Change Your Image
view_and_review
Ratings
Most Recently Rated
Reviews
The Man Who Reclaimed His Head (1934)
A Man of Ideals and Principles
War is a matter many people take very seriously; whether they're hawks or doves. Unfortunately, some people profit from war, which means that they take making money very seriously; such that they would profit off of death and destruction.
Paul Verin (Claude Rains) was serious about peace. He was dead set against war as he saw it as a tool for certain people to gain money and power. He was a columnist who was well versed in putting his ideas eloquently onto paper. A man named Henry Dumont (Lionel Atwill) wanted to use Paul's abilities for his own newspaper. He claimed that Paul could work at the newspaper on his own terms. Paul refused because he knew it would only be a matter of time before he'd have to cave to the agenda of the newspaper (aka Henry Dumont) and thereby sellout.
Paul's wife, Adele (Joan Bennett), wanted him to take the position so that they could have some financial freedom. Having freedom of thought was fine, but how could that provide nice clothes and a warm bed? So, because of Paul's deep love for his wife, he accepted the position and moved his family to Paris.
The movie began in 1915 with France in the grips of a war. Paul was wearing a soldier's uniform and he was seeking the help of an attorney. He decided to tell the attorney the long version of his predicament, which is how we got his backstory.
"The Man Who Reclaimed His Head" was a deep movie. It was similar to "Men Must Fight" (1932) without the oversimplification of war. Paul was convincing as an intellectual who was satisfied with little more than his ideals and his wife. Such people always have to figure out how to navigate a world dominated by unscrupulous men of wealth. Ideals only take a man so far, and sometimes just a small bit of compromise could lead a person down a slippery slope of shedding their entire identity. Paul didn't want to be that man.
I like "The Man Who Reclaimed His Head." It was a relevant movie for any era. There will always be war and there will always be Paul Verins and Henry Dumonts.
Free on Odnoklassniki.
Forsaking All Others (1934)
Watch a Woman Shed All Her Self-Respect
"Forsaking All Others" (FAO) was hard to watch. It was like watching a person succumb to their drug addiction just after getting out of rehab. You feel sorry for them, but at the same time you want to slap some sense into them, or put them over your knee and paddle them with a brush.
FAO didn't start off that way. There was an early "Whoa!" moment which actually made the movie more intriguing, then it became a chore to watch as three friends behaved like children. Well, two of them did while one kind of stood and watched the madness.
There were three friends who grew up together: Dillon 'Dill' Todd (Robert Montgomery), Mary Clay (Joan Crawford), and Jeff Williams (Clark Gable). Dill and Mary were slated to get married. The two were happily in love and had always been in love since they were kids. What neither of them knew was that Jeff also loved Mary. In fact, he was coming into town to propose to her when he got the news that she and Dill were going to wed. He took the news like a champ; afterall, he was used to being in that position.
Then, the night before the wedding, Dill was visited by his ex, Connie Todd (Frances Drake). She wanted him back, but he was giving her the cold shoulder. He was about to get married to his childhood sweetheart. Besides, Connie had run out on him.
Then the two began to mellow out and started discussing happy memories over champagne. It was then that I was thinking, "Uh oh!" I've seen enough of these movies to know what happens next. This was all bad. Even if nothing did technically happen, it was setting up to be a bad scene.
It was worse. They got married!
This fool Dill stood up his lifelong love on her WEDDING DAY and ran off with his snooty ex-girlfriend. He could not have been that drunk!
It was a serious gut punch to Mary, but I can't deny that it added spice to the movie. They were so happy in love, so to see him leave her at the altar like that was beyond cold and beyond cowardly. My next thought was, "Well, this paves the way for Jeff," except Jeff was too much of a gentleman and too astute to try to capitalize on such a tragedy. He knew she needed time to digest it all, and that's what he gave her. For months, as she occupied herself with all kinds of activities, he remained by her side as a friend.
The wheels began to fall off of FAO when Mary was invited to a party being hosted by Dill and Connie. Naturally, it was Connie who sent her the invitation, Dill wasn't dumb enough or low enough to send her an invite. I'm sure he would have been fine never crossing paths with her again so he wouldn't have to face his shame and guilt.
Mary accepted the invitation because she wanted to prove to Connie that she wasn't broken. She knew Connie sent her the invitation out of pettiness just to send her one more reminder of what she'd stolen from her, but Mary wasn't going to be the source of Connie's laughs of wicked happiness, so she attended the party.
Bad move.
Mary and Dill reconnected at the party. Dill was full of guilt, but also still full of love for Mary. Mary found that she still loved Dill AND that she had no self-respect. When Dill called on her after that party, she responded. It was so tough, angering, and sad to watch. Like watching a person go try to hug a wild tiger after it's bitten them. It's something you know they should stay far away from, but they're naive enough to think that THIS time it won't harm them.
Dill had dealt her the single biggest blow any woman could receive. He abandoned her on her wedding day and ran off with another woman. It's humiliating, it's infuriating, it's crushing, and other emotions all in one. I can't imagine a woman ever even speaking to such a person again, let alone letting him back in her life. AND he was married now! So not only did Mary begin a relationship with the man who crushed her on her wedding day with a ten ton sledgehammer, she began a relationship with a married man who crushed her on her wedding day with a ten ton sledgehammer.
It was so uncomfortable to watch. I mean, she didn't even let him have it. She didn't tell him off, cuss him out, or break anything. She was the picture of poise as she accepted Dill the dick back into her life. As though not stooping to yelling, screaming, clawing, or other emotional outbursts somehow made her look like less of a shameless fool. I wanted to throttle her, but, as I found out, that wouldn't have worked anyway.
Jeff also wanted to throttle her, and he did... somewhat. As he was reading her the riot act 1930's style she slapped him. He, in turn, grabbed her, grabbed a brush, and started spanking her with it.
The movie just kept getting worse and worse! Now we have grown women getting spanked??
All of Jeff's huffing and puffing and spanking couldn't deter Mary. She and Dill started running around together as though nothing bad ever happened between them. It was really shameful on both of their parts--Dill for having the audacity to play loverboy again, whether he was married or not, and Mary for reasons already stated. If both of them died of sepsis it couldn't have been more fitting. They were no longer the protagonists of this movie no matter how they frolicked and had fun together. They were stupid, selfish, and sinful, and what's worse; they didn't even know it.
Dill somehow was able to get a divorce from Connie, and guess who was ready and waiting to be his bride again.
It was so monstrously embarrassing. And weirdly oblivious. Like, how could you do it all over again? How could you even face your friends and associates again and tell them that you're marrying the same dude who left you on your wedding night to marry another chick? Personally, I couldn't even go to the wedding as an invitee. I'd feel too awkward. I'd be afraid of what may happen again.
"I came to the first wedding. It didn't happen. I'm not coming to another one."
But judging the scene of the second wedding, you wouldn't be able to distinguish it from the first one at all. It wasn't the least bit muted or less gay. Everyone was just as merry as the first wedding without the least bit of rumblings, side-eyes, or gossip. In short, it was like they were all under some sort of spell or programming. I wanted to yell to all of them, "TAKE THE RED PILL!" But nope, they were all stuck in the Matrix.
Jeff decided to get out. He wasn't sticking around for the wedding. Jeff had stood by long enough holding the bag, now he was bowing out. He was going to take the cliche cruise, which you know means that Mary was going to have to chase after him before his boat left.
Before he left he at least wanted to tell Mary how he felt about her. He told her he had always loved her and that he hopes she is happy with Dill.
Those words seemed to have broken the spell that was on Mary. You could quite literally see her waking up and regaining consciousness. Like a light bulb went off, she suddenly had this tremendous epiphany.
"He loves me!" and "It was him all along!" she excitedly exclaimed to Shep (Charles Butterworth), another longtime friend.
She then did the standard "hurry up and catch him" scene whereby she had to rush to get to his boat. Naturally, Jeff was all too happy to see her, and I was all too repulsed.
My thoughts were, "Don't even give her the time of day. She's a basketcase. She doesn't know what she wants. Sure, she's running away with you, but what do you think will happen when Dill rears his ugly head? She'll be emotionally confused at the very least, and at worst, she'll leave you for him. And don't think he won't try to steal her from you. You may be a gentleman, but Dill is not. He's spoiled and selfish, and he probably will stop at nothing to win her back. Mary is poison."
