The Remake Debate: Love Affair (1939) vs. An Affair to Remember (1957)

Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr in the 1957 remake.

People have been debating this since 1957 when Leo McCarey decided to remake his 1939 romantic classic Love Affair as An Affair to Remember, and the debate has only become more heated for old-movie buffs as the years pass. The story goes like this: director/screenwriter Leo McCarey, wrote the original 1939 script with Cary Grant in mind for his leading man, but Grant was unable to do it because of other obligations (he did, however, make Gunga Din and Only Angels Have Wings that year, both of which are fantastic pictures). Instead McCarey was forced to go with French actor Charles Boyer, whose tenuous grasp of English made his rendition of the famous final scene much less powerful than the performance Grant gave eighteen years later. Even though the film was nominated for a Best Picture Oscar that year, McCarey was not happy with the result, and thus after waiting a decent interval, he secured Grant as a leading man and decided to go ahead with a remake. That picture greatly eclipsed the fame of the original, mostly because it did not have to compete with Gone with the Wind the way its predecessor did.

That being the case, many people have argued - and rightly so - that despite Grant's superior performance and the more lavish production values, the remake feels somewhat hallow compared to the original. There are reasons for this, too. To start with the female lead was originally written for and performed by Irene Dunne (who, incidentally, had terrific chemistry with Grant in The Awful Truth, My Favorite Wife, and Penny Serenade which makes it especially a shame that they couldn't do the original together as planned), and she's absolutely perfect, blending just the right amount of humor and pathos - and doing her own signing with her light-lyric operatic soprano, unlike Deborah Kerr, who was dubbed in the remake and seems harder and more stilted in her acting style. Then there's the problem of pacing: the original seemed just right, telling its story in just under 90 minutes, whereas the 2-hour pace of the remake drags at times, especially in the second half. Most glaringly awful of these additional/updated scenes are the musical sequences with Kerr's elementary school class, which are corny without either being charming or adding anything to the narrative.

Irene Dunne and Charles Boyer in the 1939 original.

Apart from Cary Grant, though, there quite a few things to like about the remake. As mentioned above the famous final scene is much stronger in the remake, and since it's the emotional center of the story, you can argue for the remake's overall superiority on that ground alone. I also really love the cinematography, especially a certain shot on the ocean liner where Grant and Kerr kiss on a staircase, but we only see their legs, making the moment amazingly evocative; it's the kind of minimalist technique that filmmakers today would do well to emulate. The score, too, seems to blend perfectly with each scene, and the theme song is particularly memorable and reprised to great effect.

So which to I really prefer? I can't really say. I grew up with the Cary Grant version and will always prefer his performance as the male lead, but I'm becoming fonder and fonder of the original as I get older, especially because I adore Irene Dunne. I therefore find myself in the most disagreeable position any arbiter of taste can be: that of being unable to say equivocally which has more merit. Both are equally worth watching, though, so my advice is simply to watch them both and decide for yourself.

The Prisoner of Zenda (1937)

The Prisoner of Zenda is one of those films that you've probably seen even if you haven't ever watched it. It's an adaptation of the famous Victorian novel of the same name, and has been made into countless stage and screen productions. It's also been parodied relentlessly in film and television for the last fifty years, most famously in Peter Seller's 1979 spoof and the second act of Blake Edwards's The Great Race. Of all its various incarnations, however, this one is generally considered to be the best, and with good reason. A faithful screenplay, and the star power of Ronald Colman, Madeleine Carroll, Raymond Massey, Douglas Fairbanks Jr., Mary Astor, and David Niven makes this 1937 Selznick version the one considered absolutely definitive.

The plot is fairly basic, with Ronald Colman playing an English tourist in the (fictional) country of Ruritania, who is distantly related to the monarch of that nation and by an astonishing coincidence looks exactly like him. This proves to be advantageous when the king is drugged and falls comatose on the eve of his coronation, and Colman must take his place or the country will fall prey to the king's evil half-brother (Raymond Massey). The plan appears to go off without a hitch, although Colman instantly becomes smitten with the king's bride-to-be (Madeleine Carroll). Unfortunately Massey's evil henchman (Douglas Fairbanks, Jr.) stumbles upon the real king while the latter is still incapacitated, and kidnaps him in order to use him as a political leverage, possibly to kill him so Massey can assume the throne. The rest of the film is taken up in the thrilling rescue which includes Colman the infiltrating the castle of Zenda by swimming the moat, climbing the castle walls, and sword-fighting with Douglas Fairbanks, Jr.

I liken this film to a box of See's Candies: it's junk food, but it's high-quality junk food that tastes really good. The characters are extremely predictable with the bad guys do diabolical you can imagine them twirling their mustaches and the good guys impossible noble even if they do have their foibles (the king, for example, is a bit of a lush). Still, it's well executed, well acted, and has enough action and intrigue to keep the audience entertained the requisite two hours. Fairbanks has so much fun being evil, moreover, that you can't help enjoying his performance even if it is completely over-the-top.

I leave this film with a rating of 7.6.


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The Great Race, The Prisoner of Zenda (1937 and 1952 Versions) 

The Petrified Forest (1936)

**spoiler warnings**

Rare is the film in which Bette Davis plays a likable character. Her stage roles always seemed to mimic the real life hardness for which she is noted, so it is refreshing to find her so appealing in the role of an ingenue. Not only is she fabulous in this movie, though, but her co-stars, Leslie Howard and Humphrey Bogart, give equally strong performances, making The Petrified Forest extremely memorable despite its depressing ending - sorry if I gave away a major plot point there. This film is also significant because it marks the first major role that Bogart ever played, reprising the part he played on Broadway at the absolute insistence of his good friend Leslie Howard.

