides to see how the situation plays out.

Eventually, he tries to tell Bill about Nicole, but Bill believes James is lying and only wants the beauty for himself. In haste, Bill agrees to marry the girl. At their engagement-announcement dinner, however, James 'kidnaps' her. He takes her to his secluded country home, and the two fall in love.

She hitch-hikes back to the city, where Bill has found out the truth about her. And since he will no longer marry her, the door is open for James!

The story is typical of the times. Once Nicole is disrobed in front of Mr. Trevor, the audience knows they will fall in love. It's inevitable. But it is also so much fun watching it happen!

Furthermore, the entire cast is sensational. In fact, it is one of the most perfectly cast films of all time. Towering above all is the delectable Danielle Darrieux! She is absolutely ideal, using her continental French personality to drive men mad. The way she dictates to Gloria what she wants to eat for breakfast is lovely. It is such a simple moment, yet the actress manages to turn it into one of the most memorable parts of the film. Still, the highlight is her pouty foibles at the home of James Trevor. Her facial expressions when she sees the two-sided photograph and her experience with the troublesome window are totally captivating.

Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. is the quintessential debonair leading man. His performance here is one of his finest. His concern for his friend, as well as his slow albeit sure fall into Nicole's charms, make the character quite memorable. As Gloria, Helen Broderick is the cynical sidekick par excellence. And Mischa Auer suits the role of the headwaiter, Mike, so well, that it's hard to imagine another actor doing the part. Louis Hayward, playing Bill Trevor, gives one of the film's finest performances. And Harry Davenport has a part in the funniest portion of the movie, as the eccentric caretaker of James' country house.

The sets are art deco dreams, particularly the hotel rooms and the hotel room doors. Darrieux's magnificent wardrobe accents the star's unbelievable figure, too. Quite honestly, Danielle Darrieux might be the most beautiful woman who has ever lived, and this film, made when she was a young and glorious twenty years old, captures her joie de vivre for all time. The direction is swift and deft, but it's the script that really provides the basis for the film's charm. The writing and scenario are both perfect, and at about 78 minutes, the film is fast and fun.

Go to the ends of the earth to find this film. Buy it, watch it over and over again, and pass it on to everyone you know. It is the one film that will turn just about anybody on to classic films, and it ranks up top with Bringing Up Baby, The Awful Truth, It Happened One Night, and The Lady Eve as one of the five greatest screwball comedies of all time.

The Guardsman (1931)

A Classic in Every Regard

[10/10 · 24 May 2004]

Many people seem to regard this film as important simply because it is a living testament to Alfred Lunt and Lynne Fontaine's acting. After all, it is the only preserved sound performance in which they have starring roles. In reality, however, the film is not only historically important because of the legends in it; it is one of the most fresh and funny films to emerge from the pre-Code period. The story is irresistible: a vain acting couple constantly insult and tease one another. In order to test his wife's fidelity after a bout, the Actor (Lunt) disguises himself as a foreign guardsman, goes out of his way to meet his wife in disguise, and furthermore goes on to try and seduce her. After he succeeds, he reveals himself, furious at her perfidious attitude. The Actress (Fontaine) begins laughing, claiming that she knew all along. At first dubious, the Actor is eventually convinced that his wife was playing along with him, and the two romantically embrace. The Actress looks at the camera and gives the most priceless look, letting the audience know that she may not have really known all along... Lunt and Fontanne make this film come to life. There dominating presence creates a satirical and realistic portrait of what an egomaniacal acting couple's life might really be like.

In addition, there are some priceless supporting roles: Maude Ebourne as a sarcastic maid, Zasu Pitts as a strange (to say the least) servant, Roland Young, and always-reliable Herman Bing as "a creditor." Sidney Franklin, perhaps the most unjustly forgotten of all screen directors (his classics include Private Lives, Smilin' Through, The Good Earth, The Barretts of Wimpole Street, and The Dark Angel), adroitly guides the ensemble, allowing the acting to take center-stage but never neglecting the details so important to cinema. In all, this short, fast-paced romp with two bona fide legends of American stage history is an essential lesson in screen comedy and romance. Although the Lunts, when asked to do later film work, replied "We can be bought but we can't be bored!" there is absolutely no sign of unenthusiasm on screen here. Each earned an Oscar nomination for their performance in The Guardsman, and they left their indelible stamp, albeit only for a short eighty some-odd minutes, on American motion picture history.

Romeo and Juliet (1936)

The Best of Cinema's ROMEO AND JULIETs

[10/10 · 5 May 2004]

