Bogie Fights the Nazis

This week, we move to the period just before the start of World War II to discuss All Through the Night (1941), a very funny - and entertaining - film from Warner Brothers.  'Gloves' Donahue (Humphrey Bogart) is a promoter in New York City.  Every day, 'Gloves' goes to his favorite restaurant for Miller's cheesecake.  The restaurant is under orders to ONLY serve Miller's cheesecake.  On one particular day, Papa Miller (Ludwig Stossel) has not made his usual delivery.  Though Papa Miller assures 'Gloves' that all is well, later that day, - following a frantic phone call from his mother (Jane Darwell) - 'Gloves' discovers Papa Miller has been murdered.  'Gloves' - the prime suspect of the police - and his crew investigate the murder, and find not only the murderer, but a passel of Nazis who have infiltrated New York City.

This film has an amazing cast.  Humphrey Bogart demonstrates his flare for comedy as 'Gloves' (whose given name is Alfred!), and is supported by actors like Frank McHugh (as newlywed Barney), William Demarest (as right-hand man Sunshine), and Jackie Gleason (as Starchy).  His opposition is just as impressive.  Peter Lorre as Pepi, our slimy villain was of particular interest.  He is an actor who is always fascinating to watch; he is not a disappointment here.  The wonderful Conrad Veidt is featured as Hall Ebbing, the ultimate Nazi; and Judith Anderson appears as Ebbing's comrade - she is just as menacing as she was in Rebecca.  Add Kaaren Verne as love interest Leda Hamilton and Phil Silvers (as a waiter in the restaurant), and you have a powerhouse of actors.  It's really it is the acting that make this film so enjoyable.  It has a good script, but coming from the mouths of these folks, the dialogue shimmers.

The film was released on December 2nd, 1941 - just 5 days before the United States would enter World War II.   Many of the studios tried to avoid any mention of the difficulties in Europe.  Certainly, this was an economic issue (insulting the Nazi party would assure that the studio's films would not be shown in Germany).  But censorship was an issue as well.  The Hays office, which governed film standards under the Production Code, was very clear that films which "would arouse very bad feeling in Germany" were to be avoided (The New Yorker.  "Hitler in Hollywood").  However, Warner Brothers had other ideas.  As this article from the American Film Institute discusses, Warner Brothers release of Confessions of a Nazi Spy in 1939 (based on an FBI case in New York) was the first explicitly anti-Nazi film made in America. It was produced in the face of numerous domestic and international threats, and reversed the policy of the Hays office. 

This film follows in that anti-Nazi vein, and features three actors who had a vested interest in showing the dangers of the Nazi party.  Conrad Veidt, whose wife was a Jew, left Nazi Germany for the United Kingdom in 1933, relocating the U.S. around 1940.  Peter Lorre was in a similar situation.  Though lauded by Nazi Minister of Propaganda Joseph Goebbel for his work in the film M, Lorre and his wife (actress Celia Lovsky) fled to the United States in 1933.  Kaaren Verne left Germany in 1938, also to get away from the Nazis (Verne and Lorre would marry four years after this film, after divorcing their respective spouses).  Veidt, who donated huge sums of money to the British war effort, especially seemed to relish the chance to make the Nazis look bad.  He is a marvelous actor, and it is a shame that his death of a heart attack in 1943 precluded his return to meatier roles. 

The advertisements for the film make sure to emphasize that Bogart's 'Gloves' is a gangster.  Take a look at the poster above.  "The underworld's top trigger-guy..." That's 'Gloves'.  Except that the film clearly tries to make him less a gangster and more a businessman. Sure, he orders all the local restaurants to only purchase cheesecake from Papa Miller (a cheesecake protection racket!), and he has a gun.  But he is a nice guy who loves his mother.  The script really wants to de-emphasize the shadiness of 'Gloves' line of work, so that the film can have a happy ending (the Code would not allow a real gangster to survive the ending, no matter how noble he was).  But it's amusing that Warner Brothers is really trying to have their cheesecake and eat it too!

All Through the Night is obviously set in New York City.  But as natives, we were very amused by the film's geography.  The warehouse which 'Gloves' and crew go to investigate is on 733 E. 61st Street, which would be in the middle of the East River.  The art gallery is attached to it (around the corner, we are told), but later on we are told that the gallery is 3 blocks from 5th Avenue.  Huh?  If the warehouse is floating in the center of the East River, that's about 10 blocks from 5th Avenue. 