That would be my advice to Jeff.
FAO wasn't the endearing romance they wanted it to be. It was a tale of some mixed up and childish adults who never learned to grow up and act responsibly. The sanest of the three was Jeff, and even he had his issues. Besides spanking a grown woman, he was still a sucker for love. He had waited twenty years for his chance to be with Mary, then he bitterly stood by while she made a fool of herself and catted around with Dill. Personally, I thought he saw all he needed to see, but then again, a lot of guys go for confused and impulsive women. It turns them on. So maybe, when I was seeing a woman that was a self-devaluing wreck, he simply saw the woman he loved. When I saw a woman that couldn't be trusted around Dill, he saw the woman of his dreams.
I've just never been there. I've never been at the point where my love for a person overshadowed my pride and self-respect. I love my wife dearly, but if I ever saw from her what Jeff saw from Mary, I would flee out of self preservation. The red flags were flying high and Jeff ignored them all. Maybe he and Mary can go to a part of the world where they'll never encounter Dill again. Or maybe Jeff loves being a part of the dramatic rollercoaster that's Mary Clay, but I doubt they'll be "forsaking all others."
Free on Odnoklassniki.
The Secret Bride (1934)
Writers Were Stuck
I wasn't all that enthused about "The Secret Bride" as this cloak and dagger movie unfolded. It was one of those movies that tried to be too clever. Well, they were so clever that they left themselves no out besides the cliche villain-explains-everything trick to clean it all up. So, I went from being unenthused to being quite annoyed.
The movie started with Robert Sheldon (Warren William) and Ruth Vincent (Barbara Stanwyck) getting married. They never got a chance to tell anyone, and before they could, some things happened which made them make the decision to keep it secret.
Robert Sheldon was the state attorney general and Ruth's father was the governor. That in itself wasn't a problem. The problem was that Sheldon's office found that Governor Walter H. Vincent (Arthur Byron) received a sum of $10,000 in his personal account from a man named John F. Holdstock (Russell Hicks), a man he'd pardoned. Sheldon didn't believe that Vincent was guilty, but if he was going to hold such a position amid the evidence, he couldn't let it be known that he was married to Vincent's daughter.
From that point on a damning letter emerged and two murders occurred, but it was very unclear who was behind it all. Surely, Governor Vincent couldn't be guilty because he told his daughter he wasn't and she believed him.
That's sarcasm by the way. It was an annoying habit of older movies to make everyone appear just as they should. Liars appeared to lie and truthful people appeared to be truthful so that the audience could clearly know who could be trusted.
When the movie got to the end and there needed to be clarity, it came in the form of Willis Martin (Grant Mitchell), the governor's secretary. He told everything as was told to him by a man named David Breeden (Douglass Dumbrille), a man of dubious intentions. Though Breeden simply used Willis Martin as a patsy, he told Willis EVERYTHING. He didn't leave out one detail that Willis could one day use to expose the entire plot.
It was just too convenient and highly improbable.
I find it amazing that intelligent criminals are the most tight lipped people in general, but then they get real talkative when it aids the plot. Willis was a nobody. And he was a nobody that didn't ask any questions. So, why, then, would Breeden spill all the gory details of an intricate plot to take down Holdstock and the Governor to a man who was just a pawn?
He wouldn't.
And that wasn't the only inconsistency. One of the key events of the whole movie was the death of John Holdstock. Supposedly he killed himself out of guilt for giving the governor $10,000 as likely the repayment for the pardon. Holdstock's death, we found at the end, was a murder, but it was ruled a suicide. Even back then they could determine if a death was a murder or a suicide and they totally missed it in this case. In fact, just so they didn't have to worry about it, where and how Holdstock was shot was never brought up.
And I suppose since "The Secret Bride" was on a roll with fumbling everything they ended with the mastermind, Jim Lansdale (Henry O'Neill), killing himself.
More convenience.
So, needless to say, the ending ruined the movie for me. I knew the movie was efforting towards exonerating Governor Vincent and, by extension, A. G. Sheldon, but in my opinion Sheldon should've lost his job whatever the outcome.
Sheldon, in his attempts to help clear Governor Vincent, kept some key evidence secret. Sure, the evidence was a frame up, but he didn't know that at the time. The point is that he acted unethically even if Gov. Vincent was innocent of the bribery. That alone made whatever outcome a bit moot regarding A. G. Sheldon's case.
Warren William and Barbara Stanwyck were two Hollywood heavy hitters, and this was the first movie I'd seen them star in together. I'm not a fan of Barbara, but I recognize her popularity at that time. I am a fan of Warren William. He played good guys, bad guys, funny roles, and serious roles, and he was competent at them all (not so much the comedic stuff). It was a small tragedy that they starred in a movie that got itself into a dilemma and then used a cheap ploy to bail itself out. There were so many moving parts and such good actors such as those I'd already mentioned plus Glenda Farrell. You want to see movies with such lineups do well, but an all-star cast doesn't guarantee success.
Free on Odnoklassniki.
One Hour Late (1934)
Clown Show
"One Hour Late" is a super basic romance full of typical relationship drama for the era. An elevator rescue was thrown in for flare, but it didn't change the essence of the movie.
A regular joe named Eddie Blake (Joe Morrison) was head over heels in love with Betty Dunn (Helen Twelvetrees), a secretary at the same place Eddie worked. He wanted nothing more than to marry Betty, to the point he wouldn't do any work, nor would he allow her to do any work until he got an answer from her. She may have been amenable to the idea, but living with her sister, her begging husband, and their three kids, made her apprehensive.
Joe was pestering her to the point she was either going to give in or tell him to beat it. Not only did he turn the office into a rodeo the way he was chasing Betty around, he didn't even have the decency or common sense to keep his private life private. On top of that he was demanding that she marry him and being an unbearable ass in the process. Even if she did love him, he was exhibiting plenty of red flags.
Their fragile relationship was further tested when Betty had to step in and be the personal secretary of the boss, Stephen Barclay (Conrad Nagel). She was terrible at the job. An uglier woman would've been fired for the boneheaded mistakes she made, but when she turned on the waterworks the boss softened towards her, and the next thing you know he was providing her a lobster lunch. A smarter woman would've recognized what a lobster lunch meant, but back then smarter meant "experienced" which was bad. Betty was inexperienced, hence she didn't recognize her boss's act of "kindness" as anything other than him being a gentleman.
When Eddie burst into Barclay's office to break up the party, he got his answer from Betty: she didn't want to marry him. Eddie was being a bugaboo and a boor. So, while I agreed with Betty's sentiment, she was being damn moronic herself. The only reason she turned Eddie down at this point was because she was being charmed by her boss.
Betty then took the extra naive step of accepting Barclay's invitation to his country home. Betty knew two things for sure: 1.) Barclay was married and 2.) she wasn't going to a man's house to take dictation. I can guran-dam-tee you that her predecessor was never invited to Barclay's private home for "work."
I was frustrated with the movie by this point. It was so juvenile and petty, plus it was the same ol' stuff that you could find in just about every early-30's movie. Then, "One Hour Later" only devolved from there.
Barclay's wife was cheating on him (shocker). They didn't even need to show us her lover. The fact she so ardently begged out of a date with her husband was enough to signal she had another man. Naturally, this made Barclay free to pursue Betty, a woman who only had a job because she was pretty.
Then, to add to the circus, Eddie spontaneously asked another coworker named Hazel (Arline Judge) if she'd marry him, to which she said YES! Earlier that day he wouldn't even give her the time of day. He blew her off like she was a dusty Nintendo cartridge because he was in love with Betty. Then, in a matter of a few hours, he angrily asked Hazel if she'd marry him, and like a Kardashian being offered botox she happily said yes. It was like she was about to miss the catch of her life and she better get him whether he liked her or not. He was only proposing to Hazel to spite Betty, and Hazel was clearly of such low worth that she accepted the proposal.
I couldn't groan loud enough.
Then, like you'd expect from a poorly written script,everything fell into place.
Betty realized she loved Eddie and canceled her weekend with Barclay. Eddie, ignoring that Betty was just about to be at her boss's love nest, and ignoring that she now thought he was swell because he risked his life for her, accepted Betty's apology and opted not to marry Hazel (Hazel dodged the bullet here). Some random guy took Hazel to dinner so she wasn't left hanging. Mrs. Barclay (Gail Patrick) went back to her husband. And to top it all off, Eddie landed a singing gig which would make him more than able to take care of his new wife. It was all sunshine and rainbows by the end in the land where bitter feelings are easily dismissed, never to bother you again.
