On Blu-ray: 1933 Double Feature Mary Stevens, M.D. and Dinner at Eight

I was fascinated by the differences between a pair of films from 1933 I watched recently on new Blu-rays from Warner Archive. One is the efficient Warner Bros. melodrama Mary Stevens, M.D., starring Kay Francis and a cast full of the snappy, sharp-witted players who brought the studio success in the early thirties. The other, Dinner at Eight, is a lavish production filled with the biggest names at MGM Studios, though the young Jean Harlow stole the whole movie from her more experienced costars. 

Mary Stevens, M.D. features one of Francis’ best performances. She’s a young doctor who sets up shop with her former classmate and close friend Don (an adequate Lyle Talbot). He quickly gets tired of fighting to keep their pediatric practice afloat and marries politician’s daughter Lois (Thelma Todd, underused, but always welcome) so that he can secure the wealth and position he wants to enjoy without working to attain it. Predictably, that doesn’t go well for him. 

At first, it seems that the film is going to be all about Mary trying to find patients who aren’t horrified by the prospect of a lady doctor. It quickly dips into melodrama though, with illicit love, babies born out of wedlock, and deadly disease all complicating her life. It could be silly, but Francis is so sincere and as her nurse sidekick, Glenda Farrell keeps things zipping along when they could get maudlin. The film is particularly pre-code in the way the characters view Mary’s troubles with sympathy instead of scolding her for her sins, though it could be argued she is punished for her indiscretions.

My perspective of Dinner at Eight has changed dramatically over the years. Jean Harlow has been the one constant. As the fabulous-tacky nouveau riche Kitty Packard, she overshadows her illustrious cast mates, among them Billie Burke, Lionel Barrymore, John Barrymore, and the beloved Marie Dressler. Her crackling comic performance makes me constantly forget that this film is as much a drama as a comedy. 

Over the years, I’ve overcome the disorientation that comes from the intense busyness the film evokes and honed in on other performances, like the charming resignation of Dressler as a former stage star with financial troubles and the mix of bravado and impotence in John Barrymore’s fading matinee idol (he has a moment of brave vulnerability where he actually whimpers like a child). Burke is also a shallow, oblivious delight, devastated by the increasing disaster her dinner party is becoming while life and death struggles unfold around the bubble of self-involvement in which she exists. Her transition to a more aware, mature perspective is remarkably believable; she keeps the high pitch of her social climbing persona, while just beneath the surface a new decency emerges. MGM stars Lionel Barrymore, Wallace Beery, Edmund Lowe, Madge Evans, and Karen Morley are also on-board with their best performances.

Reportedly Harlow and Dressler became close on set and had discussed starring together in a comedy. What a shame the older comedian died in 1934 and that never came to pass.

Many thanks to Warner Archive for providing a copy of the film for review.

43rd Seattle International Film Festival: Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1920) at the Triple Door

Last night at the Triple Door I enjoyed my final archival screening of the 43rd Seattle International Film Festival: Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1920), starring John Barrymore and accompanied by the Austin, Texas-based combo The Invincible Czars.

The Barrymore films I tend to watch are from his ravaged years in the thirties, where he was still great, but not at his best, so whenever I get the opportunity to see him in his Don Juan, dashing prime, I often find myself surprised by how alive he was only a decade before. As Jekyll and Hyde he is lively and grotesque, full of mischievous energy and dangerous appetites. Like Orson Welles, you can tell how much he delights in transforming himself physically, glorying in his false nose, prosthetic fingers and horrifying skull dome, all things which could look ridiculous on a less adept performer.

This adaptation of the classic novel is not as explicitly racy as the pre-code take with Fredric March, but Barrymore makes his lascivious intentions quite clear. In some respect his Hyde's horrific behavior is not so far removed from that of Jekyll in his natural state; both are obsessed with their needs and oblivious to the damage they cause in pursuing them. It's just that one lays claim to morals and knows how to behave in high society.

It's an intense, efficiently paced film with a gut-churning forward momentum. Danger always seems imminent, giving you the feeling of trying to step on the brakes in order to relieve the unease. I think it is one of Barrymore's finest performances, because he was given the freedom to explore the extremes of these dual personalities and embrace the ugliness the actor always seemed to see within himself.