This film was yet another role that Bogart got because George Raft wasn't interested. (Raft also refused to do The Maltese Falcon and High Sierra).  Olivia de Havilland was at one point listed for the role of Leda.  This TCM article discusses how Gleason and Silver got into the film. Though no characters were in the original script for the actors, Jack Warner told Vincent Sherman to find them parts.  So he did!

We end our discussion for this week with a trailer featuring our remarkable character actors and our star:

Barbara's Love Nest Revisited

As promised, we again return to Illicit, which we've reviewed on two separate occasions (to read those, please visit my reviews from last November - when I saw it in a theatre - and in January of 2013.)  This time, we talked about the film in comparison to Ex-Lady, a remake of this 1931 film.

The plots are very similar; a young woman, deeply in love with a young man, disdains marriage, but is finally convinced to wed the man, and finds her prophesy of unhappiness is coming true.  In both films, we have past lovers who interfere with the marriage.  But there are substantial differences, and those changes mpact the remake.

Illicit makes quick reference to Anne Vincent (Stanwyck)'s reasons for disliking marriage - her parents were divorced.  The only other parental figure we meet is Dick's father, who is a good and kind man.  No spouse is ever mentioned for Mr. Ives, Sr.  As a result, Anne's reluctance to wed is rather unspecific.  Ex-Lady, however, gives us a clearer picture of Helen Bauer (Bette Davis)'s abhorrence to marriage.  In one brief scene, we are shown the horrible marital example Helen has lived with her entire life - her domineering father, and her passive, obviously abused, mother.  Given a graphic example of Helen's family relationship, it's little wonder she despises marriage.  Also, unlike Anne, Helen is extremely career-focused and has a marketable skill.  We have to assume that Anne is independently wealthy - we never actually see her doing anything. 

On the other hand, the reason for the couple's separation is much clearer in Illicit.  Dick and Anne are never with one another. They are always partying, and the intrusion of their exes is much more evident.  Another big factor is Dick's obvious lack of a career or of any kind of ambition (other than carousing).  In Ex-Lady, Don's jealousy of Helen's more successful career seems to starts the downward spiral (though Don was aware of her work ethic before their marriage). 

While Ex-Lady is 12 minutes shorter, there is more depth to the characters.  We never felt that we got enough screen time or development of Ricardo Cortez' Price in Illicit.   Monroe Owsley, however, gets much more of a chance to flesh out the "other man, " Nick, who he portrays as a total swine; he's oily and rather revolting.  When Ricardo Cortez plays the same character, you don't like him, but he's not quite as slimy, though he should be.

All in all, we love Stanwyck, we're not keen on Raymond, but Ex-Lady came out with a slightly higher thumbs up from the group.  That extra bit of character development, and the strengthening of the lead female role made the film a lot more appealing.  Here's a scene from Illicit. 

Bette's Love Nest

In our continuing search for interesting pre-code films, we found Ex-Lady (1933) starring Bette Davis.  Ex-Lady is a remake of Illicit (1931), starring Barbara Stanwyck, which we discussed last year.  That the two were related was a nice surprise (thanks, Robert Osborne for the information).

Helen Bauer (Bette Davis) is in love with Don Peterson (Don Peterson); their affair is quite open, much to the disgust of Helen's father (Alphonse Ethier), who effectively disowns her.  Though Helen is convinced that marriage destroys love, Don convinces her that their marriage will work.  However, as Helen's reputation as a  commercial illustrator grows, and Don begins to have problems within their business, the couple's relationship begins to strain.  The intrusion of Nick Malvyn (Monroe Owsley) and Iris Van Hugh (Claire Dodd), former lovers of the Helen and Don, put more pressure on an already threatened marriage.

Davis' Helen is bright and ambitious.  She works for a living, and is good at what she does. Helen doesn't want children, she enjoys working, and she enjoys her freedoms.  Davis imbues Helen with an independence the pervades every scene.  As discussed in this TCM article, this was Davis' first headlining role. She would make her big breakthrough a year later in The Petrified Forest. 

