On Blu-ray: James Cagney and Joan Blondell in Busby Berkeley's Footlight Parade (1933)

All film fans have their cinematic version of comfort food and mine is the musicals of choreographer Busby Berkeley. These busy, bubbly productions full of wit, beauty and excitement are pleasant to have on in the background, but deserving of the most devoted attention. I’m especially fond of Footlight Parade (1933), because it features James Cagney, famous for crime movies, but an excellent dancer and interpreter of song who rarely had the opportunity to ditch his prop Tommy gun for tap shoes. The film looks great in its Blu-ray debut, now out from Warner Archive.

Director Lloyd Bacon assembled a cast that will be happily familiar to fans of Warner Bros. productions of the day. Cagney is joined by Joan Blondell, Ruby Keeler, and Dick Powell in the leads, with endearing characters like Frank McHugh, Ruth Donnelly, Guy Kibbee, and Hugh Herbert in the supporting roles. As a group they work with a slick precision that is hidden behind a façade of insouciance. They’re all entirely comfortable with their personas, quick with a quip, and interact with each other like highly trained dancers.

Cagney is the picture of delight as stage producer Chester Kent, a quick-thinking impresario who must find a way to incorporate live entertainment into cinemas if he hopes to stay in business. He gets into romantic trouble with the always dangerous Claire Dodd, while his lovelorn secretary looks on in exasperation (Joan Blondell, who gets one of the best lines of the era when she tells Dodd, “as long as they’ve got sidewalks, you’ve got a job”). As great as he was as a gangster, Cagney looks most at home in this setting and frequent costar Blondell is his best screen partner.

The musical numbers are among the best Berkeley staged, from the light charm of kitty-costumed dancers in Sittin’ on a Backyard Fence to the sensual longing of Shanghai Lil. Nothing can beat Busby’s most elaborate number though, a stunning precursor to Esther Williams’ operatic aquatic productions, By a Waterfall. 

Never has Berkeley's camera seemed more perfectly placed, moving above, below, and through a smilingly willing group of waterlogged chorines. Something about the water makes this precisely-calculated collision of glamour and military discipline look as easy as rolling into the river. It is the perfect cinematic marriage of art and craft.

Special features on the disc, which are carried over from the DVD release, include the featurette Music for the Decades, the fascinating vintage featurettes Rambling ‘Round Radio Row #8 and Vaudeville Reel #1, a collection of vintage cartoons, and a theatrical trailer.

Many thanks to Warner Archive for providing a copy of the film for review. To order, visit The Warner Archive Collection.

On DVD: Bebe Daniels Charms in My Past (1931)

With a title like My Past and that cover art with Bebe Daniels giving a “seen all, done all” look, I expected a different film than I got. It is pre-code in tone and deed, but more subdued about it: racy, but not saucy. What I liked best about this film now available on DVD from Warner Archive, is that I found a new appreciation for the charming Daniels.

The plot is familiar: a gorgeous showgirl (Daniels) is loved by a wealthy older man (Lewis Stone), but she’s got the hots for his younger, unhappily married friend (Ben Lyons). It’s all just a framework for beautiful costumes and settings, and reliably appealing performers like Stone, Lyons and the always marvelous Joan Blondell as Daniels’ best friend.

There are some typically pre-code sleeping arrangements and flexible ideas about marriage, but the thing that makes it pop is the chemistry between Daniels and Lyons, who were married from 1930 to her death in 1971. This isn’t a screen partnership with a Bogie and Bacall sizzle, but there’s a warmth between them that elevates the familiar material. It’s pleasant to see them at play together. You feel the affection.

My introduction to Bebe Daniels, as with many classic film fans, was as the distraught musical star Dorothy Brock in 42nd Street (1933). Though she is technically the star of that production, it is Ruby Keeler and Dick Powell who people remember. I now realize this sour, if not entirely unsympathetic character was not the best way to get to know her, much like seeing Norma Shearer for the first time in The Women (1939) is not a great introduction to her persona.

By the time of My Past, Daniels had been in films for over twenty years. She came from a theatrical family and had been before the camera since her silent short debut as a child. Though she faltered a bit at the start of the talkie age because she’d become associated with the overdone musical fad, Warner Bros saw her potential and picked her up for a great run in the 1930s. This film was the start of that period, which also included starring roles in Counselor-at-Law (1933) and in the first screen version of The Maltese Falcon (1931) (in an amusing scene in My Past, she cheekily signs a copy of Dashiell Hammett’s source novel).

Here, for the first time, I finally appreciated what made Daniels appealing to audiences. She’s got the beauty and glamour of a movie star, but there’s always a part of her that feels relatable in a deeply humane way. It’s not the gal pal warmth of Blondell or the weary shopgirl earthiness of early Joan Crawford, but rather an air of truly taking things to heart. It was satisfying to see her take center stage, where her appeal could be fully appreciated.

