Top Hat (1935) ***

When considering the Fred and Ginger phenomenon, one need only remember what Katharine Hepburn said about the duo: “She gave him sex, and he gave her class." Alone, he was far from sexy and she wasn’t close to genteel. Yet, when you put them together, all of that fell away and you saw a beautiful, sophisticated couple. All told, they made 10 films together—most of which were quite good. Their chemistry, both dancing and romantic, is undeniable and has stood the test of time. That is why today they are still regarded as THE greatest dance team ever.

Director Mark Sandrich obviously worked well with the duo, as he directed five of their films. Working from a witty screenplay penned by Allan Scott and Dwight Taylor, based on the Alexander Farago and Aladar Laszlo play The Girl Who Dared, Sandrich’s deft directorial decisions about how the film should be shot made Top Hat the duo’s biggest box office success, as well as their most critically acclaimed film. It was nominated for four Academy Awards (Best Picture, Best Interior Decoration, Best Song, and Best Dance Direction), but won none.

Astaire and Hermes Pan choreographed the film to five wonderful Irving Berlin songs: “Top Hat, White Tie, and Tails,” Cheek to Cheek,” “No Strings,” “Isn’t This a Lovely Day To Be Caught in the Rain,” and “The Piccolino.” All the musical numbers seem to seamlessly meld in with the progression of the story—which I find to be a huge plus.

The plot revolves around a simple case of mistaken identity, which complicates a budding romance born out of an accidental meeting. Doesn’t sound too simple to you, eh? Trust me, it’s Fred and Ginger, so it’s definitely simple.

In the beginning, we meet Broadway star Jerry Travers (Astaire) as he’s hanging out in a VERY British gentlemen’s club waiting for producer Horace Hardwick (the always funny Edward Everett Horton). After the two meet up and go to Horace’s hotel, Jerry learns that Horace’s wife Madge (Helen Broderick) wants him to come to Italy and meet a woman she’s picked for him. Jerry’s not interested in this, as he has a strong aversion to “strings.” Thus, Astaire starts singing “No Strings” and does a bit of noisy tap dancing. This awakens the lady sleeping in the room below, Dale Tremont (Rogers). Thus, Jerry and Dale meet when she angrily knocks on the door to complain. She thinks he’s a flake, he thinks she’s wonderful and rethinks the whole “strings” aversion.

The next day we find Jerry buying flowers (from Lucille Ball nonetheless) and being rebuffed by Dale when he offers to take her to a riding club. Not deterred, he decides to pretend to be the hansom cab driver. She recognizes him by his tapping feet, but isn’t that angry. Later, as she’s riding a storm breaks out and she seeks cover. Jerry attempts to come to the rescue, but she gives him the cold shoulder. That is, until a loud clap of thunder sends her into his arms. Once she recovers herself, her icy nature is even worse. To pass the time and make her loathe him a tad less, he sings "Isn't This a Lovely Day”. Once finished with the warm-up number, he begins whistling and trying to get her to dance with him. Eventually she gives in and they perform a sort of shadow dance, mimicking the other’s moves. This number just goes to show that Rogers was just as good a dancer as Astaire, which many people seem to overlook. There is a quote I heard somewhere about how Rogers may have even been better because she danced backwards and in high heels. Anyway, by the end of the scene they are on friendly terms.

Back at the hotel Dale gets a telegram from Mrs. Hardwick suggesting she look up her husband at the hotel. After much confusion, Dale begins to think that Jerry is Mr. Hardwick—oh, no you didn’t! Slap! Not given the courtesy of knowing why he’s been slapped, Jerry is flabbergasted. Still, not deterred, when he learns that Dale is headed to Venice, he demands Horace take him there right after the next number: “Top Hat, White Tie, and Tails.” Of course, top hat and tails were Astaire’s trademark look, so this is one of his quintessential numbers. Backed up by an entire male chorus wearing top hats and tails, Astaire tap dances (cane in hand) in front of a Parisian backdrop (Eiffel Tower included). It’s interesting to watch Astaire wield his cane as a weapon and the dancing sequence is spectacular.

