ecaulfield Reviews

Private Scandal (1934)

Eden Gardens, a paradise for the wage earner

[6 August 2011]

So reads the advertisement for the tract of land that real estate developer Lew Cody plans to revitalize. Cody promises home ownership to anyone who can make a modest down payment. But after four months of waiting, his investors ask, where are the houses? Building is overdue!

The film moves at such a fast pace that you might not catch Cody's explanation about the delay. Let's just say that the funds for building are gone.

This film is an ensemble piece, especially as the story progresses and the characters are quarantined at the office. Fittingly, Cody has assembled a memorable staff of employees. In pre-code thirties style, there is the less than polite receptionist June Brewster, who is really too wise for her job but lacks the conscientiousness to perform it. The head of the sales force is married man Jed Prouty, who has an eye for Brewster. Anytime is a good time for a drink with him: "Hey, hey," Brewster responds when he repeatedly calls her away from the switchboard. Third wheel Harold Waldridge, who has a gambling habit he cannot afford, is wise to them, calling them Frankie and Johnny. Zasu Pitts seems to have an affinity for the restroom. Elderly Charles Sellon is on hand, either to be abused or to speak insensitively to Waldridge. And let's not forget the sweet young lovers Phillips Holmes and Mary Brian.

Besides the characters, you'll find the typical thirties work environment and banter. When someone faints, no one has water, but they have gin! Several of the employees have aversions to decorum. Brewster uses Waldridge so she can leave the switchboard to get a drink and "get her system back to normal." But he spies on her when she meets Prouty before work in the mornings for orange juice.

So what about those houses? Well, it seems that financial trouble has led to murder (or at least a death). That's why the employees are trapped at the office by the police.

The police detectives are another interesting twosome. Ned Sparks is apparently the Sherlock Holmes of the Eden Gardens area, but his entrance, "I'm Reardon" means nothing to anyone within hearing distance. "Are you cops?" asks Brewster in her well-spoken way. In thirties style, officer Sparks adopts a dismissive conversation style: "Stay here Grandpa, or I'll spank you." Sparks's sidekick George Guhl mistakenly follows Pitts into her beloved restroom. Besides these government officials, coroner Olin Howland has obviously adjusted to the fact that none of us is immortal. Let's just say he whistles while he works.

After several dramatic twists in the last fifteen minutes, the film wraps up rather happily. Perhaps Cody was right to have an altruistic mission, even if he didn't manage the funds for it transparently. But where will all these office workers get new jobs?

Amusing, thirties style entertainment.

Jealousy (1934)

Perceptive tale about the frailty of the human heart when in 'love'

[7/10 · 29 November 2009]

Marriage melodrama, with Nancy Carroll and George Murphy.

You might call this film an early psychological study about jealousy, or the doubt and suspicion in a relationship, which leads to wrongheaded presumptions and conclusions. The film examines jealousy as a perverse nearsightedness that leads one always to assume the worst about one's mate. Jealousy is a notable film in that the male protagonist is able to foresee in stark terms the outcome he can expect if he continues to trust no one but himself. Because of woman's place in society at the time, I wonder if many films before Jealousy had depicted as harsh the consequences for a man caught up in domestic strife caused solely by jealousy.

It is easy to see that expectations (along with insecurity) are the cause of the jealousy problem between Mr. and Mrs. O'Roarke. What is expected of the wife of a jealous spouse, that she will lose all interest in other people, or have nothing more to do with a person of the opposite sex whom her spouse has mistakenly found threatening? These expectations lead the person trying to deal with the jealous spouse to lie because there are certain things her spouse simply cannot be told. He frequently misinterprets the innocent. These expectations are unspoken to the person who is supposed to modify her conduct to please the spouse. The jealous spouse himself may not even be sure what he expects. Since she doesn't know which particular act will be misjudged and lead to an emotional outburst, we watch the wife cover up innocent acts, because her husband could not see them outside the prism of jealousy.

Why do we have such expectations of those we 'love'? Is love a type of ownership? When does the most cherished person become an object? What do people we love owe us?

The strength of this film is that it does not accept the notion that rabid jealousy is something a person is entitled to simply because one is 'in love'. In this film, jealousy is a weakness that one must fight, or one may wind up giving one's life for its indulgence.

All the actors do a fine job, and the film is rather fast-paced.

I wish more film goers were aware of Nancy Carroll, in the way they are about another early 30's Paramount star, the wonderful Carole Lombard. Pretty Ms. Carroll always comes off as warm hearted and classy. I've made an effort to see as many of her films as I can find. I recommend her in 1930's The Devil's Holiday, for which she was nominated for an Academy Award.

The Perfect Clue (1935)

Good actress in quirky story.

[7/10 · 11 July 2009]

Synopsis: He couldn't rob a woman, so I married him.