Free on Odnoklassniki.
The Gay Bride (1934)
Love Lombard, Didn't Love her Character
"The Gay Bride" would've been so much better if Mary (Carole Lombard) wasn't such a single-minded screw up. Even when she decided to do right she was screwing up.
Mary wanted one thing in life-- financial security--and she'd get it however she could; even if that meant marrying a gangster. She was more than willing to marry Shoots Magiz (Nat Pendleton), a bootlegger and racketeer, even though she didn't love him. He had dough, so she thought, and that's all that mattered.
Shoots' accountant, Office Boy (Chester Morris), tried to warn Mary that digging for gold with Shoots would be a wasted effort. Office Boy wasn't fond of Mary, but you knew that they'd be in love with each other by the end.
Besides Mary's insatiable lust for wealth and the dumb decisions she made in pursuit of it, this was a good movie. The problem was Mary jumped from Shoots, to Dingle (Sam Hardy), to Mickey (Leo Carrillo)--all racketeers--in her quest for financial security. It's one thing if tried it and she saw the dangers of such an arrangement. It's another thing, such as in this movie, where she tried it and her husband was predictably killed, then she latched on to the next gangster while also hedging her bets by making a marriage deal with another gangster. I like Carole Lombard as an actress, I just wasn't all that impressed with her character.
Free on Odnoklassniki.
Father Brown, Detective (1934)
If the Church Were in Law Enforcement
Many master thief movies in the 30's came down to the thief and a woman, and "Father Brown, Detective" added itself to the list.
The thief was a man named Flambeau (Paul Lukas) and he wanted to steal ten diamonds known as the "Flying Stars" for a woman named Evelyn Fischer, played by Gertrude Michael. Gertrude Michael was an interesting choice for the movie only because earlier that year she was in a thief movie in which she played the thief Sophie Lang.
*That movie was much better than this one by the way.
Evelyn didn't want the "Flying Stars" nor did she even know Flambeau, he simply saw her and decided that the Flying Stars were the way to her heart.
Four of the diamonds were with Evelyn's uncle, Sir Leopold Fischer (Halliwell Hobbes), and the remaining six were with Father Brown (Walter Connolly).
While the police wanted to arrest Flambeau, Father Brown wanted to save his soul. The priest and the police were in a race and Father Brown was not interested in aiding the police in arresting Flambeau. He was a dogooder who believed his form of redemption was better than the criminal justice system. He figured that with some good religious talk and maybe some talk of love, he could get Flambeau to turn himself in.
Along with aiding and abetting a known criminal, Father Brown was a matchmaker. He wanted to get Flambeau and Evelyn together. Maybe he was a romantic or maybe he thought that a woman would help Flambeau go straight. Either way, he was a meddling priest that I didn't find nearly as charming as they wanted him to be. Honestly, I don't know why they called it "Father Brown, Detective," he wasn't much of a detective at all. He didn't solve any crimes, all he did was make a correct assumption about who Flambeau was and then began his meddling.
"Father Brown, Detective" wound up being a didactic movie emphasizing the power of prayer and the power of the church, as though the church should be in charge of criminal matters and the police there just to do the church's bidding.
Free on YouTube.
Limehouse Blues (1934)
Uninteresting
"Limehouse Blues" was a very uninteresting movie I only watched for Anna May Wong.
It starred George Raft as Harry Young, a half-Chinese, half-white man who was a criminal who immersed himself in Chinese culture and customs until he got stuck on an American girl named Toni (Jean Parker). He spent great efforts trying to impress her and make her love him, and in return she fell in love with a pet shop manager named Eric Benton (Kent Taylor).
As for Ann May Wong, she was largely in the background brooding over the fact that Harry was in love with a white woman.
There wasn't a whole lot to this movie, and George Raft was a sub-par actor no matter what he was in.
Free on Odnoklassniki.
The Ghost Walks (1934)
Not Even an 'A' for Effort
"The Ghost Walks" was a sham of a murder mystery movie. It took a lot of known murder mystery/poltergeist tropes from that time and then said, "Ha ha! Fooled you."
The movie took place in the home of Dr. Kent (Henry Kolker), which was a mansion.
Ding! There's one trope.
It was a dark and stormy night.
Ding! There's another trope.
Dr. Kent had many guests over.
Ding! There's another trope.
When all the guests were at dinner, a woman named Beatrice (Eve Southern) performed something of a seance. When the lights went out and came back on, Beatrice was missing.
Ding! There's another trope.
When she was found, she was presumed dead. This really shook up the party because up until that point, all of the acrimony and haunted house stunts were part of a play that was written by Prescott Ames (John Miljan). He decided to have the play acted out as a pitch to Herman Wood (Richard Carle), a producer.
With the first round of events being chalked up to theater, we were left with a dead and missing Beatrice. Soon, other guests came up missing. Who was the culprit and why was the person doing it?
I'll save you the suspense; it was an escaped sanitarium inmate who fled to Dr. Kent's home. He was using secret passageways and trap doors... Ding! Another trope... to kidnap guests. His plan was to operate on them, but he was stopped before he could do anything. And as for Beatrice, she was never dead, just unconscious. "The Ghost Walks" had a chance to be entertaining if it was funny. Too bad it wasn't.
Free with Amazon Prime.
Imitation of Life (1934)
That's What I'm Talkin' 'Bout!
Now this is what I'm talking about! This is the stuff I want to see! No, I didn't love "Imitation of Life," but it was so new, so fresh, and so different than all the other rote movies at that time. It was progressive, it was innovative, and it was daring. Even though I had a couple of gripes about the movie, by and large it was irreproachable.
"Imitation of Life" focused on two women: Beatrice Pullman (Claudette Colbert) and Delilah Johnson (Louise Beavers)--both veterans of the silver screen by 1934, but used to playing totally different roles.
Beatrice was a struggling single mother trying her best to earn an income and take care of her baby daughter, Jessie. Delilah was also a struggling single mother trying her best to take care of her only daughter, Peola.
The two met when Delilah mistakenly came by Beatrice's house looking for a job. Delilah was a live-in maid and she thought Beatrice had put an ad in the paper for help needed. Beatrice couldn't afford a maid, but Delilah offered her services for nothing more than a place for her and her daughter to live; and Beatrice had an extra room.
The relationship turned profitable for both women. Beatrice sold syrup, and Delilah had a killer pancake recipe. Beatrice used that recipe, without using Delilah (in the negative sense of using), and went to work. After a little over a decade, the two women were rich. But even though money was no longer a problem, it didn't mean their problems were over. They both had problems with their daughters, though not nearly the same problem.
Delilah had the most unique problem. Her daughter, Peola (Fredi Washington), was light enough to "pass." If you don't know what that means; that means that Peola was racially Black, but her skin color was light enough, and her hair texture straight enough that she could pass for being white. Delilah explained to Beatrice, when they first met, that Peola's father was also light enough to pass. Personally, I think Peola's father was white (which was more probable), but I don't think they would've been allowed to make such an insinuation back then.
Being able to "pass" was a big deal, especially in 1934. If a man or woman could "pass" for being white, it was like winning the lottery. All of the restrictions that were placed upon Black people were lifted from them--so long as no one found out they were Black, and Delilah was ruining that for her daughter.
Peola was in such a unique situation that she rightly said that no one knew what she was going through.
I wholeheartedly agree.
To accept her Blackness and openly recognize her mother was to ensure her a life of marginalization and oppression. To deny her Blackness and shun her mother meant that she could go through life as a white woman--while not a guarantee of ease, it was certainly an easier path than going through life as a Black woman. And strangely, Delilah didn't recognize that.
I was amazed that Delilah seemed totally oblivious to the benefits of "passing." While most Black parents with biracial children would be trying to make sure their children could "pass:" so that they could have an easier life than their own, Delilah seemed completely unaware that such a dynamic existed. While it created some heart wrenching scenes, it was also frustrating. Yes, it would suck if my daughter denied my existence, but I would readily accept such a fate if it meant a better life for her.
As Delilah was dealing with that problem, that had been a problem since Peola's childhood, Beatrice was dealing with a different problem.