This is quite simply the best version of Shakespeare's beloved tragic drama that has ever hit the screen. A quintessential problem with the play is that its characters are not at all well-suited to film. The stage allows middle-aged experienced actors to play the parts, for the distance between an audience and actor on the stage can supply all necessary illusion. The intimacy of the camera makes a demand, however: either sacrifice this understanding for youth or sacrifice the youth for understanding. The title characters are supposedly meant to be only in their mid-teens, but to successfully portray them, an experienced mentality is needed, and so it is imperative that the latter sacrifice be made. On film, rarely does the depth the two characters require come forth, instead substituted with this youthful energy. This has allowed plenty of young, age-appropriate actors to deliver perfectly horrible performances as the young lovers. When Franco Zeferelli produced his overrated version of this tale in the 60s, he cast Olivia Hussey and Juliet and Leonard Whitting as Romeo...and the two made Romeo and Juliet teenagers with no sense of real love and instead horny teenage lust. By casting Norma Shearer (around 36) and Leslie Howard (over 40) as the two, M-G-M lost the supreme youth, but gained a near-perfect asset of understanding of the characters. Shearer's delivery is perfect, particularly in the spine-tingling rendition of Juliet's death-contemplation monologue just before she takes the poison. Leslie Howard nearly matches her with his Romeo, throwing some lines at the audience in a totally new, fresh, and unexpected way. Edna May Oliver perfectly captures Shakespeare's Nurse, filling her with both bawdy humor and genuine care for Juliet's well-being. As Tybalt, a role cut down from the original length but nonetheless impressive, Basil Rathbone is astonishing; he earned a Best Supporting Actor nomination for his work here. Also of note is John Barrymore, whom I have read was at times totally ossified while filming his scenes. His age really shows, and he is no longer the leading Baron from Grand Hotel, but his controversial performance is, if not to all minds good, at least totally engrossing. He was at a time the most celebrated of all Shakespearean stage actors, and this film marks his only completely recorded performance in a sound film of the Bard's work; this makes the film further noteworthy. To add to this pedigree cast, M-G-M put their top technical men on the job. Adrian and Cedric Gibbons perfectly capture the look and flavor of the play with their elegant costumes and sets. The art deco, sleek look ingeniously blends modern architecture with what is expected from Shakespeare's day. The camerawork is brilliant also, and Herbert Stothart's blend of Tchaikalvski's haunting Love Theme and original music creates just the perfect musical score. All of these elements combine to create the first truly great Shakespearean film adaptation, and also one of the best films of the era, period. Far superior to Zeferelli's version, and any other one I've seen, George Cukor's Romeo and Juliet is another masterpiece from one of the all-time great directors, who helmed such classic, well-regarded productions as Dinner at Eight, David Copperfield, The Philadelphia Story, and Adam's Rib.

The Moon's Our Home (1936)

A Classic Screwball Comedy

[5 February 2004]

The Moon's Our Home is a fast moving, machine-gun fire paced romantic comedy from 1936. It is the story of the romance of Cherry Chester, a movie star, and Anthony Amberton, a travel writer. Ms. Chester, travelling under her birth name, Sarah Brown, can't stand the writings of Anthony Amberton. Amberton, using pseudonym John Smith, detests "marshmallow-faced" movie stars, most of all Cherry Chester. For better or for worse, however, Cherry and Anthony don't know the real names when they meet, and subsequently are able to fall in love.

The novelty of this film is that the two stars, Margaret Sullavan and Henry Fonda, were married and divorced by the time the production started. The fights (verbal and phsyical) seem wonderfully real and the love and chemistry seem genuine also. There is a bitter-sweet feeling with this bit of trivia, especially when the couple separates (a few times).

The cast, in addition to the leads, are wonderful. Especially Oscar-winner Walter Brennan, as the justice of the peace. In one of the best and funniest marriages ever to take place on the screen, Brennan recites the ceremony and Amberton and Chester have a fight. It just so happens, however, that each time the j.p. asks "do you take..." they just happen to say in their own conversation "I do." It's irresistable.

Although it rarely turns up, get your hands on this film by all means. Besides being a lot of fun, it is also the screwball comedy that has the most innuendo that seemed to sneak by the censors. Fonda's character "has conquered the highest peaks known to travellers." And a personal favorite, the fact that Cherry won't "mind the bumps" on a truck ride... Modern audiences may not get it, but to the keen ear, this film is a delight as well as to the eyes...

The Moon's Our Home is a classic example of Hollywood movie-making of a bygone era.

Idiot's Delight (1939)

Yet Another Gem from 1939!!!!!!!

[14 January 2004]

Robert E. Sherwood won the coveted Pulitzer Prize for his allegory-like satire Idiot's Delight. Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer purchased the film rights to the play, and commissioned Sherwood himself to adapt his play to the screen. The result is this astoundingly poignant classic, which features Norma Shearer and Clark Gable in the third and last of their radiant screen pairings. Harry Van (Gable) is a vaudevillian touring all of Europe with his musical troupe `Les Blondes.' The group is forced to stay in an exclusive Alpine hotel when the European borders are closed due to the possible coming of war. A German doctor (Charles Coburn), a French pacifist (Burgess Meredith), an English honeymoon couple (Peter Willes and Pat Paterson), and an Italian officer (Joseph Schildkraut) are lodging in the hotel as well. And also checking in are munitions manufacturer Achille Weber (Edward Arnold) and a beautiful traveling companion of his named Irene (Shearer). Irene, it seems, reminds Harry of an old girlfriend of his, with whom he had shared a special relationship ten years before in Omaha, Nebraska. But she was a redhead, and spoke with no accent. Irene, however, is a platinum blonde, and has a very clear Russian accent. Still, Harry wonders if it could be the same woman. As Harry pursues Irene, probing her complex web of stories to find out about her past, the war develops rather suddenly. A nearby airfield sends out its bombers, and the garbled radio broadcasts carry the fearful news: war has already been declared. As quickly as the guests assembled, they must depart, as the frontiers are opened for perhaps the last time. But Harry is unwilling to go until he is sure, and Irene is unwilling to divulge… One of the countless films from 1939 to help it earn the nickname of `the greatest year in movie history,' Idiot's Delight is both acerbically funny and tragically distressing. Although the original 1936 play and the film version both predate World War II, the threat of war was a very real fear, a sentiment quite powerfully expressed via the disparate, sundry characters. It is startling and even more meaningful all these years after the war, as one can easily see how many of the unfortunate predictions came to glaring truth.