Early in the film, we get a telling image of Helen's youth - a cold, authoritarian father and a passive, downtrodden mother (Bodil Rosing).  With that one scene, we begin to understand Helen's aversion to marriage, and her determination to not become the passive target of male domination.  It's also interesting that the parents are clearly immigrants, setting up a comparison between the Old and New World morals.  It also floats in a negative picture of European culture, in an era of increasing American isolationism. 

In contrast to Helen, Gene Raymond's Don is not exactly the brightest bulb in the pack.   He doesn't seem to know how to run a business - he and Helen go on vacation, but he doesn't leave proper instructions for his staff, and ends up losing accounts.  Helen, on the other hand, who works with Don, gains business, making Don petulant and resentful. 

We are increasingly impressed with Monroe Owsley.  He again plays a total rotter; he makes the character of Nick oily and rather revolting.  And even though this is a relatively short film (67 minutes), he manages to flesh out the character quite a bit. We discussed him at some detail when we looked at Ten Cents a Dance, and refer you there for more information on the brief career of this interesting actor.

In a New York Times review, we were presented with very negative comments on Davis' lingerie (the costuming was by Orry-Kelly) but positive remarks on the film's screenplay.  We rather liked the costuming and sets (by Jack Okey), and refer you to the scene below for a quick glimpse into the film.  Next week, we'll take a comparison look at Illicit. 

Bette Elopes

After Geoffrey Sherwood (Ian Hunter) is jilted by Valentine French (Katharine Alexander), Geoff goes on a bender, and shows up, quite drunk, outside of the church where Valentine is marrying the wealthy John Marland (Colin Clive).  Two police officers are about to arrest Geoff when Miriam Brady (Bette Davis) steps in and hurries Geoff to a restaurant to cool down and sober up.  When Geoff's friends (Hugh Brown and Tony Hewlitt, played by John Eldredge and Phillip Reed) suggest that Miriam can perhaps stay with him and keep him away from the wedding festivities, she agrees to remain with for a few hours.  However, by evening's end, she has become somewhat tipsy and ends up married to Geoff.  Though Miriam is ready to get an immediate divorce, Geoff suggests that marriage might be good for the two of them, and they decide to give it a go.  But, as Geoff's new business begins to become successful, and Valentine gets bored with her husband, the marriage is threatened. 

Thus begins The Girl from 10th Avenue (1935).  This is a very tightly scripted piece.  There's not a lot of fluff, and with a running time of 69 minutes, the story moves quickly from one scene to another. It's an excellent cast, with Davis at her most appealing as the down-to-Earth Miriam.  A working girl in the best sense of the word, Miriam has lost her job sewing labels into clothing.  Her education is fairly limited, but she is happy to learn from her upper-crust husband.  Eager as she is to please Geoff, however, she never loses her moral compass.  In that sense, she is reminiscent of  Madalaine in recently discussed Child of Manhattan. Bette Davis is able to imbue her with a aura of capability and integrity that makes Miriam a strong and attractive character.

We were sorry not to have seen more of Colin Clive, who is wasted really in the role of John Marland.  He only gets a few scenes, and John is a fairly passive role; he is constantly manipulated by his wife, and seems uninterested in anything requires effort.  Regardless, we wanted to see more of him, and see the character better fleshed out.  Clive is probably best known today for his title role in Frankenstein (he was the Dr., NOT the monster!!), but he also played Rochester in the 1934 Jane Eyre and was in the cast of Clive of India, which was the story of one of his own ancestors (no, he didn't play the historical Clive).   Colin Clive started his career on the London stage, and was cast as a replacement for Laurence Olivier in Journey's End, a role he reprised in the film version (with director James Whale, who would later cast him in Frankenstein).  His career was short - he died in 1937, at age 37 from pneumonia, exacerbated by his severe alcoholism.  His wife did not come to the funeral.