Beatrice had met and fell in love with an ichthyologist named Stephen Archer (Warren William). Stephen was an ideal partner, particularly for 1934. He just wanted Beatrice, and he didn't make any demands upon her even though she ran a multi-million dollar pancake company. In another movie, she'd have to give up her business to be a good wife (see "Female"), but Stephen made no such demands.
When Beatrice's daughter, Jessie (Rochelle Hudson), came back home from school, Beatrice held off on telling her that she was going to marry Stephen. She wanted Jessie to get to know Stephen first, before telling her the news.
Well, Jessie got to know Stephen a little too well. As Stephen was playing up the good host and potential stepfather act, Jessie fell in love with him.
That's a real problem.
It was through no fault of Stephen's. He didn't try to charm her or behave toward her in any way romantic. Just by being himself, Jessie fell in love with him.
What was Beatrice to do?
I so appreciated this movie. It was atypically good in a few ways.
1.) There was a Black co-star. There were very very few movies at that time that gave Black people a prominent role. And even though Delilah was a servant to start, she rose to greater heights and out of servitude (somewhat) by mid-movie.
2.) It brought to the forefront the trials of biracial people, particularly biracial people who could quite possibly pass for being white. Today that wouldn't be a problem at all, but in 1934 it meant social and economic life or death--not to mention the psychological and emotional turmoil going on inside of the person.
3.) "Imitation of Life" allowed Beatrice to be a self-made businesswoman without a man building her up or tearing her down. I was so worried that after she became successful she would fall in love and have to give up all of what she built just to be with her sweetheart. That never happened and I couldn't have been more thrilled. In fact, she didn't even end up with her love interest at all--which was truly atypical. In the end, rightly or wrongly, she chose the emotional stability of her daughter over her own love and happiness.
Two women made sacrifices for their daughters to the very end. Delilah had sacrificed so much for her daughter that when Peola walked out of her life she (Delilah) quite literally died of heartbreak. Beatrice sacrificed the man she loved for her daughter's wellbeing. There was nothing those two women wouldn't give for their daughters and it was a thing of beauty.
$3.99 on YouTube.
The Painted Veil (1934)
Can a Man EVER Leave his Wife Alone?
I'm about sick and tired of these old movies trying to impress upon me that a right good bit of adultery will help a marriage. These foolish writers write about adultery as if it is a necessary evil, as if it is the best way to strengthen a relationship. I can't tell you how many on-screen marriages have suffered through infidelity only for them to reunite at the end with a newly realized love and affection for their partner, when the truth is that the trust between them, should they stay together, would be seriously eroded. Even if they should push past the mistrust, it will always linger between them.
In "The Painted Veil," Dr. Walter Fane (Herbert Marshall) married Katrin (Greta Garbo), whom he was madly in love with. She married him even though she wasn't quite in love with him. They promptly moved to China where he was busy helping the local people fight a cholera outbreak.
The key word here is that he was busy. Any busy man in cinema is at risk of losing his wife (see "Evelyn Prentice" (1934), "Central Airport" (1933), "Man of the World" (1931), "Transgression" (1931), and many others), and once the young and handsome Jack Townsend (George Brent) was introduced, I knew an affair was assured. I just found it odd that Walter was so overjoyed to marry Katrin, then he had no more time for her. Usually, in the honeymoon phase of the relationship (first six months at least), the couple can't be torn apart. In this case I figured Walter would be especially clingy knowing that he got the girl of his dreams and his hold on her was tenuous. But the writers needed drama and affairs are easy hacks for drama in a script.
Jack began working on Katrin right away. Like a good wife she repelled him, but after a few OBVIOUS nights alone while her husband worked, her defenses weakened.
Katrin gave in to Jack. It was just a matter of how and when Walter would find out.
Well, he found out fairly quickly because, after kissing Jack, Katrin had a guilty look on her face all the time. What's more, she wouldn't even kiss her husband or look him in the eye.
Tell me you're cheating without telling me you're cheating.
Walter knew something was up, but he felt his wife was peeved about her neglect there in China, not that she caught feelings for another man. He wanted to do something special for her, so he bought her some Austrian magazines. When he brought them back to her, her door was locked and Jack's hat was outside of her bedroom. Walter then knew what was the problem.
Where I'm from we call her a cheatin' ass ho'. In 1930's Hollywood they'd never use such language, plus they love to romanticize infidelity. There's always a reason and it's usually "love."
Ahem bullsh-t cough cough!
Walter confronted Katrin about her affair, which I was glad about. Don't let it linger. We all know she cheated, just get it out in the open.
Her response was defiance, which was a common response. Women either responded with guilty resignation, if she loved the man, or defiance, if she didn't love the man. So, a defiant response was all I needed to see to know her sentiments towards Walter.
Walter's response was more in line with a real human being. In other words, he didn't have the typical high-society response of indifference and diplomacy. His blood ran hot. He told her that if Townsend would divorce his wife and marry her* then he'd divorce her to make her available to Townsend. But if Townsend refused, then Katrin would have to follow him (Walter) deeper into rural China where there was a bad cholera outbreak.
*Yes, Jack Townsend was married too, but he claimed not to love his wife, which was code for "it's OK if I have an affair."
It was a strange ultimatum, but I think the ultimatum had more to do with divorce courts than anything else. If Walter could simply divorce Katrin without cause, then he probably would do that, but because he needed cause--which meant he'd have to name Townsend as "correspondent" which would inflict harm upon Townsend's wife--he wasn't going to divorce Katrin unless Townsend first divorced his wife. I know it seems a bit muddled and confusing. Basically, Walter wasn't going to be the reason behind breaking up Townsend's marriage, he wanted Townsend to do it himself.
Why? It was just a society thing. Cheating and divorces were handled weirdly by society folks.
Much to Katrin's chagrin, Jack didn't want to marry her. Yeah, he said he loved her, but you know, he had a reputation to think of. That was strange for that time because usually professions of love accompanied acts to prove that love. It's like men NEVER said "I love you" to get into a woman's pants (or girdle). If he said it, he meant it. So, for Townsend not to rush to Katrin's aid and marry her to get her away from her spiteful husband, was like a slap in the face.
The way it was supposed to happen was that Townsend would tell Katrin that he would divorce his wife and marry her. Katrin would then say yes to the proposal OR Katrin would say no because of the hurt to Townsend's wife. In that case they'd romantically sneak around until some other solution revealed itself.
In this case, Katrin wanted Jack to marry her because she had no choice. Walter was not about to allow her to go around seeing Jack while being married to him. Katrin felt like excrement when Jack didn't exhibit the same enthusiasm about divorcing his wife and marrying her as he did about banging her.
HA! That's what you get!
I know I wasn't supposed to rejoice at Katrin's predicament. She was nothing more than a woman in love, but married to a man she didn't love. No woman as pretty as Katrin deserved such a fate.
Yes, that was sarcasm.
But, where one romantic door closes another one opens. Katrin was still married to Walter, and all that was left was for them was for Katrin to actually fall in love with him; which she did. In the end she saw what a selfless and decent man he was, and she fell in love with him, which made him the happiest man on Earth.
This would've been romantic if it wasn't soooooo overused. Infidelity was rampant in old movies, and nine times out of ten the married couple would remain together with a renewed love. I get tired of seeing it; mostly because I want to see people like me who would go scorched earth, and also because I feel like it's Hollywood shoving its own morality down my throat. Hollywood back then always wanted marriages to survive, so we'd get these movies in which couples' marriages went through extreme stress tests and came out sound on the other end.
Stop it.
A couple of such movies here and there are fine, but don't pretend that it was the norm. I don't know what the divorce rate was back then (probably lower than today because of customs and laws), but I find it hard to believe that SO MANY marriages routinely survived cheating, lying, and other acts of betrayal. I'm not saying, "Show me a bunch of divorces." I'm just saying, "Don't show me a bunch of BS."
Free on Odnoklassniki.
Gentlemen Are Born (1934)
Too Generic
"Gentlemen Are Born" is super generic. It went from blissful ignorance, to the cold hard facts, to the end.
The movie started with a group of friends graduating from an Ivy League school and the world was their oyster. Robert 'Bob' Bailey (Fredric March) was going to go into the newspaper business and marry his sweetheart, Joan Harper (Margaret Lindsay). Smudge Casey Johnson (Dick Foran), an ex-footballer, was going to go into coaching. Fred Harper (Robert Light), Joan's brother, was going to join his father's business. Thomas 'Tom' Martin was going to get a job and marry his sweetheart, Getrude 'Trudy' Talbot (Jean Muir). Everything was going to be perfect.