While this isn’t a remarkable production, it offers many low-key pleasures and will especially satisfy pre-code fans.

Many thanks to Warner Archive for providing a copy of the film for review. This is a Manufacture on Demand (MOD) DVD. To order, visit The Warner Archive Collection.

On DVD: Joan Blondell and Glenda Farrell in Kansas City Princess (1934)

Throughout decades of movie fandom I’ve seen astonishing sights and transcendent works of art, and yet, if you asked me what I want to see at any given moment, I would probably ask to watch Glenda Farrell and Joan Blondell doing stuff. Whatever production they are in, they never let you down, whether individually or as a team. Pure charisma wins every time. I thought this as I settled down to watch Kansas City Princess (1934), which is now available on DVD from Warner Archive.

This is one of five comedies that Farrell and Blondell headlined together for Warner Bros. In it they follow the familiar plotline of two dames on the make. This time they are manicurists with gold digging ambitions. Blondell loses the diamond engagement ring thrust upon her by a volatile gangster (appropriately named “Dynamite”, played by Robert Armstrong) and so she and Farrell hop a cruise ship to Paris to escape his wrath. They hook up with a millionaire to retroactively fund their trip.

It’s not the best of the Blondell/Farrell pairings; I think that honor goes to Havanna Widows (1933), which was more solidly pre-code, but it’s fun to watch them banter as they slide in and out of trouble. You’ve never any doubt that these ladies could talk any man into anything.

Fans of 1930s Warner Bros. flicks are familiar with the amazing players the studio rotated in and out of productions like a community theater group. Aside from the leads though, the cast is not as typically fantastic here. The exception is Hugh Herbert who is game as the easily manipulated millionaire Junior Ashcroft.

The disc image is essentially clear, though with a fair number of specks. The sound has a bit of crackle and pop, but does the job. There are no special features on the disc.

Many thanks to Warner Archive for providing a copy of the film for review. This is a Manufacture on Demand (MOD) DVD. To order, visit The Warner Archive Collection.

Pre-code on DVD: Goodbye Again (1933), I Like Your Nerve (1931), and The Finger Points (1931)

One of my favorite things about Warner Archive is the label’s commitment to releasing a steady stream of pre-code titles on DVD. As physical media appears to be firmly on the decline, I am increasingly glad to see rare films like these made available for purchase. The latest batch is a solidly entertaining trio: two comedy romances and a drama, starring some of the most appealing stars of the era.

Goodbye Again (1933)

Joan Blondell and Warren William shared the ability to make any film they appeared in better, just because of their presence. While they’ve made plenty of mediocre films, neither of them ever turned in a bad performance or even worse, were ever boring.

Here they play famous novelist Ken Bixby (William) and his loyal secretary Anne (Joan Blondell), who are on the road to promote his latest novel. On their latest stop, Ken runs into Julie (Genevieve Tobin) a long forgotten lover who is bored with her husband (Hugh Herbert) and all atwitter because she believes that she is the inspiration for the heroine of his new book. Julie gets Bixby into a compromising position, inflaming the town, her family, and in his way, her husband.

Of course you know William will finally see the light and love up Blondell. All the fun here is in watching them tangle with the establishment. I like Ms. Joan any way I can get her, but as far as William is concerned, he’s at his best as he is here, mischievous, quick tongued and goofy. He has such a severe look: tall, thin and with that pointed nose and stick straight mustache; it’s great to see him play off that by resisting convention and seriousness in every other way.

Tobin, Helen Chandler, Ruth Donnelly, Hugh Herbert, and Wallace Ford are lively and quirky support, working up that Warner Bros company momentum that made the studio’s flicks the most satisfying of the era.

I Like Your Nerve (1931)

As a romantic pairing Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. and Loretta Young don’t quite sizzle, but the are still gorgeous, sexy and vibrantly youthful in this fast-paced romance. Fairbanks is Larry, a playboy in Latin America who seems to adore getting in trouble with the authorities because of the thrill of escape. Young is Diane, stepdaughter of Areal Pacheco (Henry Kolker), a shady embezzler. She is marrying a much older man, Clive Lattimer (Edmund Breon) to keep her stepfather from being killed, but only for the honor of her dead mother.

Larry falls for Diane and quickly cuts through the hypocrisy around her so that he may have her for his own. When it comes to the title, the young, mischievous lover may come first to mind, but Lattimer and Pacheco also have plenty of nerve in the way they treat Diane. At least Larry is an honest troublemaker.

It’s fun to watch Fairbanks and Young flirt and fight their way out of the various messes they’ve gotten themselves into. Boris Karloff also makes a pleasing, if brief appearance as a servant. This is an hour of froth and a delightful one at that.