But aside from dramatic poignancy, the two lead performances catapult this film to first-rate status. Shearer is brilliant, quite plainly. She spoofs her number one rival Greta Garbo mercilessly, and uses her accent to its hilarious apex. When she tells her story to Harry, and he just gazes at her, incredulously staring, hilarity reaches its peak! She has turned in so many fine performances, that it is hard to single out any one as her finest (Juliet in Romeo and Juliet, the title role in Marie Antoinette, Elizabeth Barrett Browning in The Barretts of Wimpole Street, her Oscar-winning role in The Divorcée, and Amanda in Private Lives are all strong contenders), but her Irene is certainly amongst the competitors. Gable, in a role that requires quite a lot of singing and dancing, succeeds admirably. He is a perfect Harry Van, complimenting perfectly with Shearer. The two have fantastic chemistry, and this was the last of the three classics they starred in together.

****side note****respected Shearer biographer Gavin Lambert singled this out as his favorite of all of the star's pictures. In one vignette he illustrates in his biography of Norma Shearer, he describes an occasion where the actress herself invited him to a private screening of the film in the 1970s.

The Barretts of Wimpole Street (1934)

Simply Amazing

[14 January 2004]

The Barretts of Wimpole Street is one of the finest play-to-film adaptations of the 1930s. Although its script, photography, and direction are all first-rate, it is still the grand performances that make this film appealing even today. The above-the-title trio had all won Academy Awards in the two or three years prior, and demonstrate their supreme thespian abilities in their roles. Towering above all is Norma Shearer, as bedridden invalid Elizabeth "Ba" Barrett. Although she speaks the lines in that sophisticated voice of hers, the scenes that strike the viewer greatest are ironically those without dialog at all. Take for example the scene immediately following her first visit with Browning. After he leaves her bedroom, the invalid struggles to her feet, and in one take, tries with all her heart to get over to the window so she can see him once more, leaving. In another scene, set a few months later, she is informed that Mr. Browning has come to visit her. Again, overcoming her bedridden state, she not only gets up, but also decides to go to see him downstairs instead of having him come up. Her eyes and hands express so much, and as she descends (without much dialog), her whole self-sense seem to elevate. Only a short while later, however, her domineering father orders her back upstairs. He wishes to carry her, but she insists on walking. In a magnificent William Daniels close-up, the camera stays on her face as her father tells her off camera that she will not succeed. Shearer's genius here lies in the change of facial expressions, as her reactions to her father's criticisms finally take their toll and she collapses. Quite simply, its another of Norma Shearer's brilliant characterizations, and one of the most different roles the actress ever played. March, second-billed as Browning, is a little histrionic. He gave a better performance opposite Shearer in 1932's Smilin' Through, but his performance here does not detract from the film, and his forcefulness seems strangely potent at times. As the glowering father, Laughton is amazing. The infamous "gleam" in his eye is there in many scenes, and when he carries his daughter up the stairs, its almost perverted (albeit brilliant). Maureen O'Sullavan is phenomenal as Elizabeth's young-and-in-love, rebellious sister, and Una O'Connor is in great form as her graceful maid.

A feast for fine acting, The Barretts of Wimpole Street is one of the most appealing of all costume dramas of Hollywood's golden age. It still stands (as it shall for many years to come) as a lasting tribute to two larger-than-life literary icons.

****point of interest****in 1957, Barretts was admirably remade by the same director (Sidney Franklin) at M-G-M (as was this version). Although not nearly as good as the original, fine performances from Jennifer Jones (Elizabeth) and John Gielgud (Papa Barrett) again captured on film Rudolph Besier's classic roles.

Dinner at Eight (1933)

One of the Best Comedies M-G-M made During the 1930s

[10/10 · 11 November 2003]

The movie Dinner at Eight is one of the best comedies ever made in Hollywood. Any reviewer who has claimed that it isn't a comedy needs to re-examine the picture. Although undeniably dark in its tone, the film is undeniably hilarious, especially when certain actors are on-screen. It could be called a dark comedy, even a black comedy, but a comedy it is nonetheless. There are eight `above-the-title' stars in this picture.

Billie Burke, except for the scene in which she discovers her husband is ill, is a parody of the society woman. Every line of hers, emphasizing her scatterbrain-ness and her lack of priorities, reeks of hilarity. Her role is pure comedy.

Lionel Barrymore, playing a sickly business tycoon, has a less comedic role. His opening lines about `Australian mutton' are hilarious. The way he watches his wife planning the party is also quite comedic. His dramatic moments juxtapose alongside his wife's to create some of her funniest moments. His part is almost split down the middle between comedy and drama.