Then reality set in.
Bob did get a newspaper gig, but he couldn't marry Joan because his financial portfolio wasn't as good looking as Joan's other suitor, Stephen Hornblow (Charles Starrett).* The only reason Joan even had to marry Stephen (if you can say she "had" to), was because her father, Mr. Harper (Henry O'Neill), went broke--which also sent Fred Harper into a tailspin.
Smudge couldn't get a coaching gig or any other steady gig for that matter. It would've been manageable, but he married Susan Merrill (Ann Dvorak), a librarian who lost her job because she was married (her boss told her she was taking money from women who had no provider for themselves).
As for Tom Martin, he was the only one who got what he wanted. He had a steady job, however low paying, and a wife and kid. He was on cloud nine.
All of this sounds like it could be salacious stuff, but it played out very blandly on screen.
*Bob ended up with Joan because love was stronger than finances after all.
Free on Odnoklassniki.
The St. Louis Kid (1934)
Same Ol' Cagney
OK, I'm tired of it already. James Cagney's act was cool in 1931 when he burst on the scene as "The Public Enemy," but by 1934 it was a little stale. If you're not sure what I'm talking about, I'm talking about the tough guy act.
In 1931 when the silver screens were awash with gentlemen, James Cagney was a breath of fresh air. He and Edward G. Robinson were different, but at least Edward G. Robinson played different types of characters. Cagney plays the SAME character in every movie. He's like Mae West, but less provocative.
In "The St. Louis Kid" James Cagney plays Eddie Kennedy, a truck driver who is always getting into scrapes.
Surprise.
His scrapes are largely due to his dimwitted friend, Buck, who's played by Allen Jenkins.
Allen Jenkins playing a dimwit? Another surprise.
Another Cagneyism is being tough with dames which leads to them falling in love with him. Ladies love brutes, isn't that right? In this movie the woman was Ann Reid, played by Patricia Ellis. Cagney and Ellis were together in "Picture Snatcher," which was a good movie unlike this bunk.
Eddie (Cagney) and Ann (Ellis) started off contentiously, which you knew would somehow blossom into a romance; however abruptly and awkwardly. Eddie broke out of jail to attack or harass Ann, but it turned into them dancing and kissing. The working class version of romance.
The impetus behind Eddie and Ann was a milk farmer's blockade. They were blocking the roads, not allowing any milk to be imported, until they got better rates for their milk there in Ostopolis. Eddie found himself in the middle of the fracas as a truck driver and as someone who couldn't stay away from a fight.
"The St. Louis Kid" was directed by Ray Enright, who also directed "I've Got Your Number," another movie featuring the working class. It seems that Ray's idea of working class men was that they were aggressive and crude yet noble. He shoved them in a small box, just as other directors did, which made all working class men clones of one another. I'd be willing to bet that James Cagney, Spencer Tracy, Pat O'Brien, George Bancroft, and Charles Bickford played just about every working class role in that era.
This was the 19th James Cagney movie I've seen, so I have a little bit of Cagney knowledge. I'd like to see something different from him.
Free on Odnoklassniki.
Evelyn Prentice (1934)
Misleading, not Misdirection
"Evelyn Prentice," I believe, marks the third movie William Powell and Myrna Loy starred in together, with "Manhattan Melodrama" (1934) and "The Thin Man" (1934) being the other two.
I had a problem with "Evelyn Prentice," and it largely had to do with the set up.
From the beginning the movie was telegraphing infidelity. John Prentice (William Powell) was a busy lawyer with no time for his wife, Evelyn (Myrna Loy). I've watched enough older movies to know that a neglected wife usually means a cheating wife in the near future. A neglected wife could also signify a cheating husband who's using work as a pretense for seeing another woman. John may not have been using work as a pretense for stepping out on his old lady, but he certainly was getting a little too cozy with his client Nancy Harrison (Rosalind Russell).
While John was everywhere but home, Evelyn began being heavily pursued by a hustler named Lawrence 'Larry' Kennard (Harvey Stephens). He was putting some smooth moves on her, which she probably would've brushed aside if it weren't for her friend, Amy Drexel (Una Merkel).
Amy was the single friend who didn't know right from wrong when it came to marriages. Instead of ensuring Evelyn didn't get involved with Larry Kennard, she practically played matchmaker. She saw it as her duty to make sure Evelyn had some male company in lieu of her husband.
Some friend.
As things began to get a little too serious for Evelyn, she cut Larry off. She didn't take his calls nor did she see him again until one fateful day. The Washington Express, a passenger train company, mailed a lady's watch to the Prentices home with a note stating that they found her watch in Mr. Prentice's sleeping car. The watch was inscribed with "To Nancy, from John." It didn't take Evelyn long to realize what it meant, and she decided that having a rendezvous with Larry was the perfect response to such treachery from her husband, John.
Here's where it got fuzzy, and that was largely due to the era this movie was filmed in. If the movies were a little more explicit in the intimacy department, then there would be no ambiguity with certain things.
Amy, the matchmaking friend, took the watch to John to show him. Amy told John that Evelyn had received the watch, and he knew then that his marriage may be in trouble. Amy was basically putting John on notice for Evelyn's sake because Evelyn wouldn't do it herself. It was all too common back then for a woman to keep to herself her husband's infidelity. It was mostly a high-society behaviorism, but for the life of me I'll never understand it. It was as if making a scene was more dastardly than the infidelity. Or it was as if the woman bringing up her husband's unfaithfulness is a bigger indictment upon herself than on him. Whatever the reasoning was, I didn't like it. And it happened A LOT.
Per John, he never had an affair with Nancy. The watch thing was a set up to break up his marriage. And this is where the 1930's modesty caused problems.
The last time John and Nancy were shown together they were nose-to-nose in his sleeping car on the way to Washington D. C. The scene faded to black and that was it.
Now, I happen to know that whenever they wanted to indicate a couple was intimate, they'd show them in a room together, either kissing or close to it, then they'd fade to black. Sometimes they'd cut to birds chirping, or thunder, or some other unrelated scenery almost as if to show how passionate that night was for the two. In any case, they never show them in bed together, which is why I drew the conclusion that John HAD been intimate with Nancy. So, when John said that he told Nancy to leave that night in his sleeping car, and that the watch was a frame up, I didn't know what to think. Naturally, I had to believe John just because of the way he said it. He was so somber and serious that he had to be telling the truth. Back then they used to make it fairly obvious when someone was lying or telling the truth.
Well, this had to be good right? John didn't do anything with Nancy, so Evelyn could rest easy.
Wrong.
Evelyn already went to Larry's place and... well... again I don't know because this movie was sending a lot of mixed signals.
My first assumption, based upon hundreds of talkies watched, was that Evelyn had sex with Larry. The scene picked up with them talking as if they'd been together for sometime before already. Then, after analyzing the scene a bit more, it was more indicative that Evelyn had a notion to do something shameful, but that she thought better of it. And this was supported later by Evelyn saying that her letters to Larry could be "misunderstood."
The point of it all being that; what looked like cheating from both John and Evelyn actually was not, and 1930's social mores made it confusing. I mean, they would show couples fully dressed after sex. One-hundred-ten pound pregnant women would have babies without so much as a baby bump. And prostitutes would only be known by being out unescorted at night. I'd become so good at drawing inferences from context clues that "Evelyn Prentice" walked me right into an incorrect conclusion.
What Evelyn would unfortunately find out from Larry was that he was a cad. He was using Evelyn for her money and he was going to use her letters to blackmail her. When he threatened to tell her husband, she grabbed a gun and forced him to give her the letters. What happened between them after she grabbed the gun was a mystery because the scene cut to the apartment building hallway and we heard a shot. All implications (again with indications and implications) were that Evelyn shot Larry.
When the newspapers were released the following day we knew that Larry was killed. Evelyn even admitted to Amy that she shot and killed Larry, so how would this end?
Judith Wilson (Isabel Jewell), Larry's girlfriend who entered the apartment after Evelyn left, was arrested for killing Larry. Surely Evelyn wouldn't let Judith go down for a murder she didn't commit?
No, of course not. And furthermore, neither of them had to spend a day in prison for the murder--which was just 1930's chivalry in Hollywood script form.