The part of  Valentine is ably played by Katharine Alexander.  We've seen her before in the film In Name Only as Carole Lombard's sister, Laura, and as Claude Rains' favorite nurse in Now Voyager.  She gives Valentine a supercilious air, which is effective in playing up the differences in upbringing between her and Miriam.  It also makes her eminently unlikeable.  Thus, it's hard to envision why two men are so passionate about her.  She's cold, and cruel.  She's also no beauty (though she does have a phenomenal wardrobe).  Alexander had a interesting end to her career.  As film roles began to diminish, she went to London, where she appeared in the Paul Muni production of Death of a Salesman, playing Linda Loman.   Her reviews were outstanding, so Alexander decided to go out on a high note, and retired after  her success there. She died in 1981, at the age of 83, 

Finally, there is my personal favorite character in the film, Mrs. Martin, as played by the always wonderful Alison Skipworth (Mrs. Martin).  We are familiar with her from previously viewed films, such as Devotion and The Gorgeous Hussy.   In this film, she plays a former showgirl (who "almost" prevented the birth of Tony Hewlitt.  Seems his father proposed to her).  She owns the building in which Miriam has an apartment, and becomes a second-mother and tutor to the girl.  Though Mrs. Martin is, as we learn, quite sassy, she is tactful as she tries to instruct Miriam in correct grammar and behavior.  But when Marian finally confronts Valentine in a restaurant, it is Mrs. Martin that we watch.  Her enjoyment of the situation is very funny. 

We leave you with a reference to an excellent article from TCM, the film's trailer, and brief bit of trivia about the title.  Why is Miriam from 10th Avenue? Well, in 1935, the part of 10th Avenue on which she lived was called "Hell's Kitchen", and was best known for the its poor, working-class - and tough - inhabitants.  

Bob Sings to the Kids

I'm afraid we are at week two of disappointing movies.  Meet Miss Bobby Socks (1944) stars Bob Crosby as Don Collins, a soldier just recently released from service (we are not told why. Given that the war is still raging, he must have been hurt in some way that prevented his return to the front.  He shows no evidence of wounds, however, nor does he inform us of any injuries).  While overseas, he's been receiving letters from a young woman, and he goes to visit her.  He believes his pen pal is Helen Tyler (Lynn Merrick), but is stunned to discover that it is, in fact, Lynn's 15 year-old sister Susie (Louise Erickson) who is the correspondent.  Susie, of course, immediately falls in crush with Don; Don is more interested in Helen.  Helen is not impressed with Don, who begins his conversation by insulting teachers.  Of course, Helen is a teacher.

The film is primarily an excuse to highlight some musical numbers; the plot merely a device to keep us engaged between numbers.  The problem is, the acting isn't great, and the musical numbers are odd.  Let's start with Bob Crosby.  He's no actor, and his claim to fame is that he is Bing's little brother.  Bob spent his career as a band leader - though he was chosen by the band (an offshoot of the Ben Pollack Orchestra) mainly because of the Crosby name.  His singing style is imitative of Bing, but without the elan that made the elder Mr. Crosby a household name. 

The film ends with two numbers that feel inserted, and are very bizarre. The first is by Louis Jordan and His Tympany Five.  Jordan is an influential musician - whose musical stylings inspired James Brown, Chuck Berry and Little Richard.  Jordan, who often called "The Grandfather of Rock and Roll", has been inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.  Below is a clip from this film; we found the number rather off-putting, but perhaps our readers have a different opinion?

Also included was an Asian trio (the group also performed as a quartet) called the Kim Loo Sisters.  Three of the girls toured with USO in the European Theatre of Operations during WWII, so they would have been familiar to the GIs - the probable target audience for Meet Miss Bobby Socks.  As with the Louis Jordan number, it's obvious that the number was filmed outside of this film, and inserted into the action.

The sad thing is that the one good actor in this film - Lynn Merrick - is given very little screen time.  We spend much more time with Susie, who looks much more than 15, and is obnoxious.  Actress Louise Erickson made only three films (and one short). Then retired to be the wife of Ben Gazzara.  It would be nice if we could say this was a lose to film history. But if this film is any example, it wasn't.

There are several character people, including John Hamilton (R. N. Swanson), who are given no screen credit at all (despite having several scenes in the film.  Too bad, as he is a much better actor than the lead.

