Peter Ibbetson (1935) **

As a fan of Gary Cooper, I must say that I was sorely disappointed by director Henry Hathaway’s, Peter Ibbetson (1935).  When I think of Cooper I don’t envision a pencil mustache, an five-second British accent, and surrealism.  This is not to say that this is a bad film—it’s just unbelievably weird. 

I’ve never read George du Maurier’s novel, Peter Ibbetson, so I viewed the screen adaptation with fresh eyes.  At first, when two young children (Dickie Moore and Virginia Weidler) are torn apart by fate, I anticipated that they would reunite as adults and live happily ever after once they overcame some Hollywood obstacle.  My goodness, I did not envision a murder conviction, a broken back, and, wait for it, a nighttime dream world where the separated lovers meet each night to skip through fields and dodge falling rocks.  Granted, it wasn’t your usual Hollywood story, so for that it gets originality points, but, oh my, when I try to wrap my mind around dream synchronization it just makes me giggle.

The acting was passable, but nothing to rave about either.  Cooper, who plays Peter Ibbetson, seems a bit uncomfortable in the role—or perhaps I am projecting my unhappiness with his pencil mustache with how I viewed his performance.  Still, he seemed stifled in this and his easy-going naturalistic acting style seemed to be missing.  Ann Harding, who plays Peter’s dream partner Mary, is much better in the first half of the film than in the second—so I guess that means she gave an uneven turn here.  I much preferred her when she played the spunky Duchess of Towers than when she morphed into the Dream Weaver. Again, my dislike of this plot device may have hampered my viewpoint of her second-half performance.  And, then we have a very young Ida Lupino speaking with a sort of Cockney accent as a girl Peter escorts around the French countryside. It was refreshing to hear Lupino use her British accent—as she was English—but I expect she did not speak with a Cockney accent at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art, either. 

The most impressive thing about Peter Ibbetson is Charles Lang’s cinematography.  He and director Hathaway obviously wanted to depict two different worlds—reality and dreamland (for lack of a better term, but I suppose you could say fantasy, too).  No surprise here, but Lang’s surreal world is full of silhouettes and expressionistic photography.  I expect the translucent shots of people walking through prison bars was a highlight for many viewers (even if it was 1935 and film had made great strides since Victor Sjostrom’s The Phantom Carriage in 1921).  Even I have to admit that Peter’s dream tower was pretty impressive (kudos to art directors Hans Dreier and Robert Usher)—and fitting, as his lover was the Duchess of Towers.  However, I was not amused with it exploding and raining rocks/debris down on two people who were dreaming. 

Overall, I found Peter Ibbetson to be a unique film (especially for the 1930s), but I wasn’t overly impressed with the overall product. The film is uneven and I just couldn’t allow myself to take the plot seriously.  This may sound strange coming from someone who adores The Wizard of Oz (1939), but there’s a big difference between the two films—Dorothy was the only one dreaming! 

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A Night at the Opera (1935) **

(This is my contribution to the CMBA’s Comedy Classics Blogathon. Please visit http://clamba.blogspot.com/ for more great comedy classic articles.)

Imagine if you will a world in which a nation finds itself weighed down by hard economic times—a world where a select few have much and the majority of people struggle to make ends meet. In this type of world the masses need something or someone to make things seem less dark and hopeless.  In 1935 the world was a dark place for many Americans.  The Great Depression saw unemployment and homelessness ascend and people’s spirits and dreams descend into despair.  Most people didn’t go to the movies to be reminded that their lives were filled with worry and uncertainty. No, they went to films to escape—at least for a few short hours—from the unpleasant times in which they lived.  Just that one simple act of sitting side-by-side in a darkened theater with people just like themselves and laughing at the absurdity of it all—the jokes, the actors, and the world itself—what a release it must have been!  That is what the Marx Brothers brought to the American people—comic relief from a very unfunny world.

