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The Girl from Missouri (1934)
Tried to Dazzle Instead of Trying to be Good
Within the first fifteen minutes I found myself detesting this movie. It was such a stale and overused plot for that era. They shoved damn near every romance trope into this one:
Woman stating she would never marry for love.
Adversarial beginning.
Rich boy, poor girl.
Change of heart.
Misunderstanding leading to break up.
A disapproving family.
The only thing they were missing was a love triangle.
The girl from Missouri in this monstrosity was Eadie Chapman (Jean Harlow). She left her small town to go to New York and marry a millionaire. As she put it, "I realized when I was a girl that the only right thing for a girl to do is get married." So, she would marry a millionaire instead of marrying for love because what would love get her except a bunch of kids in a Brooklyn flat.
Right away it was shaping up to be typical and a tad offensive. How many are the movies in which a person declares that they won't fall in love, won't get married, or won't ever date only to fall in love, get married, and/or date. It's the worst type of foreshadowing.
When Eadie got to New York she joined the chorus line. That was one of the best ways to get close to rich men. The first man in her sights was Frank Cousins (Lewis Stone). Frank Cousins was supposed to be a millionaire, but what she didn't know was that he was flat broke. After he killed himself she moved on to Thomas Randall 'T. R.' Paige (Lionel Barrymore). He was legitimately rich. She hounded him like an uncouth, shameless gold digger would. She showed up everywhere he was. She even traveled to Palm Beach because she found out he was going there.
In Palm Beach she encountered Thomas Paige Jr. (Franchot Tone) and he wanted her badly--so badly that he blackmailed her into a date. He thought he knew what kind of girl she was and he was all over her.
As she was hollering about wanting to marry a rich man he grabbed her and kissed her (standard 30's behavior for a man who desired a woman). I almost feel bad because I'm becoming desensitized to such behavior. There was a time when such a thing shocked me. "How dare he!" I would think. "That's sexual harassment!" But the truth is that what is sexual harassment today was a guy being bold and persistent yesteryear. What is a fireable or jailable offense today was considered commendable in days past. It was a man knowing what he wanted and taking what he wanted. It was all part of the courting game. The woman would either wilt with the kiss or pull away apologetically. If she pulled away apologetically it was simply a sign letting the man know that she wasn't easy, not that she didn't want to be kissed. If she truly didn't want to be kissed she would slap the man and/or storm out. But even a slap and a storm-out wasn't a hard no, it was just a no for now.
Or so Hollywood writers would have you believe.
Junior wouldn't stop his pursuit of Eadie. It escalated to stalking and even false imprisonment. He tried every move he had with her, even buying her a diamond bracelet. He was begging to be taken advantage of so long as he could get the goods. When nothing worked he locked her in his room with himself. Pepe Le Pew was less aggressive. I'm sure a certain R&B artist rhyming with R. Smelly and a certain Hollywood exec rhyming with Starvey Slimesteen would have watched this with great alacrity.
After Eadie huffed and puffed and yelled to be let go he kissed her again. This time he read her right. This kiss was the one to make her wilt. Against her wishes she began to crumble. Then she had to admit: she was in love. I was as shocked as a polar bear seeing snow.
"I love you so much Tom. You can make me cheap and common like a million others, but gee I wish you wouldn't," she pleaded with him. She was now putty in his hands and she only wished that he would treat her with respect, though she carried herself in a most disrespectful manner.
Naturally, he came to his senses. All of the rejecting and rebuffing before meant nothing. It wasn't to be heeded. But when she broke down and expressed her heartfelt love, Tom stopped being predatory and began to love her as well.
There you go ladies. To fight off a rapey dude just tell him how much you love him. You never know, he may love you as well.
This gold digger who found love (and gold) is just too trite. It's a basic and unimaginative premise that was already old in 1934. Rerunning it with Jean Harlow and Franchot Tone didn't make it special.
Jean Harlow is simply a painted face with exaggeratedly blond hair and gauche, just like this movie. Franchot Tone was a plastic playboy who could've been any good looking man. There was nothing unique, compelling, or likable about this flick. I know we're supposed to melt when the unscrupulous person turns good, especially when they fall in love, but the movie never drew me in to begin with. It was another frivolous society flick that tried to dazzle instead of trying to be good.
$3.59 on Amazon Prime.
Once to Every Woman (1934)
Thankfully, the Romance Wasn't the Primary Plot
"Once to Every Woman" was an enjoyable hospital drama. You had your hospital romance, old school versus new school, an important procedure, and a medical emergency. It was probably just another episode of "ER" for some folks, but it was new to me.
At an anonymous hospital Dr. Walter Selby (Walter Connolly) was the main surgeon. He was widely regarded as the best surgeon in the country, but he was older now. His pupil and assistant, Dr. Jim Barclay (Ralph Bellamy), respectfully considered himself a better surgeon. He wasn't arrogant about it, he simply believed that Dr. Selby's methods and methodology were old and in need of updating. They particularly disagreed on how to handle a benign tumor in a woman's brain.
Running concurrent with that story was that of Nurse Mary Fanshawe (Fay Wray) and her love life. She wasn't a nurse totally consumed with the love of her life, she was too professional for that. In fact, she was so professional she couldn't bring herself to fire an incompetent nurse. She wanted to be sure that she was discharging the nurse for professional reasons and not personal ones. The nurse, Nurse Doris Andros (Mary Carlisle), was a hot blond who Dr. Preston (Walter Byron) couldn't keep his eyes off of. Dr. Preston just so happened to be the man Nurse Fanshawe was in love with.
It was a solid movie. I like that they didn't overly-dramatize the romance. The last thing I care to see in a hospital drama is a romance. It's a hospital; stick to saving lives and helping patients. "Once to Every Woman" had enough drama with two of the patients and the professional feud between Dr. Selby and Dr. Barclay.
Free on YouTube.
Whom the Gods Destroy (1934)
Different Kind of Survivor's Guilt
"Whom the Gods Destroy" is a wonderful movie. It was tragic, intelligent, and moving with a stellar performance from Walter Connolly. This was a story of sacrifice that wasn't your typical sacrifice tale.
John Forrester (Walter Connolly) was a brilliant stage play producer. He gave everything to his craft. The only thing more valuable to him than his productions was his wife Margaret (Doris Kenyon) and his young son Jack.
When John sailed to Europe the ship collided with something that damaged it catastrophically. The whole ship had to be abandoned. In the melee John gave his life belt (not called a life vest) to a female passenger. As all the women and children were being evacuated John stood and reflected on his wife and son. The next time we saw John he was being carried from a lifeboat in a women's overcoat on the shores of Ireland or Scotland (I'm guessing based upon the accents). For that he was heavily ridiculed by the locals. He was so ashamed he didn't even give his real name, he gave the name Eric Jann (pronounced yan).
John wanted to get back to his home and his family, but he was too ashamed. It didn't help matters that back home he was being heralded as a hero. He was believed dead in New York; how was he going to show his face in New York without being labeled a coward?
It was a doozy of a predicament that had me completely hooked. He was overwhelmed by his thoughts of ridicule, jeers, and public criticism. He would bring shame to himself and his family. I certainly wanted to know what he'd do.
Walter Connolly turned in a pleasant performance as the torn producer. He struck me as a professional actor in an industry plagued by amateurs. It wasn't just his age, it was his entire presence.
I don't want to insult the writers by giving so much praise to Connolly. I loved this story. In an era where more than half the movies were about high-society and their trivialities, this movie seemed so much heavier.
Free on Odnoklassniki.
Come on Marines! (1934)
They Opted for Awful
First, there was "Here Comes the Navy" (1934) now we have "Come On, Marines!" Both movies were awful, but at least "Here Comes the Navy" had James Cagney and Pat O'Brien.
"Come On, Marines!" was such a scatter-brained movie it was hard to make sense of it. There was a marine aiding a Navy man in his desertion. There was a battle in South America that wasn't explained at all. And there were half-naked white women bathing in the jungles of South America while a war was going on. If that doesn't sound like a mixed up partially erotic dream then maybe you should get your head examined.
A marine named Lucky Davis (Richard Arlen) was set to go to officers training until his plans were upended by a wild woman (played by Grace Bradley). She came to his base and made such a scene that he was withdrawn from consideration for being an officer. He was upset with the woman, but he was furious with the cab driver who brought her there. Spud (Roscoe Karns), the cabbie, brought her to the base specifically so that she would cause a scene and embarrass Lucky.
Lucky's response was to get back at Spud. At this point the movie was shaping up to be just like "Here Comes the Navy" which featured two adult males behaving like children.
When Lucky found Spud driving his cab he shot at the cab. It was a stupid move that was equally dangerous. It should've cost him his freedom, but his punishment was to be sent to the jungles of South America for some unstated mission. Before he departed he forced Spud to join the Marines so that he would have to join him in the jungles.