Wallace Beery, portraying a ruthless, uncouth business man, is hilarious. His vulgarity contradict everything Mrs. Jordan views as ideal. He screams, yells, and has a violent temper. And, boy, is he funny to watch. Anyone who tries to label his performance as anywhere near dramatic should have his or her head examined. He gives the funnies male performance in the film. The role is almost all comedy.

Jean Harlow, as his slutty, common, vixen-of-a-wife gives the finest comedic performance of her entire career. She snarls, changes her voice in different conversations, manipulates, and lies, all to comedic perfection. Just the sound of her voice, saying the most outrageous dialogue to boot, triggers the laughs. This is the most comedic role in the picture.

John Barrymore, as an aging silent matinee idol, is the film's most dramatic performance. Although he has some comic moments (very few), and some ironic and satirical actions (when he kills himself, for example, he positions the light perfectly to capture his profile), for the most part, his scenes give the film their most dramatic moments. The performance is about 90% drama.

Edmund Lowe, playing a doctor-cum-playboy having a tryst with Harlow, has his part split down the middle. He is often funny, never reaching the sheer hilarity of some of the others, but, also, never quite elevating to the heights of histrionics either. His views on extramarital affairs are pretty funny, but when he has to tell a patient of impending illness, its drama. The fact that he specializes in `bedside manner' is just funny, and his first embrace with his `patient' is a scathing critique of corrupt society. Just as Lionel Barrymore's role, Lowe's is split fifty-fifty, right down the middle.

Lee Tracy, as John Barrymore's agent, is simply hilarious. His vocal fluctuations were his trademark, and the part seems tailor-made for him. Although he has many dramatic moments, he is very funny most of the time. His reactions and gestures are wonderful. In all, this part is about 60% comedy, 40% drama.

Marie Dressler, as a grand dame of the 1890s, is priceless. She all-but steals the picture from her co-stars. Sprinkled among her part are dozens of comic innuendos and perfect double takes. She is perfect and absolutely hilarious at all time, with the exception of the one scene in which she must explain to a young woman that her lover has committed suicide. The rest of the time she goes traipsing about making a perfect spectacle of herself, and she is the greatest asset to the film, acting-wise. Her part is 99% comic, except for that one scene.

The supporting actors, particularly Louise Closser Hale and Grant Withers, are comedic perfection. With the exception of the scenes in John Barryore's room at the Hotel Versailles, almost every supporting role is meant to be funny. The sets and costumes poke fun at the times too, and in the last analysis, the picture is a dramatic comedy, but a comedy bien sûr!

Down to Earth (2001)

Not as bad as I thought, but not like the original!

[31 October 2003]

There is a general feeling amongst film fans and critics that 1941s Here Comes Mr. Jordan is the best-yet screen version of Harry Segall's stage piece Heaven Can Wait. Another worthy remake, although not as good as Here Comes Mr. Jordan, was 1978s Heaven Can Wait, which lost some of the original's charm but still had plenty of wonderful ensemble acting. This is the third version of the story I have seen on-screen, and with Heaven Can Wait and Here Comes Mr. Jordan fresh in my memory, I was expecting to hate this picture with a passion. Here Comes Mr. Jordan is among my thirty favorite films ever, and I thoroughly enjoyed its remake.

Although simpler at times and less sophisticated, Down to Earth is an attention holder. If it came on tv, I would probably change the chanel after a few minutes, but stuck in the teatre, I was not tempted to walk out (as I often am). Don't get me wrong: I did not like this movie, but it exceeded my expectations. It brought in some funny new twists that if handled by a more pedigree cast and crew could have formed a contemporary classic.

Unfortunately, it was made for the masses, and (inexplicably) was quite popular with it theatrical release. Don't go out of your way to see this, but if you have some time to kill, by all means take a look. But be sure to watch the orignal two picture versions to see how it should have been done.

Bluebeard's Eighth Wife (1938)

Colbert and Cooper Shine in Lubitsch's most Under-Appreciated Comedy

[10/10 · 4 October 2003]