Mona (Dorothy Libaire) is mighty frustrated about Dad's (William P. Carleton) upcoming nuptials. So she and family friend, Ronnie (Richard 'Skeets' Gallagher) devise a plan to get back at Dad that includes Mona marrying for spite. Are you game? she asks.

Father is not dismayed or deterred from his plans. On board a train for Buffalo, Mona receives his telegram telling her he will meet them in Niagara Falls! So Mona prematurely leaves the train at a whistle stop. She hires David (David Manners) to drive her to Albany where she hopes to catch another train back to New York. But for the balance of the film, Mona is detoured which means she eludes Dad and has time to show David that she is a socialite with a nurturing side.

On the rugged road to Albany, driver David attempts to rob her jewelry: "Do I have to take 'em from ya?" This is a bit of a funny sight because David Manners is so clean cut looking, especially in that beret type of hat he wears. Mona doesn't scare easy. She gives him her valuables and asks, "What am I supposed to do, wait here for a streetcar?"

He drives off, and she walks along apparently spraining her ankle. Then a car drives up. Well, what do you know? It's the same guy, David. He's back. "I couldn't rob a woman."

This time, he resolutely agrees to drive her. She has no qualms about taking off with him again. She just needs a little help with her ankle. He finds her spoiled and selfish. She can't roll her own cigarettes, so he calls her Scatter brain. They have to sleep in the car because it's stuck in the mud. She says, "Good night, Jesse James."

David confides that he spent a year in Sing Sing after being set up for a crime he didn't commit at the bank he worked for. Who would give an ex-con a job, he asks? Mona would be glad to hire a convict. She asks him to drive her around for $25 a day until she's ready to go back home. Tough guy David says he'll drive her around until her ankle is better.

It turns out Dorothy's ankle is fine. David accuses Mona of using him for a thrill. But Mona sticks around to look after David. She doesn't want him accepting any crooked job offers.

There's another big scrape to come, and David will find out what a true friend he has found in Mona. The Perfect Clue is worthwhile because of the quirky way that Mona and David's friendship is formed and because the film allows Mona to be strong and determined rather than scared. She affects events as much as the world affects her.

The film avoids the melodramatic and keeps a light touch even when David is overcome with trouble. Skeets Gallagher's way with a humorous line is used to good effect. He stands up for goldfish ("They can't organize. They have no home life.") and declares alcohol the ultimate meal.

Why didn't Dorothy Libaire have more movies? She makes a spirited heroine.

Recommended. I dig that short excerpt of bluesy music on the Alpha Home Entertainment DVD that introduces the film.

Paris Bound (1929)

Ann Harding personifies poised womanhood.

[8/10 · 28 June 2009]

The movie begins with the wedding of Mary (Ann Harding) and Jim (Fredric March). They will be a quite happy couple. Their wedding vows are terribly solemn. It turns out that that dedication won't be the only reason for their bliss.

After the ceremony, the couple's female 'friend,' Noel, is distraught because she will never give up pining for Jim. Jim reluctantly obliges Mary's request that he try to assuage Noel before they alight on their honeymoon. It appears second nature for Mary to consider another woman's feelings at a time when she could be feeling the euphoria of marrying the man she treasures.

The woman Mary sends Jim off to comfort is not a retiring flower. Noel revels in self-pity over her unrequited love, telling Jim, 'I know you kiss me every time you see me… what does it matter if you haven't done it as long as you're thinking of it? You can't be indifferent to me so don't try.' Later, Mary tells Noel that she and Jim both love Noel. That is the thing about Mary – she has the right touch. She had the wisdom to send Jim to Noel to try to calm her and the kindness to try to make Noel feel loved.

Mary intends to be wise about her marriage, too. She and Jim are very wrapped up in each other. How desperately they want to be a 'success.' They must mingle with people often so that they won't long for some experience beyond each other:

Mary: I don't like monopolies, at least not for you and me. Jim: Okay, but I'll like you best.

The point is not to let other people become novelties (temptations).

Richard admires Mary from afar. She once spent much time listening to and composing music with him. She tries to make him feel comfortable with her new status, calling herself an old married woman and telling him that she expects that he visit her and work in her new music room.

Mary determines to be self-disciplined each year as publisher Jim goes to Paris to meet authors. She never goes with him. 'What about my child?' is one of her excuses. But she can hardly bear even to see Jim off at the ship so much does his absence hurt her. 'Heavens yes,' she would like to go with him, but 'I have the notion that married people need a holiday from each other.' So as for spending six weeks in Paris with him she says, 'I just never do.'

Mary is filled with exemplary traits: She has the charm of being well-spoken. To 'How's your baby?' she quips, 'Come out tomorrow and I'll hold a one man exhibit.' And no one could be more discreet. When her friend asks her why she didn't come to visit when she was with Jim in Paris the previous year, Mary realizes that she has been mistaken for the 'other woman' Jim was really with, and calmly replies, 'It was the shortest kind of a trip.'