The Marx Brothers made thirteen films (really fourteen, but Humor Risk [1921] doesn’t count, as it was never released); A Night at the Opera (1935) was their sixth film and their first for MGM.  They, like the American people, had suffered some setbacks.  Their previous film, Duck Soup (1933), had not fared well at the box office or with the critics; thus, effectively ending their working relationship with Paramount.  While the world might have seemed insane to most people, they didn’t want to go to movies where nothing made sense. Irving Thalberg knew this, and so when he took the brothers on at MGM he proposed that they remain as insane as they already were but that there be an actual plot that ran the insane asylum. What emerged was what most critics consider to be the Marx Brothers best film.

While they no longer carried the keys to the asylum, the Marx Brothers still got Thalberg to allow them to choose their writers, George S. Kaufman and Morrie Ryskind, and to showcase their individual talents.  Groucho still got to deliver his quick one-liners. Chico still played the wily ethnic, as well as the piano. And, Harpo was still a silent, childlike figure who could play the harp like an angel and leer at women like a pervert.  Yes, Zeppo was gone, but while his good looks would sorely me missed, the brothers no longer needed him to play the straight man as they now had the ultimate straight man—an actual story plot! 

By all accounts, the Marx Brothers were viewed as over-the-top, absurd characters.  Well, what better world to place them in than the world of opera?  And, not just any opera, but Verdi’s Il Travatore—one of the most ridiculous (and revered) operas ever.  In the words of NPR, “opera has always been easy fodder for jokes. Even the greatest of operas often seem to teeter on some weird edge between the profound and the preposterous.”  What a perfect setting for a group of men who took great pride in being profanely outrageous.  That is what A Night at the Opera is.

There are three things that are profanely outrageous about this film: 1) People are starving to death in America, but Mrs. Claypool (Margaret Dumont) is willing to pay $200,000 to the New York Opera Company if it gets her name into society. 2) The reputation and arrogance of tenor Rodolpho (Walter Wolf King) is more respected than the talent and industriousness of tenor Riccardo (Allan Jones). 3) And, everything else. That’s right, everything else. 

While the story is held together by the love story of tenor Rodolpho and soprano Rosa (Kitty Carlisle), the film is really nothing more than a cornucopia of Marx Brothers’ gags wrapped in the guise of a romantic musical comedy.  The plot, which they somewhat abide by, is what allows them to do what they do best—run anarchically amok.  Three things stand out in this regard.

First, you have the famous stateroom scene where Groucho’s character, Otis P. Driftwood, finds himself sardined into  a very small room with three stowaways: Riccardo, Tomasso (Harpo), and Fiorello (Chico).  The plot says that the stowaways are in the tight space because they can’t afford tickets and because Riccardo can’t be separated from Rosa.  The reality is that the Marx Brothers (with the help of Buster Keaton) saw an opportunity to pack as many people as humanly possible into that small space under the pretext that all fifteen people who eventually end up in it are there for a perfectly reasonable reason. 

The second example is the bed-switching skit in Groucho’s hotel.  Again, Groucho finds himself playing host to the three stowaways, but now they are illegal immigrants wanted by the police.  When Detective Henderson (Robert Emmet O’Connor) comes looking for them and sees three cots in Groucho’s hotel he knows something isn’t right.  What ensues is a ridiculous ruse in which Henderson is used as a human carousel to seamlessly transfer an entire bedroom to another room without him knowing. By the end of the ruse the poor detective is thoroughly convinced that he is in an entirely separate room.

The last example, of course, is the final sequence, where Harpo and Chico find themselves in the most unlikely situations: playing catch in the orchestra; playing gypsies in the chorus; and, finally as (for Harpo at least) rope pullers and set changers for the scene backdrops.  The fact that the show would go on when so much chaos is so obviously taking place before the audience’s own eyes is beyond profanely outrageous.

I have always thought of the finale as a reflection on America’s upper class citizens in the 1930s—the whole world is obviously on fire, yet they sit passively by and don’t even attempt to throw a glass of water on it! Perhaps I’m a bit subversive in this thinking, but I wouldn’t put it past the Marx Brothers. Maybe this was their small glass of water to an American public thirsting for a bright and hopeful future.