With a quick dissolve, we find ourselves looking at an interesting Art Deco set of what RKO thought Venice should look like. Evidently everything there is a glowing white color. Anyway, after arriving in Venice Dale informs Madge about her husband and the two cook up a plan to teach him a lesson. Of course, Dale still thinks Jerry is Horace and what ensues is a comical game of cat and mouse. At one point, Madge pushes the two to dance together and Jerry finds himself “in heaven”; and, thus starts the spontaneous “Cheek to Cheek” duet. And so the ostrich feathers start to fly! Yes, I know this dress is legendary (for many reasons), but I just hate it! It does work very well in the dance, but it looks itchy and I can’t watch this great number without wanting to scratch. It is a seductive dance that is symbolic of the courtship and eventual consummation of a romance. A mixture of classic ballroom dancing and innovative modern (for that time) dance, it is the signature Fred and Ginger performance. At the end of the dance, Dale is crestfallen when she realizes she’s in love with a married man—one who proposes to her. Oh, no you didn’t! Slap—again.

To escape her conundrum, Dale decides to marry her designer, Alberto Beddini (Erik Rhodes). After learning that the woman he loves has married another man because she mistook him for Horace, Jerry decides he must rescue Dale before she can consummate her marriage. His rescue plan: to dance as loud as possible above the bridal suite. This angers Beddini, a master fencer, and he goes to challenge Jerry to a duel. This give Jerry the opportunity to kidnap Dale in a gondola and for the rest of the cast to pursue them in a motorboat low on petrol. So, while everybody else is out to sea, Dale and Jerry return to the hotel to watch a group of dancers perform “The Piccolino”—they eventually join in on the number. With a nod toward Busby Berkeley, Sandrich uses overhead camera shots to capture the dancers forming patterned images. They will reprise this number at the end of the film, after it is revealed that Dale and Beddini aren’t actually married. Happy ending!

Overall, the musical numbers are top notch. The standout number is, of course, “Cheek to Cheek”, but the other numbers are of a high caliber as well. Irving Berlin combined with Astaire and Pan’s choreography is pure magic.

The Art Deco sets are elegant and quite interesting to observe. In addition, the clothes (especially the evening gowns) are chic and expertly designed. When you combine the wardrobe and set design, you have one very sleek, sophisticated looking film.

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Shanghai Express (1932) ***

Jealousy, betrayal, obsession, passion…and this was only the fourth of the seven films Josef von Sternberg made with Marlene Dietrich. The title of their last film together: The Devil Is a Woman—coincidence? Ah, but this is not a review of the strange co-dependent relationship between director and actress. Instead, let's focus on the slightly less complicated romance between a fallen woman and a stiff-upper-lip Englishman.

As civil war is raging in China, a British surgeon, Captain Donald Harvey (Clive Brook) boards a train traveling from Peking to Shanghai, in order to reach the governor general, for whom he must perform brain surgery. Though the voyage could be perilous, his friends somehow envy him, as it is revealed that the notorious courtesan Shanghai Lily (Dietrich) is on board. Being a proper English gentleman, he’s never heard of her.

As chance would have it, onboard he meets a former lover, Magdalen, whom he hasn’t seen in five years. Things didn’t end well. She played games and tried to measure his love, and he was a jealous man who could only take so much before he left her. In the process of catching up, Magdalen informs Doc (as she affectionately calls him) that she has a new life and name. When asked if she’s married, a black-veiled Dietrich utters the classic line: "It took more than one man to change my name to Shanghai Lily." Um, awkward moment. Yet, it is obvious that they both still have feelings for one another—both good and bad.

Later, Doc learns from Reverend Carmichael (Lawrence Grant), who is troubled beyond measure about prostitutes traveling on the train, that Shanghai Lily had made one of his patients go insane and that there were countless others who’d had their lives ruined by her. I suppose at this moment Doc felt pretty foolish for carrying around a watch with her picture in it.

Meanwhile, there’s still a civil war going on in China. As such, government soldiers search the train and arrest the aide of Henry Chang (Warner Oland—yes, Charlie Chan!), a Eurasian merchant who is also a secret rebel leader. Angered by these actions, Chang sends a coded telegram to his rebels to attack the train at midnight. After securing the train, Chang takes Doc hostage so he can use him in exchange for his aide. He also offers to take Lily to his palace, but she declines, saying she’s out of the business. An eavesdropping Doc hears them, barges in and knocks Chang to the ground. This angers the rebel, but because he needs Doc alive, he does nothing and decides to take out his anger by raping Hui Fei (Anna May Wong), a friend and fellow prostitute of Lily’s.

