SWINGIN’ ON A RAINBOW. Republic, 1945. Jane Frazee, Brad Taylor (Stanley Brown), Harry Langdon, Minna Gombell, Amelita Ward,Tim Ryan, Paul Harvey, Holmes Herbert, Bert Roach. Director: William Beaudine. Shown at Cinevent 42, Columbus OH, May 2010.

   When radio star and songwriter Jimmy Rhodes Richard Davies) slips out of town without completing the songs for a program that could save a struggling radio station from bankruptcy, the desperate station manager (Paul Harvey) hires an aspiring song writer Lynn Ford (Jane Frazee) to complete the songs, believing her to be Rhodes’ partner.

   Before this is all sorted out, Frazee’s attractive acting and singing, abetted by some artful comic ploys by Harry Langdon, made this a pleasant lead-in to the weekend’s screenings.

   The sixteen speaking parts listed in the credits end with “Drunk,” played by Bert Roach, who, in the late silent and early sound period, played leading and supporting comic roles, a dependable and amusing actor.

   And returning to Harry Langdon, a comedian for whom I never really cared, he was, for a time, a major silent player. He brings to the role of Chester Willouby, assistant to the station manager, an unassuming charm that surprised me and made me wonder if I shouldn’t revisit some of his silent film successes.

Editorial Comment:   Harry Langdon died on 22 December 1944 at the still young age of 60. Swingin’ on a Rainbow was the last movie in which he was to appear.

THEODORA GOES WILD. Columbia Pictures, 1936. Irene Dunne, Melvyn Douglas, Thomas Mitchell, Thurston Hall, Elisabeth Risdon, Margaret McWade, Spring Byington. Director: Richard Boleslawski.

   Humor is a funny thing. This is the lead-off movie in a boxed set of Screwball Comedies (Volume Two), and not only did I never laugh, but there are elements in this film that I actively disliked, which seldom happens. (I do screen the movies I choose to watch ahead of time.)

   Well, OK, maybe I did smile once or twice.

   The theme here is small-town holier-than-thou gossips and self-selected morality leaders – the small town being Lynnfield, somewhere in New England, where the local literary society is up in arms with the publisher of the local newspaper (Thomas Mitchell), who’s started to serialize the latest racy romance novel that’s sweeping the country.

   Little do the members of the local literary society know that the author, Caroline Adams, is one of their own: Theodora Lynn, who lives with her two aunts in Lynnfield (and yes, the town is named after their family), and who teaches Sunday school classes and plays the organ at church.

   In constant fear of her secret identity being revealed, Theodora (who of course is played by Irene Dunne) goes to New York to meet her publisher (Thurston Hall) to make him keep his promise to stay absolutely mum.

   The comedy potential is there, all right, as I’m sure you can see, but the man she meets, the artist who designed the risqué cover of her book, Michael Grant (Melvyn Douglas), is such an ill-mannered oaf, an utter boor if not an outright cad, it is impossible to understand what she sees in him.

   Of course she reacts to his constant taunts by going on an all-out nightclub drinking spree with him, even to the extent of ending up in his apartment to wrap up the evening. (Nothing much happens, but I imagine in 1936, the entire audience was holding their breath.)

   Fleeing back to Lynnville the next morning, Theodora is tracked down by her not-so-secret admirer, who manages to make himself even more dislikable, if that’s possible, but of course in the movies, anything’s possible, isn’t it?

   When the tables turn on Michael Grant, though, and do they ever, that’s when the training wheels come off, and Theodore lives up to the title of the movie – does she go wild? yes! – and it’s Michael Grant who faces …

   I won’t tell you what he faces, but it was nice to see him in the predicament he finds himself in. Nice, but not particularly funny.

   If you were to ask me, which I guess you are, since you’ve read this far, I liked Irene Dunne’s character a lot more when she was playing the innocent Theodora (although a Theodorea with a secret) a lot more than I did the wild Theodora, with a vast array of designer dresses and hairdos that do not especially flatter her.

   Rather than wild, she looked to me more like a small child playing dress-up, but what had to pass for wild on the screen in the mid-1930s was a lot more innocent than what you can see on your TV screen today.

   Irene Dunne was nominated for an Oscar in the role, and from all accounts, I’m in the minority in my opinion of this movie, and I thought you should know that too.