 

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The 39 Steps (1935) **1/2

In his 18th effort, legendary British director Alfred Hitchcock created a film that brought him to the notice of American audiences and Hollywood. The film, The 39 Steps (1935), also introduced two classic Hitchcockian themes: the MacGuffin and the average, innocent man (Robert Donat) who finds himself forced into extraordinary circumstances to prove his innocence.  In addition to these two themes, the film also has another classic Hitchcock element: an icy blonde heroine (Madeline Carroll).  You combine these three components with a masterfully plotted script and you have the first of many classic Hitchcock films.

The screenplay was based on John Buchan’s 1915 novel of the same name. While Charles Bennett is given the screenwriting credit, both Hitchcock and his often used dialogue writer Ian Hay (an author in his own right) also contributed to the film’s tightly-constructed script. As most Hitchcock fans know, he wanted a script that was visual in nature so his favorite directorial tool, the storyboard, could be precisely created to match the script.  I once read somewhere that Hitchcock’s storyboards were so precise that he never looked through the viewfinder while directing—he didn’t need to. Even today, Hitchcock’s storyboards are something to marvel. Perhaps that is why Cinemek created a Hitchcock storyboard app for the iPhone? 

The story takes place over a four-day period in both London and the Scottish highlands. As with most Hitchcock films, The 39 Steps begins innocently enough, with the film’s hero, Richard Hannay (Donat) attending a vaudeville show starring Mr. Memory (Wylie Watson).  However, his life soon becomes complicated when he takes Annabella Smith (Lucie Mannheim) back to his rented room after shots are fired in the theatre. Unbeknownst to him, Ms. Smith is a secret double agent hiding from two men from an organization known as, you didn’t guess it, the 39 Steps, that want to kill her.  The poor sap even jokes about it when she lets him in on her predicament. He stops laughing when she ends up with a knife in her back and two men outside his window seem like they might want to kill him, too.  And, so with the knowledge that Ms. Smith was supposed to stop British military secrets from being smuggled out of the country by a spy missing the top of his little finger and who works for the 39 Steps, Hannay sets out to do her job. First step, pry the map of Scotland out of her cold, dead hand, and notice that she’s circled the town of Alt-na-Shellach. Second step, get out of the building without being noticed by two men outside. He does this by borrowing the milkman’s hat and coat and then he takes a train to Scotland.

Whilst on this train, two very important things happen. First, he learns that Ms. Smith’s body has been found and that he is the prime suspect. This leads to the other important thing: to avoid identification he pops into the compartment of our Hitchcockian icy blonde, Pamela (Carroll). Perhaps she was mad that he kissed her before a proper introduction, but once she catches her breath she alerts the police to his presence and he has to make another daring escape.  Don’t worry, they’ll meet again.

Not able to make it on foot to Alt-na-Shellach before dark, Hannay finds shelter with a religious fanatic (John Laurie) and his young wife Margaret (a very young Peggy Ashcroft). Unlike Pamela, Margaret helps Hannay escape the police when her jealous and greedy husband tries to turn him in for a reward. Hannay then finds his way to the house of Professor Jordan (Godfrey Tearle), the man whom he mistakenly believes is Ms. Smith’s ally. This myth is soon dispelled when Jordan shows him his deformed little finger and shoots him point blank. Ah, thank goodness Margaret had given Hannay her husband’s coat as a disguise—it had a thick prayer book in its breast-pocket. You gotta love, Hitch!

He ends up in the local sheriff’s office recounting the events that led to his would-be murder and narrow escape. He finds himself handcuffed (but by only one wrist) and ready to be turned over to London authorities when he makes yet another escape.  This time he hides out at political rally where he meets up with Pamela again. She evidently doesn’t like him, because she alerts the authorities once again. Ah, but she alerts the “wrong” authorities this time, and she finds herself being taken to the professor’s house with Hannay. Conveniently, the spies handcuff Pamela and Hannay together. And, so when he makes yet another escape she has to come along too—she’s actually drug, but that’s just semantics. Anyway, this leads to some rather interesting scenes at an inn between the warring couple. Carroll is your typical Hitchcock ice queen—eventually she melts. She and Donat do a nice job of playing off one another, and the love-hate relationship that develops between their characters is palpable.