As John was defending Judith, and the prosecutor was impressing upon the jury that Judith was guilty, Evelyn stood up in the galley and shouted, "No!"
She got the attention of everyone in the courtroom, but it was nothing more than a simple negation of what the prosecutor was saying.
She then ran up to the bench shouting, "Don't! You mustn't say that again!" referencing the D. A. stating that Judith should receive capital punishment.
Then, in a more reserved manner, she said, "She didn't kill him. Please don't say that again."
Instead of the judge banging his gavel and saying "Order in the court!" like we'd see most judges do, this judge (Stanley Andrews), simply asked, "What is the meaning of this? Who are you?"
"Mrs. John Prentice," she responded.
The district attorney, D. A. Farley (Frank Conroy), shouted, "Your honor, I object to this interruption!" as he rightly should've stated. Whatever Evelyn had to say, she broke all courtroom policy and her statements couldn't be accepted. If that were the case, randos would be jumping up in court all the time to refute the testimonies being given.
But this is Hollywood. This was theater.
Evelyn was allowed to interrupt the entire proceedings and testify and tell her truth, where we found out that she never did shoot Larry, she only shot at Larry. Larry struck her, she fell back, hit a wall, and the gun accidentally went off (per her testimony). John Prentice then revealed to us that TWO shots had been fired that day: one bullet went harmlessly into a wall, while the other bullet killed Larry.
Judith had, in fact, killed Larry.
How convenient. The prim Evelyn Prentice was not guilty. And what's more, nor was Judith. Even though she probably killed Larry out of jealousy, as she implied she would (more implications), John made it seem as though she shot Larry out of self-defense and did the world a favor in the process. Judith was acquitted, Evelyn was off the hook, and John and Evelyn's marriage survived it all.
I didn't like how this movie was framed at all. I don't mind misdirection for the purposes of a plot twist--some of the best movies all time have excellent plot twists--but the plot twist still has to make sense. Misdirection is one thing, and misleading is another. This movie was misleading. It was misleading with the marital affairs and it was misleading with the murder (which is something they used to do a lot back then), and I don't think it was clever. Anyone can seem clever if they give you an answer you couldn't figure out while they knew things they intentionally hid from you. The key to having a clever twist is to embed the answers within the movie while making it seem like they indicate something else. A good example of that is "The Usual Suspects" or "The Sixth Sense." "Evelyn Prentice" outright hid crucial occurrences and waited to reveal them at the end as though only John Prentice was brilliant enough to know them. That's NOT a clever plot twist, it's just lazy.
Free on Odnoklassniki.
The Captain Hates the Sea (1934)
Watch "Transatlantic" Instead
A lot of things can happen on a cruise ship. We got a taste of that with the movie "Transatlantic" (1931). "The Captain Hates the Sea" tries to do a similar thing in having multiple storylines all occurring on one cruise ship. I think "Transatlantic" did it better.
On the boat in "The Captain Hates the Sea" were Junius P. Schulte, a private detective in search of $250,000 in stolen bonds from the Transpacific Company. He suspected they were stolen by Danny Checkett aka Faraday (Fred Keating) and his partner, Blanche 'Babe' Ditworthy aka Michigan Red aka Janet Grayson (Helen Vinson), who were also on the ship. Steve Bramley (John Gilbert, the Ronald Colman lookalike) was on the cruise, presumably, to dry out. Mr. And Mrs. Jeddock (John Wray and Wynne Gibson) were on the cruise to go somewhere where no one knew of Mrs. Jeddock's past. The only other characters of significance were the captain, Capt. Helquist; his first mate, Layton (Leon Errol); Mrs. Yolanda Magruder (Alison Skipworth), and Joe Silvers (Walter Catlett), the bartender.
The boat ride was rather humdrum. The only two things of real interest to me were 1.) whether or not Janet Grayson would truly fall in love with Schulte and betray Danny Checkett and 2.) would Mrs. Jeddock break away from her angry, paranoid, and abusive husband, who married her knowing she had a past but resented it everyday.
The storylines lacked any vitality. I began feeling like the captain who was miserable on his own ship.
Free on Odnoklassniki.
We Live Again (1934)
The Class Divide
"We Live Again" took place in Russia at a time of stark classism. Prince Dmitri Ivanovich (Fredric March) was of the upper class but he was being influenced by the writings of a socialist named Gregory Simonson (Sam Jaffe). Dmitri was alive with the ideas of tearing down the existing class structure in Russia and he made a point of sharing those ideas with Katusha Maslova (Anna Sten), a peasant. Dmitri fell in love with Katusha and she with him, but I always have my doubts in these old movies that depict beautiful poor women falling hopelessly in love with rich powerful men. I always wonder what's really the truth, because what choice do these women really have?
By and by Dmitri began to shed his ideals of equality and accept his role as a member of the ruling class. He even burned his Simonson book titled "Land and Freedom." What's more, he forgot about Katusha and got engaged to a woman in his class. He did, however, have one last fling with Katusha which forever altered her life.
She got pregnant.
If she could alert Dmitri, then the pregnancy wouldn't have been a social death sentence; so long as he stepped up. Unfortunately, she wasn't able to inform Dmitri, and she never saw him again. Being a pregnant single woman in a conservative village was her undoing. She was just another poor woman victimized by an upper class man like so many others.
"We Live Again" somewhat reminded me of "Jennie Gerhardt," "Forbidden," "Back Street, " or many other movies in which rich playboys take advantage of poor, wide-eyed women. Sometimes they keep them as mistresses, and sometimes it's a pump and dump.
"We Live Again" was better because it showed what the likely outcome was of the women who'd been taken advantage of and left pregnant and unwed. Katusha chose prostitution, but she had few other choices, if any, to feed herself. "We Live Again" ended somewhat romantic with Dmitri giving up his wealth and his title to be a prisoner with Katusha. I don't necessarily like the romantic ending, but at least it ended with Dmitri downgrading himself instead of him miraculously making Katusha into a lady.
Free with Amazon Prime.
6 Day Bike Rider (1934)
Didn't Love it, Didn't Hate it
"6 Day Bike Rider" stars Joe E. Brown. Interestingly enough, of the hundreds of movies I've watched from the early-30's, I'd never seen a Joe E. Brown movie, and he was pumping out films as early as 1927. I can't say I'm terribly impressed with him, but he's no worse a comedian than Jimmy Durante.
He plays Wilfred 'Mildew' Simpson, an avid bike rider who is a cross between the Absent-Minded Professor and Ernest from Ernest Goes to Camp. The entire premise of the movie is that Wilfred is trying to win a six-day bike race with his partner, Clinton Hemmings (Frank McHugh). They're up against a big time cheater named Harry St. Clair (Gordon Westcott). Before the race began there was bad blood between Harry and Wilfred because Harry almost took Wilfred's girl, Phyllis (Maxine Doyle).
The movie is pretty dumb, but harmlessly so. I'd say it's more for kids due to the wacky nature of it and the interesting choices of words Wilfred uses instead of more harsh language. I didn't love the movie and I didn't hate it.
Free on Odnoklassniki.
What Every Woman Knows (1934)
A One-Sided Marriage
"What Every Woman Knows" is an odd sort of romance. It involved two people who were in a one-sided relationship. The woman loved the man, and the man just tolerated the woman.
Maggie Wylie (Helen Hayes) was a plain Scottish woman who couldn't find love. Her father and her two brothers were determined to help her get married even if it meant making a man contractually obligated to do so. And that's what they did.
They entered into a bargain with a young rabble rouser named John Shand (Brian Aherne). They would pay for his schooling for five years and in return, he'd have to marry Maggie should she want him. Maggie was well aware of this bargain, and she didn't mind it at all. After the five years were up, Maggie wanted to marry John, and he agreed to marry her per his word, even though he didn't love her. It was a rare movie in that a man was obligated to marry a woman instead of the other way around. That gave it a different sort of feel.
There have been plenty of movies in which a woman goes through with marrying or being with a man out of a sense of duty, but very few men have ever had to be in that situation. I've always felt a little sorry for the women, I didn't feel sorry at all for John Shand. Maggie gave him the option to be free of her, but he was too principled to back out of an agreement he benefited greatly from.
