It's hard to imagine what initial U.S. and Canadian viewers did without, for "Movie Crazy" is all marvelously funny slapstick, featuring Lloyd as an engrossingly sympathetic victim of circumstances. Many really hilarious scenes should put Movie Crazy firmly on anyone's list of must-see Lloyds. True, some critics have complained that Lloyd's skit on movie-making didn't always follow obviously conventional lines, but explored some rather odd by-ways (including the double role mix-up brilliantly acted by the superb Constance Cummings). What these critics don't bother to tell us is that Lloyd was constrained by Paramount's "Make Me a Star". There was no way Lloyd wanted to produce an imitation of the Erwin picture. As the contemporary Variety reviewer commented: "Lloyd's resourcefulness not only circumvents any suspicion of sameness, but develops along a new tangent although this must have been an intra-studio headache right throughout production and emerges with some brand-new comedy wrinkles."
Despite the above critic's enthusiasm, however, there are in fact a number of duplicate plot situations, although the tone in Lloyd's movie is far less grim. In fact, Lloyd's studio is almost entirely make-believe. It's the sort of fanciful place that most moviegoers would feel represented real Hollywood, although in fact its procedures and the inter-action of its personnel are far removed from actuality. Not that this matters a hoot. In fact just about all the film's humor is hilariously built on the fact that it's not the least bit realistic. Movie Crazy is a super-delightful fairy tale from beginning to end, complete with frog prince (Lloyd), magical enchantress (Cummings), evil suitor (Thomson), easily beguiled king (McWade), self-important chamberlain (Jarvis), and comic courtier (Charters). With a line-up like this, it should come as neither a surprise nor as far-fetched that the hero enjoys a wonderful fling in the role of magician. (In fact, I found this the movie's funniest sequence. I laughed until it hurt).
Although the film is credited to Clyde Bruckman (a clever and rather handsome guy who tended to be rather moody and introspective), producer Lloyd (who usually worked in tandem with the credited director anyway) was forced to handle most of the film himself. As he explained in a later interview: "I directed practically the whole thing. Bruckman was one of my gag men, but he had a little difficulty with the bottle. We practically had to wash him out and I had to carry on."
Despite the above critic's enthusiasm, however, there are in fact a number of duplicate plot situations, although the tone in Lloyd's movie is far less grim. In fact, Lloyd's studio is almost entirely make-believe. It's the sort of fanciful place that most moviegoers would feel represented real Hollywood, although in fact its procedures and the inter-action of its personnel are far removed from actuality. Not that this matters a hoot. In fact just about all the film's humor is hilariously built on the fact that it's not the least bit realistic. Movie Crazy is a super-delightful fairy tale from beginning to end, complete with frog prince (Lloyd), magical enchantress (Cummings), evil suitor (Thomson), easily beguiled king (McWade), self-important chamberlain (Jarvis), and comic courtier (Charters). With a line-up like this, it should come as neither a surprise nor as far-fetched that the hero enjoys a wonderful fling in the role of magician. (In fact, I found this the movie's funniest sequence. I laughed until it hurt).
Although the film is credited to Clyde Bruckman (a clever and rather handsome guy who tended to be rather moody and introspective), producer Lloyd (who usually worked in tandem with the credited director anyway) was forced to handle most of the film himself. As he explained in a later interview: "I directed practically the whole thing. Bruckman was one of my gag men, but he had a little difficulty with the bottle. We practically had to wash him out and I had to carry on."