You see, Spud deserted the Navy and was facing a five year prison sentence if they ever caught up to him. Lucky's payback to Spud wasn't to turn him in to the Navy, but to force him to join the Marines instead.
At this point the movie wasn't that good, but it was watchable. What happened once Lucky and Spud got to South America was incomprehensible.
They were sent to rescue some "kids." When they got to the "kids" they found a group of women giggling and playing in the water. They hardly looked like they were in need of rescuing and the whole scene was out of place like the pope in a pub. I was distracted as my mind tried to make sense of it all. Why were these women referred to as kids? Why were they frolicking in a warzone? Why were they half naked? How was their make-up so flawless?
While my mind tried to rationalize this soft porn plot I was able to make out a budding romance that was as odd as everything else.
The enemy, known as Solano, fired upon the girls and the marines at the watering hole. Lucky ordered everybody to take cover inside a nearby building. One woman, Esther (Ida Lupino), refused to move and it was unclear why. All she had to do was run across the water she was just playing in, but she was obstinate in rejecting Lucky's orders. I could only question her intelligence as there were mortars landing all about her, but she seemed to want to make a point of not obeying Lucky. She was behaving like a spoiled little girl which brought up thoughts of many bad stereotypes of pretty women.
Lucky, instead of saying "suit yourself," and getting to cover, walked through the shallow water and grabbed her while she feebly kicked and screamed. It was a strange and childish scene that made zero sense. I suppose the whole scene was to show his strength and chivalry juxtaposed to the shrill disobedience of pretty young women. Whatever the point of it all, it was repulsive.
There would be another scene in which Lucky picked up a kicking and screaming Esther, and it was even more counter-productive.
While the two were walking they came under fire again. Instead of telling her to run and jump into the wagon, he picked her up, ran with her, and placed her in the wagon while she fought him.
Please tell me how it's faster for a person to pick up an able-bodied adult as opposed to having that adult run herself? They were trying waaaaay too hard to show the command, virtue, and manliness of this Marine.
Eventually, and quite abruptly, they fell in love. I knew that's what they were setting up, but there was no transition at all. It went from fighting to kissing in a matter of one scene. It was like this movie was only budgeted for exactly 70 minutes and making a sensible romance would've taken them over that budget.
"Come On, Marines!" could've sufficed with being mediocre, yet they opted for awful. Was everyone involved under the influence of something? There clearly wasn't a sober individual involved with this project. Maybe they wanted to throw mud on the Marines. If so: mission accomplished.
Free on Odnoklassniki.
Here Comes the Navy (1934)
Childish
If you want to see two men behave like children half the movie, then you'll love "Here Comes the Navy." The two adult babies were Chester 'Chesty' O'Connor aka C. J. O'Connor (James Cagney) and Biff Martin (Pat O'Brien). James Cagney was the hotter of the two hotheads which is familiar territory for him.
Chesty started off as an iron worker doing a job for the Navy. For some testosterone-laden reason he got into an argument with Biff Martin, an officer in the Navy. They coincidentally came into contact with each other later at a dance hall. Biff muscled in on Chesty's girl and they took the matter outside where they duked it out. Biff won the fight and Chesty lost his girl and his pride. He was so furious he decided to join the Navy just to get back at Biff.
Who makes a four year military commitment just to get back at somebody?
After ninety days of basic training he was fortuitously assigned to the U. S. S. Arizona in San Diego, the very same ship Biff was on. Chesty thought he was going to beat him up on the ship, but found out that Biff was an officer and a Navy battleship was no place to settle petty beefs.
He saw a real chance to stick it to him when he saw Biff with a pretty woman. Biff had taken his girl, now it was his turn to take Biff's girl. The girl, Dorothy Martin (Gloria Stuart), was none other than Biff's sister. That certainly caused some bad blood.
I couldn't get into this childish movie. Chesty was such a hotheaded imbecile it's a wonder how he was walking around free, and it was a wonder how Dorothy was attracted to him to begin with. I like James Cagney, but this role wasn't one of his better ones. Besides Cagney, O'Brien, and the untalented Gloria Stuart, Frank McHugh was in the movie for more comedy.
"Here Comes the Navy" looks like it was done just to give a shout out to the Navy. I don't think they got any more recruits because of it.
Free on Odnoklassniki.
The Witching Hour (1934)
Murder Through Mind Control
A young man killed another man without even knowing he did it. Would a jury acquit him of murder?
The young man was Clay Thorne (Tom Brown). He killed Frank Hardmuth (Ralf Harolde) while under the influence of hypnosis. The hypnosis was quite by accident.
Clay Thorne was in love with Nancy Brookfield (Judith Allen), daughter of Jack Brookfield (John Halliday). Clay was at their Kentucky home to see his sweetheart and get Jack's blessing. While he was talking to Jack he became unusually afraid of Jack's cat's-eye ring. It was an irrational fear such that I thought he was a vampire or something inhuman.
Jack attempted to convince Clay that the cat's-eye ring was nothing to be afraid of at all. During Jack's slow methodical speech Clay fell into a state of hypnosis. The hypnosis worked because when Clay came to he was no longer afraid of the ring. Jack told Clay to keep the ring and look at it again the following morning so that he could get more used to it.
The next day Clay was arrested and charged with murder, but he didn't remember anything about the murder.
This was a brief movie that set up a far out situation. The idea that a guy committed murder while hypnotized isn't so strange; him defending himself on that basis is. It was a bit of suspense in the courtroom and some highly irregular courtroom procedure, but that was the only way this movie could work.
Free on Odnoklassniki.
Bolero (1934)
Raft and Lombard Rumba
Raoul De Baere (George Raft) wanted nothing more than to be a dancer. He was wasting his talents in a coal mine when he could be burning up the dance floor, but he had two problems:
1. He needed money. He couldn't focus on dancing while slaving away in a coal mine.
2. He needed a female partner. No one wanted to see a man dance solo.
He was able to solve both problems. First, he got money from his brother Mike (William Frawley) which allowed him to focus on dancing. Second, he found a female partner, who became the first of several. But Raoul's dreams always took him past where he currently was. He wanted to keep climbing to greater and greater heights.
His break came when he moved to Paris to dance. There he made a name for himself and even landed a new and better partner: Helen Hathaway (Carole Lombard). He had only one rule for her: don't fall in love with him because business and pleasure didn't mix. His previous partner, Leona (Frances Drake), fell in love with him and it ruined their working relationship. However, telling a person not to fall in love is like telling a person not to breathe.
It was interesting seeing George Raft in a role other than a gangster or a New York cabbie. I don't think he has a lot of range, but he held his own in this film. Carole Lombard is almost always good. I especially liked her in "Twentieth Century."
The storyline of "Bolero" was shockingly original and compelling. I was expecting a standard romance with Raoul and Helen with a standard rise, fall, and rise again rollercoaster that we get with sports and entertainment movies, but we didn't get that. I liked the direction it went even if the ending was bittersweet.
Free on YouTube.
Of Human Bondage (1934)
The Heart is a Cruel Beast
There's nothing that can make a person a prisoner quite like their own heart; specifically if they're in love. Should you love a person who reciprocates your love, then you're not in prison at all. But, should you love a person who doesn't reciprocate that love, then you are bound to a near hopeless situation. Even the one being loved is put in an awkward position. As Frances Dee said in the film:
"You can't help it because someone loves you and you don't love them back."
Philip Carey (Leslie Howard) was hopelessly in love with Mildred Rogers (Bette Davis). It wasn't enough that Mildred didn't love him back, Mildred was also a mean woman who played upon Philip's affections. She used and abused him, but nothing was worse than her rejection and subsequent taking up with other men.
Bette Davis played her part so well. She was contemptible; probably one of the more reprehensible female characters of the early-30's, but for whatever reason I liked her. I didn't love her like Philip did, but I liked her character. She was mean, cruel, manipulative, and all that, but she was unapologetically so.
I'll tell you though, it was strange seeing Mildred's decline. That's something very rare. Usually women, who are the object of a good guy's love, pull through. And even if they don't come out ahead, I can't readily think of a woman who looked so beat down by life as Mildred did by the end. I would liken her to Jenny in "Forrest Gump" or worse even. The image of Mildred's lifeless, emaciated body at the end was haunting; especially for 1934. The make up was incredible.
And even though I normally despise women like her, I usually despise even more men like Philip. I'm talking about men so overly given to their weak hearts that they allow themselves to be trampled all over. However, I didn't have any ill-feelings toward Philip. I pitied him more than anything. He could've had so much good and potentially so much happiness if he could only have broken free from Mildred.
Both of them were to be pitied: Mildred for being dragged down by her life choices and Philip for being enslaved by his love for her.