In some ways it was sad watching Maggie sweat and toil for John's benefit in hopes that he would one day love her as she loved him. John was such a serious man that it seemed he would never love anybody. Such a sentiment was put to the test when Lady Sybil Tenterden (Madge Evans) entered the picture.
Free on Odnoklassniki.
Madame Du Barry (1934)
Sassy Dolores Del Rio as Madame Du Barry
It seems that Madame Du Barry really captured the imagination of Hollywood. The made a movie about her in 1912, 1917, 1919, 1928, 1930, 1934, 1935, and 1954. I watched the 1930 version starring Norma Talmadge. It was a romanticized version that they admittedly said was a fictionalized telling of Madame Du Barry's saga. Whether the 1934 version was more accurate or not, it was certainly more fun.
The spicy Dolores Del Rio played Jeannette Vaubernier aka Madame Du Barry. What "Madame Du Barry" captured, that "Du Barry, Woman of Passion" (1930) failed to capture, was that Jeannette was a prostitute. She was a known prostitute and King Louis XV (Reginald Owen) fell for her because she was so different. She was sassy, fearless, confident, and unrefined. And she had King Louis XV wrapped around her little finger. Naturally, people hated her for it.
Personally, I didn't hate her at all. I viewed her like I view a spoiled child; she was only doing what King Louis enabled her to do. If she turned the castle into her own playground and thumbed her nose at decorum, then King Louis was the blame. Madame Du Barry never pretended to be something she wasn't. She never aspired to be queen or to rule France, she was Cyndi Lauper up in that joint: she just wanted to have fun.
Dolores Del Rio brought all the sass and spunk she could for the role. She was the ultimate non-conformist and a third degree black belt in not giving AF. While some of her behavior could rightly be called impertinent and uncouth, you had to respect her at least a little.
Free on Odnoklassniki.
A Girl of the Limberlost (1934)
Distasteful Romance
For the most part, I don't like movies from the early-30's, but I watch them incessantly. They are so odd, so strange, and so different. Society was so different back then, and at the same time it wasn't. Like they say: "the more things change, the more they stay the same."
In this poorly acted and poorly thought out movie we have a girl named Elnora Comstock (Marian Marsh) who was the daughter of a mean woman. Her mother, Katherine (Louise Dresser), blamed Elnora for the death of her husband, Robert. Her husband drowned while coming home late at night from another woman's place and for some strange reason she took it out on her daughter. It didn't add up at all.
Luckily for Elnora she had neighbors that really loved her: Wesley and Margaret Stinton (Ralph Morgan and Helen Jerome Eddy). They showed her the love her mother didn't. And when she decided to go to high school against her mother's wishes, they encouraged her and tried to make it as easy as possible for her.
No movie with a nubile, young woman is complete without a love interest; and that's where this movie collapsed. The movie was good enough showing the hardships Elnora had to face with limited resources and an unloving mother in rural Indiana circa 1910. Even though a romance was inevitable, it certainly didn't need the romance we got.
A doctor and his nephew, Phillip Ammon (Edward Nugent), were in Elnora's isolated part of the country to visit Wesley Stinton (Elnora's neighbor). Phillip was in college, but the moment I saw his face I knew that he and Elnora would hook up somehow. He was the only young, halfway decent-looking man in the whole movie. Plus, it was early 20th century Indiana, and I'm sure Elnora was of breeding age.
There was a connection between them right away, but Phillip was engaged (as if that's ever been a problem before). I think that if Elnora hadn't just began high school there would've been nothing to stop the big city boy from macking on the small town girl. He did the right thing and didn't romantically engage with Elnora, but he promised to stay in contact--so he could help her get to college of course.
He stayed in constant contact with Elnora, sending her money whenever she could send him "Indian" (Native American) artifacts. After three years Phillip was back in town to visit with his uncle. This time he had his fiance, Edith (Gigi Parrish), with him. Apparently, they still hadn't gotten married. Personally, I thought he'd be divorced, thereby making him available for Elnora, but what happened was far more distasteful.
Immediately, you could tell that Edith was going to be a disagreeable woman. When Phillip was raving about the Stintons and the need to invite them to their engagement party, she gave some excuses as to why it would be a bad idea to invite them (read: they don't fit in).
She was your typical, rich, classist woman who prejudged the Stintons based upon where they lived. Being devil's advocate, I could say that she was only worried about how they'd be dressed at the swanky affair, which is a legitimate concern.
The Stintons and the Comstocks (i.e. Elnora and her mother) showed up to the party even though Elnora was bitterly jealous. While Phillip was dancing with his fiance he told Elnora to save a dance for him. He was all smiles. Edith was not.
"Phillip, do you realize you've been talking about her (Elnora) all evening?" Edith complained to Phillip.
"Oh, my girl's jealous," he jokingly quipped.
I don't think he could've been more daft. What person, man or woman, wants to hear their fiance raving about someone else--especially when that someone else could be a direct rival?
Phillip wasn't done being stupid and inconsiderate.
When Elnora found a moth flittering away she ran after it to perhaps catch it and add it to her moth collection. Phillip ran with her.
Can you see things taking shape now?
They lost the moth and decided to take a breather. As they were talking all too closely Phillip kissed her (who could've seen that coming?!?).
"I hope you didn't mind my doing that," he guiltily stated almost as a question, even though he was asking the wrong damn person. He should've asked his fiance, who was only a few hundred feet away being neglected, if SHE minded.
"No I didn't mind, it's just friendship," Elnora reassured him, knowing that the kiss was more than "friendship," but also knowing their relationship couldn't go anywhere.
At this time, Edith was looking all over for Phillip. When he arrived back to the party hand-in-hand with Elnora, she was not pleased.
"Phillip what does this mean?" Edith asked bluntly.
Phillip, ever the idiot, smilingly answered, "Why nothing. We almost caught a Yellow Emperor for Elnora's moth collection."
"Do you expect me to believe that?" Edith responded. She was more than a little suspicious, as she should've been. Given the opportunity Phillip may have ended up rolling in the hay with Elnora.
"Really, It's true," Elnora said.
"Oh come now. You may as well admit it. Chasing moths is a flimsy pretext," Edith chided.
"Wait, what do you mean?" Phillip asked angrily.
"You know what I mean. Now I understand why you want a summer place here," she clapped back.
"Edith!" he snapped, then turned to Elnora to apologize. He continued to Edith, "Now you apologize to Elnora!" he fumed.
"I'll do nothing of the sort," Edith calmly said.
The whole charade was infuriating to watch. Phillip was being a complete d-bag and didn't even realize it. He'd been engaged to Edith for over three years, he didn't know that she would be upset with him running off to frolic with some other girl DURING THEIR ENGAGEMENT PARTY!!! And her suspicions were correct anyway. This fool was all in Elnora's grill the moment they got out of eyesight. Yet they made Edith look like the bad guy. As if she was a paranoid jealous psycho looking for something that wasn't there.
Oh, it was there.
This was all a flimsy pretext (to use Edith's words) to set up Phillip leaving his fiance and professing his love to Elnora. It was trite, distasteful, lame, unimaginative, and cringey with a capital C. Couldn't they come up with a better scenario. At least if he was already divorced they wouldn't have to make Edith some kind of witch who wasn't good enough for the pure-hearted Phillip.
The following day we got what was being plainly foreshadowed: Phillip went to Elnora's place to tell her that he'd broken the engagement off with Edith because he's in love with her. How long had he been in love with Elnora? Since the moment he met her. When she was sixteen (and they call R. Kelly twisted).
It was a stomach-turning scene trying to pass itself off as romance. Phillip quite literally dropped his fiance of three+ years for the high school farm girl he fell in love with when she was an early-teen. Someone please tell me where's the romance in that.
Free on YouTube.
She Learned About Sailors (1934)
Lackluster
Larry Wilson (Lew Ayres) was a sailor and a ladies' man. On shore leave he could get any woman he wanted. While on shore leave in Shanghai where Americans called the Chinese "cooley" and yelled "chop chop" to get the rickshaw drivers to move faster, Larry won the heart of Jean Legoi (Alice Faye), a singer at a club. He employed the stalking and harassing style of courtship whereby the woman ends up bargaining with the man just to get him to leave her alone, then, invariably, she falls in love with him. Larry was the type who didn't take no for an answer--which was pretty much every successful loverboy in the 30's. They would stalk and harass until they broke down the woman's defenses. In this case Larry showed up in Jean's dressing room and her home. Four days later they were in love.