One is left to wonder if the thesis of the film is that infidelity doesn't matter because in truth it doesn't even matter to the person committing it. A wanderer is compelled by physical stirrings beyond his or her control almost as if s/he were an innocent bystander to chemistry.

Two scenes in the film bring this theme to light. Jim's divorced parents have a curious conversation:

Father: You made a failure of your marriage. I may have committed infidelity but you committed divorce. You did me out of my marriage and home. You destroyed a spiritual relationship that belonged only to us. Jim is a lot like me. Mother: Then I pity Mary.

The father repeats this line of reasoning when Mary discovers that Jim may have been unfaithful.

Mary: I don't feel compelled to share him. Father: What has this one misstep got to do with you? I doubt if you've shared anything. Mary: I'm insulted. He couldn't love me and go with her.

Has Mary never had any 'stirrings' for anyone else in all the years she has been married to Jim? Never, she says. He wishes she had so that she would know it's possible.

Richard is writing the music for a ballet. He can't finish it. Mary tells him he'll never finish anything. Richard believes that the unfinished ballet represents Mary's unfulfilled relationship with him. She never finishes anything either, i.e. her self-discipline toward her marriage leads her to repress her feelings.

Is the film trying to say not only that such attractions are inevitable but that acting on them may also be unavoidable at times?

Because, you see, the next thing Mary knows, she has had a minor indiscretion of her own.

Father's point seems to be that chemical attraction is a small thing that one is powerless to control and that when one acts on it, one is not sharing anything that is really of value to one's spouse. Perhaps Mary's experience with Richard teaches her this.

Mary tries to be honest with Jim:

Jim: I'm not certain I want to hear it. I'm certain I don't want to hear it. I don't ever want to hear any bad news.

He suspects Mary wants to tell him of her weak moment with Richard. He knows only that he wants to keep alive the truly affectionate love they have shared. He has no double standard. In rejecting this 'news,' Jim is not only excusing his own actions but excusing Mary's transgressions, if she has made any.

Neither lets pride destroy the unique romantic married relationship they have. Spontaneously, they set off at 2 a.m. to see their little son. Jim loves to see him when he's asleep.

Jim: Have you forgotten anything? Mary: Only my dignity. Jim: That's not anything.

The Girl in 419 (1933)

No Cagney, no Muni, no Robinson but also not bad

[7/10 · 21 June 2009]

Gangster saga set in the Emergency Hospital - Police Division. Rather than showcasing the gangster's charismatic persona, this picture depicts the events that take place at a charity hospital serving the community populated with those gangsters. No James Cagney here but this film bears the unmistakable imprimatur of the early thirties: Wise-cracking telephone operator (Kitty Kelly), when asked for a date of a bus ride, replies "Brother, can you spare the dime?" The joint is populated with reporters, like Slug (Johnny Hines), who pry stories out of the doctors with promises of gin. It comes as no surprise that the characters make easy references to the morgue.

Dr. French (James Dunn) is the hospital's prize surgeon, who romances platinum blonde nurse Ms. Blaine (Shirley Grey) while on duty, that is, until platinum blonde patient Mary Dolan (Gloria Stuart) arrives unconscious. Dr. French decides that Mary requires a personal 24/7 vigil because this strikingly beautiful woman is "different" and no one can find the usual dirt on her. Mary is "society" who let herself become mixed up with gangster Peter Lawton (William Harrigan). Lawton's heavy, Sammy (Jack La Rue) intends to visit the unfortunate Mary at her bedside. Sure, he gave Mary "a terrible beating" and he has a gun planted under that bouquet of flowers, but it's okay for him to see the quarantined Mary because they are "pals." This is a hospital where a gangster can ask for a drink upon using it as a hide-out. The Girl in 419 has pre-code elements, but even when those die down the film is memorable for its politically incorrect 30's sensibilities: Dr. French tells the police to "gag" nurse Blaine if she won't shut up, to which the officer responds, "Wouldn't I like to? I've got a missus that talks too much." Recommended although you might find yourself wishing for more Kitty Kelly and less hokey Dunn-Stuart romance which ends the picture.

I have become a fan of David Manners, who has a supporting role here as Dr. Nichols. It is sometimes commented that he is dull or not given enough to do. But ask yourself, did his character do what I think he did to bring the film to an end? If so, then this film is an example of pre-code because no justice was meted out for that act. Furthermore, if true, Dr. Nichols was no dull guy!