Once his aide is released, Chang decides to exact revenge on Doc for his insolence by blinding the doctor. In order to save Doc’s eyesight, Lily offers to become Chang’s courtesan—just when she thought she was out, they pull her back in. Oblivious as ever, Doc’s old jealousies are ignited when he learns Lily is to stay with Chang. Fortunately, before this can happen, a revenge-seeking Hui Fei stabs Chang to death. However, this does not lessen the anger and resentment that Doc has toward Lily, whom he believes is still a no-good whore. Oddly enough, it is Reverend Carmichael who gets Lily to admit what she did out of love for Doc. Yet, she asks Carmichael not to reveal her secret, as she feels that without faith there is no love. Upon their arrival in Shanghai, Lily offers Doc a replacement watch and he gives into his love. In one of the more classic closing images in film, von Sternberg tightly moves in on the couple as they embrace and kiss on the station platform.

Nominated for three Academy Awards (Best Picture, Best Director, and Best Cinematography [winner]), this was the Titanic of its time, with a box office record $3.7 million. Suffice to say, this was the biggest hit of Dietrich’s career as one of Hollywood’s leading ladies.

Dietrich and Brook have amazing chemistry. He fits the reserved Englishman type and she just sizzles as a worldly seductress. The furs, veils, ostrich feathers, and an array of dazzling costumes enable Dietrich to fully absorb the role of the vamp. In addition, with the aid of von Sternberg, Dietrich is able to reveal the softer, more vulnerable side to Lily as well. This is perhaps one of her top performances.

Fans of the Charlie Chan films will be shocked to see Warner Oland playing such a sinister character. It is not always easy to play against type, but Oland does a nice job conveying the menacing nature of Chang. In addition, Anna May Wong is also a delight to watch.
A classic love story about overcoming jealousy and having faith in, well, love.

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Destry Rides Again (1939) **1/2

It’s 1939 and things aren’t going well for Marlene Dietrich in Hollywood. Her longtime collaboration with Josef von Sternberg is over and she hasn’t made a good film since The Garden of Allah in 1936. And, then, as luck would have it, she’s cast against type as an unglamorous saloon singer in a satirical western. Who knew that all this sophisticated international star needed was a good old-fashioned non-typical American western to revamp her career?

Based on the Max Brand pulp story of the same name, this film was a remake of the 1932 Tom Mix film (and subsequently was later remade in 1954 with Audie Murphy). George Marshall directs a pair of western virgins in Dietrich and James Stewart (playing the title role) and does his very best to parody the classic Western. For example, Stewart plays a pacifistic unarmed lawman in a town where flying bullets are the norm. Released in the same year as Stagecoach, the film that set the classic western standard, Destry Rides Again sets its own unique template that other films like Cat Ballou and Blazing Saddles would later borrow from.

The story take place in a town appropriately named BOTTLENECK—primarily because just about the whole movie takes place inside the Last Chance Saloon (where, yet another bit of irony here, Dietrich’s character works). Owned by a shady gambler named Kent (Brian Donlevy), the saloon is a hotbed for gunfights and cheating gamblers--most notably Kent himself. Right from the start, we see Frenchy (Dietrich) helping Kent cheat the hapless Lem Claggett (Tom Fadden) out of his $10,000 ranch by spilling hot coffee on him and allowing his cards to be switched. When Claggett complains to Sheriff Keogh (Joe King) that he was cheated, the sheriff confronts Kent and is shot and killed (off-screen).

Later, we see Frenchy doing her best Mae West impression as she sings “You’ve Got That Look That Leaves Me Weak” to a sexually charged audience. Soon after the song ends, Kent has the corrupt Mayor/Judge Slade (Samuel S. Hinds) announce the town drunk, Dimsdale (Charles Winninger), as the new sheriff. Where is the esteemed new sheriff upon this announcement? Passed out on the floor, only to be roused by a whisky to the face. Oddly enough, he decides now is a good time to become sober. It seems that before he was a souse he’d been the deputy of Marshal Destry, a famous and respected lawman. He announces he’s going to hire Destry’s son, Tom (Stewart), to help bring order to Bottleneck.

