YOU’RE A SWEETHEART. Universal, 1937. Alice Faye, George Murphy, Ken Murray, Andy Devine, Charles Winninger, William Gargan, Frank Jenks, Donald Meek. Music director: Charles Previn; dances staged by Carl Randall. Director: David Butler. Shown at Cinefest 28, Syracuse NY, March 2008.

   Don King (Ken Murray), a bumptious promoter, hires waiter Hal Adams (George Murphy), to pass as an Oklahoma millionaire and drum up support for his Broadway show starring Betty Bradley (Alice Faye).

   Betty is unaware of the deception and falls in love with Hal who may be working as a waiter, but is a terrific song and dance man.

   The plan to keep the show afloat goes off track, but if you don’t think there’s going to be a happy ending, you should swear off musicals. Faye and Murphy are splendid co-stars, and the cast of talented supporting actors provides sterling support.

   Both Faye (at Fox) and Murphy (at MGM) will appear in bigger budgeted films, with more illustrious casts, but they’re just fine in this ingratiating musical comedy.

THE GOOSE AND THE GANDER. Warner Brothers, 1935. Kay Francis, George Brent, Genevieve Tobin, John Eldredge, Claire Dodd, Ralph Forbes, Helen Lowell. Director: Alfred E. Green.

   If I were still keeping up the pretense that this blog covers crime films only, I could get away with covering this short but very funny screwball comedy because, in fact, there is a crime involved. But I gave up that particular restriction or limitation some time ago, as regulars visitors to this blog have long ago realized, right along with me.

   So forget about the crime for a minute – I’ll get back to it – and let me tell you instead that this is a very funny screwball comedy. Maybe it came along too early to be officially classified as the latter, but it is very funny, so it’s a comedy, and once I tell you about the story line, you will be awfully hard pressed to not call it one of the screwball variety.

   It’s rather complicated, the story line, that is, but I’ll give it my best shot. Georgiana Summers (Kay Francis) is divorced from Ralph Summers (Ralph Forbes), who was stolen from her by the new Mrs. Summers (Genevieve Tobin), whom she (the first Mrs. Summers) overhears making plans for a weekend getaway with Bob McNear (George Brent). Hoping to embarrass the pair, especially the new Mrs. Summers, she makes plans to trap them in her home (thanks to a phony gag about a smallpox quarantine) and (setting it up even further) having her ex find them there.

   Foiling her plans, however, are the two crooks alluded to earlier in this report, the Thurstons (John Eldredge and Claire Dodd) a married couple who are also jewel thieves and who get trapped in the same snare at Georgiana’s home that she set for the cheating pair she intended it for.

   I am perhaps not telling this funnily enough. Trust me on this, but maybe you have to be there, too. There is some serious explaining to do on the part of everyone involved to keep all of their secrets from each other, each one trying to outdo the other, with lots of squirming and wriggling going on as they do so, especially when the local police yokels come calling. Making matters worse, Georgina and Bob McNear (George Brent, as you may recall) find themselves attracted to each other.

   Two additional points. There is more than a hint of the risque in the events that unfold in this film, with infidelity one of the major points of the plot. Other reviewers have noted this too, even going so far as to suggest that the story line was written before the Code came in under full enforcement, only to have it tamed down a little, or perhaps even a lot. They may be right.

   Secondly, depression era movie audiences must have loved seeing how the rich folks lived, and they must have loved it even more when these very same rich folks made fools of themselves.

   Which they do several times over in The Goose and the Gander, and the result is very funny, as I may have mentioned before. I laughed out loud several times, and I almost never do that, especially when I am watching a movie alone, as happened to me this time.

   If you’re a Kay Francis fan, she’s in fine form in this one, and you shouldn’t miss it. If you don’t know who Kay Francis is, then The Goose and the Gander is a fine one to begin with.

THE SINGING FOOL. Warner Brothers, 1928. Al Jolson, Betty Bronson, Josephine Dunn, Arthur Housman, Reed Howes, Davey Lee. Director: Lloyd Bacon. Shown at Cinefest 28, Syracuse NY, March 2008.

   This enormous success (and Jolson’s second partially-talking film) is said to have been the biggest box-office grosser until Gone with the Wind, with a worldwide take of almost six million dollars.

   The song “Sonny Boy,” written by Jolson’s character for his son, was one of the performer’s major hits and there’s no gainsaying the fact that the song is tremendously effective in the film.

   Jolson’s over-the-top performance is a bit hard to take, with a sentimental plot (Jolson marries a gold-digger instead of the true-blue girl who loves him, and when his wife leaves him, taking their son with her, he falls apart) that has him on-screen for a recorded 106 minutes that somebody took the time to clock.

   That’s a lot of anybody and for such an over-the-top performer as Jolson, too much for one sitting. Or even two or three.