We close with the musical number featuring Louis Jordan and His Tympany Five:

 

Dorothy Marries a Doctor

Mother Didn't Tell Me (1950) is the story of Jane Morgan (Dorothy McGuire), a successful radio jingle writer, who catches a cold and goes to the doctor.  One look at Dr. William Wright (William Lundigan) and Jane is hooked.  In short order, she and Bill have become engaged, much to the disgust of her new mother-in-law (Jessie Royce Landis).  Mrs. Wright, it seems, wants Bill to marry a former coworker, Helen Porter (Joyce MacKenzie) who is currently in medical school.  Helen will understand the obligations of being a doctor's wife - something that Mrs. Wright feels that Jane will never comprehend.  Jane, of course, is madly in love, and she and Bill rush headlong to the altar.  And then they begin to discover the many problems inherent in marriage, especially when one partner has an all-consuming career.

Having just finished an online course with Dr. Jeanine Basinger on the history of marriage in the movies, it was interesting to come across another marriage film, for this surely is a film about marriage, albeit marriage to a doctor.  We have many of the issues of conflict - money, in-laws, children, jealousy - that were discussed in the class.  But here, the jealousy is not limited to that of one spouse to another person.  In this film, the jealousy extends to the the spouse's job, which constantly pulls him from the family unit.  This is also a film about "marrying in haste and repenting at leisure".  For, while Mrs. Wright's attempted sabotage of the marriage is wrong, her fear that the couple are rushing into a lifetime commitment is on target.  This pair have no knowledge of one another, and yet wed regardless.

Once married, Jane does have good reason to be frustrated.  Bill is an absolute bonehead.  He buys a house, sight unseen, only to discover that it is an empty shambles (when he expected a fully-furnished paradise).  He never told Jane they had to move, never talked to her about the house, and spent every last dime he had to buy it.  When Jane isn't feeling well, and goes to a colleague of Bill's for some tests, Bill forgets to tell her that she is pregnant.  How this man is able to run a medical practice is beyond us.

It's not just men who get this fuzzy end of this lollipop - the women get it in spades as well.  We have Mrs. Wright and her cadre of medical wives and widows, who are a bunch of gossiping fishwives and meddlers.  We have Dr. Helen Porter, who went to medical school to get, not her MD, but her Mrs.  And we have Jane, who is supposed to have a brain in her head, but rarely acts like it.  Women are shown as totally incompetent.  Though Jane is good at her job, the minute she marries, she becomes a housewife for a man that is never home.  A sign of the times, perhaps - it seems as though this film is part of the post-war backlash against working women.

Since the film has a cute beginning, it's a big disappointment when it falls apart. Dorothy McGuire is always an engaging actress, but her Jane is eventually just annoying. And William Lundigan is far worse as Bill. He brings vagueness to a new level, and makes you want to avoid ANY doctor, not just him.

Lundigan and McGuire are not only members of the cast being misused. Leif Erickson as psychiatrist Dr. Bruce Gordon is downright insulting to the medical profession in general and psychiatry in particular. We remember Erickson not only from his many supporting film roles, but also as the imposing patriarch in the TV western The High Chaparral. In this film, you are relieved when he is gone from the screen. It doesn't help that the scenes with him serve no useful purpose; they are stupid, and not the least bit amusing. 

June Havoc's Maggie Roberts is the only sympathetic woman in the bunch, Jane's sole friend (didn't Jane have friends BEFORE she married?).  Maggie has come to terms with being a doctor's wife, but she understands the problems that are facing Jane; she lives with them every day.  Havoc, of course, was better known as "Baby June" of Gypsy fame and the sister of Gypsy Rose Lee.  However, Havoc was a notable actress in her own right.  After leaving vaudeville, Havoc appeared on Broadway (Pal Joey and Mexican Hayride, as well as playing Miss Hannigan in Annie), in films (My Sister Eileen and Gentlemen's Agreement) and on television (General Hospital).  She was nominated for a Tony Award for the direction of Marathon '33, which she also wrote, and was inducted into the American Theatre Hall of Fame.  She died at age 97, in 2010.

Also wasted is Gary Merrill whose major role is to find out that Jane is pregnant (and not even get to tell her about it).  Merrill would play a doctor again in The Girl in White.  He had much more to do in the later picture.

By the end of this film, you just want it to be over.  It was a good premise, but one that is badly overdone.  This New York Times review sums it up very nicely.  All in all, this is not a film to watch if you are a fan of Dorothy McGuire (which we are).  Try The Spiral Staircase or The Enchanted Cottage instead.