Accent on Youth (1935)

Sophisticated but not dead

[7/10 · 31 August 2008]

Playwright Steven Gaye (Herbert Marshall) puts great emphasis on youth. You see, there is something "grand" about being young, so grand that all youth deserve to experience young love. Thus, he spends the whole of the film debating with himself about the propriety, apparent unseemliness, and selfishness of a fifty-year-old man falling in love with a woman in her twenties. But Linda (Sylvia Sidney) enlightens him. What if woman chases man rather than man chasing woman? In that case, a May-December affair is okay, at least for a play. You'll see that in his personal life, Steven feels differently and thus tries to spare Linda the mistake of latching onto him when she is "so darn young." Thus, we get the obligatory improbable romance between Linda and a young man who really isn't much to her (or probably any woman's) liking. Although it's 1935, Linda isn't forced to remain with this overbearing man to prove she is good. Happily, the writers knew irreconcilable differences when they saw them and thought, perhaps an unorthodox pairing really is best for some!

The film is aided by consistent touches which show that it does not take itself too seriously: Ernest Cossart as the butler is every bit as much Marshall's friend as his servant. Strictly speaking, he remains very proper ("very good sir"), but his familiarity with his master and his decidedly knowing character make his conduct seem almost as if he is mocking propriety itself. Another help is Marshall's ability to effortlessly play the sophisticate, a man who never says anything wrong and who you are likely to find wearing a bow tie, even under his robe. This is a slice of the upper crust, but here, etiquette is matched by personality.

Mary Burns, Fugitive (1935)

Her pluck and her luck save her

[8/10 · 24 August 2008]

It's only 1935, but Mary Burns appears to be a self-sufficient woman. She manages her own business, the Coffee Cup, "one hundred miles from nowhere," way out where the eggs come from a nearby farm and where they still have church socials. How can this independent woman become a victim? Well, no one is really independent of all the world, are they? Her great sin is to trust. She lets herself rely on a man who will likely never have any character witnesses if he is ever brought before a court of justice. Then, once accused of aiding and abetting his criminal acts (a false charge), her next human mistake is to fail to adequately defend herself before an aggressive prosecutor.

But she does have nerve, which leads to a freedom of sorts. Of course, now she's "Mary Burns, Fugitive" so she isn't completely free. She has shadows: the law, and the man she never really knew. He's a fugitive, too, and even a killer. But wouldn't you know, he seems to genuinely care about Mary and comes out of hiding several times to try to link up with her. Thus, Mary is an innocent, she never knew "her man" was a felon, and she has no use for him now. But the police are determined to use his undying soft spot – his weakness for her – to track him down.

This film is a product of Hollywood and it's no gritty film noir. But it has some 1930's gangster-film touches (wisecracking dames and lock-jawed tough guys). Anyway, it's nice to be reassured. And I never mind seeing Melvyn Douglas play a hero.

Okay America! (1932)

What a character!

[8/10 · 27 February 2008]

Back in the days when radio jingle singers harmonized words like ba-na-na to a Latin rhythm, the airwaves broadcast 'tell-all' shows in which a host like Louella Parsons or Walter Winchell would dish about which celebrity or scion had been caught doing what. The host of Okay, America! is Larry Wayne (Lew Ayres). He writes columns by day, with the help of his gal Friday, Barton (Maureen O'Sullivan), and reports sensational happenings by night over the air. He collects stories about the well-to-do from the cigarette girl at a cafe and a homeless drunk. But he tracks them down, too. His appearance at a night club makes wandering husbands wish they'd never stepped out with that pretty young thing and their wives wish it wasn't their turn to be humiliated by the next morning's paper.

A lot of his life appears to be playing Dick Tracy. When he gets a tip-off on the abduction of a local damsel (who happens to be the daughter of the best friend of the President, FDR), he doesn't just divulge what has happened. He personally accosts the criminal gang in their lair all by his lonesome. He decides to act as the go-between of the girl's suffering parents and the gang that wants a pay-off. He will bring the woman back alive. And he does all this without any interference from the police, thank you, nor the police commissioner whom he orders around. Self-confidence does not elude him here, or later when the stakes become life or death. Apparently a daredevil, he likes to use his spare time this way. He is one of those guys who handily knows everyone in town through whom he might secretly communicate to the underworld. And through all this, he continues his daily reports of sexual improprieties as his radio listeners wait for him to produce the lost girl alive.

He reveals the private indiscretions of the very-important because he thinks no one should be made a dupe, as he once was when his fiancé secretly pursued a wealthy married man. He says everyone knew she was playing him, but no one ever told him. They just watched. Larry is so watchful he could work in the sociology department of his favorite police precinct, but he is no silent sideline observer. His romance gone bad has made him a rebel with a cause: to pull the curtain back on the fraud of the upper class. Never was a rebel so suited for his job. He picks up stories as easily as an officer dusting for prints, he fends off gun-toting men who object, and then he publishes.