This being a suspense film, I won’t give away the ending.  All I’ll say is that it takes place at the London Palladium and it is quite circular.  However, it is Hitchcock’s newfound love of the MacGuffin that makes the ending so enjoyable. What are the 39 Steps and how can the military secrets be smuggled out of the country without detection? It is, as my old friend M. Night Shyamalan would say, a twist. And, what is a good suspense film without an even better twist? Hitchcock would use the MacGuffin device in many of his best films, such as  Vertigo, The Lady Vanishes, North by Northwest, The Man Who Knew Too Much, and, of course, Notorious.

Not my favorite Hitchcock film, that honor rests with Notorious, The 39 Steps is still an enjoyable piece of cinema.  I really think this film helped shape and define Hitchcock’s style for the rest of his career.

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The Bride of Frankenstein (1935) **

(This article is from guest contributor ClassicBecky and first appeared at http://classic-film-tv.blogspot.com/. Visit ClassicBecky’s own blog at: http://classicbeckybrainfood.blogspot.com/. The rating in the title is my own.)

Bride of Frankenstein (1935) is such a staple for classic film lovers and horror movie lovers that it is difficult to add anything to the many reviews and articles written over the years. From the time that director James Whale designed the look for the monster in 1931’s original Frankenstein and directed it to perfection, all the way up to the present day, Mary Shelley’s novel has been a favorite for each generation of movie-makers. Everyone wants to put their own personal stamp on this exciting story, some quite good, others just plain awful.

Bride of Frankenstein is different. There has only been 1 attempt of which I am aware at re-making it, a really dreadful movie called The Bride, with Sting and Jennifer Beals. (Remember Mystery Science Theatre 3000? They would have had a hey-day with that one!) As far as other serious attempts, I know of only two that are worth mentioning. These were movies about the entire Frankenstein story, a made-for-TV movie with Jane Seymour as the bride, and Kenneth Branagh’s version featuring Helena Bonham Carter. However, those two can’t really be considered re-makes, as they were trying to film the entire novel.

I think it would be impossible to re-capture the wonderful dark humor infused into the original bride story that was mostly responsible, in my opinion, for its unique nature. Bride of Frankenstein was written by William Hurlbut and John Balderston, and also incorporated James Whale's brand of side-glancing, off-beat humor which was his personal stamp. When I was a kid, I thought the story was deadly serious, and believed I should see it that way. After I had a few years under my belt, I realized how really funny this movie is. It still has the pathos of the poor monster’s loneliness and solitude, it has the wonderful eerie atmosphere of light and shadow, that fabulous laboratory, and lots of lightning. But it also has Ernest Thesiger as Dr. Praetorius with his little human menagerie, O.P. Heggie as the violin-playing blind hermit, and of course Elsa Lanchester with the hair!




As for the storyline, the movie opens with Mary Shelley, Lord Byron and Percy Shelley at the famous villa where Mary wrote the novel "Frankenstein."  She explains that the story was not finished, and begins to tell the rest.  The monster is back on the rampage, having escaped the fiery windmill in the first story.  (In the opening scene, Boris Karloff fell into a well which was part of the set and broke his leg.  The metal rods that held his legs rigid for his distinctive walk helped keep the bone in place until he got to a doctor.)  The monster frightens people everywhere, is misunderstood in his intentions, and longs for someone like himself to be his friend. He comes upon a hut in the woods and hears the music of a violin. The hut is inhabited by a blind man, who welcomes the monster without fear since he can’t see him. The monster learns some words, and the two men sit down together to eat dinner. When the blind man strikes a match to light a cigar, the monster screams because of his fear of fire. The blind man explains to him that fire is good, and offers him a cigar. “Smoke is good!” the blind man says, and the monster inhales and says “Smoke….good.” (In these days of political correctness, we may yet see this scene cut out, although the rampaging and killing will of course be left in.) Some villagers come by, and since they are not blind, they panic, attack the monster and drive him away.