The Finger Points (1931)

This newspaper drama starring Richard Barthelmess is the darkest of the trio, though there is plenty of light humor to balance the mood. Barthelmess is a country boy just arrived in Chicago with a letter of recommendation from the small town newspaper where he got his start. He finds himself a job at a big city rag and becomes friends with reporters Fay Wray and Regis Toomey. Soon he finds himself falling under the influence of the mob, including Louis Blanco, played by a young, pre-King Clark Gable.

I respect Richard Barthelmess more than I enjoy him. His talent is unmistakable, but that tense hunch of his and the feeling that he hasn’t got any sense of humor always make him difficult for me to stomach. That said, this is the most I’ve seen him tap into human warmth, which I credit mostly to his chemistry with Fay Wray, who doesn’t act so much as bless everyone with her presence.

Seeing Gable in this role, it is clear that he could have easily fallen into a career of playing thugs. He exudes star charisma, just like Cagney did in his early parts, where he similarly didn’t make sense playing support, but the muscular, bold man wasn’t yet in vogue as a desirable romantic lead. Watching him opposite Barthelmess, you can see the shift happening: the more delicate gentlemen of the silent age falling aside for the likes of Gable.

Many thanks to Warner Archive for providing copies of the films for review. These are Manufacture on Demand (MOD) DVDs. To order, visit The Warner Archive Collection.

On DVD: Joan Blondell and James Cagney Debut in Sinners' Holiday (1930)

There are many early films that I'll watch to check out a star in their debut or breakout film role. That was the case with the new Warner Archive release of Sinners' Holiday (1930). It features the one-two punch of Joan Blondell and James Cagney in their first screen appearances. I'll admit I didn't have high expectations for the movie, but it's an entertaining hour (to the minute), and the mesmerizing stage and screen actress Lucille LaVerne is one reason why.

It's based on the Broadway play Penny Arcade, which opened around the dawn of the Great Depression and quickly tanked. Al Jolson snapped up the rights, and insisted that Blondell and Cagney reprise their stage roles in the film version.

The story revolves around a penny arcade operated by the close-knit Delano family on a Coney Island amusement pier. There the tough-as-nails Ma Delano (LaVerne) presides over the business while her children, Myrtle (Evalyn Knapp), Joe (Ray Gallagher) and Harry (James Cagney) find themselves in varying degrees of drama.

As Myrtle's boyfriend Angel, Grant Withers is the nominal star, and he is adorable, but next to Blondell and Cagney he gives the impression of a goldfish flopping around on a table. You want things to turn out for him, but don't particularly care to see how it all pans out. Knapp is similarly pleasant, and even quite effective in her more dramatic scenes, but she had some powerful co-stars to play against.

Though they are billed fourth and fifth respectively, Cagney and Blondell both clearly have the charisma of stars, and it is exciting to see them so confident in their prospective styles from the beginning.

A young Lucille LaVerne

Cagney already possesses the dancing fingers and graceful, but jittery moves that would give his best performances that intoxicating crackle. He goes a bit over the top in some dramatic moments, but isn't too cringe worthy. Blondell gives the impression she has nothing to learn though. In a short brown hairdo that looks like a little furry cap, she already knows how to pop those big, round Joan eyes and race through her lines with perfect comic momentum and bubbly warmth.

As the Delano family matron, Lucille LaVerne was a pleasant surprise. She's got a marvelous face, with a pointy nose and chin and dark slashes of eyebrow. This is the kind of actress that I miss in modern films: a tough, wise, complex matron who is comfortable in her own skin. Most famous for voicing the queen/witch in Disney's Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937), you can see why she would later be chosen to fill that commanding role. I perked up every time she appeared.

The plot is a busy tangle of romance, crime and murder that would become tiresome if the film ran any longer. As it is, it's an entertaining bit of life among the carneys. I enjoyed it, and look forward to watching it again.

Many thanks to Warner Archive for providing a copy of the film for review. This is a Manufacture on Demand (MOD) DVD. To order, visit The Warner Archive Collection.

Quote of the Week

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When I first got into pictures, there would be something on the marquees saying "Dallas' Own Joan Blondell," or "Battle Creek Michigan's Own Joan Blondell" or "Chicago's Own Joan Blondell," because someone would remember that I'd been to school there for a week. [So I became] America's Own Joan Blondell.

-Joan Blondell, referring to her childhood traveling the country with vaudeville performer parents

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New From Warner Archive: Forbidden Hollywood, Volume 8

I'm always thrilled when a new edition of Forbidden Hollywood is released. The sets of pre-code treasures never disappoint. There's always at least a couple of titles that thrill me, and the films are all alive with that exciting honesty about life that died away when the production code was finally enforced. This latest set is especially diverse, mixing comedy and drama and settings from swanky hotels and European villas to raucous newsrooms and racetracks.