There is something about seeing a movie in a good, old-fashioned movie house that adds enormous appeal to every picture. I, fortunately enough, was able to see at Film Forum in New York City a pair of Ernst Lubitsch comedies during their three week tribute to the legendary director. The double feature I attended was a screening of Lubitsch's 1938 comedy Bluebeard's Eighth Wife and the pre-Code classic Design for Living, neither of which I had seen before. Everything I read of Design for Living praised the film, but I could not find a good review anywhere for Bluebeard's Eighth Wife. Leonard Maltin disliked it.VideoHound, too, gave the comedy a low rating.its IMDB score was not complimentary.and Pauline Kael (not a great surprise) blasted the film in her scathing review. So, when I went into the city that day I was expecting to enjoy Bluebeard's Eighth Wife only slightly and love Design for Living completely. Bluebeard's Eighth Wife (which was showing first) began, as the eccentrics who populate the cinema took their seats and the thirties music subsided. `Adolph Zukor presents Claudette Colbert and Gary Cooper in Ernst Lubitsch's Bluebeard's Eighth Wife,' the title card read. Then the picture opened with a hilarious scene: Cooper wants to buy a pair of pajama tops, but he doesn't want any part of the bottoms! He gets into a squabble with the clerk, who seeks the help of his higher bosses, and their seems to be no end to the argument. Enter Claudette Colbert, one of thirties cinema's most beautiful, charming, and talented personalities. `I'll take the bottom,' she kindly intercedes. And there you have perhaps screwball comedies finest `meet cute' ever. The film kept my interest wonderfully.I found myself laughing almost constantly. When Colbert discovers, just before a family portrait is taken, that her groom-to-be has been married seven times, the entire theatre broke into histerics. When she bargains for money immediately after she gets over her shock, the laughs (which still haven't ceased) intensify. And Edward Everett Horton milked some hilarious reactions out of the script as well. When Cooper takes inspiration from Shakespeare's The Taming of the Shrew in disciplining his wife by slapping her in the face, I could not control my laughter when she slapped him back. And the drunk scene with the scallions is one of Claudette Colbert's funniest comic scenes. The greatest comic moment of the film came when Colbert highers a boxer to `teach her husband a lesson.' In pure screwball fashion, he knocks out the wrong man, instead putting her friend David Niven into a cold sleep. He awakes as Cooper is arriving. In order to cover up the situation, Colbert herself, in a moment of strong sexiness, puts her fist up to Niven, asks: `Where did that man hit you? Here? Right here? Right here?' and then BAM! knocks him out again! The film was wonderful, from beginning to end it was a perfect delight. I loved Design for Living, too, though I dare say I think for sheer laughs and entertainment Bluebeard's Eighth Wife was the better and more enjoyable film. There is some charm of seeing a vintage film on the large screen. And in the presence of others laughing, one feels more comfortable doing so himself. That is, perhaps, why I felt the way I did about Bluebeard's Eighth Wife.

The Last of Mrs. Cheyney (1937)

Charming Tour-de-Force for the Stars

[4 October 2003]

Many earlier reviewers have said the Crawford was "mis-cast" as Mrs. Cheyney. I have to disagree. It is not her best performance (for her best acting, see her small but scene-stealing role in The Women and for a Crawford feast, see her Oscar-winning turn in Mildred Pierce), but it is far from her worst. The blame cannot be entirely placed on Crawford either. Nor can it be placed on the director. It must be placed on the production code administrators who sheared Hollywood scripts after 1934, cutting out anything considered "risqué." The original play by Fredric Lonsdale is a surprisingly hilarious and fresh send-up of the class sytem in England. Butler and footmen who are actually thieves in disguise get to act veddy propper and then (when the guests leave) get to drop their phony apparel. Its really quite funny. In the play, when Crawford's would-be suitor catches her at robbery, he forces her to spend a night in the closet with him. This was wonderfully handled in the 1929 Norma Shearer original of this picture. But the production code said that thieves had to always be punished, and sexual actions could not be forced or blackmailed. Thus, this is an extremely bowdlerized version of the play. It is interesting to watch the stars interplay, and I'm a bit surprised that it flopped so largely in 1937. Seeing some of the junk that goes over big nowadays, one would think that with a cast like this and high production values, it would have at least made its mark. See the Norma Shearer version, if you can find it. Unfortunately, its very rare (there is a laser disc version of it on The Dawn of Sound Volume III), but totally worth it. It is risqué and hilarious. Or see Trouble In Paradise, another early pre-Code comedy about jewel thieves, who in that film, don't have to face punishment for their actions.

Riptide (1934)

Norma's Last Pre-Code Picture

[10/10 · 4 October 2003]

The story is a bit difficult to comprehend for some viewers, but the general gist of it is pretty racy. This was one of the final pre-Code motion pictures made in Hollywood, and the last one Norma Shearer made. Being the `Queen' of pre-Code film, it is not only enormously entertaining, but also significant for this reason.

Norma Shearer's Mary has lead a pretty racy life in New York, and, as her husband finds out later, `doesn't stop with a kiss.' However, when she meets Lord Rexford, she is willing to give up this carefree existence for a new life and family in England with him. She succeeds for five years, not philandering or smearing his family's name in any way. Then, however, Lord Rexford goes on a business trip to America. Knowing his wife's past in New York, he decides to play it safe, so to speak, and leave her at home. However, his delightfully decadent Aunt Hetty (played by theatrical legend Mrs. Patrick Campell, in one of her rare screen appearances), brings Mary to Cannes, where she runs into an old `friend' named Tommie (Robert Montgomery, Shearer's greatest on-screen co-star) whom she knew from her New York days. At a party late one night, Mary and Tommie seclude themselves and he takes advantage of her. Outraged at him, she storms back to her hotel, Tommie following. She locks herself in her room, and Tommie tries to gain entrance from his balcony across from hers. He misses, and crashes through a canopy. He winds up in the hospital. Feeling somewhat guilty about the fall, Mary visits him. He claims that her kiss will help him immensely, and seeing no harm in that, Mary grants him his wish. Unfortunately for her, though, a newspaper man snaps a picture at that exact moment, and although there was absolutely no romantic attachment on Mary's part whatsoever, the picture is placed on every newspaper cover imaginable. Her husband returns some time later, and is outraged himself at what his wife has done. After some contemplation on his part, he decides to get a divorce. What can Mary do, seeing as she really has done nothing? There is not proof whatsoever to give Lord Rexford his grounds. So Mary, in a risqué pre-Code manner, gives her husband his grounds by actually participating the acts the newspapers claimed she did. She has a fling with Tommie, and is about to tell her husband so he can go through with the divorce, when he decides he loves her after all. Uh oh! Now she must hide the tryst from her husband, which seems to be simple until Tommie decides he too loves Mary and is unwilling to give her up. With some help from Aunt Hetty and sister Sylvia, Mary is able to finally straighten out her situation and return to a happy life with her husband.