Meanwhile, Dr. Praetorius is insinuating himself into Dr. Frankenstein’s life (Colin Clive reprises his role, looking a bit the worse for wear during the 4 years since the original Frankenstein. Clive had also broken his leg just as shooting began on the film, and is shown in seated positions throughout.) Ernest Thesiger is wonderful as the mad Dr. Praetorius, with his long, skeletal face and clipped British accent. He plays Praetorius in a threatening but gleeful way, prancing at times and clapping his hands together. Frankenstein is not interested in trying to re-animate dead tissue anymore, but Praetorius piques his interest by showing him his new brand of re-animation, or rather, creation of life. Praetorius displays his collection of tiny people kept in glass jars, a king, a queen, a bishop, a ballerina, a mermaid, alive and well and playing pranks. (The famous little person, Billy Barty, was to have been part of the menageries, but his scenes were cut.) When the tiny people speak, it is with tiny squeaks like cartoon mice. Frankenstein is horrified and interested, but still does not want to go back into the body-building business. Later, the monster finds Praetorius sitting in what looks like an open-air crypt, drinking gin and relaxing. When the monster realizes that it would be possible for Dr. Frankenstein to create a female, Praetorius is able to enlist him to kidnap Frankenstein's wife and hold her hostage until he agrees to do so.



The female is created in the same laboratory (that’s pronounced laBORatory) where the monster was brought to life. Her shroud is much more stylish, though, well-fitted and displaying a fine figure.  (It was so well-fitted that Elsa Lanchester was unable to move.  She had to be carried around the set.)  The bride  opens her eyes – the next scene shows her standing, dressed in a widely-shaped, floor-length, long-sleeved white dress. (Lanchester was 5'4", and was put on stilts to make her much taller.)  Her hair is done up in a very chic updo, dark with lightning-shaped white hair on either side. She sees Dr. Frankenstein and likes him, sees the monster and hates him, and utters a few distinctive echoing cries. The monster sees that she refuses his overtures, and decides he has had enough rejection in his life. He grabs a lever. Dr. Praetorius cries “Don’t touch that lever. You’ll blow us all to atoms!” Why such a lever would be installed in the first place is never explained. The monster, in an unusual mood of love for his creator, tells him to leave – “You live! We belong dead!” Then of course, he pulls the lever, and Dr. Praetorius’ warning comes true.



I just cannot write about Bride of Frankenstein without paying tribute to two movies where it plays major roles. The first is Gods and Monsters, a biographical film about James Whale with Ian McKellan,  In a flashback for Whale, we see him shooting the scene where the bride stands in her finery. The actor who plays Praetorius turns to Whale and says “Are Colin and I supposed to have done her hair?” Gods and Monsters is a tremendous movie and you shouldn’t miss it.



The second movie is, of course, Mel Brooks' Young Frankenstein. For any lover of the Frankenstein movies, this is a must. It takes elements from Frankenstein, Bride of Frankenstein and Son of Frankenstein. It is one of the greatest comedy films I have ever seen. The wonderful Madeline Kahn plays the woman who becomes the bride, and the scene where she comes out of the bathroom to her new husband, with her hair in that style, is not to be missed. Cloris Leachman as Frau Blucher, Peter Boyle as the monster, Marty Feldman as Igor (that's pronouced Eye-gor), Gene Hackman as the blind hermit (a scene with an ending line I'll never forget),Terri Garr as the voluptuous laboratory assistant and the marvelous Gene Wilder as Dr. Frankenstein (that's Fronk-en-steen) are an unbelievably funny ensemble.  Frankly, I can never watch any of the Frankenstein movies anymore without the hilarious Young Frankenstein always in my mind. Make a really fun weekend for yourself.  Watch these movies in order.  It will be an experience you won't forget.