Dimsdale’s (and also the town’s) expectations that Tom Destry will strike fear into criminals are quickly obliterated when a mild-mannered Tom emerges from the stage holding a parasol for fellow passenger, Janice (Irene Harvey). Immediately he becomes the source of ridicule, especially after he reveals that he doesn’t carry a gun and that he drinks milk instead of whisky. Frenchy goes so far as to give him a broom and bucket as tools that he can use to clean up Bottleneck. James Stewart is priceless in these scenes, with his famous aw-shucks attitude. With this characterization, George Marshall has now established the a-typical western sheriff/hero.

However, nothing is more priceless than the catfight between Frenchy and boarding house owner Lily Belle Callahan (Una Merkel). Angry that her Russian émigré husband Boris (Mischa Auer) has lost his pants to Frenchy in a card game, Lily accuses Frenchy of cheating and all hell breaks lose. In yet another a-typical move, Marshall doesn’t have the obligatory barroom brawl occur between men but between two scrappy females. Perhaps one of the longest catfights ever, both women (without the aid of stand-ins) engage in punching and wrestling (among other things) one another to the ground (where they roll around for an extended amount of time) until Destry pours a bucket of water on them. Oh, no he didn’t! This enrages Frenchy and she turns her wrath on him. After engaging in the same tactics she used on Lily, she grabs a gun and aims it at him. Deciding not to shoot him, she throws everything she can get her hands on at him and even finds herself on his shoulders at one time. This scene is absolutely side-splitting hilarious—her wrath and his bewildered amazement are priceless.
After Tom escapes the saloon, Dimsdale threatens to fire him for being the town laughing-stock. Tom tries to convince him that they can restore order without using guns. Explaining that a gun didn’t do his father any good when he was shot in the back in Tombstone, Tom convinces Dimsdale to give him a chance. We soon learn that just because he doesn’t want to carry a gun it doesn’t mean he can’t handle one. When he stops a group of cowboys from shooting their guns in the air, Tom borrows a gun and puts on a clinic to the amazement of onlookers. Soon Tom learns about the trouble between Kent and Claggett and decides that Frenchy is the person to get answers from. Over coffee in her room, Tom makes mild insinuations that Frenchy purposefully dropped coffee in Claggett’s lap to distract him from his cards. Offended, Frenchy throws him out, but not before he makes a sly comment about her not wearing so much makeup because it covers up her real beauty. As time wears on, Frenchy begins to admire Destry and even offers him her lucky rabbit’s foot and advises him to stay out of dark places.

With his newly sworn-in deputy’s, Boris, help, Destry tricks Kent into believing that he knows where Sheriff Keogh’s body is. When Kent sends one of his thugs to check on the body, Boris and Dimsdale tail him and arrest him when he leads them to the body. To avoid the corrupt Mayor Slade presiding over the case, Destry sends for a federal judge. This causes Kent to plan a jailbreak for his man. Fearing that Destry will be killed in the jailbreak, Frenchy sends for him and tries to distract him by telling him she’s leaving town and wants him to go to New Orleans with her. When shots ring out, Destry rushes back to the jail to see the prisoner has escaped and that Dimsdale has been fatally shot. Having had enough, Destry arms himself with his father’s guns and with the help of the fed-up decent townspeople, storms the saloon. Frenchy even tells all the ladies (with pitchforks and rolling pins, nonetheless) they should help their men. While the townsfolk are taking care of Kent’s men in the bar, Destry climbs up to the second floor in search of Kent. Just as Kent is about to shoot Destry, Frenchy throws herself in front of him and is mortally wounded. After shooting Kent, Destry holds Frenchy in his arms and honors her last request for a kiss. The way Frenchy rubs away her lipstick at this moment is heartbreaking. In the end, order is restored to the town, but not before Destry has lost another two people he loved to guns.

Before he became the serious cowboy/hero in such westerns as Winchester ‘73 and Broken Arrow, Stewart got to play the a-typical western hero. His easy-mannered performance is not a surprise, as it was his calling card on just about every film he ever made, but it is interesting to watch his Destry spin yarns into valuable lessons. His Destry reminds me of a Wild West Aesop.