New Yorker Nancy

We've not had a lot of opportunities to view the films of Nancy Carroll, but when we've gotten the chance to see her, we are always surprised and delighted by this wonderful, virtually unknown actress.  We had previously encountered her in an early Cary Grant film, Hot Saturday.   This week, we viewed Child of Manhattan (1933), which stars Nancy as Madalaine McGonagle, a dance-hall girl who meets the hall's landlord, widower Paul Otto Vanderkill (John Boles) when he drops by the club to check out his property.  Paul is enchanted by this little native New Yorker (she's got a fairly thick Manhattan accent), and within a short time, he has asked her to become his mistress (he doesn't want his family to know about their relationship).  She agrees, and is immediately rejected by her mother and brother (both of whom were QUITE willing to accept Paul's beneficence when the relationship was not so open).  In short order, Madalaine discovers that she is pregnant, and Paul agrees to marry her.  But when the child dies shortly after birth, Madalaine is consumed with guilt. 

Nancy Carroll had a long career - she began as a stage actress, going over to films in 1927 (she did appear on Broadway in the 1930s, at the height of her popularity).  Among her notable film appearances was in Abie's Irish Rose, with Charles "Buddy" Rogers as her Abie.  Her last film role was in 1938.  She retired for awhile, but eventually transitioned to television for a few roles in the 1950s and early 60s.  She also returned to the stage, and died at age 60 while performing in a play.  She is adorable in this film - you like her Madalaine immediately, as Carroll has the ability to project innocence and goodness, even as she portrays a character who is NOT conforming to society's norms.

Another actor who is not as well known today as he should be is John Boles.   We've discussed him before in our commentary on Craig's Wife, and he is best remembered for his role opposite Barbara Stanwyck, as her husband Stephen in Stella Dallas.  Like Carroll, Boles started in silents, where he worked with actresses such as Gloria Swanson.  It's hard to imagine him not talking, though, his voice is so mellifluous.  His pre and post film career is also very interesting.  He worked as a spy during the WWI; by 1943, he left films and went to back to work as a stage actor (He was in the original Broadway cast of the musical One Touch of Venus with Mary Martin).  He also went into the oil business.  He and his wife were married for 52 years, until his death in 1969. Coincidentally, the Flick Chick just did a wonderful commentary on John Boles, which we recommend to you.  His portrayal of Paul gives a sympathetic and likeable character.  Even when he asks Madalaine to live with him out-of-wedlock, it's hard to dislike him, as he always seems to care deeply for her.

There are some other performers in the film who deserve mention.  First is Jane Darwell as Madalaine's mother.  With her Irish accent, Mrs. McGonagle at first seems caring (though her willingness for Madalaine to accept a $1,000 gift from Paul is a bit suspect). Ultimately, though, Mrs. McGonagle disowns her daughter for openly consorting with Paul. But what we remember about her is that Mrs. McGonagle and son Buddy are interested only in the money that Madalaine provides to the house, not in protecting her.  By going under Paul's protection, Madalaine leaves the house, and her income leaves with her.   

If you blink, you will miss Betty Grable appearing as Madalaine's sister, Lucy. It's certainly not her first movie role, but it will be awhile before Grable becomes the superstar she would become.  Buck Jones, however, as Panama Kelley, was a well-known western star of the silent era.  At this point, he was attempting to recreate his career, and would go on to some success as a western star in the talkies.  His Panama is a noble man, who deeply loves Madalaine and only wants the best for her.  Sure, he's a bit common, but he is decent.  Jones manages to make him engaging with very little screen time.  Jones would die in 1942 after being burned in a horrific fire at the Coconut Grove hotel.  Stories vary, but one says that his death was the result of his repeated efforts to rescue people trapped in the hotel. Is it true? We'll probably never know, but one would like for him to have this epitaph.

Interestingly, the 1932 Broadway play on which this film is based was written by the always wonderful Preston Sturges.  Neil Hamilton was originally cast as Paul, but two weeks into filming, Boles replaced him.  The reason for the switch is not evident.  

Both Carroll and Boles are costumed exquisitely by Robert Kalloch in this delightful little film. We recommend it highly!

