On Blu-ray: Golddiggers of 1933 (1933)

 

Golddiggers of 1933 is a triumph of cheerfulness and cynicism. Take that opening number, unfolding in the middle of the Depression. A chorus of glamorous showgirls garbed in golden coins, led by the upbeat and impeccable Ginger Rogers, sings about wealth and prosperity moments before their costumes are repossessed for non-payment. They will go home to steal milk from their neighbors, crammed together three to a room. It’s a number that dares to dazzle before quickly cutting to a shot of a producer played by Ned Sparks, chomping a cigar, unimpressed and sour-faced. It lathers on the cheer, but all the while it pokes at the worries of the time, a magnificent feat of escapism and realism combined. 

I was giddy to watch the film again on a new Warner Archive Blu-ray. It certainly looked a lot better than the version I taped off public television as a kid and played to shreds. There’s something special about the films you’ve watched so much that you know every line, glance, and musical cue. 

Golddiggers of 1933 possessed the best Warner Bros. had to offer: direction by Mervyn LeRoy, dance direction by Busby Berkeley, and a cast of the studio’s best players, including stars like Dick Powell, Joan Blondell, and Warren William and beloved character actors Guy Kibbee and Ned Sparks. 

The film’s airy approach to the most dismal topics is remarkable. Starving chorus girls Aline MacMahon, Ruby Keeler, and Blondell lament their hunger and the poverty that has forced them to pawn their clothes and valuables. They also warn each other about handsy show producers, but always with a sarcastic smile and snappy delivery. Men with power like William and Kibbee try to control their world, but the steel beneath these cheery women always comes through, and they find themselves footing the bills for expensive hats and nightclub dinners. 

Every other line tells you this is a pre-code movie and that racy vibe extends to the jaw-dropping Pettin’ in the Park number, which is horny even for the era. Pre-teen Billy Barty is dressed as a baby, rolling around on skates ogling scantily-clad show girls, they pretend to disrobe and shower behind a diaphanous curtain, and the final joke is a baby offering a can opener to a frustrated boyfriend who can’t handle his lady’s metal garb. Describing it all makes it even more astounding that it ever made it to the screen. 

In the end Golddiggers of 1933 triumphs because while it faces reality, it also asks you to believe in millionaire songwriters with open checkbooks, stage productions that hire all your friends, and Broadway shows with a multitude of close-ups that no one in an audience could ever see. It closes with a devastating number about the plight of World War I's Forgotten Man and it somehow leaves you exhilarated. It looks at reality and gives you pure fantasy. 

Among the many special features on the disc from previous DVD releases, there’s an especially interesting newsreel about the 42nd Street Special, a train which crossed the USA packed with film stars promoting Warner Bros. Bette Davis was on that train (and is in the reel); in an interview years later, she recalled that the train was not always well received, because wealthy film stars were the last thing a lot of struggling Americans wanted to see at the time.

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

On Blu-ray: Vivien Leigh and Robert Taylor in Waterloo Bridge (1940)

 

Vivien Leigh made so few films that every opportunity to see her is a great pleasure. She achieved one of her best screen performances in Waterloo Bridge (1940). I recently watched the World War I-set romantic tragedy on a new Blu-ray release from Warner Archive. 

Adapted from a Robert E. Sherwood play based on his own experiences, this version of the story followed a more gritty take from the pre-code era directed by James Whale and starring Mae Clarke, and preceded the less faithful color adaptation Gaby from 1956 starring Leslie Caron. Director Mervyn LeRoy’s slick, but emotionally wrenching 1940 adaptation benefits from its sympathetic leads and solid supporting performances by reliable character actors including Maria Ouspenskaya and C. Aubrey Smith. It is perfectly engineered studio filmmaking, but Leigh’s performance gives it guts. 

Leigh plays Myra Lester, a young ballet dancer in wartime London who struggles to adhere to her dance mistress’ (Ouspenskaya) strict rules. She meets army colonel Roy Cronin on Waterloo Bridge and quickly bonds with him as the pair shelter together during an air raid. Their courtship advances speedily to engagement, but then Roy is abruptly called to battle, so they cannot be married. Myra loses her job and can’t find more work in war ravaged London. 

When Myra receives a mistaken notice that Roy has died in battle, she wearily turns to prostitution to make ends meet. She eventually finds Roy has actually been a POW, and is both elated and devastated to be reunited with him. For a time she continues their relationship, but she fears for his reputation if her secret is discovered. 

One of the best things about Waterloo Bridge is the way the leads subvert the norms of this kind of story. Vivien Leigh’s Myra could have easily slipped into weepy melodramatic mannerisms, but she remains grounded, mostly due to her steady intensity, but also because instead of becoming sentimental, she always stays firmly in the reality of her predicament. Taylor’s character is written to be more compassionate than men typically are towards a woman in Myra’s situation, and he enhances that kindness with a sort of wonder in the magnificence of this woman he loves. For this reason, their connection feels real in a film where the plot tosses them around with brutal efficiency. 

It is ultimately a story of how easily those who are marginalized can be destroyed. Myra and Roy can’t be married because of a law about when marriages can be performed, and it seals her fate. Myra nearly starves because she has no family or husband to protect her and there are few opportunities for young women to find steady employment in wartime London. When Myra meets Roy’s mother, the wealthy older woman has no understanding of her vulnerability, she takes her existential distress as a personal insult. Likewise, Roy fails to see the struggles a woman like Myra must endure simply to survive; he has only known luxury and the privilege of being a man. As a result, an innocent woman is devoured by a society that fails to support her. 

While it all sounds unbearably bleak, the couple's relationship is charming, Leigh is mesmerizing, and it is a beautifully filmed production. It breaks your heart, but with great elegance. 

Special features on the disc include a trailer for the film and a radio production of the drama starring Norma Shearer in the role of Myra.

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

On Blu-ray: The Magnificent Esther Williams and Victor Mature in Million Dollar Mermaid (1952)

Before I saw Million Dollar Mermaid (1952) for the first time, I read the passage in Esther William’s juicy memoir about the hot after hours affair she had with co-star Victor Mature. For that reason, this film has always been extra spicy for me. I’ll never know how much of my enjoyment watching it has to do with me looking for sparks between those two.

It is a magnificent production though. This was a decade in which MGM reliably crafted boldly-colored, extravagant spectacles meticulously crafted to absorb the masses. While Esther Williams was hired for her abilities as a swimmer and performer in water extravaganzas, she was more than a pretty duck in a bathing cap. She didn’t have designs on being a great actress, but the camera loved her and she had charisma.

My favorite Williams flicks are the fluffiest: like Neptune’s Daughter (1949) and Dangerous When Wet (1953), where she flirts a bit on land, there’s a few musical numbers, and then she does her thing in the water. Million Dollar Mermaid is more ambitious than that; it’s a biopic of Williams’ sister in the water, Australian swimmer and vaudeville star Annette Kellerman. Of course it’s the glossy, MGM take on biography, with a light rendering of the contours of reality shined up with big romance and pretty production numbers.

While it doesn’t go down quite as easily as William’s lighter films, Million Dollar Mermaid works. It contains some of her most magnificently outrageous production numbers, designed with surreal flair by Busby Berkeley. The swimming star had great chemistry with Mature, and Walter Pidgeon is pleasantly avuncular as her father, so the rest of the film flows along nicely, but the unique magic of Williams in the water is timelessly fascinating and is what makes the film a must-see.

As far as Williams was concerned, this was her best work. There are photos of Kellerman visiting the set, posed happily with the star, so I am guessing she approved.

There's a a brief bio of Annette Kellerman and few clips from her films here in a post I wrote several years ago.


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