WHY WORRY? Hal Roach Studios, 1923. Harold Lloyd, Jobyna Ralston, Johan Aasen, Wallace Howe, James Mason, Leo White. Directors: Fred C. Newmeyer & Sam Taylor. Shown at Cinecon 27, Hollywood CA, September 1993.

   Harold Lloyd plays a “young millionaire with an absolute patent on hypochondria.” (And I thought I had that sewed up tight.)

   He travels to a “sleepy” Latin American village on the eve of a revolution where — with an apparently inexhaustible supply of energy and ingenious tricks — this most engaging of silent film comedians sets about foiling the dastardly designs of villain James Mason, with the help of a gentle giant played by John Aasen.

   The organ accompaniment was played by octogenarian Gaylord Carter who worked with Lloyd in the thirties, preparing musical scores for the re-release of the silent masterpieces.

Editorial Comment:   I went to IMDB to be sure, but the James Mason in this movie is not THE James Mason, just in case you might be wondering about him. Usually billed as Jim Mason, the one in this film became a cowboy actor, playing mostly small parts until his career ended in the early 1950s.

   The movie itself is available on DVD, in the box set The Harold Lloyd Comedy Collection, Volume 1, on sale everywhere.

EXIT SMILING. MGM, 1926. Beatrice Lillie, Jack Pickford, Doris Lloyd, DeWitt Jennings, Harry Myers, Franklin Pangborn. Story: Marc Connelly; scenario: Sam Taylor & Tim Whelan. Director: Sam Taylor. Shown at Cinecon 27, Hollywood CA, September 1993.

   After the discovery of Jessie Matthews [in First a Girl, reviewed here ], Beatrice Lillie was the rediscovery of the convention for me.

   Lillie is the maid for a touring theatrical company, and also plays small roles like “Nothing” in “Much Ado About Nothing” (as the intertitles put it), while pining to show the company that she can play leading roles.

   The film is filled with inspired bits of tomfoolery that make you wonder why Lillie was not one of the great comic stars of the silent screen. In any event, a marvelous showcase for her talents, and for those of actors like Franklin Pangborn and Doris Lloyd.

   There’s a tug at the heartstrings at the end, and I exited smiling and treading on air.

Editorial Comment:   This movie is available on DVD from the Warner Archives website.

FIRST A GIRL. Gaumont British Picture Corp., 1936. Jessie Matthews, Sonnie Hale, Anna Lee, Griffith Jones. Director: Victor Saville. Shown at Cinecon 27, Hollywood CA, September 1993.

   This Jessie Matthews musical remake of the 1933 German film, Viktor und Victoria, was screened in the restored El Capitan theater. I was captivated by Matthews (whom I had never seen before). She’s one of the great favorites at Cinefest, and I can see why: A charming comedienne, a lovely dancer, and at least as good as Julie Andrews in the Blake Edwards version.

   The opening musical number featuring a dance by Matthews won me over immediately. I was putty in her hands (or under her feet) from that moment on.

Editorial Comment:   The movie was released on VHS (see image), but never, as far as I’ve been able to discover, on DVD.

THE DESERT SONG. Warner Brothers, 1943. Dennis Morgan, Irene Manning, Bruce Cabot, Lynne Overman, Gene Lockhart, Faye Emerson, Jack La Rue. Screenwriter: Robert Buckner, based on the play co-written by Oscar Hammerstein II. Director: Robert Florey. Shown at Cinecon 27, Hollywood CA, September 1993.

   After the success of Casablanca earlier that year, this vintage operetta was updated, setting the nomadic Berber Riffs of northern Morocco against the dastardly Nazis and shot in eye-popping technicolor.

   Florey is noted for his stylish films and this was a restored beauty. Both Jim Goodrich and I gasped at the stunning overhead angled shot of a belly-dancer as she fell back onto the floor and spread her multi-colored skirt to fill the screen.

   It’s also a film for fans of Bruce Cabot, with a world-weary but effective one-note performance by Gene Lockhart as a Riff cabaret owner. Fine singing of a lovely score by Dennis Morgan and Irene Manning.