Bette Davis plays a poetically-touched waitress working at a rest-stop diner in the Arizona desert. When a disillusioned writer (Leslie Howard) wanders in one day, the two are drawn together as kindred spirits, and  Davis's optimistic ambition to see the world rekindles Howard's long-extinguished faith in humanity. Howard intends to continue on his journey, but the arrival of a dangerous gangster (Humphrey Bogart) prevents him from leaving, as Bogart proceeds to hold the entire diner hostage while he waits for his girlfriend to join him. As the evening wears on and tensions mount, Howard looks at his worthless life and considers how he has nothing to offer Bette Davis, with whom he has fallen in love. He hits upon the idea, however, to name Davis as the beneficiary of his life insurance policy and then letting Bogart kill him, which the surly gangster agrees to do after he makes his rendezvous. The arrival of the law on the scene seems to prevent Howard's quixotic self-sacrifice, and after confessing his love to Davis, he seems to regain to will to live. But in a final act of serendipity, Howard tries to prevent Bogart's escape, and gets gunned down.

There's a strange kind of determinism and nihilism in this movie which makes it difficult to watch. Howard's character has strange premonitions that he will die there in the Petrified Forest, and he seems to think it poetically appropriate because he feels fossilized by his irrelevance and sense of powerlessness. Davis, too, seems to be destined to doff the her mundane surroundings and seek the adventure she longs for, and the achieves this means despite all plot twists, just as Howard achieves his sacrificial death. Howard's gesture is supposed to be noble, but I don't really know how much of a sacrifice it really is because he seems so careless of his life at times. Instead he feels at times like a suicide looking for a place to happen, and even though he seems to regain the will to live near the end, the way he flings himself in front of Bogart in the end feels truly needless because he really has no way of preventing Bogart's escape, and really just stands there and blocks the door before getting shot.

Despite these dismal images, there's also a movement towards searching for a reason to live, mostly depicting in people urging Davis to embrace her dreams. Even Howard has flashes of a rebirth - ironic since he is heading for Phoenix on the way to the pacific ocean - and as I said, his death is supposed to be redemptive because it will enable Davis to do what she wants with her life. Still, the pallor of death hangs so heavily over Howard's character that his rejuvenation seems more like that of the penitent thief on the cross saying, "Lord, remember me in your Kingdom!" than an actual Christ figure. So despite well-drawn characters and outstanding acting, this movie does not leave the audience edified as the best of tragedies do (Shakespeare, for example). It's philosophical examinations, however, bear viewing, however, if only to disagree with them.


I give this film a 7.5 for very strong acting, and an engaging, if not ultimately successful story.


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The Petrified Forest

It Happened One Night (1934)

This film swept all four of the major Oscars (Best Picture, Best Actor, Best Actress, and Best Director)  in 1934, a still-unprecedented feat, and skyrocketed the careers of Clark Gable and director Frank Capra in the process. This, incidentally, was the first black-and-white movie I saw as a child, and I still enjoy it as much in my mid-twenties as I did the first time I saw it at the age of eight. The reason for its enduring charm has to do with the humor, which entertains on enough levels to satisfy both the puerile and sophisticated intellects. It also fulfills all the functions of a successful romantic comedy, and does it with enough flair to keep our interest regardless of the fact that we know the inevitable conclusion.

Of course the real story of It Happened One Night is that everyone apart from Capra thought it was a horrible idea. Gable was "condemned" to the role as a disciplinary action by his parent studio MGM, loaning him out to Columbia to combat his insubordination. Colbert also did not relish her part, but complied only because they paid her a hefty sum and promised to complete filming in less than four weeks, which they did. Indeed, both stars issued apologies to Capra when they won their Oscars, but you could never tell they were unhappy from the fine performances they gave. In fact their frustration might have helped to hone the sardonic humor and sexual tension of both their characters.

The plot revolves around runaway heiress Ellen Andrews (Claudette Colbert) trying to get from Miami to New York in order to be reunited with her husband from whom she was torn away at the altar. Her father, however, is hot on her trail with an army of detectives and offering a huge reward for her whereabouts. Ellie is a resourceful girl, but spoiled and sheltered to the point where she needs the help of the wisecracking reporter Peter Warne in order to remain incognito. Despite their mutual disdain for each other, they agree to a deal: Peter helps Ellie back to her husband, and in return he gets an exclusive story about her epic journey - in which the unlikely couple travel by Greyhound, foot, hitchhiking, and whatever else will get the back to the Big Apple.  Of course they fall in love along the way, and sort through the usual cliche misunderstandings before they finally live happily ever after.

Probably the most iconic scene in the movie is the hitchhiking scene, in which Ellie proves the power of sex appeal by showing her legs in order to get a car to stop for them. Apparently Colbert initially refused to do the scene because she considered it vulgar, but she relented when she heard they were going to use a body double, saying her legs were plenty good enough to show on camera. My favorite parts are undoubtedly the "Walls of Jericho" scene and all the times that Peter becomes didactic about things like hitchhiking, dunking donuts, and piggyback rides. I don't want to spoil too much for people who have yet to see the film, but the ending is pretty memorable and has been parodied countless of time. I also can't overstate the influence of this film on the romantic comedy genre, an influence that has been transmitted down to this day.

I give this film an 8.5 out of ten, highly influential and highly entertaining.