NOTHING BUT THE TRUTH. Paramount Pictures, 1941. Bob Hope, Paulette Goddard, Edward Arnold, Leif Erickson, Helen Vinson, Willie Best. Director: Elliott Nugent.

   A funny movie needs a funny premise, I’d have to say and I hope you agree, but is a funny premise enough to make a funny movie?

   Bob Hope, playing Steve Bennett, a new partner in an investment firm, is inveigled into making a $10,000 wager that he can tell the truth, and nothing but the truth, for the next 24 hours. The rest of the movie, given this rather belabored but still promising beginning, is unfortunately about as predictable as (in general) the rest of movies come.

   The three men who are betting against Bob are not above low and mean-minded activities to protect their wager, as you might expect. On the other hand, the money Bob is putting up is not really his to bet, but that of Gwen Saunders (Paulette Goddard), or really the charity she is desperately trying to raise $40,000 for — and you can see how desperate she is, giving the money to someone like Bob Hope with a request to “double it for her overnight.”

   As if this were not enough, a showgirl trying to raise money for her Broadway-bound play is also involved. And of course Bob and Paulette Goddard fall in love, even though she already has a strapping young boy friend, one of the idle rich, and one of the guys who made the bet with Bob.

   But need I tell you more? I’ve already called the plot predictable, and from here on, you’re on your own. What kind of idiot situations could you think of? Most of them (I’ll wager) will be in here.

   Is the movie funny? Bob Hope made me laugh, but between you and me, nobody else did, with the possible exception of Willie Best, who plays Bob’s personal valet in what’s really a rather demeaning role. (You could say that at least it was a role, which all too few blacks had in movies made in 1941, but it is highly unlikely that roles such as this did anything to improve the lives of blacks in this country.)

   Paulette Goddard, however, is bright and spritely and sparkling in this movie, and if somebody can tell me why her career went downhill after this, and not onward and upward, I’d surely appreciate learning about it.

[UPDATE] 11-05-10.   This movie was recently released on DVD in a box set called Bob Hope’s “Thanks for the Memories Collection,” and I’ve just put it into my Amazon shopping cart.

   Arguing with myself on the merits of an old film I saw (and taped) on TV this many years ago is probably futile, but I have a feeling that if I watched again, I might enjoy it a lot more than I did this first time around. Comedy and humor are funny things (and you can quote me on that).

   As for Paulette Goddard, I didn’t have the luxury of the Internet to help me out when I first wrote this review. Even so, while pointing out that she was nominated for Best Actress in a Supporting Role for So Proudly We Hail! in 1943, IMDB only says that “her star faded in the late 1940s […] and she was dropped by Paramount in 1949,” when she was still only 39.

A BLONDE FOR A NIGHT. DeMille Pictures Corporation/ PatM Exchange, 1928. Marie Prevost, Franklin Pangborn, Harrison Ford, T. Roy Barnes, Lucien Littlefield. Screenplay by F. McGrew Willis & Rex Taylor. Director: E. Mason Hopper. Shown at Cinevent 42, Columbus OH, May 2010.

   After what appears to have been a whirlwind romance, Marcia and Bob Webster (Marie Prevost and Harrison Ford) are honeymooning in Paris. There are minor spats but the arrival of Bob’s friend George Mason (T. Roy Barnes) and his tales of their past exploits with blonde conquests provoke Marcia to don a wig and set out to see how faithful Bob will be if he’s put to the test by a seductive blonde.

   Her partner in this masquerade is Hector, a dress-shop owner, played with his trademark fuss-budget primness by Franklin Pangborn.

   I don’t think the wig was that much of a disguise, particularly in close-ups but, if you go along with the premise, the 60 minutes pass pleasantly enough.

THE CAT’S PAW. Paramount, 1934. Harold Lloyd, Una Merkel , George Barbier, Nat Pendleton, Grace Bradley, Alan Dinehart. Screenplay: Sam Taylor, based on a story by Clarence Budington Kelland (serialized in the Saturday Evening Post, August 26-September 30, 1933). Director: Sam Taylor.

   We like to think of the Past as a simpler, better time. Just how un-simpler and un-better that Time actually was is evinced with unsettling clarity in The Cat’s Paw, which is also Capraesque (not surprising, since it was written by Clarence Buddington Kelland, who authored Mr. Deeds Goes to Town) but in a more distinctly early-30’s style.

   Harold Lloyd stars as a super-naive Missionary vacationing from China, who returns to his American home town in search of a wife. He quickly gets involved with corrupt local politics, local hoods (Grant Mitchell, Nat Pendleton and Warren Hymer: as bluff an ensemble of plug-uglies as graced any Gangster Film.) and the local wise-cracking soft-hearted Jean Arthur type, played here by the lovely Una Merkel.

   In less time than it takes to tell, he becomes a local hero, gets elected Mayor, is framed, disgraced, and about to be indicted.