The brisk pace of the film is helped along by the introduction of a pivotal character, played by a well-known supporting actor, in the last third of the film. Through the placement of this character, we are able to see that, despite the havoc his profession wrecks on people's personal lives, Larry is a man who will take it on the chin to spare someone else. He is such a cool cat as he goes about this high-stakes living, you might say he is above emotion. That is how he manages to give you such a surprise at the film's denouement. He shrinks from nothing. This is one writer/broadcaster who is a character himself.

The Barker (1928)

two characters worth having around

[8/10 · 20 August 2006]

I went to see this film solely for the presence of Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. But there are four characters who dominate and make this effort a character-based film.

Betty Compson was effervescent and convincing as a performer who is at ease on stage at a carnival, poised and beautiful and able to connect with the audience. Her vivaciousness reminded me of Clara Bow. But her character turned out to be more nuanced than the typical vamp with a heart of gold. She was a little edgier, maybe craftier. It was a little dispiriting to see her want to return to a man, who treated her in a less than gentlemanly fashion, to say the least. But I guess such undertones of sexism in a relationship and a woman being unable to resist an abusive boyfriend were accepted in films of this era.

Milton Sills was convincing as a man born to be a barker at a carnival, someone who will convince people they want to spend money for nothing. I thought maybe Fairbanks had this title role, but he actually plays the unexpectedly kind son of the rather brutish Sills. The Sills character is somewhat redeeming in that he does, at least, look out for his son and wants nothing to jeopardize his son's professional future.

Douglas Fairbanks Jr.'s role was much more substantial than I expected. I thought maybe I had read in his autobiography that he was placed in this film primarily because he had had some possibly successful exposure in some other picture as a teenager. So I expected him to have a rather throwaway, idiotic part, but he is actually one of the leads and he acquitted himself well. His character was young but not immature; earnest, sensitive, and intelligent but not cloying or unbelievable. He must have been only around eighteen when he made this one. He comes off as extremely likable for those DFJ fans who would like to see him in a role in which he was rewarded with decent screen time and a well-developed nice-guy character.

I found it sort of amusing that he wants to be a lawyer because his father is a 'barker' at what sometimes looks like a rather sorry carnival. I should not judge; I was just not expecting that level of ambition in the barker's family. It was also a surprise to find out with whom DFJ winds up having a relationship. A lot of the drama takes place on a train, like one of those you see the female band travel on in Some Like it Hot, and that is where this relationship begins.

Lastly, I agree with the other reviewer that Dorothy Mackaill (and for me DFJ) made this film worthwhile. Her character was wise for her years, probably had to work to stay alive, and at the film's beginning seems like she is only in the cast to be Compson's independent, indestructible sidekick. But her character, Lou, is something other than endlessly unflinching. She is vulnerable: she is capable of being moved by the right fellow traveler who just happened to come along. So we find out that beyond her blonde extremely bobbed haircut and knowledge about the real world, she has a soul and she is even feminine.

As a character-driven movie, I would like to see this again for the two warm-hearted souls of DFJ and Mackaill.

Bondage (1933)

another watchable female star

[8/10 · 5 June 2005]

I have discovered Dorothy Jordan and a film so dark that it does not resolve the protagonist's woeful trials even in the conclusion. Most of the reason for "Judy's" (Jordan) sorrow is that she is a woman in the 1930's and thus has limited career opportunities and little recourse should she find herself a fallen woman with child. These are the very things that Judy endures. The sexism at her job selling records is so overt and apparently acceptable that she tolerates the here-it-comes-again-like-clockwork comment, "Are you still a good girl?" and physical caresses. Dating is something she does not seek out because she would rather wait for the right man and she believes she will have to fend off any other one. The catalyst that really triggers her sad tale is the egotistical and predatory "Earl Warren" (Edward Woods). Judy certainly does not pick him out, but he obviously plans to have her no matter how phony he must make himself. Because Earl is the scoundrel the audience instantly determined him to be, Judy is now unmarried and expecting a baby with no family left to assist her. She really has no place to go physically and winds up at a halfway house for unlucky expectant mothers. The situation at the home, especially at first, seems dire.