Dietrich, of course, had her career revived by this film. She would go on to make two other westerns, The Spoilers and Rancho Notorious, but neither topped her performance here. She shows so many sides to her character it’s difficult to keep up: sassy, sexy, fierce, humorous, fearful, and loving. The bawdiness she puts into her musical numbers, most notably “See What the Boys in the Back Room Will Have”, is wickedly enjoyable. She took a big risk playing against type here, but in the end it worked in her favor, as she started to play more diverse characters.

Hilariously entertaining on several levels, this is a true classic.

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Footlight Parade (1933) **1/2

Busby Berkeley was a field artillery lieutenant in WWI. Thus, he watched as soldiers marched in unison as they obeyed a strict cadence. No doubt this experience laid the groundwork for what would would become some of the most innovatively choreographed musical numbers in film history. Last week I wrote about Berkeley's breakout work in 42nd Street, so it is only fitting that I do a follow-up this week about his greatest musical number ever, “By a Waterfall” from Footlight Parade.

Following up his directorial success of 42nd Street, Lloyd Bacon helmed yet another backstage musical with this film. James Cagney plays Chester Kent, a down on his luck Broadway director who becomes a prologue director after talking pictures prove hugely profitable. And just what is a prologue director, you ask? Someone who puts together live stage shows to be shown in movie theaters before the main film. This is a step down for Chester. The musical comedies that he directed for Broadway were very successful, but once the “talkie” emerged his ticket sales dwindled. If this wasn’t bad enough, his wife (Renee Whitney) leaves him after she learns that his Broadway career is over. She should have stayed, because Chester and his partners, Sy Gould (Guy Kibee) and Frazer (Arthur Hohl), make their prologue enterprise a huge success. Due to this success, Chester’s main competitor decides to plant a mole in the company in order to steal Chester’s lavish production ideas. In addition to this problem, he has to worry about his underhanded partners who are shortchanging him from his hard-earned profits. What is a frazzled, creative genius to do?

Like most distracted, overworked men Chester has a woman on the spot who keeps his chaotic world in order: Nan Prescott (Joan Blondell). Dependable, loyal, and desperately in love with her boss, Nan keeps the ship afloat as Chester puts his attention everywhere but on her. One place that he sets his attention is on gold-digging actress Vivian Rich (Claire Dodd), who Nan sees right through. To say that Vivian is a piece of work would be an understatement.

When a big deal emerges with the Appolinaris’ theater company for a 40-theater contract, Chester must come up with three new shows in three days. Not willing to take a chance on his brilliant ideas leaking out to his competitor, Chester locks everyone in the studio and forbids any phone calls or outside visitors. One of the brilliant ideas Chester has is that mousy, bespectacled secretary Bea (Ruby Keeler) take off her glasses and become the star of the show. He also thinks that Scotty Blair (Dick Powell) has a nice singing voice; even if he had been forced upon him by Mrs. Gould (the outrageously funny Ruth Donnelly). Coincidentally, just like in 42nd Street, Powell and Keeler are romantically paired in this film. If working under such tight time constraints and fearing that someone will leak his ideas to his competitor aren’t enough, Chester must also try to meet Mrs. Gould’s “decency” requirements, which are monitored by her brother Charlie (Hugh Herbert).

In the end, what emerges from Chester’s creative mind are three very memorable musical numbers. The first, “Honeymoon Hotel” is performed by Powell and Keeler, who play a newly married couple who just want to enjoy their honeymoon without interruption but keep being interrupted by relatives and a creepy baby played by Billy Barty. The lyrics are very suggestive and overall the number was deemed too racy by many and was heavily cut in some local theaters.

The second act is the most spectacular (and the one that is most associated with Berkeley): “By a Waterfall.” Over 15 minutes long, this was the first on-screen aquacade. It featured 100 “bathing beauties”, costumed in swimming suits that made them appear naked, performing various aquatic acts in an 80-by-40-foot swimming pool. The pool was designed with a glass floor and glass walls, which allowed Berkeley to shoot the swimmers from every imaginable angle. The swimmers dance and form intricate, geometric patterns (which were captured by overhead kaleidoscopic shots). At the end, the swimmers form a revolving 70 ft. high wedding cake/fountain. It is the most spectacular musical number ever captured on film. Berkeley had the pool lined with glass walls and a glass floor so he could shoot the swimmers from every possible angle. No musical number has ever topped this.