   At which point I expected him to save the day with an impassioned filibuster or some such, and was mildly amazed to watch meek little Harold pull the Fat out of the Fire with some surprisingly grim (not to say Fascist) tactics better suited to Mussolini than Mr. Deeds.

   This is an unusual — eschewing the star’s trademark inventive slapstick for a more thoughtful — and less funny approach. And while it’s not entirely successful, it’s fascinating to watch and wonder what else Lloyd might have done had he opted for Social Commentary instead of settling for being the Talkies’ best Physical Comedian.

   I doubt that he could ever have come up with anything to match the Marx Brothers’ Duck Soup (1933, also Paramount) but it’s interesting to see him try.

HOLD THAT GHOST. Universal Pictures, 1941. Bud Abbott & Lou Costello, Joan Davis, Richard Carlson, Misha Auer, Evelyn Ankers, Russell Hicks, Marc Lawrence, William Davidson, Shemp Howard, Thurston Hall, Nestor Paiva, Don Terry, Ted Lewis and his Orchestra, the Andrews Sisters. Director: Arthur Lubin.

   Well, Universal certainly was. Abbott and Costello were a major success, and their films seemed to flow out of the studio, one hit after another. Hold That Ghost is one of their best, with some of their best routines and snappiest lines.

   On top of that it has one of the best casts of their film career with Joan Davis equally as funny as the boys as a professional radio screamer, Richard Carlson an eccentric doctor, veteran Universal horror star Evelyn Ankers as the romantic interest, and Marc Lawrence as a gangster playing the boys along.

   Hood Moose Matson (William Davidson) leaves all his money and property to whomever is with him when he dies, which turns out to be the boys, a pair of gas station attendants who end up in a high speed car chase with him ( “We were very close to him at the time of his surmise.”). The property turns out to be an old roadhouse — replete with a ghost and the loot from one of Matson’s holdups.

   When the boys, Ankers, Davis, Carlson, and Lawrence get stranded in a storm in the roadhouse they don’t know there is a killer and a fortune in the house.

   When Lawrence goes missing, they go looking and discover the roadhouse used to be a speakeasy. In many ways this is a preview of their best film Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein ( Carlson: “He’s been strangled?” — Lou: “Is that serious?”) with the comic possibilities of being scared given full reign ( “I’d be awfully silly if I was scared wouldn’t I?” — “Yes you would.” — “Boy am I silly.”).

   In 1941 when this was made, Abbott and Costello were at the top of their game, and this one could spare the time and effort to cast Misha Auer and Shemp Howard in little more than walk-ons. This one is a class act from the animated titles to the musical numbers that include Lewis’s famous “Me and My Shadow.”

   Davis, one of the few female physical comics equal to the manic Lou, is a delight, fast with a quip (when the soup tastes funny: “Just like Mother used to make — It stinks.”) and lethal with her elbows and angles in a comedic dance number with Lou that soon descends into mayhem, thanks to a bucket filled with rain water.

   One of the best routines involves a hidden gambling salon that folds back into the walls whenever Lou hangs up his coat and goes back whenever he takes it off the hook ( “Don’t get yourself in a frenzy.” — “I ain’t makin’ frenzies with nobody in here.”).

   The old dark house was an ideal set up for the boys and they make the most of it, hitting every cliche with as much zest as if it had never been done before, from Davis tap dance routine on the stairs with a ghost to Lou and the moving candle (“Do you feel a draft?” — “No.” — “If these candles move, you will”).

    “Is everybody happy?” You likely will be too with this bright comedy that never takes time for a breath:

   It may not always be art, but there is no doubt it’s funny, and at this point in their careers it seemed the quips and invention would never end. Of course it did, but with the exception of a few bad films at the end and some comparative duds they had a remarkable run for their, and our, money.

   This is a reminder just how fresh they made some of the old routines feel at the time. This one, Who Done It?, and Abbott and Costello Meet the Killer are all good mixes of mystery and comedy with the boys aided and abetted by some of their best casts, including Boris Karloff in the latter, and in the former, William Bendix (outstanding as a cop even dumber than Lou), Don Porter, Patric Knowles, Thomas Gomez, Mary Wickes, and William Gargan.

IT STARTED WITH EVE. Universal, 1941. Deanna Durbin, Charles Laughton, Robert Cummings, Guy Kibbee, Margaret Tallichet, Catharine Doucet, Walter Catlett, Charles Coleman, Mary Gordon, Sig Arno, Mantan Moreland. Screenplay by Norman Krasna and Leo Townsend; cinematography by Rudolph Mate; music director, Charles Previn. Director: Henry Koster. Shown at Cinevent 42, Columbus OH, May 2010.