Editorial Comments: This film, as I understand it, has never been shown on television. Complications over the copyright of one of the songs perhaps, and it sounds reasonable, given the amount of money involved, or is it just the principle? The movie had been made once before, in 1929, which was barely into the sound era, but at least parts of it were in Technicolor, believe it or not. It starred John Boles and Carlotta King in the two leading roles.

   And it was filmed once again, in 1953, this time with Kathryn Grayson and Gordon MacRae. This is, of course, the version that most people have seen. (But not me. In 1953 you couldn’t drag me to a movie like this. Based on an operetta? Are you kidding?)

ONE NIGHT IN THE TROPICS. Universal Pictures, 1940. Allan Jones, Nancy Kelly, Bud Abbott, Lou Costello, Robert Cummings, Mary Boland, Peggy Moran, William Frawley, Leo Carillo. Screenplay: Gertrude Pursell, Charles Grayson, John Grant (uncredited), adapted by Kathryn Scolla & Francis Martin from the novel Love Insurance, by Earl Derr Biggers. Songs by Jerome Kern, Oscar Hammerstein & Dorothy Fields. Director: A. Edward Sutherland

   This was the film debut of Abbott and Costello (Lou Costello had appeared in some silent films in bit parts) and it leaves you wanting more of them and less of almost everything else in the film save for Robert Cummings and Peggy Moran, including the forgettable Kern, Hammerstein, and Fields songs Allan Jones regularly breaks into.

   That to one side, it’s a pretty good screwball romantic comedy that benefits from an expert cast.

   Robert Cummings is Steve Harper, a less than bright playboy who has fallen in love with Cynthia Merrick (Nancy Kelly), but who finds his way to true love opposed on two fronts — first by a series of mishaps with Cynthia’s Aunt Kitty (Mary Boland) and secondly by his ex-girlfriend, Mickey Fitzgerald (Peggy Moran), who isn’t planning on letting him get away.

   Enter Steve’s old pal Lucky Moore (Allan Jones, father of singer Jack Jones). Lucky is an insurance man par excellence, and has a bright idea — he’ll sell Steve a $1 million dollar policy guaranteeing that Steve and Cynthia end up together. It’s a cinch. Love insurance — why didn’t anyone think of it before?

   Lucky’s father isn’t so sure about that so he makes Lucky find an underwriter for the ‘sure thing’ policy — nightclub owner William Frawley, who assigns two lunkheads in his employ to make sure things don’t go wrong — Bud and Lou …

   Obviously just about everyone in the film is suffering from a serious lack of good judgment. It’s one of those plots where if anyone listened or paused to think, the whole facade would crumble. Fortunately for us, and unfortunately for the characters, no one even thinks about having a rational thought for the span of the film.

   Earl Derr Biggers’ novel was filmed before in 1919 and 1924, like his highly famous Seven Keys to Baldpate and The Agony Column, both highly popular works and filmed multiple times. (Readers here hardly need reminding Biggers was also the creator of Charlie Chan.)

   As Mickey schemes to get Steve back and Steve tries to win over Aunt Kitty, the problems multiply, and bumbling Bud and Lou don’t help. And when Lucky meets Cynthia he falls head over heels for her and she for him.

   Cynthia sails for the Tropics to get away from the mess, and naturally Steve follows with Mickey in tow, Lucky along to sabotage his own best interests, and Bud and Lou dispatched to make sure Steve and Cynthia get together and stay together. Once there Leo Carillo gets thrown in the mix as a Latin Lothario.

   Despite the minor songs, the film is bright and funny, and if you fins yourself wishing for more of Bud and Lou or even Cummings and Moran, Allan Jones and Nancy Kelly are attractive leads, and if they can’t quite compete with the zaniness of the others involved, they handle this extremely well. It’s not their fault that Cummings has a thousand times more screen presence than Jones, or that Peggy Moran has all the best lines other than the boys (Bud and Lou).

   There is an abbreviated version of ‘Who’s On First?’ on hand and several of the boys routines as well as the usual wise cracks and smart lines:

   There is also what may well be the first Humphrey Bogart joke on film:

   One Night in the Tropics is a good minor musical that moves fast and features bright players and crackling dialogue. Other than those they did at MGM, production values were somewhat higher than later Abbott and Costello films, and the cast is excellent.

   That said, you are bound to wish there had been more of the boys and Cummings and Moran and less of Jones and Kelly.

