With nary an evening gown, fur stole, cocktail shaker, or cigarette, Kay Francis manages to negotiate the domestic ups and downs of a financially embarrassed widow with four children with admirable credibility.
That she does so, owes largely to her own convincing portrayal as the hapless shirt-waisted mother, in addition to sterling work by young charmer Dickie Moore and elderly character actress Helena Phillips Evans, as well as Elisabeth Risdon, (as a "Miss Gulch" type villainous-- who gets to toss off some hilariously caustic bon mots).
On the face of it, let's face it--the script is unpromising, given its pronounced tendency to trade on clichés and salvific coincidences in both situation and characterization. Indeed, in the film's opening chapters these faults are exceedingly evident, what with the three eldest children's scenes of petulant denunciation written, acted and performed with a broadness that is almost vaudeville, and bordering perilously close to parody.
But Dickie Moore's (as the titular "Bill") scenes are marked by such authentic warmth and pluck, that he succeeds almost singlehandedly in pulling the disparate plot threads into an emotionally involving and even compelling yarn.
This is particularly true in Master Moore's scenes with Helena Phillips Evans as Miss Crosby, an elderly spinster benefactress, whose burgeoning friendship with the child provides the film with some of its most tender scenes. Miss Evans is of that school of character actress that we have no longer, and she weaves all the layers of loneliness, wisdom, and disappointment that come with the years with the gentlest inflections. Her "I'm afraid," to Master Moore after a coronary attack is in itself heart stopping, as testament to the deep humanity she invests in what is essentially a small role.
Nor is Miss Francis undone by a lack of sequins and ermine. She seems in fact, to relish the homespun nature of the role. One scene, played while seated on a staircase, in which she explains death in metaphorical terms to Dickie Moore is played with such sensitivity, intelligence and emotional depth that one wishes the screen had afforded her more opportunities to interact with children.
By the finale, in which all the principals' toast a deceased friend, it will be the rare audience member that isn't reaching for his handkerchief.
"My Bill" is an unsung winner and a feather in Kay Francis' cap. This one should please the whole family.
That she does so, owes largely to her own convincing portrayal as the hapless shirt-waisted mother, in addition to sterling work by young charmer Dickie Moore and elderly character actress Helena Phillips Evans, as well as Elisabeth Risdon, (as a "Miss Gulch" type villainous-- who gets to toss off some hilariously caustic bon mots).
On the face of it, let's face it--the script is unpromising, given its pronounced tendency to trade on clichés and salvific coincidences in both situation and characterization. Indeed, in the film's opening chapters these faults are exceedingly evident, what with the three eldest children's scenes of petulant denunciation written, acted and performed with a broadness that is almost vaudeville, and bordering perilously close to parody.
But Dickie Moore's (as the titular "Bill") scenes are marked by such authentic warmth and pluck, that he succeeds almost singlehandedly in pulling the disparate plot threads into an emotionally involving and even compelling yarn.
This is particularly true in Master Moore's scenes with Helena Phillips Evans as Miss Crosby, an elderly spinster benefactress, whose burgeoning friendship with the child provides the film with some of its most tender scenes. Miss Evans is of that school of character actress that we have no longer, and she weaves all the layers of loneliness, wisdom, and disappointment that come with the years with the gentlest inflections. Her "I'm afraid," to Master Moore after a coronary attack is in itself heart stopping, as testament to the deep humanity she invests in what is essentially a small role.
Nor is Miss Francis undone by a lack of sequins and ermine. She seems in fact, to relish the homespun nature of the role. One scene, played while seated on a staircase, in which she explains death in metaphorical terms to Dickie Moore is played with such sensitivity, intelligence and emotional depth that one wishes the screen had afforded her more opportunities to interact with children.
By the finale, in which all the principals' toast a deceased friend, it will be the rare audience member that isn't reaching for his handkerchief.
"My Bill" is an unsung winner and a feather in Kay Francis' cap. This one should please the whole family.