I've always believed that a silent movie score and those who perform it should not draw attention away from the film. For the most part I still feel like the music should be so intertwined with the film that you essentially forget that the musician(s) are there. However, I found myself feeling more flexible on the matter after watching this performance.

The Invincible Czars have created an unpredictable, engaging score and I enjoyed the spectacle of their performance as much as I appreciated the film. I was able to take in both, side-by-side, without feeling like I'd sacrificed much of the cinematic experience. Instead of accompaniment, it almost felt like an enhancement. I think in many cases, approaching music this way can be disrespectful to the film, but with the right title, tone and musicians, I now see how it can work.

Part of the appeal of the score was that it smoothly melded nostalgia with more modern sounds. Drifting, moody themes from composers like Satie and Debussy were woven into the band's own compositions, which focused on capturing the feel of the film in a visceral way. Manic laughter, hissing and repetitive vocalizing helped to draw out the horror on the screen.

It was an interesting experience, and a concept that could only succeed with a careful combination of elements, but it did here.

Check out my full SIFF 2017 coverage here.

On DVD: John Barrymore in a Pre-code Version of Moby Dick (1930)

"Call me Ishamael." Herman Melville's opening line to Moby Dick is one of the most famous first sentences in English literature, and yet, when a large volume of the book is opened to the first page in the credits of this pre-code take on the novel, there is no Ishamael in sight. The man himself never even makes an appearance.

Making its DVD debut from Warner Archive, Moby Dick (1930), starring John Barrymore and Joan Bennett is one of those adaptations that is better appreciated if you don't concern yourself too much with the source material. As a window into a classic literary work it flops. As a slick, efficient Warner Bros adventure and romance it's great entertainment.

It is more accurate to say that this version of Moby Dick is a remake of the silent The Sea Beast (1926), which also starred Barrymore and was very loosely based on the book as well. Both films keep a couple of Melville's characters, the whaling ship and Ahab's quest for vengeance, but little else. Instead of an exploration of class, social and religious issues, you get a romance, some comic sketches and a couple of action scenes.

The opening scenes introduce a playful, mischievous Ahab who has a way with the ladies. Unlike the novel, he has yet to lose his leg to Moby Dick. As he alights on the dock after a long sea journey, in a perfectly pre-code moment, the randy seaman asks a young woman her age. When she says she will be eighteen next Wednesday, he leers, "see you next Wednesday."

Ahab then proceeds to get drunk and steal his brother's girl, Faith (Bennett), who doesn't seem to have gotten the memo about being in a relationship in the first place. He wins her by drunkenly staggering into church and flirting with her as she plays a pump organ, the hymns blurring and spinning on the book page in front of him. Seemingly unconcerned by his alarming behavior, Faith promises to wait three years for his return from the sea so that they may be married. A certain whale puts the brakes on that romantic plan.

Moby Dick provides Barrymore with many excellent opportunities to be a ham, and while he takes full advantage, he also knows when to reign himself in. Particularly in his scenes with Bennett he becomes more reserved, indicating that he has finally found a woman with whom he doesn't need tricks. He finally feels that being himself is enough and he portrays that realization with subtlety.

It is the action that really makes this film pop though. A pair of exciting whaling scenes have great, scary effects, made all the more believable by the terror of Barrymore and his shipmates. While the whale has an undeniably rubber and paper-mâché look, it is still frightening to see it looming over Ahab and his mates. In another shocking moment you get the astonishing spectacle of The Great Profile plunging a harpoon into a whale's back, laughing maniacally while torrents of blood gush over him.

While the production speeds along with the typical efficiency of a Warner Bros pre-code, it has a pleasing visual flair. Scenes are filmed with an eye for detail, like a lovely low shot of the ladies' full skirts peeking out from the pews during the church scene, or an elegant overhead view of Ahab sliding down a rope from the top of a ship's mast. While director Lloyd Bacon was never known to be a great stylist, he would often grab small, interesting moments like these, a bit of flair that I have always thought to be unfairly overlooked in the non-musical parts of musicals he made with Busby Berkeley in particular.