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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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Mutiny on the Bounty (1935) **

In 1935 Columbia Pictures president Harry Cohn had the great distinction of awarding the first “Oscar” for Best Picture (it was actually called Outstanding Production at that time) to MGM’s nautical classic Mutiny on the Bounty. His studio had no film nominated (which is difficult to believe since 12 films were up for the award), so he was just happy to be asked to the party. Anyway, between 1927-1934 the award wasn’t known as the “Oscar”, so technically this was the first Best Picture to win the “Oscar”—one of those tricky questions for you trivia buffs out there. It also holds the honor of being the first remake (1933’s In the Wake of the Bounty) to win Best Picture. In the end, the film was nominated for 8 Academy Awards and only won one, but at least it won the biggest prize of all. Of course, they may have picked up the Best Actor award if it hadn’t been for the fact that the three male leads (Clark Gable, Charles Laughton, and Franchot Tone) were nominated against one another. I suppose Victor McLaglen was quite happy about this, because he took home the award for his performance in The Informer.

The screenplay was a monumental undertaking, as screenwriters Talbot Jennings, Carey Wilson and Jules Furthman were given the task of adapting the first two volumes of Charles Nordhoff and James Norman Hall’s 1932 The Bounty Trilogy to the big screen. For the amount of story they had to work with, I think it is a miracle the movie was only 132 minutes long. Perhaps this is one of the reasons they were nominated for an Oscar (they lost out to The Informer, too!). There was an actual Mutiny on the Bounty, but, like most Hollywood films based on true stories, this was not a completely accurate retelling. For example, Captain Bligh wasn’t reprimanded in this incident but, in fact, promoted to Vice Admiral for his actions.

Director Frank Lloyd also picked up a nomination (he lost to John Ford, who, you guessed it!, directed The Informer—was there a conspiracy?) for heading MGM’s $2 million over-budget film. Good thing for Lloyd that it was also the top-earner of 1935, at $4.5 million. Of course, producers Irving Thalberg and Albert Lewin couldn’t complain since they signed off on a film primarily shot on location in Tahiti and Catalina Island. Perhaps Lloyd’s greatest accomplishment on this film was getting Clark Gable to shave off his cherished mustache.

The story begins in 1787, aboard the H.M.S. Bounty, which is bound for the breadfruit capital of the world, Tahiti. Once there, the crew’s mission is to transport the cheap foodstuff to plantations in the West Indies. Charles Laughton gives one of his most memorable performances as the sadistic and abusive captain of the Bounty, Captain Bligh. Some genius at MGM thought Wallace Beery was the best actor for this role. Really? Wallace Beery better than Academy Award winner Charles Laughton? I hope someone got a promotion for averting this disaster. Anyway, before the ship can set off from Portsmouth, Captain Bligh has one bit of business to attend. A crew member must be flogged for violating a rule. The problem: he’s dead. No matter, he still must be flogged to send a message to the rest of the crew. Does the audience really need to know any more about Bligh? First Officer Fletcher Christian (Clark Gable), who is used to working with this nutcase, tries his best to heed his captain’s orders while at the same time gaining the respect of the crew. This only infuriates Bligh more, which, in turn, causes him to do things that makes Christian grow to resent him. In addition to Fletcher, Midshipman Roger Byam (Franchot Tone), who is on his first cruise with Bligh, is astounded and shocked by the captain’s behavior.