George's Wives

The silence on our end was occasioned by a number of activities involving your humble scribe - one of which was her recent marriage.  Now that we are back to our normal routine, we begin with a 1936 film.  Snowed Under stars George Brent as playwright Alan Tanner, Genevieve Tobin as his first ex-wife Alice Merrit, and Glenda Farrell as SECOND ex-wife Daisy Lowell, all trapped in the mountains after a snowstorm.

Alan Tanner is a successful playwright, however his latest play is proving to be a difficult nut to crack - he can't seem to get the third act written.  He's retreated to a mountain cabin to write.  His publisher is not convinced that Alan can complete the play, so he asks ex-wife Alice to go up and visit Alan, and possibly help him with the writing.  She arrives to find Alan under siege from his would-be next wife (Patricia Ellis as Pat Quinn), Daisy, Sheriff Orlando Rowe (Frank McHugh), and Daisy's lawyer McBride (John Eldredge) - the latter two enlisted by Daisy to collect back alimony.  Thus, a quiet weekend devolves into a loud, frantic mess.

Quite frankly, this is a fairly stupid film.  Sure, it's a farce, with lots of running around and slamming doors and yelling.  While you want it to be a film version of the famous play Noises Off, what you get instead is a not-very-witty hodgepodge of romance and mayhem.

There are so many good actors here, you would think they could pull something out of their hat to rescue this mess, but they can't.  George Brent is given very little character to work with.  Mostly, he is passive, with his various women throwing things at him. Genevieve Tobin has a little more to work with, and as a result is more enjoyable.  But when  you get to such usually fantastic actors as Frank McHugh and Glenda Farrell, one throws up one's hands in frustration.  McHugh is downright annoying as Orlando, and Farrell is WAY too  over-the-top as Daisy.  You can't wait for the scenes with them to be over.  It's rather hard to understand why Alan married Daisy (just as it is equally hard to understand his attraction to Pat).  While both are attractive in their own way, they are equally hard on the nerves - a quality that is already visible in Pat.  And Daisy's crudeness is clearly not of recent vintage.

Both Ellis and Tobin retired shortly after the release of Snowed Under - Tobin to marry William Keighley; Ellis to wed a Kansas City businessman.  Both women had over 40 films credits when they left the industry, but neither had been able to rise to leading lady status.  This TCM article provides some history for the film, as well as some information on the critical reception.

We end with a trailer which will give you a quick overview of the film.  Next time, we turn back to the Pre-code era for a Nancy Carroll film.

Jean Moves to the City

Three Wise Girls (1932) stars Jean Harlow as Cassie Barnes, a small-town beauty who is sick of being badly paid in a local soda fountain so her boss can paw her.  Encouraged by the success of a another young woman from town, Cassie moves to New York City, where she finds more of the same kinds of bosses.  One day, she finally decks the latest sexually abusive boss, gets fired, but manages to get her pending pay with the help of Jerry Wilson (Walter Byron), a visitor to the shop.  Cassie's life turns around when her inspiration for her move, Gladys Kane (Mae Clark) helps her get a job as a model.  Cassie begins to date Jerry, not knowing that Jerry is a married man, and that her life is taking the same sad path as that of Gladys - in love with a man who can provide nothing but a fancy apartment. 

The film is very reminiscent  of the previously discussed Our Blushing Brides, which starred Joan Crawford as a woman facing challenges similar to those of Cassie. Harlow is quite good in her first starring role as a young woman with drive, but with scruples.  Our introduction to her, as Cassie walks home after her date attempts to go too far, gives us an immediate insight into her character.  We were also very amused at the scene in which she tries to get a job as a model.  Her idea of how a model would walk is a hoot.

Marie Prevost is wonderful as Dot, Cassie's roommate.  Dot is content to find happiness with an ordinary man and to live within her budget.  Prevost's turn of phrase is always amusing, and she makes a good counterpoint to the more ambitious Cassie. It's a shame that Marie Prevost didn't have a more substantial career in the sound era.  Though active in silent films (she made a total 121 silent films); her career never really seems to have taken off in talkies.  After 1933, offers began to peter off, and she found herself unable to get roles.   She died in 1937, at age 38, the result of alcoholism and malnutrition.  Interestingly, her sad life was one of the motivating factors for the creation of the Motion Picture & Television Country House and Hospital.