   The boys’ next outing was Buck Privates, and they never took a back seat to anyone again in their own films, though Kathryn Grayson and John Carroll get quite a bit of screen time in Rio Rita where the boys are slipped into an old plot.

   Overall this one is bright and funny, and for once the romantic comedy aspect is good enough to hold your attention when the boys are off screen. But it’s a shame Peggy Moran and Robert Cummings weren’t teamed again. They are almost as much fun as Bud and Lou, which you can’t always say about the romantic leads in this kind of film.

Note: Thanks to the IMDB website for providing the exact wording of the first two sets of quotes.

RUMBA. Paramount, 1935. George Raft, Carole Lombard, Lynne Overmann, Margo, Iris Adrian, Gail Patrick.

Photography: Ted Teztlaff; art direction: Hans Dreier and Robert Usher. Dances and ensembles staged by LeRoy Prinz; specialty dance created and staged by Veloz and Yolanda. Director: Marion Gering. Shown at Cinecon 45, Hollywood CA, September 2009.

   Maybe I was just worn down by four days of movie watching, but this second pairing of Raft and Lombard (after their success in Bolero, 1934) didn’t consistently hold my interest.

   Lombard is a socialite, Raft a dancer, both of them with the same winning lottery ticket, but Raft’s is shown to be a counterfeit and he is forced to return the money. When Lombard sees him dance and recognizes his talent, she tries to give him back the money but he refuses to take it.

   The film continues along this path of characters at odds, from different social classes and different temperaments, the. reserved Lombard, the hot-tempered Raft, but fated to be drawn to each other. The complex mix is eventually resolved by a dance that climaxes the film and cements their relationship.

   The film’s strong suits are a pulsating, insidiously seductive Latin beat, and a striking performance by Margo as the Latino dancer who is Lombard’s rival for Raft as a dance partner and as a lover. (Seen with George Raft in the photo above and to the left.)

  THE BRIDE COMES HOME. Paramount, 1935. Claudette Colbert, Fred MacMurray, Robert Young, William Collier, Sr., Donald Meek, Edgar Kennedy, Johnny Arthur, Jimmy Conlin. Screenplay by Claude Binyon, from a story by Elizabeth Sanxay Holding. Photography: Leo Tover; special photographic effects by Dewey Wrigley. Producer/director: Wesley Ruggles, producer/director. Shown at Cinecon 45, Hollywood CA, September 2009.

   The best, and funniest, part of the film is the final scene in which the great Edgar Kennedy, playing a small-town Justice of the Peace, attempts to complete a ceremony uniting a reluctant Claudette Colbert and an eager Robert Young.

   Meanwhile, suitor number two (Fred MacMurray) is racing in a car with the would-be bride’s father (William Collier, Sr) to stop the ceremony and claim the prize. This sequence lifts a charming romantic comedy into a more inspired comic realm.

   And now you know why I referred to the “great” Edgar Kennedy. Everybody’s good, but he provides the comic leaven that not only puts the frosting on the cake but makes it rise to the occasion.

TURN TO THE RIGHT. Metro, 1922. Alice Terry, Jack Mulhall, Harry Meyers, George Cooper, Edward Connelly, Lydia Knott, Betty Allen, Margaret Loomis, Billy Bletcher, Eric Mayne, Ray Ripley. Scenario by June Mathis and Mary O’Hara, based on a play by Winchell Smith and Jack E. Hazzard; photography: John Seitz. Director: Rex Ingram, director. Shown at Cinecon 45, Hollywood CA, September 2009.

   I saw this in 2005 at Cinefest, and I’m going to repeat the review, which, after a second viewing, still reflects my feelings.

   The program notes characterize this film as a comedy, but it’s actually a rural comedy/drama with characters familiar to audiences for generations: the hard-hearted landlord, the penniless widow he’s trying to evict, the country bumpkin who turns out to be something of a financial wizard, and the Alger-like country lad who fights against adversity and eventually achieves vindication and success.

   What is surprising is that the film is directed by Rex Ingram, better known for such films as The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse and The Prisoner of Zenda, and not normally associated with traditional melodrama.

   This rural fairy tale has an ingratiating playfulness that allows the villain to save his face and the comic foils (memorably played by Harry Myers and George Cooper) to find redemption as well as win the hearts of two village maidens.