I think I liked "Of Human Bondage" so much simply because it recognized this human condition. So often the boy loves the girl, and the girl loves the boy, they just need to overcome some external obstacles to be together. And even if there is some flaw in the boy or the girl, it's usually something from their past, or a flaw that can be gotten over. "Of Human Bondage" dispensed with the idea that just because a good guy loves a girl she's also good. The heart is not infallible, it's not a detective, and it can't discern good from bad. The heart is a cruel beast and has no rules that it follows, and "Of Human Bondage" showed that very well.
Free on Tubi.
The Notorious Sophie Lang (1934)
Look Out Arsene Lupin
OK, so this was a cool movie. It was funny, exciting, and most of all, not sappy.
Sophie Lang was played by Gertrude Michael. This was the biggest role I've seen her in. She had bit parts in movies I've seen such as "Unashamed" (1932), "Night of Terror" (1933), "Ann Vickers" (1933), and "I'm No Angel" (1933). She had a fairly significant part in "Search for Beauty" (1934), "Murder at the Vanities" (1934), and "Murder on the Blackboard" (1934), but she wasn't the main character. "The Notorious Sophie Lang" was a real showcase for her.
Sophie was a master thief. She was so good that no one even knew what she looked like. The movie began with her robbing a jewelry store and slyly getting away. She had been dormant for five years, but she was back in business because she had an ego like most greats.
She'd heard that Maximillian Bernard (Paul Cavanagh), Europe's most acclaimed thief, was in town (New York) and she couldn't be outdone by him. It was a matter of professional pride that she get in contact with him and see which of the two was better.
Trying to catch Sophie was Police Inspector Stone (Arthur Byron). He had an idea of how to catch Sophie when he was apprised that the man claiming to be Nigel Crane was none other than Max Bernard (Cavanagh). Stone would use Max Bernard to catch Sophie Lang.
He intentionally kept hidden the fact he knew Nigel Crane was Max Bernard. Then he played to Bernard's ego by proclaiming that Sophie Lang was a much better and more accomplished thief. He hoped that Max would get to work to disprove such a theory and that he would seek out Sophie Lang. Meanwhile, Stone would have his man Stubbs (Leon Errol) tailing him to catch both thieves.
It was nothing but fun and a wee bit of romance from then on. As an added treat, Alison Skipworth was in the picture playing Aunt Nellie, Sophie Lang's aunt and right hand woman. I did enjoy this movie. I'd seen several other cat burglar movies from that era such as "Arsene Lupin," "Raffles," "Jewel Robbery" and a few others. It was cool to see a female cat burglar; and one who didn't fail because she fell in love.
Free on Odnoklassniki.
Shoot the Works (1934)
Getting the Love or Getting the Loot
Getting the love or getting the loot; that's what most early movies were about, and some were about getting both. That's why my favorite movies from that era aren't about either: "Lady for a Day" (1933), "M" (1931), "Comradeship" (1931), "I Am a Fugitive from a Chain Gang" (1932), and "Broken Lullaby" (1932). They all were bold enough and inventive enough to make a movie with an aim other than getting the love or getting the loot.
"Shoot the Works" is about getting both.
The main character, Nicky Nelson (Jack Oakie), is the loveable loser. He has millions of money-making entertainment ideas and not one of them is any good. He had a small band of devotees who helped bring his ideas to life, but it was all nickel-and-dime stuff.
When Nicky met Lily Raquel, played by Dorothy Dell (a talented actress who died at the tender age of nineteen), he thought his fortunes would change. Lily was truly talented. They began working together, created a catchy song, and fell in love. Then, as losers do, in a matter of a few scenes he lost her and the song. The truth is he gambled away the song which prompted Lily to bail on him and make a go at it alone. Even though they were apart and trying their best to forget about each other, they couldn't. Nicky would have to do something to get his love and the loot for this to be a happily-ever-after.
I watched this movie for Alison Skipworth whom I saw precious little of. She had a small role as one of Nicky Nelson's gang. I'm not a big Jack Oakie fan. Truthfully, with the exception of Charlie Chaplin, and George Burns and Gracie Allen, I didn't like many of the comedians back then--Jimmy Durante, Jack Oakie, Charles Ruggles, The Marx Brothers, W. C. Fields--they were all fine in small doses, but I didn't like them to carry an entire movie.
"Shoot the Works" was a lukewarm comedy that didn't move the needle. It was nothing special and quite short on laughs, and it wasn't aided by the musical numbers. File this movie under standard stuff that was largely forgettable.
Free on Odnoklassniki.
Midnight Alibi (1934)
Gangster In Love
"Midnight Alibi" was about a gangster in love with his nemesis's sister. It was tantamount to a lightweight "Westside Story."
A gangster named Lance McGowan (Richard Barthelmess) met a pretty girl named Joan Morley (Ann Dvorak) on a boat. The two hit it off really well then went their separate ways once they reached land. Later Lance saw Joan and found out that Joan was Angie Morley's baby sister. That was going to be a huge problem considering Angie (Robert Barrat) was a rival gangster and Lance had just recently ripped off some of Angie's casinos.
One night, when Lance was on the run from Angie's guys, he entered the home of an old lady named Abigail Ardsley (Helen Lowell). Abigail then began to regale Lance of her lost lover some forty-five years earlier. Abigail was an eighteen-year-old young lady of wealth in 1888 and she was in love with her father's clerk (also played by Richard Barthelmess). Abigail's father, Jonathan (Henry O'Neill), was unequivocally opposed to his clerk marrying his daughter. Abigail (the older version) told Lance this story because he looked just like her lost lover.
Lance saw himself like the clerk in the story with his situation with Joan and her brother Angie. Just like the clerk was denied being with his beloved, so was Lance. The only problem with the analogies is that Robert Anders (the clerk) was a clerk while Lance was a gangster. There's a far cry between the two. Jonathan Ardsley kept his daughter away from Robert Anders due to classism. Angie wanted to keep his sister away from Lance because 1.) Lance was a gangster and 2.) he was his rival. Angie had every reason to dislike Lance.
When Abigail told her story about her lost lover, she mentioned that she never spoke to her father again and that she remained single the rest of her life. Maybe that's why she was sixty-three yet looked eighty-three. She remained a lonely old maid for forty-five years because her sweetheart was killed. That's extreme.
We knew that the love between Lance and Joan wouldn't have the same outcome as the love between Abigail and Robert. Robert was shot and killed by Abigail's father when he caught him on his property late at night. We knew that Lance had to unite with Joan because there had to be a happy ending.
Lance did get to unite with Joan thanks to Abigail.
In a very improbable string of events, Lance went to Angie's HQ to talk it out with him about Joan. It was a risky move that was also very dumb considering Angie just tried to kill him the day before. Even if Angie hadn't tried to kill him, he was still risking his neck to meet Angie on his stomping grounds.
Lance boldly walked into Angie's place of business and asked one of his men where Angie was. Like a fool, Angie's man told Lance where he was.
I don't know any gang members who give up their boss's location to his enemy with a simple request. Not only that, no one even frisked him before allowing him to go upstairs to Angie's private office. I've seen better security at Walgreens.
Lance went into Angie's office where Angie plainly said that there was absolutely no way he was going to allow him to see Joan. At the same time one of Lance's men came into the establishment to check on his boss just to make sure he was safe being in Angie's joint alone. And again, Angie's security was so lax that another guy made it up to his private office with no interference.
Right when Angie pulled a gun from his drawer to dispense with the pesky Lance, Lance's man burst through the door and killed Angie. You knew one thing: this was going to make it easier for Lance and Joan to get together. Angie was their single biggest impediment. Even if Joan believed Lance killed her brother, he'd be able to assure her that he didn't and then they could go on to be a happy couple.
Lance was arrested for the murder of Joan's brother. The evidence was pretty damning and he didn't have a sufficient alibi; that was until Abigail strolled into the courthouse defying all legal procedure to be a witness for the defense (Lance). When she walked in it was as if royalty had entered the building. Everyone gasped and gazed and was deferential towards her, even the judge. So, when she said that Lance left her home at midnight (thereby making it impossible for him to have shot Angie), the case was summarily dismissed by the judge for lack of evidence.
So, a lonely old lady perjured herself to protect a guy who looked like her lost lover. It was sappy and it was very deus ex machina. Lance was all but convicted, but when Abigail said that he was at her home when her "clock read twelve," then that's all it took to override all the other testimonies and witnesses.
If our hearts were uneasy because a decent old lady perjured herself for a gangster in love, then she set them at ease a bit later. When Lance paid her a visit and said, "Thanks for everything. I'm only sorry that you had to lie for me."
She responded, "But I didn't. That clock did indicate twelve o'clock when you left. When Robert died in my arms I stopped all the clocks. So for forty-five years it has always been midnight in this house."
How pathetic.