But this film is good at creating real people out of the characters and enough lighter moments so that one can endure watching. There is a network of compassion among the female residents (who are really just workers trying to survive the wrath of the 'den mother' "Mrs. Trigge" played by Rafaela Ottiano), especially displayed by the wisecracking "Beulah," Isabel Jewell who reminds me of actress Una Merkel. And in the first several scenes, Judy's interactions with her friend, "Maizie" (Dorothy Libaire) might lead the viewer to believe that the film will mostly be about two savvy working women in the 1930's who are used to dodging fresh men. But certainly this film is first a drama and a rather heart wrenching one. Judy suffers one setback after another in trying to have and keep her baby. The pace of the disappointments is continuous and certainly not her fault so that the film insists that her pathetic outcome is society's fault. (If you look at the meanness or obtuseness of a few of the characters such as Mrs. Trigge, Maizie, and Mrs. Wharton, played by Jane Darwell, you might agree.) The film even gives Judy a defender in the form of a doctor (Alexander Kirkland), who states that Judy's life has been a case of Society v. Judy. So she is given some protection in the end by his assistance but is so hardened by the work it takes to survive as a woman without connections that she listlessly utters her last line as she walks away from him, "Who cares?" implying that she does not even know how to daydream anymore about getting the breaks in life. After all she has been through, the viewer might wish she could hold out hope just a few moments longer. But this doctor will probably follow her, and maybe he can convince her not to self-destruct.

This description makes the plot sound downtrodden and the film is definitely a look at the sexism, social stigmas, and physical burdens borne by some isolated women of the day. But the plot is brisk and the female characters are imbued with personality and humanity, which allow the film to be humorous or engrossing. Furthermore, even if the film is too harsh (I did not find it so), Jordan's watchability carries the story. Why was she not a bigger star? In this film she has a soft, feminine kind of beauty (maybe the word is natural) and an obvious depth of feeling. Luckily for the viewer, one studio at one time realized her potential to give her this starring vehicle in which she must find the range to play a feisty working-woman who knows she is better than most men she meets to a woman of ill repute who has only a soft voice left to defend herself. Unfortunately her list of credits does not look long. So I am grateful I discovered this substantial performance in her repertoire.

Two Kinds of Women (1932)

Consider the morals of yesterday and today

[6/10 · 1 June 2005]

Because this film was part of the UCLA Film and Television Archive's Sin Uncensored: Hollywood Before the Code program, I was disappointed that it was a little talky and bland in spots rather than filled with the risqué humor I expected. However, the intersection of various elements of the plot made the film engrossing as it continued toward its conclusion. Almost as if the screenwriter intended the film for an audience in 2005, in Two Kinds of Women, the main character's (Miriam Hopkins) father is a Senator from South Dakota who believes that New York City is corrupting the rest of the nation. His daughter has not had the pleasure of living in New York, but she is culturally ambitious enough to read The New Yorker and to know how to spend an evening in New York way past her 'bedtime,' once she gets to the city. She develops a relationship with playboy Phillips Holmes who, predictably, is reformed just by knowing her. Although I found Hopkins as charming as ever, she needed more to do, more mischief to conduct with double entendres in this earlier part of the film, so this is the duller part of the plot. But the film escalates in drama and symbolism when the cast has a party in the art deco set of a penthouse. It's the Prohibition era, and the partygoers learn dances that we would probably laugh at today and the alcohol flows effusively. This 'outlandish' activity takes place against the backdrop of the troubled Senator on the radio reaching heights of hysteria about New York and the history of the Nordic race until he has a breakdown and must stop his address. His dramatization of the country's cultural problems using over-the-top language is a funny part of the film, but actually the events at the party symbolize the tawdry world he condemns: one man is so used to his wife being perpetually drunk that she is set up in a rather comatose state behind a screen with a drink in her hand so that she can drink without anyone having to look at her; two other partygoers demonstrate the reprobate lifestyle the Senator is railing against, one who allows death to occur based on his greed from gambling debts and the other who becomes the victim, we should probably believe because of her similar greed for a divorce settlement. Eventually, Hopkins' love (Holmes) needs to be saved from prosecution for the murder, and this is a moral test for the Senator. Will he stand by his daughter who believes in Holmes and jeopardize his image as the puritanical official who will stand no immoral behavior, like that which has tainted his daughter? Perhaps this plot sounds a little paint-by-the-numbers. But the party scene has such significant consequences for people who were so oblivious to their own actions, even while the Senator desperately tried to warn them, that this climactic scene is rather dark and dramatic. Although the ending turns out well for our leads, the viewer sees that the Senator may also luck out even after choosing to stand by his daughter. Because he takes her side, this makes him look good to his rural voters back home. Thus, politics still trumps all. How moral are we human beings anyway? This film seems more the serious drama with a little early 1930's sinful humor rather than a pure pre-Code Lubitsch-touch comedy, which I expected with Hopkins. Although it might seem a bit stiff at times, it is still entertaining to see how this society deals with the culmination of events that occur in the reprobate world they created.