   Tycoon Jonathan Reynolds (Charles Laughton) is expected to die momentarily, but when his playboy son Johnny (Robert Cummings) arrives at his bedside, Reynolds asks for his son’s fiancee Gloria Pennington (Margaret Tallichet), whom he’s never met.

   The distraught son, unable to locate her at her hotel, persuades hatcheck girl Anne Terry (Durbin) to substitute for Gloria in what he believes to be his father’s final moments. Of course, the father recovers and is delighted with his son’s choice. And the plot is off and heating up rapidly.

   Durbin is, as always, a perky delight, Laughton is wonderful as the irascible father, and Cummings is bearable. (I’ve never forgiven him for being the major casting flaw in King’s Row.)

   But it’s Walter Catlett, as Reynolds’ frantic doctor, who walks off with the comedy honors. Durbin sings prettily and she and Laughton dance a mean conga in this very entertaining comedy.

THIS COULD BE THE NIGHT. MGM, 1957. Jean Simmons, Paul Douglas, Anthony Franciosa, Julie Wilson, Neile Adams, Joan Blondell, Ray Anthony & His Orchestra. Screenplay: Isobel Lennart; based on short stories by Cornelia Baird Gross. Director: Robert Wise.

   Why, one wonders, did they film this charming comedy/musical in CinemaScope but shoot it in black and white? Anytime I can see Jean Simmons in color, I’d jump at the chance, but that’s me. And black and white, too, if that’s the only chance I get.

   I may be wrong about this, but I recall reading somewhere that This Could Be the Night was the last MGM musical to be filmed in black and white, and if so, it’s one fact it should be noted for. Another such fact, and this one I’m sure of, is that the movie marks the film debut of Tony Franciosa, a handsome as well as talented actor (in my opinion) whose charm seemed to show up more on TV than it did on the large screen – not that he became a huge star there, either.

   He plays the co-owner of a New York City nightclub where Jean Simmons, a schoolteacher in the day, comes to work as a secretary at night. The other owner, the older one, is Paul Douglas, a gruff sort of guy who may have been a gangster in his day, takes a shine to her, while in the case of Tony Armatti (Franciosa), it’s dislike at first sight.

   In the case of Anne Leeds (that’s Jean Simmons), nicknamed Baby almost immediately by the all of the dancers and staff as well as the two owners, it is a case of why should a recent graduate from Smith College (I hope I remember that correctly) find life in a nightclub so exciting? She is a virgin, as everyone wonders right off, although the word is never used (greenhorn, anyone? “nice girl”?) but no one (naturally) dares ask until the curvaceous singer Ivy Corlane (Julie Wilson’s character) does.

   She reports back: “No hits, no runs, no errors.”

   And of course Baby takes over the place, teaching the striptease dancer how to win a cooking contest and win a new stove, for example, and helping a busboy pass an algebra test so his father will allow him to change his name.

   You also realize that in movies like this, what dislike at first sight eventually turns into, which of course complicates things. (Follow the link to a short but critical clip found on YouTube.)

   Misunderstandings ensue, Baby quits her job, and it’s all great fun. The ending is wrapped up all too quickly, but otherwise I found this admittedly shallow if not completely tall tale of a film rather charming, as I said in my opening remarks, and I shall repeat the word now.

   Even if as a former math teacher I have to point out that it’s cheating to have someone else do your algebra problems for you.

COLLEGE SCANDAL. Paramount, 1935. Arline Judge, Kent Taylor, Wendy Barrie, William Frawley, Benny Baker, William “Billy” Benedict. Screenplay by Frank Partos, Charles Brackett & Marguerite Roberts, based on a story by Beulah Marie Dix & Bertram Millhauser. Director: Elliott Nugent.

   College Scandal sounds like a story ripped from today’s headlines or a typical 1930s musical with superannuated students indulging in sophomoric capers.

   And in fact, it starts off with Billy Benedict as a manic Mickey Rooney type whipping up a college musical revue. Then we go to the offices of the College Newspaper, where an earnest young editor ponders the ethics of running a story about a handsome teacher dating the campus flirt.

   Everything seems set for a mid-autumn night’s dream of misunderstanding, music and romance, when suddenly the editor turns up poisoned in his own office.

   Whoa! I didn’t see that coming. Nor the hints in the script about the campus flirt’s awkward relationship with her stepfather. Nor a strangling in the middle of a musical number. Or a wrinkle in the plot about death by hazing as College Scandal quickly turns into a fast-paced and quirky mystery that delighted this jaded viewer with every twist.

   No fewer than five writers worked on this (including Billy Wilder’s partner-in-wit Charles Brackett, and Bertram Milhauser, who worked on the Universal Sherlock Holmes series) and they all seem to have added something worthwhile without tripping each other up.

   Staffed with a cast of reliable “B” players, including Wendy Barrie and Kent Taylor, under the slick direction of Elliott Nugent, this turns into a real surprise, and a flick worth checking out.