The final number is one of my favorite James Cagney performances: “Shanghai Lil”—which was a nod to the 1932 film Shanghai Express (which I reviewed back in February). Told in an operatic fashion, the audience watches as a camera takes them through the waterfront bars of Shanghai. Cagney plays a tap dancing sailor looking for his lost lover Lil, a Chinese prostitute, in an opium-laced brothel. Watched today, most people don’t get the political messages that were being conveyed about American imperialism in Asia and FDR’s New Deal—especially with the image of the NRA’s Blue Eagle, which was a boost to fair wages and business competition (this Act was ruled unconstitutional by the Supreme Court in 1935). If you can get over seeing Keeler in a black wig and Chinese makeup, you’ll enjoy watching her dance number with Cagney—it is phenomenal. All told, more than 150 people performed in this number. Then unknowns John Garfield, Ann Sothern, and Dorothy Lamour appear in this sequence.

Overall, a highly entertaining musical. Cagney is at his best as the overworked Chester and Joan Blondell is her usual charming self. The supporting cast is stellar, especially Ruby Keeler and Ruth Donnelly. All of the musical numbers are great and two of them are considered among the greatest ever made.

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42nd Street (1933) **1/2

In 1933, the Great Depression was steamrolling its way across the globe. Each country dealt with public morale in its own way. To put a little pep in the step of their people the Japanese pushed further into Manchuria and the Germans made Adolf Hitler their leader. In America, we decided to make musicals. Our rationale—poverty is easier to swallow if you’re being entertained by a good song and dance show. And in the end, aren’t dancing shoes more attractive than marching boots?

Had it not been for illness, Mervyn LeRoy would have directed this signature backstage musical. He was the one who developed most of the film, but had to hand the directorial reins to Lloyd Bacon after becoming ill—an on the verge of bankruptcy studio just couldn’t wait. Good thing he wasn’t too ill to suggest that then-girlfriend Ginger Rogers play Anytime Annie—her breakthrough role. In addition, this film launched the careers of Dick Powell and Ruby Keeler (Mrs. Al Jolson) and gave little-known choreographer Busby Berkley the opportunity to showcase his amazing talent. When all was said and done, Bacon did a fine job and the film was nominated for a Best Picture Oscar (it lost to Cavalcade).

Screenwriters Rian James and James Seymour adapted the Bradford Ropes novel of the same name into an acerbic, no-holds barred look at what really happens behind the curtains of Broadway. Their script opens with the announcement that producers Jones (Robert Mc Wade)and Barry (Ned Sparks) are launching a new show, Pretty Lady, starring Dorothy Beck (Bebe Daniels). Like most Broadway beauties, Dorothy owes her success to a rich benefactor; in this case, industrialist Abner Dillon (Guy Kibbee), who is financing the show. The producers choose Julian Marsh (the excellent Warner Baxter), a tyrannical, highly successful director but a newly bankrupt man thanks to the stock market crash, to run the show. Due to his unfortunate financial situation, Julian disregards the warnings of his doctor that too much stress could kill him and decides he must make the show a success—no matter what! And so the stage is set for a very contentious production of a Broadway show.

At the auditions we get a first-hand view of the backstage antics of show business. At the cattle call we meet choreographer Andy Lee (George Stone) and his girlfriend, chorus-girl Lorraine (Una Merkel). We also are introduced to the catty and sassy Anytime Annie (Rogers) and the innocent and inexperienced Peggy Sawyer (Ruby Keeler), who mistakenly walks into the men’s dressing room and sees a half-dressed Billy (Dick Powell) instead of the director. Fortunately for Peggy she makes quick friends with Billy, Lorraine and Annie and due to their “connections” she is selected for the chorus. Unfortunately for Peggy, Marsh is an exacting, chain-smoking director who likes to deliver overly-intense diatribes to his cast. I personally enjoy listening to Baxter deliver these not so inspirational speeches, but I can see where some might find them irritating.