Mills of the Gods (1934)

Leads' performances make film worthwhile

[7/10 · 31 May 2005]

I found this film worthwhile although the plot had predictable moments. Mills of the Gods is still unconventional because of the substance of a few scenes and the plot twists instigated by the characters' choices. I was able to see this film through a showing by UCLA's Film and Television Archive. The description from the Archive describes the actors in this film playing against type. I do not know enough of Fay Wray's repertoire to comment on that assessment of her role. But it leads me to one reason to recommend seeing the film: the unusual sequence in the middle of the film in which Fay Wray and labor leader, Victor Jory (whom I can see as being cast against his usual role of the bad guy) spend a night in hiding so that he will not fall into the trap of causing trouble and then being arrested at her wealthy family's estate after being summoned there for supposedly legitimate reasons. Wray starts the film as a brash, spoiled type who mostly smiles haughtily or makes heartless comments when confronted with the harsh plight of her family's workers. She continues her blasé behavior even while away, with the purpose of helping hide Jory. This sequence with him also gives her a chance to be rather tarty, as films of the early 1930's allowed, not minding whether or not the front door of the cabin locks Jory out while she sleeps. He, in turn, somehow manages to make his gentlemanly restraint toward her believable. But while away with him, eventually her detestation of her cold family means more to her than her desire for family money. That disgust coupled with, perhaps, respect for and identification with Jory and an involuntary response to his plaintive piano playing culminate in a scene, I think, of real drama and pathos as the viewer wonders if she is about to meet a deathly fate. The remaining half of the film in which, predictably, the bad guys lose give reason enough for the Archive to describe the film as "arguably one of the most socialist studio movies from Hollywood's Golden Age." But if for no other reason, one might want to see the film for Wray's skilled performance of a character with her own mind and the unusual chance to see Jory with a more consequential and heroic role than he is usually given.

Street of Women (1932)

Let my life work out this way

[8/10 · 6 January 2002]

Did you know that Alan Dinehart has a voice like William Holden's? Quite possibly, you never knew who the man was before you considered watching this film, as in my experience. I have not investigated his career to determine how many films he was entrusted to 'carry,' but in Street of Women, he is quite capable of filling the role of romantic leading man opposite a most lovely, refined Kay Francis. His voice is just one aspect of his pleasing presence.

The film's title implies a connotation of the risque sort, which is not at all depicted here. In truth, when they are tested, most of the characters of this film live by an imposing code of honor which hardly allows them to pursue pleasure with recklessness. Despite some of the typical dramatic obstacles of a romantic feature: the unyielding wife who makes you root for the other woman (!); a daughter who is unforgiving because she is a bit untried in the realities of life; Street of Women provides an ample showcase for Francis to exude her gentility and warmth and gives you the opportunity to discover the attractively reedy-sounding Dinehart. And rather than the 'scoundrel' role he seems often to have been assigned, here Roland Young is allowed to play understanding matchmaker. Recommended escapism.

Lady in the Lake (1946)

Just you, the detective, and some unfortunate characters

[8/10 · 24 June 2001]

Assessing this film, I cannot help but address the subjective camera work that is an essential part of the Lady in the Lake viewing experience. The first person point of view makes the characters seem more vulnerable than in films shot in the typical style. One of the technique's unique rewards is that I am allowed to watch the cast continuously (while they are reacting to the main character) which is demanding of the actors. I think this makes the film more entertaining, as if a show is being put on just for me. I feel like I am being catered and spoken to from the first moment Montgomery addresses the camera. It is as if I am the only one who has ever heard these characters' stories. I think the approach works during most of the film. Publishing magnate Ames's disinterested moments, as described by another here, to me are fitting of a wealthy man prone to hiring others to work and worry for him. There are only a few times when I estimate Totter as overreacting, but I assume that is partially the director's responsibility.

Nevertheless, the film has made me an admirer of Totter, an effect I would never have predicted based on other characters she has portrayed who seem to have little vulnerability. I find the growth of her relationship with Montgomery to be natural because, as time progresses, she exposes details of herself, becoming more interesting as an independent woman, yet forming a bond with him through their gritty backgrounds or views of life. The non-stop witty dialogue is beyond entertaining, although I think Meadows's speech could be more believable. I have read that Chandler did not like this adaptation perhaps because it was a struggle to reformat his words to the screen. I guess in his quest for perfection he did not realize the fine job he did matching vitriolic comments to his fascinating characters' underworld-type lives.

Three Cornered Moon (1933)

Just delightful

[8/10 · 26 May 2001]

The best known name in this film is Claudette Colbert, and she presents her comedic talents as effortlessly as always. However, the surprise is that this screwball family comedy belongs to Mary Boland. Her ditzy, oblivious mother delivers priceless lines one after another. So as not to give all the jokes away I will only say that this family presents the humor in going broke (Boland has run the family into financial ruin and must end her 'career as economic advisor,' but insists she must sign something every month even if it is not the checks!), possible jobs in cleaning sewers, and failing the bar exam. Top that off with the family having a foreign maid who does not understand a word they say or allow them into the kitchen and this socially aware, zany family makes me wish I belonged to them.