I understand the implication here, but I still think it's pathetic. The implication is that she loved Robert so deeply, and losing him was so tragic that she stopped living. No, she didn't commit suicide, but she stopped the clocks thereby effectively stopping time, and she never moved on with her life--never met another man, never left her home, never did anything. So, for forty-five years she'd been in mourning. If this was a scary movie she'd be La Llorona or some other tormented ghost.
"Midnight Alibi" went for sweet sad romance and I wasn't a fan. Spare me the tragic romance stuff unless you can weave it into a badass story that has some teeth.
Free on Odnoklassniki.
Stamboul Quest (1934)
"A woman in love has no secrets from the man she loves"
I get it. Women suck at being spies. "Stamboul Quest" was just one more reminder of that. A female spy will only fall in love and fail at her task. For reference see "Mata Hari" (1931), "Dishonored" (1931), and "Operator 13" (1933). I'm gonna play spoiler here and say that the female spy didn't fail at her task, but that's because she was tricked.
"Stamboul Quest" considered itself slick by addressing the elephant in the room right away. Fraulein Doktor (Myrna Loy) was a spy and she made mention of Mata Hari (a female German spy) falling in love with a Russian and subsequently revealing herself. Doktor made sure to openly state, "A woman in love has no secrets from the man she loves," then she later followed that up by stating that she "doesn't mix love with her love making." She even had a little note to herself reminding her not to make the same mistake Mata Hari made. It was nothing but shameless foreshadowing because when she met Douglas Beall (George Brent), a charming, relentless American who was slobbering all over her, she fell in love.
Initially, the American was a mark. She was to find out if he was a spy or not and what he possibly knew; after which she was to go on her mission to Turkey to find out if Ali Bey (C. Henry Gordon) was a British spy or not.
To accomplish the first task she had to play a smitten woman which allowed Douglas (the American) to make love to her and even fall in love with her as he boldly claimed after knowing her for a couple of hours.
She found out nothing significant about him and left his company.
Where she made a mistake was letting him ride in a taxi with her to the train station instead of kicking him out. Next, she entertained him again on the train to Turkey, again, instead of kicking him out of her cabin. She finally put her foot down in the dining car and told him to kick rocks. He walked away like a wounded puppy sure to make all the viewers pity him.
I knew that their saga wasn't over, it was just a matter of how they'd be thrust together again.
It happened when enemy bombs hit near their train. Some civilian passengers got hurt and Douglas went into savior mode. He was carrying, tending, and patching up victims left and right; enough to garner Doktor's admiration and even her.... Love.
So, instead of finding a reason to abandon Douglas somewhere, or send him back to Berlin, she took him along with her to Turkey on her mission. Mind you, we still don't know if he's a spy or not. For all we know he's pouring it on thick because this was a mark he wanted to get close to himself. We just know that Doktor is too weak in the knees at this point regardless of what Douglas is.
She brought him to Turkey under the guise of being her servant. An idiot could've figured out that it was odd for a German woman to have a white American male servant, yet she followed through with the dumb plan because by now feelings had clouded her judgment.
Eventually, she did the irresponsible and the inevitable: she informed Douglas that she was a spy because she loved him and "A woman in love has no secrets from the man she loves." And remember: SHE STILL DOESN'T KNOW WHO OR WHAT DOUGLAS IS. She just knows that he pumped her up with flowery talk and she's now in love with the dude.
As poorly as the movie was going it did tick upwards. Doktor told Douglas that she was going to go through with her meeting with Ali Bey regardless of what that meeting may have yielded (i.e. Sex). As she stated, her country was at war, she had a mission and she was going to complete her mission.
Douglas gave Doktor an ultimatum: leave with him that night or lose him forever. She opted to stay. Truthfully, she didn't have a choice. If she left with Douglas before accomplishing her task, she would've been branded a traitor and executed.
Instead she conceived a brilliant plan to keep her man and out Ali Bey as a British spy.
Ali Bey was the commanding officer of the Turkish army that was supposed to be aligned with the Germans (this is what I gathered). If he was giving over German secrets to the Brits, then the Turks and the Germans certainly wanted to know.
Doktor's plan was to have her sweetheart Douglas detained and set up as a British spy for which he was to be executed. However, she wanted her superior, Herr Von Sturm (Lionel Atwill), to have Douglas switched with a Frenchman who indeed was a spy. The Frenchman would be executed while her beau would be somewhere safe. Only she would know that a Frenchman was being executed while Ali Bey would fully believe that the American was being executed. If she was the German spy Doktor, then Ali Bey would expect her to do everything to halt the execution of her lover. If she was a Brit, then she would allow the execution to go forward with little resistance.
Her plan worked to perfection and Ali Bey gave her intelligence which revealed that he was a British spy. For that he was arrested, then came the cool part.
When Ali Bey was upbraiding Doktor for allowing her own lover to be killed, she smugly stated that it wasn't her American lover, but a Frenchman instead. That's when Herr Von Sturm sadly informed her that it WAS her American lover that was killed.
Oh what an excellent twist.
Then the movie took another twist, but downward.
Upon hearing that, Doktor turned into a puddle of mush. She quite literally went cuckoo and was no more useful to the German military. Herr Von Sturm let on to another German officer that the American wasn't killed, but he wanted Doktor to believe that because there was work to do and a woman in love would be no good. As was stated in the movie "Mata Hari" (1931): "A spy in love is a tool that has outlived its usefulness." The only problem is that Von Sturm didn't expect that a woman who lost her lover would be even less useful. In either case, again, the message is that women can't be spies. They will fall in love and become totally useless.
For all the sentimental viewers, there was no need to worry. Doktor was reunited with Douglas in the end, so you still get your happily-ever-after.
Free on Daily Motion.
Kiss and Make-Up (1934)
Sucks to be Bald
"Kiss and Make Up" had one chance and one chance only for it to be of any value: the other guy had to get the girl. The main guy was Dr. Maurice Lamar (Cary Grant). The other guy was Marcel Caron (Edward Everett Horton). The girl was Annie (Helen Mack).
Dr. Maurice Lamar (Cary Grant) was a handsome plastic surgeon that owned and operated Dr. Lamar's Temple of Beauty in Paris, France. He had women all over the world heeding his advice. He did a daily broadcast telling women what they could do to look more beautiful. Inuits in the frozen tundra and tribal African women in the plains of Africa were donning his face cream.
Unbeknownst to him, yet extremely predictably, his secretary Annie (Helen Mack) was in love with him. She was hypocritically in love with the doctor. She tried to make us believe that all the other women were in love with the beauty expert while she was in love with the man. That was impossible when he was nothing more than a shallow beauty expert twenty-four hours a day. The truth: she was in love with the same guy all the other women were in love with.
Dr. Maurice's masterpiece, Eve Caron (Genevieve Tobin), was infatuated with him. She was willing to cheat on her husband, Marcel Caron (Edward Everett Horton), with the doctor. Marcel didn't like the new Eve and as a result he left her. Dr. Maurice loved the new Eve, so he married her.
What Dr. Maurice loved in Eve was her newfound beauty--the beauty he bestowed upon her with surgery, ointments, creams, and whatever else. Maurice married Eve then divorced her in short order. He found that her beauty wasn't to be enjoyed except by the eyes. She spent so much time trying to remain beautiful that Maurice couldn't enjoy any part of her; even on their honeymoon.
Had her beauty been something that he could enjoy, then he would've remained married to her even though she was a vapid woman.
Left in the cold was plain ol' Annie until she met Marcel (Eve's ex-husband). Marcel loved natural beauty. He loved Annie just the way she was, and Annie at least liked Marcel for his appreciation of her natural beauty. They were all set to get married until Annie saw that Marcel wore a toupee. With that, she left Marcel and proclaimed her love for Dr. Maurice who was now single after leaving the vain monster he'd married.
Recap:
Marcel (Horton) divorced Eve (Tobin). Maurice (Grant) married Eve. Marcel hooked up with Annie (Mack). Maurice divorced Eve. Annie left Marcel right before their wedding to be with Maurice.
What would have been better is if Annie married Marcel. No, he wasn't the looker that Dr. Maurice was, but he also wasn't the shallow narcissist he was either. Sure, Dr. Maurice supposedly saw the error of his ways after marrying Eve, but hadn't Annie suffered enough watching Dr. Maurice slay one woman after the other? It was like she was begging to be one of his conquests as well.
The handsome protagonist getting the plain and principled girl is not always the best ending, and I don't think it was here either. In the end it was beauty that mattered most. Marcel, with his average looks and heartfelt sincerity couldn't compete with the Adonis that was Dr. Maurice. The fact that baldness was Marcel's undoing sends a powerful message. Good thing I got married when I did or else I may have also been single the rest of my life.
Free on YouTube.
The Old Fashioned Way (1934)
For W.C. Fields Fans
A man by the name of The Great McGonigle (W. C. Fields) had a traveling theater troupe that was struggling. He had to run out on hotel bills and food tabs for lack of money. His next stop was Belfontaine if he could make it out of the city he was in without being arrested. How he kept the traveling act afloat at all was the bigger question.
If you've seen W. C. Fields in anything, then you know his act. He speaks in a grand manner and likes to use hyperbole and metaphors. He is good as a supporting character; not so good as the main character. His schtick is OK when adding to a comedy; his schtick can get wearisome when it's the only comedy.
Free on YouTube.
We're Rich Again (1934)
Southern Storm Comes Through Santa Barbara
This was one dumbass movie. It had no redeeming qualities. My only hope with a title as shallow as "We're Rich Again" was that the movie would be funny, and it failed miserably at that.
The Page family was going through financial straits. Things were so bad that a process server was camped out in their front yard waiting to serve Wilbur Page (Grant Mitchell) who was so spent that he dared not leave the house for fear of getting served. In the meantime his eldest daughter Carolyn (Joan Marsh) was preparing to marry a stiff named Bookington 'Bookie' Wells (Reginald Denny).
The whole house was put into a twitter when cousin Arabella arrived (Marion Nixon). She came through like a country bumpkin tornado with her southern accent, dumb ideas, and impositions. Once she hit the scene the movie was all about her, and you knew that underneath that idiot veneer that she was just smart enough to save the day.
And that's what happened.
She convinced Erp (Buster Crabbe), a silent swimmer who spent the entire movie shirtless and in swim trunks, to marry Victoria Page (Gloria Shea). As sudden, impulsive, and upsetting as such a marriage was, it turned out to be a Godsend because Erp was rich, which made it all good. And if you're wondering what kind of name is Erp, it's an acronym. It stands for Eragnous Rockwell Penington, but Victoria was too brainless to think of a better nickname than Erp.
Arabella also gave Wilbur, the patriarch, a stock tip that she overheard that was set to make Wilbur five times his money. At first it seemed like it was going to tank him further, but she made some simple suggestions to Bookie which was set to make the stock skyrocket.
As for Carolyn and Bookie's wedding, Arabella effectively busted that up. But that was OK because Carolyn realized she didn't want to marry him anyway, which made him available for Arabella to marry because, like I said, this was a dumbass movie.
This was one of those movies where the apparent well-intentioned imbecile isn't as bad or as dumb as she appears even if she is extremely irksome. I contend that Arabella was conniving even if she had some good intentions.
I say she was conniving because she was making moves--however subtle--on Bookington. It worked out for everyone in the end, but it was still sleazy disguised as innocence. It started when she took one of Carolyn's best and sexiest dresses. What cowpoke goes for a glamorous dress when she simply needed something different to wear? And who borrows any woman's clothes without asking? She then used her talkative country faux innocence to explain that "cousin Carolyn would just simply not mind because she wouldn't want me in the old rags I had on" or whatever she said to justify it.
After the clothes stealing, she occupied just about all of Bookington's time when that idiot should've been getting ready for his wedding. So, when Carolyn opted not to marry him, Arabella the southern succubus stepped right in.
Yeah, it was a movie with a happy ending for everyone except the viewer. It was shallow, stupid, and totally unsatisfying.
Free on YouTube.
Murder in the Private Car (1934)
A "Deflector" on the Case
There's nothing like putting "murder" in the title to make sure the viewers know what's going to happen: "Murder on the Orient Express," "The Canary Murder," "Murder on the Blackboard," and on and on and on.
Sooooo, now we have "Murder in the Private Car." I don't think I have to tell you what happens. I will mention, however, that the private car here is a Pullman car on a railroad train.
A switchboard operator for a company called Allen & Co. Was told that she won the heritage sweepstakes. Ruthie Raymond (Mary Carlisle) found out that she was the long lost daughter of a multi-millionaire named Luke Carson (Berton Churchill). It turns out that she was kidnapped by her uncle when she was a toddler and taken to Los Angeles. After years of searching, Mr. Carson had finally found her. Per his instructions, his lawyer, Alden Murray (Porter Hall), was to escort her back east where she could unite with her father.
Strangely, yet fortuitously, a man named Godfrey D. Scott (Charles Ruggles) began following her. He called himself a "deflector." A "deflector," unlike a detective, prevents crime from happening. He knew that a woman who just came into a lot of wealth would need a "deflector."
It turns out that Ruth needed a deflector and divine intervention to stay alive. Someone wanted her dead and they were bumping off those in her vicinity to get to her.
"Murder in the Private Car" was a comedic murder mystery. Godfrey was a bumbling, stammering "deflector" who couldn't be taken seriously even if he did stumble upon important evidence. Between Charles Ruggles and Fred 'Snowflake' Toones (the scared Black man), I didn't find this movie the least bit entertaining. The only part that I would consider entertaining was the runaway train car at the end. Maybe the director also knew the movie needed a shot in the arm and threw it in.
Free on Odnoklassniki.
Dr. Monica (1934)
Fantasy
The more I watch 30's films the more I'm convinced that being part of high society means being a sociopath. I've never seen a whole species of creatures so able to compartmentalize and suppress emotions like them. When they do show emotion I believe they do it just to prove that they are human.
"Dr. Monica" was another high society movie about women and their men problems. In other words, it was nauseating.
Dr. Monica Braden (Kay Francis) was married to John Braden (Warren William) who was banging Mary Hathaway (Jean Muir). That was nothing new or novel for that era. You could spin a wheel and land on a 1930's movie that involved high society folks and their rampant infidelity.
In this case Mary got pregnant with John's child. That was something a little different because usually "gentlemen" had more sense than to get their side chick pregnant.
We knew Mary was pregnant because she fainted inexplicably. That was a sure sign of pregnancy because in 1934 they still weren't saying the word PREGNANT on screen. Just typing it makes me feel dirty. Such a lowly word. Gone are the days of purity when a movie would romanticize affairs, yet make sure not to show or even say the word pregnant. And because of Poe's Law regarding internet sarcasm not being understood, I'm telling you now that I was being sarcastic.
Mary had every intention of not notifying John that he had a baby. That was another common thing back then. If a woman wanted to spare a man any hardship or obligation, she would withhold that she had his child (see "Ann Vickers" (1933), "Only Yesterday" (1933), "Mary Stevens M. D." (1933), "Coming Out Party" (1934), and many others). The women back then were so wholly committed to the satisfaction of the man, and not burdening him with their troubles, that they would keep a child a secret so that he could go on and be free while she bore the burden of the child alone. What strong noble women they were (remember Poe's Law).
Mary was in an interesting predicament. Her obstetrician was none other than John's wife, Dr. Monica. How about that for irony? She never told Dr. Monica who the father was and she didn't plan on telling her. With that being the case, if she had any decency she would've gone somewhere else to have the baby, but this woman was carved out of stupidity.
From the point Dr. Monica informed Mary that she was pregnant, the movie took on a strange surreal atmosphere. Almost nothing that occurred after that point resembled reality or what real people do.
Remember how I said that Mary wanted to keep the father of the baby a secret from the father (John Braden) and from Dr. Monica? Well, while she was in bed waiting to deliver she decided to call John. She finally caved. She couldn't give birth alone, so she called John in a fit of panic. It needs to be known that she was giving birth in a house which was more private than a hospital. EVERYONE in that house could hear her call John. Even though she didn't get a hold of John, Dr. Monica still overheard her crying, "I must speak to John, it's important!"
Monica is no fool. She knew there could be only one reason she was so desperate to talk to her (Monica's) husband at that time. John had to be the father.
What does Monica do? She kept that knowledge to herself like a good sociopathic society girl should and delivered the baby. Sure, she was a bit cold towards Mary during and after the birth, but she wouldn't say why. Meanwhile, mush-brain Mary couldn't fathom why Dr. Monica was suddenly so cold towards her.
I wanted to scream, "SHE HEARD YOUR DUMBASS ON THE PHONE! THE NEIGHBORS PROBABLY HEARD YOU CALLING FOR JOHN!!"
She asked Monica, "Why don't you ever kiss me?" My assumption is that kissing is a normal greeting among society women, though there was no indication that Monica ever kissed Mary before. Still, I found the question strange. Instead of asking why she was so distant or cold towards her, she asked why she doesn't ever kiss her.
The two went back and forth with Mary keeping concealed what she unwittingly revealed, and Monica keeping concealed what she'd overheard. It was a dumb dance that was rooted in sparing the feelings of the other when in reality no such attempts would've been made.
Monica decided that she too would keep the baby a secret from John. So now the baby's mother AND the wife who was cheated on decided to spare John the burdensome knowledge that 1.) his affair is now known and 2.) he has a baby.
This was a society trope that always makes me lose my mind. Many many many movies involved infidelity and knowledge of the infidelity that is kept secret as though it's worse to confront the cheater than it is to cheat. It was a bizarre custom that would've kept me far from their circles. There's no way I'm keeping quiet if I know that my wife is cheating or that someone is cheating on a friend of mine. Later for such decorum.
Monica opted to spend two fantastic weeks with her husband before telling him what she knew and then breaking it off. She was going to compartmentalize her feelings about his affair, then be the better woman and bow out gracefully, thereby leaving him to raise a child with his mistress. Yet another society cliche I can't stand: being the "gentleman" or the "lady" when you've discovered that your S. O. loves another. They are so disgustingly diplomatic about it. They dare not interfere with the happiness of their S. O., so they quietly remove themselves from the dreaded love triangle as though there's some nobility in that.
Monica (the wife) would gracefully disappear out of John and Mary's life as though she were just a dream. She would swallow her pride and any feelings to make sure that she was no impediment to the happiness of two people, as though she had no stake in the matter at all. I really don't get it and I don't care to.
Monica's martyrdom would be co-opted by Mary's. When Mary heard that Monica planned to leave John, she simply couldn't allow such a happy marriage to be ruined on account of her. She made the move first and left. She essentially committed suicide (flew a plane across the ocean with no preparation); one of the surest ways to eliminate one side of a triangle.
That left two matters: would Monica take the baby, and would Monica finally tell John he fathered a baby.
Of course Monica took the baby. It was serendipitous because she couldn't have one of her own. And what's more--SHE NEVER TOLD JOHN SHE KNEW ABOUT THE AFFAIR OR THAT THE BABY WAS HIS.
Nope.
She just told him she adopted a baby and they lived happily ever after, while I sat dumbfounded, yelling GTFOH you apes. You're not people, you're robots or single-celled amoeba because real people don't behave like this.
This was yet another movie that left me asking, "Who writes this bleep?" It says Charles Kenyon, Laura Walker, and Maria Morozowicz-Szczepkowska, but I contend that they are not real people. They couldn't have been. I contend that they were aliens or perhaps children because adult human beings don't write such nonsense without labeling it "Fantasy."
Free on Odnoklassniki.
The Last Gentleman (1934)
There was No Gentleman to Speak of
If this movie was at least mediocre I could've stomached it. It was a bad production with a nonsensical plot that was further ruined by annoying characters.
"The Last Gentleman" was a comedic poke at the rich family trying to make themselves appealing for the old patriarch's wealth. It's a concept that has been done in many different fashions and will always exist.
The patriarch was Cabot Barr (George Arliss), an old codger who deemed everyone unworthy of the Barr wealth and the Barr name. He only wanted to leave his money to a male Barr heir and his underhanded and unworthy son was the only male heir. He did take a liking to his granddaughter Marjorie Barr (Charlotte Henry), but alas she was a girl.
If there was a chance she could be an endearing character in spite of her annoying mousy voice, she ruined it early on.
When her grandfather laughingly stated that he wished she'd been born a boy, her response was, "I've always liked being a girl. But now I wish I weren't."
"Why?" Cabot Barr asked.
"Because you wish I weren't," she said in a heartfelt and touching manner.
It was enough to turn Laura Ingraham feminist. Then she bent her head down and kissed her grandfather's hand in the most deferential manner imaginable.
Mind you, Cabot Barr had been nothing but a bully up until this point. Only the simplest minded person or a shameless sycophant would show him the level of respect Marjorie was showing her surly grandfather.
It got worse.
Grandpa Barr sorrowfully added, "If only you'd been born a ... ah well. It's too late now. You're a female. When you marry you'll become your husband's possession. Even to the extent of sacrificing your name."
"Well, I won't marry," Marjorie proudly chirped. "If it will make you happy I'll stay single. I won't mind being an old maid, then I can keep on being a Barr."
By this time, I was in desperate need of a barf bag. This was one of those scenes that made me openly question what was so good about the early twentieth century, especially the movies. Fortunately, I've seen enough 1930's movies to know that they do have some quality movies amongst the racist and sexist piles of rubbish.
Almost as bad as Marjorie deprecating herself for her backwards and tribal grandpappy was her hamfisted romance with Allan Baine (Frank Albertson). Marjorie and Allan were like cats and dogs when they first met, which generally means they will be in love by movie's end. In this case, without prompting, indication, or warning, they were in love and engaged to be married. Quite literally, from one scene to the next, and within a couple of days, they were engaged.
I'd had enough. All that was left was to wrap it up and get on with the sappy ending. The ending gave us a prerecorded will reading in which the cantankerous Cabot gave everyone something to show just how good he was, and to show that whoever put up with his boorishness must really have loved him.
I call BS. People will put up with a lot for money and this movie didn't disprove that. It only fooled the dumb and naive. This movie was terrible and Cabot was no gentleman.
Free on Odnoklassniki.
Money Means Nothing (1934)
Like a Bad Sitcom
"Money Means Nothing" is equivalent to a one hour bad sitcom. It was full of terrible comedy, odd characters, and strange situations. The only thing it was missing was the laugh track: which I desperately needed, to know when to laugh.
The key parts of the movie were a girl meeting a boy, them getting married, them facing adversity, and them overcoming the adversity. Based upon the key elements, this was a universal plot that should've been enjoyable on some level. The problem was the characters, the nature of the adversity, and other supporting elements.
The movie started very oddly with a young rich girl named Julie Ferris (Gloria Shea) following a gang out of a diner and tailing them. It really made no sense. I guess the implication was that she loved adventure and excitement up to the point that she'd even follow this group of criminals on their caper just to get some of that excitement.
Well, that small adventure, which was the jacking of some tire delivery trucks, led her to meet Ken McKay (Wallace Ford). Ken helped her with her stalled car and for some inexplicable reason she was in love with the guy after that. Maybe no man had ever done a small favor for her before. It certainly wasn't how he came on to her because he never did. However, from then on she was stalking him every day at his place of business until they became an item. Her family was not really receptive to her romance. They were the typical wealthy family who didn't approve of dating outside of their class, and Ken McKay was a working class guy from Brooklyn.
Against her family's wishes, and with threat of being cut off financially, Julie decided to marry - no she insisted that she marry Ken. In fact, she went to his job and threw herself at him. She proposed to him. Initially he denounced the idea due to his own financial straits, then he defiantly accepted the idea out of spite when Julie's sister came by and said they would not get a dime if she married Ken.
The next time we saw them, they were playing husband and wife in his small apartment. That's when the aggravating characters increased from the one (Julie) to three. Ken and Julie had a horribly annoying couple as neighbors, and the husband was his boss. They were very intrusive, and the wife, Kerry Green (Maidel Turner), was terribly obnoxious, talkative, and nosy. It was clear that they were supposed to add spice and perhaps comedy to the overall production but all they did was drag it down further.
The McKays would face adversity when Ken was fired by his boss, Herbert Green (Edgar Kennedy), upon the urging of his wife. Herbert was so petty he fired Ken because his wife (that would be Herbert's wife) told him that Julie said he looked like a butler.
Like I said: sitcom stuff.
He even went so far as to smear Ken when other companies called for references. It left Ken and Julie struggling.
Julie had to resort to even hocking her fur coat, but she was determined to stick by the side of the poor man she hounded into marriage. It was Hollywood's attempt to show that a woman in love would stick by her man's side through thick and thin. I saw it as an adventuresome woman trying out the hard life and sticking with it out of pride. I only say that because of how absurd and impetuous her relationship was with this really basic working man.
Ken would get his job back in a very improbable way. He was hired to drive a truck for a tire company. It just so happened that the tire company that hired him was stealing tires from his old company. Why would criminals involve a straight-laced guy who could very well be the fly in their ointment; one will never know. By the time Ken found out who they were and what they were doing, he was already driving the stolen tires and the police had been dispatched. Somehow, once the trucks were all pulled over, the police were able to ascertain that Ken wasn't a willing participant in the caper. I guess he had an honest face. At any rate, yada yada yada, he got his job back and he and Julie lived happily ever after.
Free on YouTube.
Murder on the Blackboard (1934)
Always Good to See Miss Withers
After I watched "Penguin Pool Murder" (1932) I wrote a review titled, "More of Miss Withers Please," so I can't tell you how pleased I was to see Edna May Oliver reprise her role as Hildegarde Withers, the teacher and crime solver.
In "Murder on the Blackboard," Miss Withers found a teacher named Louise Halloran (Barbara Fritchie) dead in her classroom. Miss Withers, being the perspicacious person she was, kicked into detective mode. Because she wasn't a detective by profession she called Inspector Oscar Piper (James Gleason), the inspector she solved the Penguin Pool Murder with.
The two of them would go on to chase down clues and suspects. Miss Withers was her normal nosy, yet helpful self. She is easy to like because she's comedically prim and proper, and always carries her umbrella. Her look and style was so different from many of the carbon copies they used for female leads back then. She was older, a little plain, and comical without being exaggerated or silly. I sort of put her in the category of a Marie Dressler or Alison Skipworth, except younger and thinner, but they were all atypical.
As Sade sang, "It's never as good as the first time." That's to say that "Murder on the Blackboard" wasn't as good as "Penguin Pool Murder," but don't let it stop you from enjoying Miss Withers again.
Free on YouTube.
He Was Her Man (1934)
Flat
1934 doesn't seem like it was a good year for Joan Blondell. So far I've seen her in "I've got Your Number," "Smarty," and "He Was Her Man," and they were all bad. And, as a tandem, this was the worst movie I've seen James Cagney and Joan Blondell paired in of the five I've now seen them headline.
In "He Was Her Man," a recently released convict named Flicker Hayes (James Cagney) was hired to crack a safe. Instead, he double crossed the guys and called the police on them. One was shot and killed while the other got away. Flicker beat it out of town and headed to California.
While he was holed up in a hotel in San Francisco Flicker met Rose Lawrence (Joan Blondell) who was on her way to Santa Avila, CA to get married to a Portuguese man named Nick Gardella (Victor Jory).
We could draw the conclusion that the two were intimate in that San Francisco hotel. They were in the same room together, a romantic soundtrack was playing and the scene faded to black with Flicker taking off Rose's jacket. Furthermore, the next time we saw the two of them, Rose was behaving very fidgety with Flicker like a guilty woman or like a conflicted woman who wanted to distance herself from the man causing her conflicted feelings.
All suspicions were confirmed later on when they reached Santa Avila. Nick (her fiance) had to go fishing and Rose wanted to go with him. It was a strange request because he was going to be working on a boat with several other men. Why was she so desperate to go with him?
If I'd learned anything from watching these early-thirties movies it is that a woman who begs to go with her man or begs him to stay with her, is a woman who doesn't trust herself alone.
Well, later that night she had sex with Flicker and fell in love with him (or maybe she fell in love then had sex). If it was merely a question mark before, it was a period now, and it only confirmed that women back then couldn't be trusted alone with another man. I can't count the movies in which a woman was left alone with another man and she either fell in love with him or was emotionally confused because of him.
Even though Rose chose the wrong guy, she would get a mulligan. Flicker went on to be killed while Nick went on to marry Rose even after she told him of her infidelity. Nick was one of those guys who was so happy Rose chose him that she could've done anything and he would've still married her. It's a happy ending today, but wait til the honeymoon period is over.
Free on YouTube.
Now I'll Tell (1934)
Watch For Sixty Seconds of Shirley Temple
"Now I'll Tell You" was a bit familiar and a bit of a rerun. It mirrored several gambler/gangster movies of that era. The formula is known. A gambler starts small, makes it big, and takes a fall.
Murray Golden (Spencer Tracy) was a small-time gambler who was as crooked as the day is long. If he could fix a fight, a race, or a roulette wheel, he would do it. He started as a nickel-and-dime gambler and worked is way up to a big shot.
He was also lucky. And he attributed his luck to his gilded wife, Virginia (Helen Twelvetrees). She was in love with Murray, and even though she disdained his lifestyle, she couldn't leave him. He kept her stored away in a nice apartment while he tended to his gambling and catted around with his side piece Peggy Warren (Alice Faye). Virginia was so tucked away and so trusting that the entire outside world knew about Peggy while Virginia was clueless. Peggy was his outside woman, whom he saw more of than his own wife, while Virginia was his homebound woman whom he could not dispense with. As much as he lied to and cheated on Virginia, he would do anything for her (except stop cheating and gambling).
That's always a funny line: "I'll do anything for you." Most of the time the people who say that don't fully mean it. Like the Meatloaf lyrics:
"I'll do anything for love, but I won't do that."
Golden would do anything for Virginia except the two things she wanted most of all for him to do. I guess love has its limits.
"Now I'll Tell You" wasn't anything special. It was fairly rote and lacked anything distinguishable. Fox Film Corp went with a flat movie that was probably considered safe and easy. Spencer Tracy isn't going to float anyone's boat, but he was a known face, and Helen Twelvetrees (the little we saw of her) was more of a second tier actress; recognizable enough, but not a very big star. If there was any good reason to watch this movie, it was for the sixty seconds or so of Shirley Temple. Who can resist her smile?
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The Key (1934)
Tennant the Marriage Fixer
"The Key" attempts to convince us that we should let our spouses scratch their itch because it will be better for our marriages in the long run.
The movie takes place in Ireland circa 1920. British soldiers are everywhere and they are clamping down on Irish rebels aka freedom fighters. A man named Captain Andrew 'Andy' Kerr (Colin Clive) was a British spy. He spent many nights hunting for Britain's most wanted: an Irishman named Peadar Conlan (Donald Crisp). He was committed to his job much to the consternation of his wife Norah (Edna Best), and this would become a serious problem later on.
Also in the King's army was Captain Bill Tennant (William Powell), a rather carefree gentleman who seemed like he should've been enjoying parties, not serving in the military. Tennant was relocated to Ireland to help tamp any kind of Irish uprising. He rented a flat in a building right below Andy and Norah. It turned out that he knew both Andy and Norah, but not as a couple. He had a romantic fling with Norah years ago. Andy wasn't aware of it and the two wanted to keep it that way.
At this point I could see the scandal on the horizon. Norah's old flame was back in the picture plus Andy wasn't a romantic; it was easy math.
As anyone could predict, Tennant and Norah hooked up. They happened to hook up the same night Andy caught Conlan (Britain's most wanted), and they didn't even have the decency to part ways before Andy got home. He left the two together, thinking nothing of it (he still didn't know they knew each other), then came back hours later that night to find Tennant still at his home with his wife. Norah looked guilty, Tennant looked a bit smug, and Andy was crushed.
It was such an awkward scene I thought they planned it that way. I couldn't believe that they were so caught up in passion that time and caution gave them the slip. What I thought was that Norah re-fell in love with Tennant and fell out of love with Andy, and their plan was to tell him.
Norah did tell Andy what happened.
Well, no she didn't because 1934 social mores don't permit such things to be said on film, but all the context clues were there to convey that she and Tennant had sex.
What was she supposed to do at home alone with her old flame? She had begged Andy not to go out to work that night. Andy didn't know that her plea was for her protection, not his. As Norah put it when she tried to explain to Andy what happened:
"It was like a fire that I thought had gone out, but suddenly it flared up again."
She was talking like she had hemorrhoids.
Andy did what most guys would've done in that situation and left the house. He was devastated. Then Norah was devastated, because it was when Andy left that she realized how much she loved him. But! She had to have sex with Tennant to truly realize that she didn't really love Tennant and that she really loved Andy.
"She merely thought she was in love with me once perhaps. But she knows different now... Norah's been in love with a memory. Glamorous memory. For three years she was struggling to kill it. It's the thing that's always stood between you two.
"I came into her life and went out. I became a sort of unfinished chapter," Tennant carefully explained to Andy.
And here is the important part, the essence of Tennant's power.
Tennant continued, "If I hadn't come back that chapter might never have been finished. She might have gone on for years cherishing a romantic dream. But I did come back. It killed all the romance for her; all the glamor. It's you she loves Andy. She knows that now."
I must pause because I want these words to sink in. I want you to understand EXACTLY what Tennant is saying.
Let me translate.
"I was a blessing to your pitiful marriage. She was pining for me and you didn't even know it. You could never live up to the lasting impression I left upon her.
"So, I had to come back and make love to her so that she could get it out of her system and realize that I was just a romantic idea, not a true lasting thing like you are Andy. Sure, I may be handsome, suave, and know how to charm the pants off a woman, but you're husband material and I made her realize that."
Well excuse me. Allow me to show my deepest gratitude oh wise one. And here it is I thought you screwed my wife for your own pleasure. Pardon me good sir.
Tennant. Do me a favor and don't do me any favors. What a line of garbage. And Andy stood there listening to it like it was Gospel. He ate that stuff up. The movie ended with Andy and Norah side-by-side watching Tennant being taken away. Tennant was arrested for a heroic yet illegal stunt, but it was almost like the scene in "The Green Mile" where Michael Clark Duncan had accomplished what he was sent there for and it was time for him to go.
Tennant, with his magical penis, had fixed Andy and Norah's marriage, now he could go somewhere else and fix another struggling marriage.
Sorry, I don't know any marriage that needs to be fixed with cheating. That's some marriage counseling I want no part of.
Free on Odnoklassniki.
Operator 13 (1934)
What Poor Black Maid Wears Make-Up?!
When I saw the synopsis:
"Union spy Gail Loveless impersonates a black maid in the early days of the Civil War, but complications arise when she falls in love with a Confederate officer."
I knew I was going to hate the movie, it was just a matter of how much. Either one of the clauses mentioned in the synopsis was enough for me to hate the movie, so to have both: a woman impersonating a Black maid AND her falling in love with a Confederate officer, was enough to make me vomit.