Blonde Crazy (1931)

I don't know if it is possible for me to approach this movie with a critical eye. It was the first title I saw in the Forbidden Hollywood series, back when it came in single films on VHS, and each had an introduction with Leonard Maltin, and I'll always associate it with the excitement of discovering the whole idea of pre-code films.

It's a lot of fun though. James Cagney and Joan Blondell were a great screen pair, both of them down-to-earth, but infinitely more witty and attractive than your average Joe. Here they are grifters who think themselves pretty good at the con, until they realize the real criminals are in the upper levels of society.

There's lots of mugging and goofy antics, sometimes amusing, occasionally irksome. Cagney is especially reliant on quirks. You want to cut the cast some slack though, because all the criminals, hotel bellhops and sleazy traveling salesmen are taking the talkies into new territory, something livelier than those first, creaky attempts at sound, and they're doing a fine job working out just how that should go.

Strangers May Kiss (1931)

I love a racy Norma Shearer pre-code, but I can rarely sit through the end of one more than once. They're a cinematic tease, getting you excited about Ms. Norma's feminist zeal and then giving her a quick slap on the wrist and thrusting her back into convention before the closing titles. For that reason they are all fabulous and awful at the same time; ahead of their time and too afraid to push very hard at the status quo. Still, not one is to be missed, because they all make a great early cry for female independence that still rings after their cop-out codas.

In this one Shearer tries her best to have a modern, no strings attached relationship, but she can't manage that when she falls in love. Neil Hamilton is her self-centered, world-traveling beaux, while longtime friend Robert Montgomery makes goony faces and waits for her to give him a try.

While it is difficult to stomach the star's final "Quick! Get me a husband! Take me away from all this freedom, horrible freedom!" plea, there's no forgetting the fun she's had, and the way she spoke, before she finally caves. She is at her glamorous, giggling best in astonishingly sheer, slinky evening gowns, trotting around Europe, getting herself into trouble.

When she is chastised for her behavior, she lets her lover boy know a thing or two about double standards, and that he is not free to toy with her as he pleases. Those words are strong, and you have to wonder if maybe in the end she goes the subversive route, still believing what she says. Whatever the case, no one could speak her mind about relationships like Shearer.

Hi, Nellie (1934)

I had my qualms about this newsroom comedy/drama as the first scenes unrolled. It has a slow build, relying at first on limp jokes and Paul Muni (in a rare comedy role) being heavy-handed in his attempted at a Lee Tracy-type part. While the latter would be at least amusingly obnoxious as a reporter who gets in hot water with his boss and torments a love advice columnist (Glenda Farrell), Muni is just annoying.

This all changes when the messing around develops into a good, twisty mystery plot. Muni is demoted to Farrell's position, which seems to be the punishment for all reporters that screw up at their newpaper, and he attempts to dig himself out by investigating the disappearance of a lawyer who has been accused of stealing from a bank.

Once Muni begins his detective work, he seems to forget about trying to be funny, which oddly enough makes him much funnier. He's at his best when he's so determined to get the details he needs for a blockbuster story that he forgets to be afraid. The always snappy Glenda Farrell and familiar Warner faces like Ned Sparks and Donald Meek are more at home in the comedy and also do much to improve the appeal of their star.

This is also a great flick for fashionistas, with some of the most immaculately buttoned and bowed designs I've seen in 1930s cinema.

Dark Hazard (1934)

It can be difficult to watch an Edward G. Robinson movie. So often he is a victim of fate, a beautiful woman, or both. This time he is his own worst enemy though, a gambler who, for good or ill, is living a life suited to his temperament. He is pressured to change when he marries a so-called decent woman (Genevieve Tobin). They're really both decent in their own way; she's just not eager to raise their child among her husband's wise cracking friends, never sure if he will gamble away the grocery money.

So often in these movies it is the housewife who is clearly best for the hero, who is tempted away by a shallow, but glamorous woman. Here that is not so obvious, most likely because as Robinson's old flame, Glenda Farrell is an understanding and loyal counterpoint to the sympathetic, but disapproving Tobin.

While movies about gambling generally paint a disapproving portrait of the pastime, Robinson is portrayed as being at home rolling dice and betting on horses and greyhounds. It isn't that he doesn't adore his wife, he shows himself to be very charmingly in love, but the excitement of the racetrack feeds him like nothing else. Dark Hazard handles that conflict in an unusual and deeply satisfying way.

Many thanks to Warner Archive for providing copies of the films for review. These are Manufacture on Demand (MOD) DVDs. To order, visit The Warner Archive Collection.

Quote of the Week

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People like her never won awards. They just saved movies.

-John Kobal, About Joan Blondell

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Quote of the Week

Some of my movies I haven’t even seen yet; I figure I’ll catch up with them on the late show.

-Joan Blondell, in 1977


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