Smilin' Through (1932)

smiling and sighing

[24 May 2001]

I cannot imagine a movie being classier than this one. The lilting mood of the story is felt all the way through the film until its closing moments. The swell of music followed by the appearance of a 'The End' card, like a surrendered afterthought on the screen, make Smilin' Through seem as if MGM meant to deliver a movie on a cloud in 1932. Fredric March and Norma Shearer's conversations have a sense of 'sway' or dance about them. From her refusal to see his soldier off at the train station then following him there in the very next scene to his simple but imploring, "There's a war on, and I'm in it!", the well-drawn characters demonstrate nobility, humor, and attachment to each other that are poetic in their simplicity. Even an elderly man, as painted by Leslie Howard's portrayal, commits his loving then selfish then last surprising acts with grace. Director, Sidney Franklin motions us into the fold to experience the drama alongside the characters with his special touches: distant gunfire rattling windows, doors shutting on a church shooting while we wait for them to be reopened to discover how the characters are reacting. No leotards or shades of pink are glimpsed here, but surely we have been to a ballet of sorts.

Parachute Jumper (1933)

every minute entertaining

[9/10 · 20 May 2001]

Parachute Jumper is a prime example of the energetic, quick-witted fare Warner Brothers was known for in the early 30's. This film showcases all three players: Douglas Fairbanks, Jr., a blonde, southern-accented Bette Davis, and Frank McHugh, but it really spotlights Fairbanks's suave and humorous side. Struggling through the depression in New York City is softened by the three characters' warm and jovial relationship with each other. They handle almost any situation with their one-liners and loyalty. Plenty of double entendres are targeted at love and authority. Fairbanks, Jr. especially handles his role with breezy panache. He deserved more material like this. I'll be watching this lighthearted film with intelligent dialogue and human characters again.

Four Frightened People (1934)

engaging performers make it worthwhile

[8/10 · 21 December 2000]

I am relating a great deal of this film's content because I know it is nearly impossible for potential viewers to find. So if you don't want to know specifics of the plot, please stop reading! I was lucky enough to enjoy it through a university preservation film festival.

First, the four main characters are introduced:

Mary Boland - interested in reducing the birth rate of the country; Herbert Marshall - an "unimportant" rubber chemist "too quiet and shy to shake the world's foot from his neck", Claudette Colbert - an insignificant Chicago geography teacher, and William Gargan - an egotistical journalist whose articles "New York" is just waiting for. (Those are some of the film's words, not mine).

In the first few minutes, you see Colbert dressed in a very prim fashion with her hair pulled tightly back and glasses always on. This was reason enough to pay admission! The three other main characters are trying to escape from their plague-infected ship. She has screamed, so they have to abduct her in order to slip away unnoticed.

Soon their little boat dies and they must rely on a native (Leo Carillo calling himself "white") to help them find a path back to civilization. This is where their 'fun' really begins. They must traverse through an ominous jungle. Colbert only notices the pretty orchid she wants to pick and when they bunk for the night, she is incredibly offended that they expect her to sleep with them (including the men). This is when a truly bit of funny dialogue occurs: Marshall says something like, Neither one of us thinks of you as a woman so stop turning everything into a sex problem and join the group! It was very amusing to hear a proper-sounding man blurt this out angrily. She insists on being alone until she hears a lion. Then she races over on all fours and is in between the men while they're attempting to sleep. Her hair is hanging down and the impression is that she is getting prettier. The two men roll over though and ignore her.

Soon they are lost in a maze of unnavigable branches. Colbert tries to reason which way is north. No one wants to listen to her, but they're ready to play with the extra set of cards she handily has in her purse. Under a makeshift roof, they play at night while Gargan barely saves Colbert from a snake. Feeling indebted to him, she dries his wet shoes over a fire but only succeeds in burning out the soles. He is infuriated, and now she is determined to go on alone. After all, her great great grandfather was John Paul Jones.

Now a real native tribe finds the lost wanderers and will not leave them in peace unless one of the women stays with them. They choose Boland because she's heavier than Colbert and they like that. Soon the two men who never liked each other start arguing, especially over the less inhibited Colbert who now attractively wears bathing suits made from leaves and bathes luxuriously under a waterfall. She starts making the decisions much to the men's chagrin. She becomes enamoured of the more sensitive Marshall, who we learn is a hen-pecked husband. Eventually, the group survives the death of their leader and Marhsall's being hit with an arrow. Back in civilization, we see Marshall and Colbert in their separate environments. For those who like to see their characters happily paired though, this film won't disappoint you.

If you like Colbert and Marshall, this film is one to search for. It is also fun to see Boland younger and playing an unmatronly character. This is a more subdued DeMille picture which presents a different aspect of him as a director. The film may be a little silly and unrealistic, but it was not a spectacle. I wish it was available for people to see more readily.