Things soon become complicated when we learn that the show’s female lead is a two-timer, who’s cheating on the show’s backer with Pat (George Brent), her former vaudeville partner. When Marsh learns about this he asks his gangster friend Slim Murphy (Tom Kennedy) to get Pat out of the way. Meanwhile, an emasculated Pat starts to see himself as Dorothy’s “kept man” and begins to show an interest in Peggy. After taking her out to dinner one evening he is confronted and attacked by Slim Murphy. When Peggy takes him up to her room to tend to his wounds she is evicted by her landlady. With no place to stay, Pat convinces Peggy to stay at his apartment. So Peggy now spends her nights trying to help Pat get a backbone and her days trying to teach Billy how to tap dance. For those of you who don’t know, Ruby Keeler was a standout tap dancer. In the end, Pat decides to leave New York and take a job in Philadelphia—which coincidentally is where Pretty Lady has its opening test run.

Soon after performing the “You’re Getting to Be a Habit with Me” number in a full dress rehearsal (which Bebe Daniels is quite good in), Dorothy sees Peggy getting into a cab with Pat and she becomes jealously enraged. This causes her to drink way too much at her pre-opening party, which leads her to slap and insult Abner. Oh, no you didn’t! Abner now demands that Marsh replace Peggy for her insolence. Really, hours before the opening? Okay, he’ll accept an apology, but first the producers have to get Dorothy away from Pat, whom she has drunkenly called to her hotel. After hearing the producers discussing how to get rid of Pat again, Peggy tries to warn the couple. A drunken Dorothy thinks she’s there to take Pat away from her and attacks her. In this tussle Dorothy takes a tumble and severely injures her ankle. What to do?

With Dorothy obviously out of his good graces, Abner suggests Anytime Annie take her place—quick work, don’t you think? But Annie doesn’t want the part and suggests to Marsh that Peggy is the only member of the cast capable of replacing Dorothy. With only five hours left until show time, Marsh and Peggy engage in an exhaustive cram session. In the end, Marsh deems Peggy somewhat capable of playing the role and declares that the show must go on. In a somewhat moving scene, Dorothy (on crutches) goes to Peggy’s dressing room to give her blessing and to give the young ingénue some sage advice about show business: success means nothing if you aren’t happy—she’s marrying Pat and leaving show business.

With this bit of melodrama over, the curtain rises and the film becomes a full-fledged musical, but not before the most memorable lines of the film are uttered by Marsh to Peggy: “you’re going out a youngster, but you’ve got to come back a star.” Got pressure? What follows this sage declaration are three memorable Busby Berkeley choreographed numbers, the most notable being, of course, “42nd Street” but I also enjoy “Shuffle Off to Buffalo” , which is a very risqué number—fortunately the Hays Code wasn’t in effect yet. Now, Ruby Keeler was definitely not the most gifted singer, but she does a passable job of singing “42nd Street” and her tap dancing is spectacular. “42nd Street” is the final number of the show and the stylized sets are amazing and the sheer amount of bodies involved in the number baffles one’s mind. One of the standout elements of this number is when chorus members walk up a giant platform and turn at the same time to reveal skyscraper cutouts, which creates a giant New York skyline. The show is a huge success, but Marsh is so physically drained from the ordeal of putting it together that he can’t even enjoy the fruits of his labor. Isn’t that always the case?

This film set the stage for a new type of Hollywood musical and gave birth to the unmistakable Busby Berkeley production number. When people think of 42nd Street they immediately remember the spectacular images he created. In my opinion, Berkeley is the greatest choreographer in film history.

Of course, future Hollywood stars like Dick Powell, Ruby Keeler, and Ginger Rogers got their big break here. Yet, the person I always remember as the standout is Warner Baxter. He was absolutely terrific as the tyrannically-driven director. Personally, I think this was his greatest role—much better than his Oscar winning turn in In Old Arizona. For me, he and the Berkeley production numbers are what makes this such a good film.

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Captains Courageous (1937) **

There are times when I think Spencer Tracy would have been better off if he’d never been paired up with Katharine Hepburn in 1942, when they co-starred in Woman of the Year. Now I know there are many fans of this duo, which made nine films together. I, myself, enjoy many of their films. Yet, the problem I have with this pairing is that there are so many movie fans who don’t recognize (or know about) the great work Tracy did without Hepburn. For way too many, his career is overly defined by the work he did with her. This is a shame, because he gave some of his best performances without her. As a matter of fact, in his illustrious career he was nominated for nine Academy Awards (winning twice), and only one of these nominations, Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner, co-starred Hepburn. Perhaps this oversight is tied to their off-screen romance. Whatever the case, I wish more people appreciated his non-Hepburn films.