By the time the ship lands in Tahiti, Fletcher is out of favor with Bligh and is not allowed to go ashore. Instead, Byam goes ashore and falls in love with the beautiful Tehani (Mrs. Marlon Brando, Movita Castaneda). Not wanting to hog all the beautiful island women, Byam concocts a plan to allow Fletcher to go ashore. Once there, he also falls in love with Maimiti (Mamo Clark), the granddaughter of the island chief. The crew spends six months in paradise and then, once they have got all the breadfruit they can carry, they must set off for the West Indies. Having led a carefree, happy existence on the island, the men soon become reacquainted with Captain Bligh’s strict running of the ship. Some of the men can’t take it and decide to abandon ship and return to the beautiful Tahitian women. When they are captured, Bligh orders their flogging and demands that the ship’s very ill doctor, Dr. Bacchus (Dudley Digges), attend. What a clever last name for an alcoholic!!! Any way, Dr. Bacchus dies after leaving his bed to obey Bligh’s order. This causes Fletcher to break and he intervenes in the flogging and starts a mutiny. Bligh is tied to the mast and becomes the victim of countless insults from his crew. Luckily for him, Fletcher is an honorable man. When the crew decides to kill him, Fletcher saves him and sets him and some of the non-mutineers out to sea in a small rowboat. Unfortunately for Byam, who doesn’t support the mutiny, there is not enough room for him in the boat. Put out to sea, Bligh swears vengeance and promises he will live to see every last mutineer hang. A master sailor (but a total SOB), Bligh does manage to travel the high seas over 3,500 miles to reach the East Indies.

Meanwhile, the mutineers return to Tahiti, where both Fletcher and Byam marry their Tahitian beauties. And for a whole year, the crew lives in paradise. But then one unfortunate day the Pandora, commanded by one Captain Bligh, drops anchor in the Tahitian harbor. Fletcher leads the mutineers on an escape from the island with the Bounty, while Byam and five other men return to Bligh. As psycho as ever, Bligh charges them with mutiny and places them in irons. Crazy for vengeance, Bligh recklessly pursues the Bounty and wrecks his ship. Miraculously, those who survive this crash also survive another rowboat expedition and eventually make it back to England, where Byam faces court-martial and is sentenced to hang. At his hearing, Byam reveals the true nature of Captain Bligh and the cruelty of flogging as a punishment. In true Hollywood style, Byam is pardoned and allowed to return to service in the navy, while Captain Bligh’s behavior is denounced.

And what happened to Fletcher? He and his crew took the Bounty to Pitcairn Island and promptly crashed and burned it so no one could ever leave. No doubt after seeing this movie thousands of women went home and dreamt they were stranded on a deserted island with Clark Gable.

Overall, and enjoyable adventure story. The cinematography is pretty impressive, but I definitely think it would have been better shot in color. The acting is top-notch and Charles Laughton does a great job portraying one of the most vilest characters in screen history.

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Captain Blood (1935) ***

Before 1935 Errol Flynn was an Australian nobody in Hollywood. He’d made five very forgettable films (only one of which he “starred” in) and his career was in neutral. And, then Robert Donat turned down (rather vehemently) the role of Captain Blood. Although he may have been a stingy S.O.B., Jack Warner often could spot diamonds in the rough and he saw something in Flynn’s raw animal magnetism and gave Flynn the role that would launch an adventurous career.

Based on Rafael Sabatini’s novel of the same name, Captain Blood was directed by Michael Curtiz and was nominated for 5 Academy Awards. Errol Flynn plays a 17th Century Irish doctor who is found guilty of treason in England after treating a man wounded in the Monmouth Rebellion (this was a rebellion to overthrow King James II). Sentenced to slavery in the West Indies (specifically Port Royal, Jamaica), he is condemned to the sulfur mines after refusing to allow the colony’s military commander, Colonel Bishop (the strangely entertaining Lionel Atwill), to examine his teeth. Attracted by Blood’s open defiance of her uncle, the plucky Arabella Bishop (Olivia de Havilland) decides to rescue Blood from sure death and buys him for 10 pounds. Oh, what would a gorgeous woman want with a rebellious slave stud? Get your minds out of the gutter! Blood is openly resentful towards Arabella for interfering and the two often trade barbs with one another, but she’s still the boss (kind of). Both Arabella and Blood are fiery, strong-willed individuals, so it is great fun to watch their scenes together. In particular, de Havilland seems to have a mischievous gleam in her eye throughout the film. This was the first of eight film pairings for Flynn and de Havilland—one of the most successful in screen history.

In the begging of his servitude with the Bishops, Blood finds himself working on their plantation. When Arabella sees that Blood is getting the lash a bit too much for his unchecked attitude, she decides to set him up in a more cozy position. It just so happens that the governor of Port Royal has gout, and who better to treat him than Dr. Blood? Later, she rescues him again when she provides an alibi for him when he is making plans for an escape. This sets up one of the more comical scenes of the film: Blood apologizes and tries to explain why he’s been so rude to Arabella. Her response is pure delight, “I've had men tell me they had reasons for admiring me. And some few, it came, had reasons for loving me. But for a man to store up reasons for resenting me. How refreshing!" For some reason Blood thought this was an invitation to a kiss—oh, no you didn’t! Slap!

As Blood and his friends continue their escape plans, the island is attacked by Spanish pirates. This causes the necessary diversion for them to make their escape. Yet, when they get to their hidden boat they find it damaged and unseaworthy. Not letting this deter them, they decide to take over the weakly guarded Spanish boat. After subduing the Spanish crew, and thus, saving Port Royal, the escaped prisoners are told by Colonel Bishop (who somehow made his way to the ship) that the king might reduce their sentences for their bravery. They toss him overboard and become the Pirates of the Caribbean (take that Johnny Depp!), with Dr. Love becoming Captain Blood.

Later, in a stop in Tortuga, Blood meets French pirate Captain Levasseur (Basil Rathbone). This was the first of many screen partnership between Rathbone and Flynn. Drunk as a skunk, Blood forms a partnership with this most untrustworthy Frenchman. The partnership is rather fortuitous, because Levasseur soon captures an English ship carrying Arabella and an emissary of the king, Lord Willoughby (Henry Stephenson). Levasseur wants to sell them back for a ransom, but Blood decides to buy them for a handful of pearls. Both Arabella and Levasseur aren’t happy with this deal. She, because it’s a blow to her pride—Blood is the boss now. Levasseur, because he has plans for the haughty prisoner. Blood is forced to draw his sword on Levasseur, thus ending their already fragile partnership. In the first of many crossed saber scenes between Rathbone and Flynn ensues, and Levasseur is killed. This is a great swordsmanship scene that was timed to the incoming waves. Filmed at Laguna Beach, in this scene Rathbone had to fall at exactly the same moment that a wave was coming in and could cover him and then wash back out to sea to reveal his dead body. They did it in one take.

Good news, King James II is dead and William and Mary are now the rulers of England—praise be upon the Glorious Revolution of 1688! Lord Willoughby informs Blood that he will grant the entire crew a pardon if he returns them to Port Royal. When Arabella tells him she wants nothing to do with his pirate way of life, he decides to return his new purchases to Port Royal. This could be a problem, because due to his rather profitable ventures on the high seas, the governor of Port Royal has been replaced by Colonel Bishop, who has sworn vengeance on Blood. When the ship returns to Port Royal they find it under French attack. It would seem that instead of protecting the colony, the English fleet is out at sea trying to hunt down pirates. In a bit of irony, Blood and his crew overtake the French ship and save Port Royal yet again! As a reward, Lord Willoughby appoints Blood the new governor of the colony and Arabella gives in to her love for her heroic hunk.

The chemistry between Flynn and de Havilland is undeniable. I always appreciate how well de Havilland seems to play feisty but refined women. In addition, the role reversal between the two lovers is enjoyable to watch. Plus, she could always carry off just about any costume they put her in in her many period films.

Besides being a great adventurous love story, this film made good use of special effects, camerawork, and a fantastic Oscar nominated musical score. Director Curtiz carries the film at a past pace and makes good use of cinematographers Ernest Haller and Hal Mohr. Eric Wolfgang Korngold’s score is very memorable as well. Although it lost the Best Picture Oscar to Mutiny on the Bounty, Captain Blood stands alone as one of the greatest pirate films (pre CGI) ever.

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