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It Happened One Night (Remastered Black & White)

Duck Soup (1933)

This Marx Brothers outing is considered by many to be the best movie that highly talented fraternal troupe ever made. It was also the last film to feature Zeppo before he retired to become a talent agent, so it marks the end of the "early" Marx Brothers films. I personally welcome the new epoch, since my four favorite Marx Brothers films are A Night at the Opera, A Day at the Races, The Big Store, and A Night in Casablanca - all of which were made after Zeppo's departure. The youngest Marx Brother was essentially a straight man to his three much more talented siblings, and he just didn't have the personality to stand up to their madcap antics. Thus his leaving not only didn't harm the brothers as an act, but may also have succeeded in sharpening their comedy.

In order to appreciate Duck Soup to the fullest degree, you have to be careful to avoid the preconceived notions that many film critics attach to it. Despite what they may say, Duck Soup is NOT a brilliant satire on Nazism - there are many other movies that fill this role such as Chaplain's The Great Dictator and Ernst Lubisch's To Be or Not to Be,  but the Marx Brothers neither try nor inadvertently succeed in making a film that's goal is to lampoon Hitler. It's easy to want to see their work in that light because of their Jewish heritage and the fact that they are indeed satirizing politics and occasionally taking shots at fascism, but anyone who comes to this film expecting a strong, humorous offensive against the Third Reich is sure to be disappointed.

That being said, this is still a very good performance by the Marx Brothers, with Groucho stealing the show as usual. In this one he plays a fast-talker who is given control of the country of Freedonia with predictably disastrous results. Everyone always seems to remember the iconic scene where Freedonia declares war, and then the brothers sing about it. It really is a clever sequence, completely over-the-top and all the better for it. Other than that, it's pretty typical fare with Groucho wisecracking, Harpo doing slapstick, and Chico making immigrant slurs in a bad Italian accent. Still, the comedy doesn't feel stale, so it ends up working out rather well.

I give this film 7.4 out of ten, a fun a silly comic romp.

You Can't Take It with You (1938)

This oft-overlooked entry in the Capra canon actually won Best Picture in 1938, deservedly so too, since it's probably the funniest film Capra ever made. Based on the Kaufman and Hart play, the film greatly expands on the original material to make it into much more of a social commentary in addition to a comedy. Ostensibly it starts Jean Arthur, James Stewart, and Lionel Barrymore, but it's much more of an ensemble show, and the real stars are all the unforgettable minor characters.

The Broadway play You Can't Take It with You was very much a comedy of culture clash between the free-spirited Vanderhof clan and the Kirbys, a family of straight-laced socialites. Capra augments this difference so that Mr. Kirby (Edward Arnold) is a greedy venture capitalist whose latest plan involves buying up a large chunk of the city to build a new factor, and unbeknownst to him, Grandpa Vanderhof (a great performance by Lionel Barrymore) is the one man who refuses to sell his land. The direct conflict begins when Kirby's son Tony (James Stewart) gets engaged to Vanderhof's granddaughter Alice (Jean Arthur), and she invites the wealthy financier to meet her family, desperate for the Kirbys' approval before she weds their son. Despite her desire to make a good impression, her fiance is equally adamant that his parents see her family as they really are, she he purposely brings them there on the wrong night, and great comedy inevitably ensues, including Mr. Kirby's plans to strong-arm the Vanderhofs into selling backfiring on him while he's a guest under their roof.

As I said before, it's the character actors that really make this film memorable, so let me name off some of my favorite performances. In one of her earliest film roles, we are treated to Ann Miller as Jean Arthur's ballet-crazy sister, who can't quite hide her technical prowess, even though she's supposed to be playing a novice. We also have Mischa Auer stealing the show as her Russian dance instructor Kolinkov, for whom everything "stinks," and Eddie "Rochester" Anderson as their housekeeper's lazy boyfriend. I won't give away much more, lest I spoil the comedy gold., but I'll suffice to say that this is one of the few films that made me split my sides with laughter the first time I saw it.

Being a Capra film, of course, we get a moral message handed to us, but I think he may have been trying a little too hard to squeeze one out of this plot. Certainly it fits well with the rejection of materialism and "Love thy neighbor" theme he'd already established in Mr. Deeds Goes to Town,  but it doesn't really challenge us in the same way. Whereas in Deeds we get a sense of the hero being a Don Quixote figure, whose naive vision might border on lunacy - hence the sanity trial - in You Can't Take It with You we are sure from the beginning that the Vanderhof clan is in the right despite their quirks, so it loses the inherent drama in that sense. Still, this is a minor quibble, as the plotline is still effective, just not so much as it could be.

For once I'm going to agree with IMDb and give this movie a 8 out of 10. It's a good adaptation of a good play with great acting and great direction.

The 39 Steps (1935)

Robert Donat and Madeleine Carroll hide from
dangerous spies in Alfred Hitchcock's
comedy/thriller The 39 Steps

I don't know if The 39 Steps is the best of film in Hitchcock's British oeuvre, but it's certainly the most popular and a personal favorite of mine. Robert Donat and Madeleine Carroll star in this extremely fun yarn following Hitchcock's favorite plot device: the ordinary man caught in a spy intrigue, a trope he used again and again in such films as Sabotage, Saboteur, The Lady Vanishes, Foreign Correspondent, Secret Agent, Notorious, The Man Who Knew Too Much (both versions), and North by Northwest - I'm sure there are others I'm forgetting in there as well.

 What makes this movie work so well is the combination of a fast, suspenseful plot, colorful characters, and great situational humor that is often hilarious. When a beautiful spy is found murdered in Richard Hannay's (Robert Donat) apartment, the police naturally assume he's the culprit when in reality though, he was just an innocent bystander. Before she died, however, the spy confided her mission to him, so now Hannay must go on the run from the police in order to stop a dangerous group of foreign agents before they smuggle sensitive information out of the country. That's the plot in a nutshell, and of course there are exciting and funny complications along the way such as quirky Scottish farmers and a political rally that Hannay crashes. He ends up hand-cuffed to a young woman (Madeleine Carroll), whom he must convince of his innocence in order to continue on his journey.

Apart from an abrupt ending, which is typical of films from the '30s,  I really can't find many faults with this movie. Robert Donat is an absolute delight as Richard Hannay: quick-witted, erstwhile, sarcastic, occasionally playful, and completely believable as an ordinary man drawn on an extraordinary quest. Madeleine Carroll is also perfect as the woman who unwillingly comes to believe in his improbable tale and falls for him in the process. As good as the two lead actors are, however, the show is really stolen by the wonderful and silly cast of minor characters, my favorite of which are the Scottish innkeeper and his wife.  In addition the dialog is crisp as a bag of chips and Hitchcock's direction really gets the most out of each scene in terms of suspense and irony. In all, it's about as much fun as you can have with a Hitchcock movie, which is saying something indeed.

Many people compare this movie to the other great early/British Hitchcock film, The Lady Vanishes, which is also a wonderful film, but I think this one works better simply because the pacing is much faster. Whereas, as my colleague Publius already noted in his review of The Lady Vanishes, the first twenty minutes of the aforementioned film are rather slow, The 39 Steps starts quickly, with an attempted murder within the first five minutes, and things only escalate from there. Things are kept, however, from getting overly intense by the comical situations, making this one of those movies you can watch over and over again with pleasure.

I give this movie an 8.3 out of 10, a true Hitchcock masterpiece.


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The 39 Steps,  Sabotage / The Lodger, The Lady Vanishes: The Criterion Collection, Saboteur,The Man Who Knew Too Much, North by Northwest (50th Anniversary Edition), Foreign Correspondent, The Secret Agent, Notorious

Pygmalion (1938)

Leslie Howard as Professor Higgins, putting marbles in
the mouth of his pupil, Eliza (Dame Wendy Hiller) 

Followers of this blog will know that I have a very high regard for My Fair Lady, but many of you will not guess that I am equally fond of the 1938 version of Shaw's Pygmalion starring Leslie Howard and Dame Wendy Hiller.

In fact the very reason I like it so much is because it's so very unlike its 1964 musical remake. Although My Fair Lady is excellent from a musical standpoint and does a fairly good job of sticking to Shaw's original play, it has some distinct flaws. The first of these is that Rex Harrison's portrayal of Prof. Henry Higgins is a fairly one-note performance as the brilliant but misanthropic scholar. Because of this and because of the fact that he spends half the play bellowing, Audrey Hepburn's Eliza has to become screechy herself just to stand up to him.

After watching Rex Harrison's pained performance since early childhood, the discovery of Leslie Howard's wonderfully nuanced and understated Higgins was an absolute delight to me. Whereas Harrison comes off as half-spiteful, half willfully ignorant of the pain he causes others, Howard is a true absent-minded professor. When he flouts a social conventions, he does it not so much because he holds it in contempt as because his mind is so far-removed that he really does forget them. At the same time, though, he can be harsh and manipulative enough for Eliza to lose her temper in rather a spectacular fashion.

The minor characters in this version are also much different from their Lerner and Lowe counterparts. Instead of being a dewy-eyed romantic, Freddy feels more like a member of P.G. Wodehouse's Drones Club, a simple-minded good-ol'-boy. Eliza's father also. feels like less of a schemer and an obstinate social heretic than a lazy reprobate.

I refrain from a plot synopsis because I assume that it's well known enough to be redundant. I will, however, add that Bernard Shaw actually wrote the screenplay for this film, which means that it remains true to his vision for it. It ends the same way as Lady, which is a departure from the original stage drama, but since it's instigated by the actual playwright, I don't really have a problem with it. In fact, as I said before, since Leslie Howard's Professor Higgins is so much more likable in this version, it's much easier to see Eliza coming back to him in the first place.

The only thing that purists might find trying about this film is that it's set in the '30s instead of the turn-of-the-century. Thankfully this doesn't cause any anachronisms from the dialog, so I end up excusing that choice, especially because I absolutely adore 1930s frocks.

I give this film a 8.2 out of 10, an overlooked gem of a picture.



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Pygmalion (Enriched Classics Series)

The Lady Vanishes (1938)

**This article was contributed by Publius, who maintains a book- and film-review site at Worthy of Note.  Enjoy this review of Hitchock's early classic!**

I don't consider myself much of a connoisseur of Hitchcock films.  I've seen my fair share -- "The 39 Steps" was my first, and "Rope" may be my favorite --  but my personal preference is for more recent films.  On the other hand, whenever I discover a new Hitchcock film I know for a fact that I'm in for a treat, so occasionally I carve out to time to watch one.  Thus I found myself watching "The Lady Vanishes," one of Hitchcock's last works before he moved to produce for American studios, and the film that firmly established his early reputation.

The first half-hour or so of the film is quite slow.  A large number of passengers are waiting for a train that has been snowed in, and must stay overnight at an already crowded inn.  We first see the events of the film through the eyes of two British gentlemen, Charters and Coldicott, utterly enraptured by the sport of cricket and utterly enraged at their inability to learn the score. They meet a young happy couple on their honeymoon -- a secret kept from both their real spouses -- and a chatterbox of an English governess, Ms. Froy (played by the inimitable Dame May Whitty).  At length we shift perspectives to Iris, a beautiful but rather spoiled young lady vacationing in Europe on her distant fiance's money. She bribes the innkeeper to stop the noise coming from the room above her, and meets the charming and worldly Gilbert, who was trying to transcribe a local country dance. Finally, as the night concludes, we return to Ms. Froy, listening in raptures to the trilling melody of a serenading guitarist.

As the music ends, the guitarist is strangled.

**Finish reading this article at Worthy of Note reviews**

Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937)

***Except of an article posted on Worthy of Note. Check out the full review here***

Welcome to the first entry in our Disney Princess Series. We will be going through all the entries on this list in chronological order for the rest of the month, culminating with Alex's review of Disney's new take on the story of Rapunzel, Tangled.

When I was asked to do this review, I realized that I really needed to go back and watch it again because I hadn't actually seen it in nineteen years. There's a reason for that, too, namely that it was way too frightening for a wimpy kid like me. I really wanted to like this film when I was little, especially since it has many charming moments, but quite frankly it scared the pants off me. And when I went back to watch it again recently, I still found it profoundly creepy. Not only is the sorceress/queen frighteningly evil, but our princess gets put in a coffin, and there's disturbing, dark imagery throughout the film.

One thing I'll say about for this film, however, is that it hasn't been overly marketed with shameless sequels, which is good considering it would probably make Walt Disney's ashes spontaneously combust. Incredibly popular at the time of its release, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs is all but overlooked by the current generation, and even classic Disney fans seem to find the film unpalatable compared to other old Disney movies like Cinderella and Peter Pan. So why is this former classic now such an ugly stepsister (pun intended)? I mean, Clark Gable and Carole Lombard were seen openly weeping with delight during the premiere, which opened to unanimously raving reviews. Why doesn't it touch us the same way anymore?

Film Review: Dracula (1931)

I just want to start this by saying that there's never been a really good film adaptation of Bram Stoker's novel, but this one is probably the most famous. Like the version of Frankenstein that would be released two years later, this production is set in the '30s instead of the Nineteenth Century, but that point is only a minor consideration compared to other inaccuracies that appear in movie. Dracula pretty much made the career of Bella Lugosi, but how does this formerly iconic film hold up today?

To start off, let me tell you about the title sequence. Do you know what music they used for the opening credits? The theme from Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake. Being a fan of ballet and particularly of that renowned Russian composer, I was appalled that such a beautiful piece should be used as mood music for a horror movie. Classical music appreciators the world over associate that piece of music with beautiful dancing and tragic lost love. Not vampires. It just doesn't fit. I'm sorry.

On to the plot. It's very loosely based on the novel in that it follows the plot on these specific points: there is a vampire named Count Dracula from Transylvania who relocates to England in order to prey on its much larger population, Lucy gets turned into a vampire by Dracula, Mina almost gets turned into a vampire, and Dr. Seward has a sanitarium. Seriously, just about everything else is just plain wrong, and the characters retained are cardboard cut-outs.

Actually one interesting thing to note about this production is that you never actually see Dracula's fangs or Dracula biting anyone. Of course all his victims have the telltale bite marks on their necks, but just like in the book, the actual vampiric act is elusive. It's still a very creepy movie, just as the source material demands, but it's certainly not terrifying the way that modern horror pictures are.

That brings me to Bella Lugosi's performance as Dracula. I know the iconic status of this movie, but I was frankly unimpressed with his performance. And this isn't just my disapproval of the adaptation coloring my view on his performance. I thought Lon Cheney was truly frightening as the Phantom of the Opera even though that film completely destroyed the ending. Honestly, though, I just don't think Lugosi's Dracula is menacing enough. With Dracula you need an actor who can convey a sense of unbridled power and cunning.  He needs to show no fear to his adversaries, and convey the impression that he's three steps ahead of them and could crush them at a moment's notice. Lugosi's Dracula is aristocratic and threatening, but you never get the sense that our heroes' chances of besting him are slim to none, and without that, there can be no deep suspense or terror,.

So if you're a fan of vampire flicks or horror in general, you probably will still enjoy this movie, but because I compare it to the book and because I was not impressed by Lugosi's performance as the title monster, I cannot embrace this movie the way I way I wanted to,

I give this film 6 out of ten, but that's mostly for the source material and the cultural significance of the film. It's certainly not horrible, but it doesn't live up to the book upon which it's based.

Astaire and Rogers: The Story of Vernon and Irene Castle (1939)

Glamor icon Ginger Rogers portrays former glamor icon
Irene Castle in the only biopic she and Fred did together.

You may not think Fred and Ginger are quite suited for a biopic, but when it's a biopic about a dancing couple, you can understand why the heads at RKO didn't think twice about casting them in it. This was also the last film they made in the '30's, and the last one they would do until 1949's The Barkleys of Broadway.

Before Fred and Ginger became America's dancing sweethearts, that title was held by Vernon and Irene Castle. Dancing during the 1910s until Vernon's tragic death in an airplane crash, the Castles popularized many of the different social dances of the era including the tango and the foxtrot, and their celebrity status was unmatched in their day. In fact Irene Castle became such a fashion icon that practically everything she wore became a fad--as Connie Willis  notes in her hilarious study of fads and the herd mentality Bellwether. So yes, as you can see, Fred and Ginger were indeed the perfect choices for these roles.

Largely fictional like most biopics of the day, this film shows how Vernon and Irene met, their rise to stardom, and Vernon's death in a freak plane crash during World War I--that isn't a spoiler; it's historical fact. That's right, folks, you've found the only film out there that dares to kill Fred Astaire.

So why isn't this film fondly remembered by Astaire and Rogers fans? Well, if the ending of the last paragraph didn't make one reason abundantly clear, there's a lot of ways in which it's different from the others they made together. And in straying from that formula, the film loses its charm. For one thing Fred Astaire and his best friend Hermes Pan, who had done all the choreography for the other movies, were stellar and meticulous choreographers, but their influence was restrained in this film do to the fact that they were re-creating other people's work. Secondly, there were no original songs for this film, thus it's the only Fred and Ginger film of the '30s that did not introduce a Jazz standard. While these are the two most important elements, I also think it's important to note that it lacks the Art Deco elegance and the fun boy-chases-girl plot structure that people loved from earlier films too.

Because of these elements, I almost never watch this movie, and really had to study it before my review. One thing I will say is that the supporting cast is strong with Walter Brennan and Edna May Oliver leading it up. Like it's predecessor Carefree however, this film lacks the corps of actors that re-appear in the earlier films, which means that we lose the pleasure that we get of seeing the familiar faces in the other ones. Interestingly enough, we see a scary echo of WWI and a vision of WWII near the end of the film when Vernon, a British citizen, joins the RAF. While countless British soldiers are dying in the trenches of Flanders, Vernon Castle pleads in vain for the Americans to join the war. The irony is that this movie was released in 1939, at the outbreak of WWII where once again Britain would be in dark and desperate straits and once again America would be tragically late joining the fight (Continental Europe completely overrun, and 30,000 civilians killed in the London Blitz, to say nothing of the millions of Jews who lost their lives to the Holocaust).

There's something plaintively tearful about this movie in another way too. Not only does it mark the end of an era for Astaire and Rogers, but it doesn't even send us out with a bang. Instead of reminding us of all the great films that came before it, instead of one last hurrah for the witty banter, the inspired songs of Irving Berlin, Gershwin, and Jerome Kern, and the fabulous dancing of Fred and Ginger, we're left with our favorite dancing duo effacing themselves by doing other people's dances and pointing back at the horror of a conflict past while reminding us of the trials still to come. The innocence of the other films has been lost forever--they are as dead as Vernon/Fred is at the end of the picture, and the final shadowy images of Fred and Ginger dancing into the background as Ginger weeps for her lost love only serve to enforce the feeling of bereavement.

I give this movie a 6.9. It's the lowest score for any film which stars Fred and Ginger, but I still think that fans of the duo should see it.

Astaire and Rogers: Carefree (1938)

Ginger Rogers tries to find out if dancing with Fred Astaire
in reality can be as good as it was in her dream in Carefree.

A standard Astaire/Rogers plot can be summed up thusly: Fred chases Ginger.  It's refreshing, therefore, to see a movie in which she chases him as she does in this film, Carefree. This is also without a doubt the strangest movie they made together, a screwball comedy almost worthy of Preston Sturgess. Actually it's a good thing that the comedy works so well because the only song from this movie that was good enough to become a jazz standard was "Change Partners," and the dances leave you wanting much more.

Let's focus, then, on that wonderfully silly little plot, shall we? Fred Astaire plays Freudian psychiatrist (yes, you read that correctly) Tony Flagg whose old college roommate Steve asks him to psychoanalyze his fiancé Amanda (Ginger Rogers) because she keeps getting cold feet. Of course Amanda is insulted by the notion that she needs a shrink, and feels even worse when she overhears Tony complaining about how sick he is of dealing with "silly, maladjusted females." She gives him the run-around until they finally mend fences and decide to cooperate. Tony voices his concern that Amanda doesn't dream when she sleeps because it makes it impossible to analyze her subconscious. So after Tony makes her gorge herself on rich foods to induce dreams, she has one--a dream of dancing with him!

That dream convinces Amanda that she's really in love with Tony, but she's too embarrassed to tell him that when he asks about her dream in his professional capacity. Instead she makes up a beautiful plethora of neuroses that will ensure her being in therapy for a long time. But when she tries to explain to Steve that she's in love with Tony, he misunderstands her and thinks she's cured and wants to marry him now. Amanda then goes to Tony and confesses that she loves him but doesn't know that to do. His solution is to hypnotize her to love Steve and hate him. But he regrets it immediately afterwards  when he realizes that he's in love with her too. Before he can reverse the process, Amanda escapes while still under hypnosis and tries to go after Tony with a shotgun. He brings her out of the trance, but her conscious self won't let him get anywhere near her to reverse the process. But you figure a guy with a PHD could figure something out. Maybe a dance would help?

I really can't tell you how clever some of these comedic situations are. There's a judge lurking in the background ready to prosecute at the slightest provocation, and Ginger uses this to her advantage to get Fred to do what she wants. There are also two wonderful scenes when Ginger is "under the influence," first of an anesthetic and then of hypnosis, and does come crazy things. Those devices are definitely milked for all their worth, but their not run into the ground, either.

Now onto the dances. Really, they aren't bad in this one, but they all seem short somehow, and unlike the other films they have together, this one boasts no memorable numbers that are simply sung and not danced in order to add more music. The first dance "I Used to Be Colorblind," is quite enjoyable, showing that Fred and Ginger look just as impressive and graceful in slow motion as they do at regular speed, which is more than may be said about most people. Then there's "The Yam," which despite being a horrible name for a song, proves to be a solid number because although it's a group number, it focuses almost exclusively on Fred and Ginger instead of digressing with crowd shots, a major fault of the early Astaire/Rogers films. But the best number has to be "Change Partners," where Fred hypnotizes Ginger with his dancing.  It's beautifully choreographed, with Ginger doing a wonderful job of swaying under his power, and Fred working his arms like a puppet master. At the same time, though, it's very romantic like the rest of their dances.

 So in the end this is a very enjoyable film, making up for what it lacks as a musical with what it has in the way of comedy. Fred and Ginger do not fail to entertain nor to disappoint with their dancing. Even when the music is lacking, they are still memorable.

I give this film a 7.8, a treat for fans of the Astaire/Rogers teaming.

Astaire and Rogers: Shall We Dance (1937)

Fred and Ginger dance on roller skates to
"Let's Call the Whole Thing Off," a song
they inspired by their different ways of
pronouncing the word "either."

Fred and Ginger dance to Gershwin in this 1937 outing. How can you not get excited about the greatest dance team of the 20th century performing to music of the greatest American composer of the 20th century? I personally cannot help loving a movie that features the songs "They All Laughed," "Let's Call the Whole Thing Off" and "They Can't Take That Away from Me," but there are a lot of other things to admire as well. Not only did Gershwin write all the show tunes in this picture, but he also composed all the incidental music as well, all of which is quite wonderful.

Fred Astaire plays Petrov, the "Russian" ballet star (whose real name is Pete Peters). Petrov scandalizes his impresario--played by Edward Everett Horton--by falling in love with musical comedy star Linda Keene--played by Ginger Rogers. Sick of being chased by men, Linda refuses even to consider Petrov's advances. Instead she plans to marry a dull millionaire friend of hers and retire from the stage forever.  In the typical style of these films, however, Fred Astaire's good humor and persistence eventually win her over.

Since celebrity romances were even more a subject of gossip back then than they are today, the two dancers soon find their names plastered all over the papers. And it only gets worse when a rumor surfaces that the two are married and that Linda is pregnant. This does not sit well with Linda's rich fiancé, and when trumped-up evidence is produced for her marriage to Petrov, she realizes that the only way she can silence the papers is to procure a divorce from him. That, of course, requires a marriage, so the two elope for a marriage in name only, but Petrov wants to convince her to make it real. Can he do it? I really can't tell you what a great screwball comedy it is, full of absurd situations and great one-liners. I think it's the best-written movie they did together.

Now, about the dances. First off I have to say something about the "Lets Call the Whole Thing Off" roller skate number. It truly is a sight to behold, a combination of dancing and skating the caliber you'd be likely to see in the Olympics. The trouble is that all the other dances seem to be a let-down after that. "They All Laughed," is a great tune, but the dance is unspectacular, though it does get better near the finale. The only other dance number is this weird ballet hybrid featuring an odd contortionist/ballerina. Although this is a marathon chorus number with several different permeations, Fred and Ginger only dance together for less than thirty seconds, which leaves me feel cheated in that respect.

Despite the comparative lack of dancing, however, everything else in this movie is so strong that I can't help loving it anyway, and it remains one of my favorites in the Astaire/Rogers collection. And if I haven't pressed the point hard enough already, the roller skating number is incredible.

I rate this movie an 8 of 10. Had the dances been better, it could have easily been a 9.

Astaire and Rogers Series: Swing Time (1936)

Fred and Ginger reached the pinnacle of their dance
partnership with the number "Never Gonna Dance"
from 1936's Swing Time

Astaire and Rogers devotees love to argue the respective merits of Top Hat vs. Swing Time when trying to decide which is the best film in the screen couple's prolific partnership. All the dance aficionados, however, concur that Swing Time is by far the superior film in terms of choreography. I believe that should be the deciding factor in the question because after all, isn't the dancing the primary reason we watch those movies? I further support Swing Time's bid for best Astaire and Rogers film because I feel it has great songs, a cute plot, strong acting, and good costumes for Ginger. What else do you need for one of these pictures?

Once again Fred and Ginger get to dance to the superb music of Jerome Kern, and three of the songs in this picture that would go on to become Jazz standards. The plot also doesn't rehash the same mistaken-identity trope used in Top Hat and The Gay Divorcée, even though it does use some elements of mistaken identity. So it gets some points for originality. As always, the supporting cast is memorable with the wisecracking Helen Broderick as Ginger's friend Mabel, and Victor Moore as Fred's compatriot adept at slight-of-hand.

Fred Astaire plays a dancer and high-stakes gambler, who gets tricked into missing his own wedding. Now his fiancé's father refuses to give his consent unless Fred can prove his stability by earning $25,000. So off he goes to New York to seek his fortune. On the way he runs into the lovely dance instructor Ginger Rogers and is instantly smitten. In order to get to know her, he signs up a private lesson with her, pretending to be hopelessly clumsy on the floor. She gets fed up with him, however, and tells him off, resulting in her manager firing her on the spot. Of course the gallant Fred steps in and gets her job back by showing her boss all the fancy steps she "taught" him. This results in the gleeful "Pick Yourself Up" duet, the first of their three historic team-ups in this movie. It's an energetic tap number in which Fred and Ginger famously leap over a short a wall for the finale.

So Fred and Ginger decide to team up for a dance act at a club where Ginger knows the band leader, but Ginger still doesn't trust Fred entirely until he sings her the classic ballad "The Way You Look." Unfortunately the gig still doesn't run smoothly because the band leader at the club is in love with Ginger and incensed at the thought of her dancing with any man but him. In order to get him to play for them, Fred must use his gambling skills to win the band's contract from a mobster and compel their performance, resulting in the "Waltz in Swing Time" number, the second great dance in this movie, which also features quite a bit of tapping, but the moves are more sweeping and lyrical as fitting with a traditional waltz.

Now Fred and Ginger are riding high and have obviously developed feelings for each other, but Fred refuses to pursue her because he's engaged--though he doesn't tell her this. Ginger then memorably expresses her frustration with the song "A Fine Romance (With no kisses)." Things come to a head when Fred's fiancé shows up for the opening night of his new act with Ginger. Fred spots her as he performs his tribute to famous African-American dancer Bill "Bojangles" Robinson, the only black-face routine I've ever seen that doesn't feel demeaning because it's not cartoonish and Fred's demeanor remains extremely reverent. It also boasts a then-amazing feat of special events with Fred dancing with three shadows projected on the wall. It's a beautiful work of symmetry and timing, still mesmerizing seventy-five years later.