Captains Courageous is one of those non-Hepburn films in which Tracy gives an outstanding performance. He won his first Oscar playing Portuguese fisherman Manuel in this classic MGM film, directed by Victor Fleming. An adaptation of Rudyard Kipling’s novel of the same name, the film garnered four Academy Award nominations (only winning Best Actor) and is considered one of cinema’s classic coming-of-age adventure stories.

In the beginning of the film, spoiled rich boy Harvey Cheyne (Freddie Bartholomew) and his widowed, inattentive millionaire father (Melvyn Douglas) are aboard the Queen Anne and headed for Europe. Harvey is a world-class brat who thinks it’s okay to drink six ice cream sodas. Punished by the gods of the high seas for his childish gluttony, Harvey becomes nauseous and leans a little too far over the rail to spew the remnants of his tasty treat. Splash! Into the ocean goes Harvey and nobody seems to notice. His body is rescued by Manuel (Tracy), a Portuguese sailor working on an American fishing ship captained by Disko Troop (the great Lionel Barrymore). Evidently Harvey didn’t sustain a concussion, because when he wakes up he’s as pompous as ever. He demands that Captain Troop drop everything and turn the ship toward shore. Troop missed the memo that said Harvey is lord and master and so he tells the boy a foreign word—NO. Instead, Harvey is informed that he must spend the next three months aboard a ship inhabited by dead fish and unrefined sailors. Plus, he’s told he must work on the ship if he wants to eat. Oh, the inhumanity!

Put under the supervision of Manuel (who calls Harvey his little fish), Harvey refuses to do any work at all and shuns the friendly overtures of Dan (Mickey Rooney), the captain's son. Once hunger kicks in, Harvey starts working in the ship galley. Over time, Harvey learns to perform various jobs and is eventually taught by Manuel how to fish. On one of their fishing trips in a skiff, Harvey fouls the line of other fisherman in order to catch a large halibut and win a contest. While Harvey is basking in the glow of success, Manuel is throwing the fish back in an effort to teach his little fish a lesson. This incident provokes an amazing result: Harvey actually feels ashamed and apologizes. From this point on, the salty, singing fisherman and the young would-be sailor form a bond. As a matter of fact, Harvey grows so fond of Manuel that he doesn’t want to be returned to his father.

Later, when the ship learns that a rival fishing ship is trying to beat them to port in an effort to get the best prices, Captain Troop decides they must make some bold moves. He orders the sails unfurled in dangerous weather conditions. Manuel volunteers for this task. Unfortunately the weather causes the mast to crack and Manuel is mortally wounded and trapped by the sails’ canvas and ropes in the water. In a heart-wrenching scene, it is decided that Manuel must be cut loose, sending him to the bottom of the sea to his death, This scene alone was most probably enough for Tracy to win the Oscar. His tearful goodbye to his little fish just break your heart. Bartholomew is also very moving in this scene. As a matter of fact, Bartholomew is exceedingly good for the remainder of the film. When the ship arrives at Gloucester, Harvey is reunited with his father. A moving memorial service is held for Manuel. It is here where the gulf between Mr. Cheyne and Harvey is closed. Mr. Cheyne sees that his son is no loner a spoiled brat, but a young man who has been profoundly changed by his experiences with Manuel.

Overall, this is a moving coming-of-age film. Tracy’s portrayal of the salt-of-the-earth (or sea in this case) Manuel is wonderful. Like many of his earlier roles, Tracy really develops this role into a memorable character. He gives Manuel many edges and does a good job of not over-playing his character into too much of a stereotype. In addition, Bartholomew is a delight to watch. Yes, his character is annoying in the beginning, but the personality changes he undergoes throughout the film seem believable. It is not easy to go from one of the most-irritating brats in screen history to a child who makes your heart break by the end of the film. Of course, Bartholomew had an excellent, seasoned co-star to help him along this difficult path. It is a shame that this film is not as well-known as it should be.

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