"She Learned About Sailors" was a bad romance and an even worse comedy. If we weren't watching the Don Juan who'd finally found "the one," we were assailed by the violent physical comedy of Jack Durant and Frank Mitchell who played Eddie and Peanuts. It really was a forgettable rom-com. It had the look and feel of a speedily churned out movie just to meet a quota.
Free on YouTube.
Four Frightened People (1934)
Frightened in the Forest
"Four Frightened People" is a title that tells you the emotional state of the four subjects, but it doesn't tell you why or how. It was quite simple really. They were lost in the jungles of Malaysia with little hope of finding their way out. That is a frightening scenario, although it wasn't nearly as scary as it would be had Eli Roth or Wes Craven directed the film.
Judy Jones (Claudette Colbert), Arnold Ainger (Herbert Marshall), Mrs. Mardick (Mary Boland), and Stewart Corder (William Gargan) were lost in a Malaysian jungle with a self-described "white man" Malaysian named Montague (Leo Carrillo) as their guide. There were wild beasts, insects, disease, and, of course, "savage" natives to deal with. As formidable as the two white men were, they simply couldn't beat up EVERY tribal Malaysian.
All four wanted to get back to civilization for one reason or another. As time drew on, and a romance developed between Judy, the shrinking violet turned blossoming rose, and Arnold, a married man, they found less and less of a reason to return to their old life. Judy had broken her glasses and had no more reason to keep her hair pinned up, and that's when Arnold noticed her (so typical).
The entire movie took place in the jungle focusing on these four and their guide. It was intriguing at times, and at other times it was dull and a bit condescending (as movies in that era tended to be when portraying other cultures). It was a net "meh" and nothing I'll remember.
Free on Odnoklassniki.
Anaconda (1997)
It was Cool in 1997
"Anaconda" is not a good movie, but I like it. Not only was it lacking in the acting and script writing department, the anaconda was comically bad. It was early CGI, it had vocal cords, and it was able to move like no snake that size should. But hey, in 1997 it was awesome.
A young Jennifer Lopez and Ice Cube played Terri Flores and Danny Rich, a director and a cinematographer in Brazil's Amazon to shoot a documentary on the Shirishama tribe. With them were Dr. Steven Cale (Eric Stolz), Terri's beau and an anthropologist; Mateo (Vincent Castellanos), the guide; Warren Westridge (Jonathan Hyde), the narrator for the documentary; Gary Dixon (Owen Wilson), the equipment manager; and Denise Kalberg (Kari Wuhrer), the production manager. Along their journey they picked up Paul Serone (Jon Voight), a mysterious and surly character with a downturned mouth, a ponytail, and a scar on the side of his face.
It wouldn't be long before the crew realized that Paul was bad business. His goal was to capture the deadly anaconda and the crew was powerless to stop him. Once "Anaconda" introduced the 40+ foot serpent, it was nonstop suspense from then on. Between Paul, the anaconda, and the rest of the Amazon, there was danger all around.
Watching "Anaconda" again for the first time in over twenty-five years, it doesn't have the same appeal, but it does make me nostalgic. I didn't know Danny Trejo was in the movie, not that I knew who he was back then anyway. If you don't remember him either, that's because he died in the opening scene.
I also didn't know Owen Wilson was in it for the same reason: he wasn't a star back then. "Anaconda" is one of those movies that I liked as a teen and now have a hard time explaining to my kids why it was a cool movie.
Netflix.
Kansas City Princess (1934)
Aimless Film
Joan Blondell went from playing more reserved and respectable comedy relief roles to playing a caricature. She had good roles like 'Flips' Montague in "Make Me a Star," Vida Fleet in "Big City Blues," and Anne Roberts in "Blonde Crazy." Then, in 1934 she had quirky, wacky, and embarrassing roles like Vicki Wallace in "Smarty," Marie in "I've Got Your Number," and Rosie Sturgess in "Kansas City Princess." I still like Joan Blondell even if her agent was misguiding her.
"Kansas City Princess" was a nonsensical movie that didn't have a concrete plot. A manicurist named Rosie (Joan Blondell) was seeing an unsophisticated brute named Dynamite Carson (Robert Armstrong). Their relationship was odd and a bit scary. Dynamite pretty much claimed Rosie and she was too afraid to turn him down. It would've been a suspenseful thriller if it wasn't a comedy. Dynamite threatened everybody, and he even threatened Rosie a few times.
At one point, Rosie and her friend, Marie Callahan (Glenda Farrell), had to flee Kansas City to get away from Dynamite after Rosie lost the engagement ring he bought her. Dynamite was such a lunatic he followed the two women all the way to Paris.
The Tom and Jerry routine between Dynamite and Rosie and Marie put them in contact with a millionaire named Junior Ashcraft (Hugh Herbert), who was trying to ascertain if his wife was cheating on him or not. One botched plan and a lot of goofiness later, Junior proposed to Marie (who wanted to marry him for his money), and Rosie was doting over the abusive and potentially homicidal Dynamite. It was bizarre, wacky, and worst of all, not funny.
Free on Odnoklassniki.
Our Daily Bread (1934)
A Humbler American Dream
One thing "Our Daily Bread" (ODB) had going for it is that it didn't feature any high society folks, nor did it feature a tawdry romance, nor was it about becoming rich. ODB was about people at the bottom helping one another survive and have a little something they could call their own. It did, however, have one head-scratching character in it which I think was shoved into the plot to create drama. ODB was mainly about working class folks who joined to form a community based on collectively supporting each other through trading goods and services.
John and Mary Sims (Tom Keene and Karen Morley) were days from being evicted when they received a lifeline from John's uncle. He gifted them a parcel of land in a remote part of the state. It was a worthless piece of land that he couldn't sell, so he handed it over to the struggling couple to make something of the property.
What the two did was open up the multi-acre property to folks who had skills and talents to help develop the land and build a community. John wanted carpenters, mason workers, and farmers, but he still accepted preachers, barbers, and others so long as they were willing to work.
The community was growing and they'd elected John to be their leader. John was doing a fine job until the introduction of Sally (Barbara Pepper). Sally was driving through when her car broke down. They gave her shelter and she decided to stay. She had eyes on John and she was able to woo him with her blond hair and sex appeal.
The reason I didn't like this aspect of the movie was because her presence there didn't add up. She was a city gal through and through. She was used to nice clothes, make-up, night clubs, and men spending money on her. There was NONE of that there. It was nothing but toiling, limited resources, and no amenities. Her being there seemed like a cheap way for the writers to add drama which she did. John was about to leave the community he established in its most dire hour because of Sally, and I didn't like it.
I actually liked the movie as a whole. It was about the working poor joining together to make something for themselves even though it wasn't much. Everyone got a fresh start in this new community and everyone was sacrificing for the good of the whole. There were plenty of pitfalls and plenty of obstacles to overcome, there was no need to make a cheap floozy one of them.
Free on Tubi.
Cleopatra (1934)
I Don't Know What to Believe
Admittedly, I don't know anything about Cleopatra. I only know the name because of the 1963 movie starring Elizabeth Taylor. Per "Cleopatra" 1934, Cleopatra (played by Claudette Colbert) had the dubious distinction of losing Egypt to the Romans. She attempted to keep Egypt and her crown by hooking up with Julius Caesar (played by Warren William), and when that didn't work she wooed Marc Antony (played by Henry Wilcoxon).
"Cleopatra" was one of at least three films between 1933 and 1934 about female rulers. The other two were "Queen Christina" (1933) starring Greta Garbo and "The Scarlet Empress" (1934) starring Marlene Dietrich. I'd say "Cleopatra" was closer to "Queen Christina" in that both focused on love.
Cleopatra presented herself to Julius Caesar in attempts to save herself and her crown. She fell in love with him and he fell in love with her. It bought her country a temporary respite from Rome's forces, but it brought Julius an early death by him being branded a traitor.
Marc Antony and Octavian (played by Ian Kieth) became co-rulers when Julius was killed. They were united in their belief that Cleopatra should yield and be put in chains. Marc Antony had a plan for Cleopatra, but then even he fell in love with her. Eventually, she fell in love with him as well, making "Cleopatra" a sappy movie about another woman who can't help but fall in love. Given the slanted nature of early films, especially when it comes to women and people of color, I don't know what part of this melodramatic movie to believe.
Free on Odnoklassniki.