Riptide is blessed with a scintillating script, fine direction, and lovely sets. Apart from fantastic acting, however, the production is further blessed with two absolutely fantastic elements: Adrian's glorious costumes and Ray June's stellar camera work. Norma Shearer was never more lovely than in this picture, thanks to Adrian and June. The costumes are the finest she ever wears (with a possible exception being Marie Antoinette). The cinematography is perhaps the finest of the thirties, with beautiful contrast between skin tones, sets, and wardrobe. Every frame is set up as a wonderful painting, and it is perhaps the finest example of what they mean when they say `in glorious black and white.' The picture, much like real life, is never quite sure whether or not it is a comedy or a drama. The M-G-M/UA Home Video writers who wrote the summary on the back of the box tried to push the comedic elements; many modern review anthologies, such as Leonard Maltin and Videohound, tend to label it with terms like `solid drama' and `soaper.' Whether the film succeeds or not tends to rely on which you choose. The first time I watched it, I believed what I had read elsewhere and found it a strong drama. As such, I was a little bored with it, but Shearer was always worth watching. The second time I viewed it, I decided to take the comedic approach. And boy was I glad I did. As a comedy, this film is amazing. Its unbelievability seem not to matter, and one gets caught up in the romance and wit. Each time I watch it, I see more and more humor, and I truly believe that all involved saw this humor beneath the surface. The cast and crew must have filmed it thinking it was a comedy. Don't watch this as a dramatic soap opera, like The Divorcée or A Free Soul. Savor it for what it truly is: a gentle and satirical farce about sexual relationships and attraction. As such, you will be at an advantage.

Strange Interlude (1932)

A Strange Little Film, But Definitely in a Good Way

[10/10 · 22 September 2003]

In Clark Gable, M-G-M found the perfect compliment to Norma Shearer. Both epitomized the strength of their particular gender, and visually, one could not find a better looking on-screen couple. In their first film pairing, in 1931s A Free Soul, the two created sparks together, and Shearer, already an established star, had enormous `chemistry' with newcomer Gable. The success of that film (it earned an Oscar for Lionel Barrymore's acting, and a nomination for Shearer's) lead to two other successful pairings, both topping the success of A Free Soul (not back then, but from a modern filmgoers point of view). The first of these films was 1932s Strange Interlude (the last was 1939s Idiot's Delight, with Gable's famous `Puttin' on the Ritz' number), an adaptation of the Eugene O'Neil drama about how a web of lies and deception can ruin lives. Of course, there has to be a catch: the characters reveal their most personal thoughts to the audience with `inner monologues.' On the stage, these speeches were recited by the actor while the rest of the cast froze in their actions. With the advantage of film, however, the actors simply `voice over' their thoughts as they think them. Although it works very well, it must have been a hard thing to do. Just think of what it would have been like on the set. You not only had to know what you were doing, you had to think how you would look thinking, and realize how it would look when combined with a voice over. You had to imagine your lines, time them perfectly, and record them later. In some scenes, all of the actors are `thinking' one after another, meaning that there would be minutes of filming that would merely be changes in facial expressions. Even if it hadn't worked at all, one would have to give them credit for trying. But luckily, Shearer was a star from the silent days, and this proves no problem for her. Her actions match her thoughts beautifully. Gable, too, although not a silent star, began his career as an extra in silent films, and he handles his `thoughts' quite adequately. Although not all of the readings and reactions are perfect, one must try to understand how difficult this must have been. That every single syllable does not sound preposterous is a small miracle; that many of the thoughts and reactions are lucid and clear is a big one. The story is an engrossing one, almost a precursor to Peyton Place, and only a few years later the Production Code would have prohibited such a racy story being filed (and this was considerably tuned down from the original four-and-a-half-hour long play)! Shearer is Nina Leeds, a neurotic young beauty whose fiancée is killed in WWI. She marries, rather impulsively, a charming young suitor, but when she learns from his mother that insanity and mental illness has plagued his father's side of the family for countless generations, she knows that she cannot bear his child, the thing she wants most in the world. She also, however, knows that if she divorces him, that, too, might induce the illness. So she has sex with a young doctor (Gable), gives birth to his child, names it after her lost love Gordon, and tells her husband that the baby is his. The child grows up hating his real father and idolizing the man he has grown up with. The characters age throughout the film, quite convincingly also. Shearer was M-G-M's most beautiful and glamorous star, and that she allows herself to be so de-glamorized is very lucky. The one problem with the aging factor springs from the original play: Although the actors look quite convincing in their age makeup, the degree of it is much too far. When her son is about twelve, Shearer and Gable should only be in their forties, but they look like mid-fifties at least. When he is graduating school, they should only be in their early fifties, but for some reason, they look more like late sixties, and only a little while later, they are practically in their mid-eighties. Thank God the makeup at least looks realistic! In the end, however, this is only a slight drawback, and when one takes into account the acting, script, and novelty of hearing the actor's thoughts, it is very easy to overlook. To compliment all of this, there is absolutely beautiful photography by Lee Garmes. Whether Shearer is in her early 20s or possibly pushing 120, she is still lushly and lovingly photographed, and the sets and backdrops perfectly frame these beautiful people. Any fan of early thirties cinema should take a look at Strange Interlude, but it is definitely not the place to start for someone who is not used to the techniques of the era. Daring in its day, both in its subject matter, and in its attempt to adapt a piece of legitimate theatre to the screen, Strange Interlude is startling, provocative, and successful in its adaptation, even though it failed at the box office.