We also enjoyed  Walter Byron as Jerry.  He too started in the silent era, most notably in Queen Kelly, starring Gloria Swanson in the title role.  Byron had a fairly busy career in the 1930s, but by the end of that decade, he was appearing primarily in uncredited roles.  So, in 1942, he retired.  He died in 1972 at age 72.

It was enjoyable to see Andy Devine in a small role as Callahan, Jerry's chauffeur and Dot's love interest. And the lovely Mae Clark as Gladys was very good.  One forgets that Mae did a lot more than get a grapefruit shoved in her face.  She worked widely in the 1930s, in such films as Frankenstein (as Elizabeth), the 1931 Waterloo Bridge (as Myrna), and Penthouse.  Later in her career, she worked in supporting roles and in television until 1970.  She died in 1992 at age 81.

Though the film was not as well received as the studio would have liked, as this TCM article points out, Harlow hit a popular note, and a star was born. 

Jean is Jealous of Loretta

Though Loretta Young (as Gallagher, the young reporter with no first name) is listed as the star of Platinum Blonde (1931), it's Jean Harlow as socialite Ann Schuyler who steals the film.  When reporter Stew Smith (Robert Williams) visits the Schuyler home to determine the validity of rumors about Ann's brother Michael, Stew is instantly smitten by the lovely Ann.  She is less impressed, but when Stew is able to retrieve (and return to the family) some incriminating letters written by Michael, Ann discovers that Stew is appealing indeed.  Their elopement is an anathema to her family, but Ann is determined to have Stew fit into HER world, whether Stew likes it or not.

This is a very enjoyable film, with good performances by Jean Harlow and Robert Williams.  As we mentioned, Young's name is above the title, but she doesn't stand a chance once Harlow shows up.  Harlow's Ann is quite appealing, perhaps because she doesn't seem as upper class and snooty as the rest of the Schuyler family.  This TCM Article discusses the problems Harlow had with sounding "sophisticated."  She especially had some difficulties with the word "library".  While director Frank Capra must have despaired at getting her to sound right, in the long run, it works in her favor.  We want to like them as a the couple, despite the fact that Ann is doing all she can to make her young husband into an upper-class twit.

That this is a pre-code film is readily apparent by the relationship between Stew and Ann. It's really one of lust more than of love.   Though Stew is clearly his own man, Ann is determined to tame him, and make him an appendage to her lifestyle.  She has no clear understanding of his career goals (he wants to write a play, for one thing) and would be quite satisfied if he stayed home and played at being a society husband.

Louise Closser Hale, a character actress we've admired before, is terrific as Ann's horror of a mother.  Mrs. Schuyler couldn't be a bigger snob, and her disregard for anyone not in her social circle makes her unlikeable AND humorous.  Her "consort" of sorts is Reginald Owen as lawyer Grayson.  Grayson does all of Mrs. Schuyler's dirty work, and enjoys every minute of it.  The character provides someone at whom Stew can direct his animosity, and Owen does an admirable job of keeping the character distasteful.  Also well worth watching is Halliwell Hobbes as Smythe, the butler.  We would expect this character (really, the only one in the house with any class) to be the worst snob, but Hobbes gives us a likeable fellow who really is open to all classes.  The party scene in which he interacts with Stew's friends is a riot.

Robert Williams, who played Stew, is also delightful.  This, unfortunately, was his last film. He died at the age of 37, the result of peritonitis from a ruptured appendix.  He had only made 7 films - two shorts and 5 full-length films (one a silent).  We've actually reviewed two of his talkies: Devotion and The Common Law.  This film demonstrates his breezy style and screen presence. 

Though Ann is the one with most of the good clothing, our Loretta gets one smashing evening dress that takes your breath away.  It's amusing that Stew specifically asks HOW she got a dress like that (on a reporter's salary).  We wondered the same thing.  The name of the costumer is not provided, but this dress proves his/her talents.

Interestingly, the film was originally called "Gallagher" after Young's character, but was changed to demonstrate the power Harlow had in the film.  Directed by Capra and written in part by Robert Riskin, it provides an early example of their collaborative genius.

As we mentioned before, one scene that particularly stuck with us was the singing argument between Ann and Stew.  As referenced in the TCM article above, it does seem almost improvised. It also appears that Harlow and Williams are having quite a good time: