Thackeray's novel, "Vanity Fair," published during the same period as Dickens' work, runs about 800 pages. It's a long, difficult slog. The writers here have cut the story down to less than an hour and a half and the result is a kind of "Classic Comics" version that I doubt loses much in the transposition.
The nice girl, Amelia, brings home a guest for Christmas, her school chum Becky Sharp (Myrna Loy). It's apparent in the first few minutes that Becky is pretty sharp alright. She can smell money and aristocracy. She puts the moves on just about all the men -- old, young, married, engaged to Amelia -- it doesn't make any difference.
And that, basically, is the whole of this dismal tale. The men, of course, grovel at her dainty feet the moment she glances at them. Although, to be honest, unless these guys are complete dolts, they must realize that she's a piece of hazardous material, throwing her perils before swains.
By borrowing, cheating, and seducing, she works her way close to the top before everything falls apart. She's even cheated her loyal housekeeper, Polly. Becky winds up alone and debauched in a dingy apartment.
None of the performances are memorable and Myrna Loy, though a fine actress, is limited by the technology of the time. It has to be admitted, though, that the attraction she has for men is understandable, especially when we see her modeling this backless gown, cut almost to her pilonidal dimple. Her figure combines pale flesh and vulnerability. Yum.
The director is Chester Franklin and he's put some thought into the job, not startling by today's upside-down standards but a novelty in 1932. Myrna Loy is at a dressing table looking into a mirror at the end. Her face is that of a spent whore. She remarks that it's odd how sometimes one can look as young as she once was, and her features brighten, the dark circles fade, and she's young and beautiful again, before the present reasserts itself.
And, again, she's looking down from her window at the departing Amelia, ex friend, who climbs into an open carriage with her fiancé, who tenderly lays a robe over her lap. And it's an overhead shot. There are a couple of nicely seamed visual transitions from one scene to the next. A running kitchen faucet dissolves into a filling bath tub, for instance.
But it's hard to overcome the old-fashioned soap opera aspects of the story. Frankly, it's a little dull.
The nice girl, Amelia, brings home a guest for Christmas, her school chum Becky Sharp (Myrna Loy). It's apparent in the first few minutes that Becky is pretty sharp alright. She can smell money and aristocracy. She puts the moves on just about all the men -- old, young, married, engaged to Amelia -- it doesn't make any difference.
And that, basically, is the whole of this dismal tale. The men, of course, grovel at her dainty feet the moment she glances at them. Although, to be honest, unless these guys are complete dolts, they must realize that she's a piece of hazardous material, throwing her perils before swains.
By borrowing, cheating, and seducing, she works her way close to the top before everything falls apart. She's even cheated her loyal housekeeper, Polly. Becky winds up alone and debauched in a dingy apartment.
None of the performances are memorable and Myrna Loy, though a fine actress, is limited by the technology of the time. It has to be admitted, though, that the attraction she has for men is understandable, especially when we see her modeling this backless gown, cut almost to her pilonidal dimple. Her figure combines pale flesh and vulnerability. Yum.
The director is Chester Franklin and he's put some thought into the job, not startling by today's upside-down standards but a novelty in 1932. Myrna Loy is at a dressing table looking into a mirror at the end. Her face is that of a spent whore. She remarks that it's odd how sometimes one can look as young as she once was, and her features brighten, the dark circles fade, and she's young and beautiful again, before the present reasserts itself.
And, again, she's looking down from her window at the departing Amelia, ex friend, who climbs into an open carriage with her fiancé, who tenderly lays a robe over her lap. And it's an overhead shot. There are a couple of nicely seamed visual transitions from one scene to the next. A running kitchen faucet dissolves into a filling bath tub, for instance.
But it's hard to overcome the old-fashioned soap opera aspects of the story. Frankly, it's a little dull.