Back Pay (1930)

Ashame that Corinne Griffith was not more adroit at the Talkies...

[3/10 · 22 September 2003]

Having recently inherited an uncle's large selection of silent films, I fell in love with silent diva Corinne Griffith. I managed to see four of her silent films (The Divine Lady, Black Oxen, The Garden of Eden, and Classified) and was totally astounded by her. We are very fortunate that talkies did not come in earlier, for we would have never gotten a glimpse at some great artistry. Many people claim that a great many silent stars were not good enough actors to survive in talkies. This is a shaky claim. Sound cinema and silent cinema are two totally different mediums. Acting techniques popular in the talkies would have not been effective in silent films. Hypothetically assuming that we had gone the other direction, from talking films to silent ones, it is quite legitimate to think that many talking stars would not survive in silent cinema: this is not, however, enough to claim they were not good enough at acting itself. Its just that they were not good at a particular type of acting. Case in point: Back Pay, a perfectly horrid vehicle for Corinne Griffith. It is stiff and stagey, poorly acted by all involved (especially the male lead), and preposterous. Griffith actually acts quite well in certain scenes, but not for the most part. She plays Hester, a woman who is board with her life and becomes the mistress of a big city magnate. She leaves her true love, Gerald, and when he goes blind in WWI, she realizes she loves him and decides to nurse him in his final days. Although remarkably short, (only about 50 minutes), the film drags on and one feels as if Gone With the Wind had played five times by the time its over. It is invaluable, however, as perhaps the best example of why some stars didn't make the transition to talking films. See it, you'll be happy you did just to get an idea of the times, but don't go out of your way.

Instead, see The Divine Lady, her best film, or The Garden of Eden, which has suddenly become easily available.

The Great Gatsby (2000 TV Movie)

Worst Adaptation Yet

[29 May 2003]

From the beginning, this film sinks to the bottom, both literally and qualitatively. One just does not know where to start criticizing this A&E version of Fitzgerald masterpiece. For beginners, we'll commence with casting: Mira Sorvino, great in Mighty Aphrodite, is horrible as Daisy. From her first line, "I'm paralized with happiness," we know her performance is not going to even hold a candle to Mia Farrow's in the 70s version in her finest hour. She reads her lines, she doesn't act. She sounds as if she has learned them phoenetically. Every time Rudd, playing Gatsby, says old sport, the audience will burst out into laughter because he says it different every time and each time it feels forced and contrived. Nick isn't as bad as the previous two, but Fitzgerald's writing lent a great insight into his characters train of thought. By translating prose to dialog, the lines seem to be unrelated, and he seems almost psychotic at times. The woman playing Myrtle: we are happy when she gets killed because its the only realistic part of the movie. "Get some chairs!" she snarls, almost attempting a Bette Davis type quality. Only thing is she is pretty bad two. The one who plays Tom BUchanan is great, as is the actress who plays Jordan. The direction is stiff and stagey, and the performances he gets are wooden for the most part.

The sets are alright, but not as gawdy as the novel's descriptions indicate. THe score and music is horrible. There are some beautiful shots and the movie doesn't fare to badly if you put on the subtitles and mute your tv set (I am completely honest here; I have tried it.) The costumes are nice, but the actors, even the extras, just don't have enough sophistication to wear them successfully. They are not necessarily poorly fit costumes, it's just that the cast does not wear them as they would have been worn in the 20s.

Still, one cannot blame this entirely on the cast or crew. Fitzgerald's novel is mesmirizing on paper, but it just doesn't lend itself well to screen without changing large sections and dialog. The Farrow/Redford 70s version is entertaining but strays from the novel, as does Ladd's 1949 version. A&E honestly tried to produce an accurate tranpostion of novel to film. The film follows the book quite well, but it is so booring and laughable at nearly all times. The only good thing that makes me happy i purchase the DVD is the special feature of author F. Scott Fitzgerald's biography. A&E is grand at producing biographies...nearly every one is fantastic. They should be forced to stick to it. They ruined The Magnificent Ambersons, and now the Great Gastby too. They just keep taking out literary treasures and butchering them. Anyway, not a totally worthless DVD, but stray fro a VHS that does not include the bio of Fitzgerald, it is just a waste of money.

The Talk of the Town (1942)

Fantastic Comedy Classic

[10/10 · 20 March 2003]

The Talk of the Town is different from any other comedy ever made. It is both delightfully breezy and lighthearted and also dramatically deep and resonant. The three superstars who appear above the title are all cast against type, which just adds more to the film's strange appeal. Cary Grant portrays Leopold Dilg, an unpopular citizen who is framed of arson and murder. He escapes from his prison and makes a beeline straight for the home of his old friend, schoolteacher Nora Shelley, delightfully characterized by Jean Arthur. After he begs her to put him up for a little time, Arthur gives in, but only if he promises to keep quiet and be out by the next morning, when a stuffy professor/lawyer is coming to rent out the home. The only problem is that the professor, Michael Lightcap (Ronald Coleman) shows up earlier than expected, leaving both Nora and Leopold stunned. Comic antics ensue over the next few days, as Leopold pretends to be the gardener. Nora is taken on as Lightcap's scribe/secretary, and the three grand stars have some of the finest three-way chemistry ever!

Eventually, Leopold's easy-going manner is enough to convince Lightcap that the law isn't always totally accurate or proper. All seems fine, except that now the beautiful dame has to choose between the two nicest men she has ever known. Since an ending was filmed with Arthur choosing each of these men, it is unknown to the audience whom she will choose until the very end. I won't spoil it for you here! The cast is magnificent, largely due to the superb directorial skills of George Stevens (Shane, A Place in the Sun). Grant, one of the day¡Çs most popular actors, is not the typical convict, but his acting ability supplies all necessary illusions. Ronald Coleman, whose career was in a decline until this film boosted him again, usually played the dramatic hero, but his talent sets him equally adept for this detour of a part. It is Jean Arthur, however, who truly delivers the best performance in the film. Usually, she played the tough talkin¡Ç city girl who meets up with an out-of-towner, but her role here is a nice change-of-pace. Although her character is somewhat overshadowed, true admirers of cinema and acting will be able to appreciate her subtle, understated performance. It is simply flawless, and it serves as concrete proof as to why she was Columbia's most popular leading lady for over 20 years. It's sad that she has been forgotten by modern audiences, unlike the other two actors who appear along with her. Although her stellar list of films includes Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (Best Picture nominee), You Can¡Çt Take It With You (Best Picture winner), History Is Made at Night, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (Best Picture nominee), A Lady Takes a Chance, The More the Merrier (Best Picture nominee, Best Actress nomination), A Foreign Affair, and Shane (Best Picture nominee), Arthur, for some reason, isn't as fondly remembered as many others. Either way, she was wildly popular at the time, more famous than either Coleman or Grant. The three together are perfect, and they deliver one of cinema's best romantic comedies.

This film was highly honored with Oscar nominations for Best Picture, Best Director, etc. In total it was nominated for 6 ¡Ægolden boys', but didn't win any. If the DVD could only include the alternate ending it would be a total film lovers' delight!

The Divine Lady (1928)

A Divine Silent Film

[10/10 · 9 March 2003]

The Divine Lady is a fantastic silent film, a gem of early American cinema that we are lucky to have discovered. Once thought to be lost, The Divine Lady was found along with its original vitaphone score. Since its rediscovery, the movie hasn't raised much commotion in the film community. It has aired on Turner Classic Movies only a handful of times, and it has not been offered for sale on home video. Despite all of this neglection, The Divine Lady is as important and significant as it is entertaining. Garnering an Oscar nomination for its lovely star Corinne Griffith (who, after seeing all the nominees from that year, I have decided should have won) and an Oscar win for Best Direction (for Frank Lloyd). The opening scene is upbeat and humorous. The deliciously hammy Marie Dressler is a delight as the English cook, Mrs. Hart. When her and her hussy of a daughter Emma (Griffith) arrive at the home of the Honorable Charles Greville (Ian Kieth) to work, Sir Charles is skeptical and doubts allowing a vulgar young gamine to enter his home. After her persuasions, however, the man changes his mind and begins to romance Emma. Anxious to inherit the fortune of a rich uncle Sir William Hamilton, Greville sends Emma to live with him in Naples. His motivation is that Sir William could never bring himself to marry such a woman, and that she will exist as his mistress; thus, he himself will inherit the fortune of his uncle when he dies unmarried. When Emma learns that her love will not be joining her, however, she foils the plans of her suitor and marries Sir William. One day, a young naval officer, Horatio Nelson (Victor Varconi), comes to ask a favor of Sir William. Instead, he meets his lovely wife and the two are attracted to one another. When, after a great deal of success, Nelson returns, the two carry out a much-gossipped-about affair. Struggling for the peace and tranquility they desire, the two settle down to live a quiet life. But when Napoleon becomes a threat to England again, the lovers must separate and Nelson must go fight another naval battle. Dripping with beautiful production values, the Divine Lady is a wonderful film, even today. The characters are portrayed vividly and realistically. The photography is some of the best ever, at times similar to the much-touted 'Sunrise.' Over all, the film is a massive experience. It is truly one of the best silents of American film!