The supporting cast is pleasing, though with few stand-outs. Bennett is sweet and determined, but a bit wooden as Ahab's beloved and Lloyd Hughes makes as little impression as he is meant to as the peg-legged captain's brother. Noble Johnson is given predictably moronic lines as the Polynesian shipmate Queequeg, which is disappointing, because he is a magnetic presence and could clearly have done much more with the role.

The DVD image is mostly clean and clear. There are some scratches, most of them minor, though there are brief moments when a swirl of scratches appear on the screen. This isn't a pristine copy, but highly watchable.

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: John Barrymore and Marian Marsh Reunite in The Mad Genius (1931)

In a new release from Warner Archive, Marian Marsh and John Barrymore follow up their partnership in Svengali (1931) with The Mad Genius (1931). This unusual drama is not quite as bizarre as the previous film, but is just as full of pre-code antics and Barrymore eccentricities.

Barrymore is Ivan Tsarakov, a crippled puppeteer living with the frustrated ambition to have a brilliant dance career as his mother did. One night he marvels at the graceful leaps of young Fedor Ivanoff as the boy tries to escape a beating from his brutal father (Boris Karloff in a brief part before Frankenstein made him famous). Tsarakov snatches the boy, who doesn't seem to mind the opportunity to escape, and leaves town. Later, in a long monologue about his desire to somehow live his passion for dance, he tells his work partner, "I will create my own being."

Fifteen years later Fedor (Donald Cook) is a successful dancer. He's been tutored carefully by Tsarakov, who molds him and controls his life as if the young man is a possession. This includes his love life, which the maestro encourages and stage manages just like his career, always with the goal that nothing get too serious.

Fedor does get serious though. He falls in love with dancer Nana Carlova (Marian Marsh). They are perfectly in sync with each other both on and off the stage. When Ivan realizes the extent of their devotion, he manipulates his drug-addicted dance director (for whom he provides his fixes) into firing Nana. Rather than separating the couple, the act drives them to leave the company. Fedor accepts lower-paying dance work so that he can live in unmarried bliss with Nana.

Barrymore is his typical pre-code self here: bizarre, lecherous and always a bit menacing. He leers at the young dancers in the troupe, always sitting a bit too close, with a hand on the shoulder to draw his object of lust a bit closer. Seemingly incapable of making a subtle gesture, he bugs his eyes and speaks in dramatic tones, overemphasizing his eastern European accent. He should be obnoxious, and frightening, but there's always something amusing about Barrymore, especially in this period. With his pointy beard and slippery ways, he's creepy, but always lively and amusing, partly because he seems so entertained by his work.

Donald Cook and Marian Marsh are not entirely convincing as lovers, but they are an attractive couple. I've never paid much attention to Cook, he's always come off as stiff and a bit dull in his many pre-code roles, but he has a little fire in him here and even some sex appeal. If he is still a bit bland, it suits the role of a boy who has been programmed by his caretaker, and never been allowed to live his own life. Marsh doesn't seem capable of being boring. She exudes a surreal brightness, accentuated by her unusual doll-like beauty, which always makes her seem otherworldly, like a fairy trying to decipher the mortal world.

A couple of wonderfully strange Avant garde dance performances serve as the backdrop for the trio's dramas. The costumes are meticulously structured, sci-fi nonsense, and absolutely beautiful, as is the feverishly performed choreography. As the action becomes increasingly intense, the bizarre stage sets provide a perfect feeling of menace and doom.

For most of its running time, The Mad Genius seems like a mildly familiar entertainment, but it leads up to a surprising moment of violence and chaos, becoming more horrific as it builds steam. It reveals madness far beyond the puppet master at its center.

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

He was almost unbearably handsome. In my first love scene with him…I was so overwhelmed, I froze.

-Colleen Moore, about John Barrymore

Quote Source, Image Source

Quote of the Week

Why is there so much month left at the end of the money?

-John Barrymore

Image Source

Quote of the Week

So many beautiful women and so little time.

-John Barrymore

Image Source

Quote of the Week

A man is not old until regrets take the place of dreams.

-John Barrymore

Image Source