Let's look at both clauses shall we. This will be a lengthy post, so the TL;DR of it is racism and sexism. Hopefully, that will save you time and energy. If you still want to read on, I'm happy to have you.
"Operator 13" takes place during the Civil War. Marion Davies played Gail Loveless, an actress recruited to be a spy for the North. She was given the codename Operator 13. She was partnered with another female spy named Pauline (Katharine Alexander) who went by Operator 27.
When it was time for Gail to choose a disguise, she chose to disguise herself as a Black maid. Now, since this was during the Civil War and not after it, in the South she would've realistically been a slave. That term was never used at any time during this movie which is just one of its many failures.
Its other failure was having Marion Davies in blackface. White people donning blackface is a sore subject. It was done for racist reasons--either to further denigrate Black folks or to keep them from entertainment jobs that were given to whites--and it was done in one of three ways:
1. A white person was playing the role of a Black person ala Amos n' Andy, or Victor Kilian in "The Ox-Bow Incident" (1942), or one of the actors in "White Zombie" (1930). There really is no defending this because they could just as easily had found a qualified African-American for the role.
2. Minstrel shows ala "Glorifying the American Girl" (1929), "Sweetie" (1929), "Happy Days" (1929), "Love Among the Millionaires" (1930), "Footlight parade" (1933), "Kid Millions" (1934), or "Wonder Bar" (1934). Minstrel shows were steeped in racism as the performers usually had black faces and white lips, and they would play out a hyperbolic version of every known stereotype of Black people.
3. A disguise or some other purpose for the character within the movie ala "Tropic Thunder," "Silver Streak," "Soul Man," or "Operator 13." In this case I actually don't have a problem with it TO A POINT. Within the context of the movies it made sense for the actors to make attempts to look Black.
So, what is that point to which I don't have a problem with whites (or otherwise) being made up to be Black (when it fits in the context of the movie)? To the point it looks believable.
In "Tropic Thunder" Robert Downey Jr. Played an Australian actor so given to his method acting he made himself up as a Black man for a role; and it was very convincing. The make up was excellent and his vernacular worked because the movie was a comedy and it wasn't exaggerated nonsense.
In "Soul Man" C. Thomas Howell pretended to be Black to get a scholarship to Harvard after his father refused to pay for his tuition. Although the make up was a bit iffy it was somewhat believable; and he dispensed with any changes in speech because by 1986 people were smart enough to know that a Black man going to Harvard probably didn't talk "Black."
The remaining two movies ("Silver Streak" and "Operator 13") crossed that point of believability. In "Silver Streak" Gene Wilder was nothing more than a caricature. There was no way he would fool anybody though he put brown shoe polish on his face to disguise himself. If "Silver Streak" were to be given a pass, it would only be because it was a comedy.
As for "Operator 13" there was no excuse for what they did. Marion Davies trying to pass for a Black maid with a little bit of dark make-up is about as convincing as Tyler Perry playing a woman. If an alien came from outer space and had never even encountered the human race, it would know that Marion Davies wasn't a Black woman. Yet, with a little bit of dark foundation and a piss poor attempt at Black vernacular, she supposedly convinced everyone she was a Black woman.
What made it worse is that they didn't even try. What poor Southern Black maid (aka slave) wears make-up and earrings!!! She still had drawn on eyebrows and nothing wrapping her hair. Furthermore, white men were fawning over her which was a huge taboo. It was as if to show that white men knew their own kind even if they didn't recognize her, or the only beautiful Black woman is one with white features. It was racist dreck no matter how you look at it.
And it needs to be noted that all of the Black people in this flick were smiling, dancing, and having a good time while all of the white people, Southern or Northern, were patronly and matronly as though they treated Black folks so well.
Another gross misrepresentation that is steeped in white guilt, white fragility, as well as racism. Because of the guilt and fragility they can't bear to show themselves in a negative light when it comes to race relations, and the racism because still they put Black people in a dumb, child-like position whereby they need whites for their guidance and education. It's appalling.
Gail Loveless (Marion Davies) only did the blackface routine for about a third of the movie. Eventually, she went back north where she received another assignment which wouldn't require her to be in disguise. This assignment though, would require her to get in close with a charming handsome man; and you know what that means.
Capt. Jack Gailliard (Gary Cooper) was suspected of spying for the South. Gail was tasked with trying to get near him to find out what she could and to lead Northern operatives to him.
Her first response was a frightful "No!" She had already encountered Jack and it was clear she felt something for him. When giving her CO's a briefing about him she had a wistful look on her face as she mentioned how very attractive he was. To any sensible officers this would've been a red flag. She was opposed to getting involved with him in an espionage sense which was probably due to her A.) female frailty that they loved to highlight in the 1930's or B.) the possibility she had feelings for this man. Either of those scenarios was enough to send someone else besides her for the purpose of spying, yet they sent her anyway.
Even though Gail was falling in love with her mark like women were known to do (see "Dishonored" (1931), "Mata Hari" (1931), or "The Man with One Red Shoe" (1985)), she still followed through with passing on critical information to the North which helped them get the jump on a Southern plot. With Gail's intel, the North was able to attack the South first at a place called Drury's Bluff.
It was a resounding victory for the North, but Gail would have you believe it was a travesty. Her feminine sensibilities were on full display as she openly mourned the loss of Confederate soldiers. She was most aggrieved by the loss of a man named Johnny, the fiance of a Southern belle she befriended. It would seem that she forgot that she was simply a spy and legitimately began to like the people.
Since we're talking sexist tropes, I have to mention how Gail got her intel. That Southern belle she befriended had a big mouth. She gaily told Gail all the pertinent details of the Confederate plan to be enacted at Drury's Bluff that her fiance, a captain, told her. It just goes to show that you can't trust a woman with a secret.
After Dury's Bluff, it was discovered that Gail was a Northern spy. This concerned Jack most of all because he'd professed his love for her. What kind of woman could be so low as to earn a man's love and be spying on him at the same time? How did Jack put it? Oh yeah:
Gail: "You're a spy yourself Jack."
Jack: "Yes I am, but I'm a man, a soldier. I'm not a woman who lets people befriend her because she is a woman, then stabs them in the back. I'm not a woman who gains the confidence of a sweet trusting girl then destroys her life's happiness."
Gail: "I didn't know that he... how could I?" she was speaking in reference to her intel getting Johnny, a Confederate soldier, killed.
Jack: "You led her on deliberately, just like you led me on--pretending you loved me."
And like that Jack laid down the rules of spying. You can't be a woman, and you certainly can't be a woman that makes a person trust you or fall in love with you.
I can't say that I've never heard such ridiculous hogwash in my life, because I've heard a lot, but this is some seriously, upper-level ridiculous hogwash. I couldn't roll my eyes enough. I couldn't curse it enough. The logic of it was so twisted and distorted due to the sexist nature of it. SHE DID EXACTLY WHAT SPIES ARE SUPPOSED TO DO!
How in the hell is she supposed to get sensitive information if she doesn't gain the trust of those with the information? And as far as making people fall in love with her, that was your bad, but I will say that it was the sexist mind of the writer to even put it in the script that she fell in love and made her mark fall in love.
Because this was a romance, they were able to unite at the end. Once the war was over and "there was no more north and no more south, just a United States" they were able to wed and be a happy couple as if both sides immediately dropped their beef the moment the war was over.
Psshhhh. I still know Southerners mad at Yankees for the war. When they say "the South will rise again," they're not talking about a bread.
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Many Happy Returns (1934)
George and Gracie Get Married
This is the fifth early movie I've seen with George Burns in it, and it looks to me that he didn't do anything without his partner Gracie Allen. The two were a comedy tandem in which he played the straight man and Gracie played the ditz.
In "Many Happy Returns" George Burns and Gracie Allen again play characters with no name change. They worked for Gracie's father, Horatio Allen (George Barbier). Horatio owned a radio station which Gracie was attempting to get torn down and converted into a bird sanctuary or something like that.
Why?
Who knows why Gracie does the things she does.
Horatio had Gracie see a psychoanalyst. The psychoanalyst concluded that Gracie was stuck on George, or as she called him, Georgie Porgie. Perhaps if she married George she would stop monkeying with her father's business and behave normally. Upon hearing that, Horatio offered George his daughter, Gracie, except George wasn't amenable to marrying Gracie if he had anything to say about it.
Horatio wouldn't be denied his request, or should I say demand. He gave George an ultimatum: marry his daughter or be fired. When George again rejected the offer, Horatio offered him $10/mile of travel on their honeymoon from New York to California. That came out to $30,000, which George couldn't refuse.
So they were married.
The rest of the movie would be more of Gracie and her goofiness, George trying to remain sane, and a kidnapping plot involving Florence (Joan Marsh), Horatio's other daughter.
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