At the same time that Fred comes face-to-face with his fiancé, the mobster who formerly owned the band accuses Fred of cheating and demands a re-match to win them back. Of course Fred loses, and when Ginger finds out about that and that sees that Fred intends to honor his engagement, she walks out on him. Before Fred can explain things to her, Ginger gets engaged to the band leader, and her partnership with Fred seems to be ended forever. But before Ginger leaves, Fred lets her know that she is the woman he would have chosen if he'd been free. He sings the mournful "Never Gonna Dance," and then the culmination of their storied partnership occurs seemingly organically as Fred tries to prevent her from walking away. The dance starts slowly, the two of the walking side-by-side, hardly a dance at all until Fred gracefully turns her. A reprise of "The Way You Look" plays, and they are in unison, sometimes an intimate romantic embrace, sometimes apart but so much in unison that it feels like they have a psychic link. The song swells and ends, and Ginger tries to leave, but Fred stops her. The power of their emotions changes the tempo to one of mounting passion and abandon. They dance with wild flourish to a medley of "Waltz in Swing Time" and "Never Gonna Dance," ending with a spectacular series of pirouettes up a grand staircase and Fred twirling Ginger so fast that her skirt flies up nearly to her hips. It's Hollywood lore that this dance was so intense that it made Ginger's feet bleed through her shoes while filming. Seeing as how this was her favorite number from her favorite picture that she made with Fred, I'm sure she thought it was worth it.

I give this film an 8.5 of ten. One of the best dance films ever created.

Buy it now:
Swing Time,Astaire & Rogers Collection, Vol. 1 (Top Hat / Swing Time / Follow the Fleet / Shall We Dance / The Barkleys of Broadway)

Astaire and Rogers Series: Follow the Fleet (1936)

Fred Astaire plays a sailor who re-unites with his former girlfriend
and dance partner (Ginger Rogers) while on leave in San Francisco

For this film, the Producers at RKO tried to give Astaire and Rogers a slightly different look. In their three starring roles together, Fred and Ginger had been placed in decidedly upper-class roles, dancing together in tux and evening gown, respectively. As the decade progress and the depression continued, however, the studio decided that their dancing stars would be more relatable to audiences if they portrayed more blue-collar characters. The result was one of their best films together: Follow the Fleet.

As usual, there are a lot of reasons why this film works. Like its direct predecessor, Top Hat, it features a spectacular score by Irving Berlin, including "Let's Face the Music and Dance," "I'm Putting All My Eggs in One Basket," and "Let Yourself Go." As usual we also get a great supporting cast, including Randolph Scott, Lucile Ball, and Harriet Hilliard Nelson. This is also the only film in which Ginger gets a solo dance--whereas Fred almost always does--so it's notable in that regard as well.

The plot is fairly standard but well executed for what it's worth. Fred plays "Bake" Baker, a sailor who tried to re-unite with his former girlfriend Sherry and dancing partner (Ginger Rogers) while on a brief shore leave in San Francisco. Sherry has been having problems with her career since Bake joined the navy because no one wants to hire a female solo dancer--except as a stripteaser, which is completely out of the question for Sherry. Bake tries to help her out with his theater contacts, but his shore leave expires before he can get a hold of any of them or even explain to Sherry what happened. At the same time Bake's best friend "Bilge" Smith falls for Sherry's sister Connie (Harriet Hilliard) but gets scared off when she starts talking about marriage. So will the couples be able to overcome these misunderstandings? Seeing as this is a musical comedy, the answer is obvious, but the film is endearing enough to warrant watching.

Fred and Ginger as usual get three dances together, and they're to the three best tunes in the film, which I mentioned above. "Let Yourself Go" and" "I'm Putting All My Eggs in One Basket" are both fun numbers, with Ginger showing her comedic chops especially in the latter. The former is more a display of technical skill as the couple try to win a dance contest at the night club where Ginger works. Fred also gets to show off his incredible musical prowess by playing the piano in the intro to "I'm Putting All My Eggs in One Basket," much to my delight.

As good as the musical number with Fred and Ginger are, where this film really suffers is with the songs they give to Harriet Hilliard. It seems as if they're trying to revert to the formula used in Roberta with Irene Dunne where she co-starred as a stunning vocal counterpoint to Fred and Ginger's supurb dancing, but this time it doesn't work. Whereas Dunne had an incredible voice and memorable songs to sing, not only Harriet Hilliard's singing material forgettable in this film, but her voice also isn't anything exceptional, making her scenes seem to drag on too long.

So while this musical has great dancing, some good songs, and a cute and different plot for an Astaire/Rogers film, it still cannot be considered the apex of their stint together because of the drag caused by Harriet Hilliard's musical numbers. For the film that I think superlative of their oeuvre, be sure to check out my next review Swing Time.


As for this film, I give it 7.8 out of ten, which means it's still well worth seeing.

Astaire and Rogers Series: Top Hat (1935)

Fred and Ginger dancing cheek-to-cheek to a song of that
title from the film Top Hat. 

Of all the Astaire/Rogers films, this one is considered the quintessential. I'm not sure if it's the best--for my money that award would go to Swing Time, which I shall be reviewing soon--but it's certainly the most-remembered of their outings together. Certainly the songs by Irving Berlin and dances are memorable, the plot charming, and the supporting cast (Edward Everett Horton, Eric Blore, Helen Broderick, and Erik Rhodes) at their finest.

I think the only major problem with this film is over-exposure, which tends to diminish the reputation of the other films. People will say, "If you've seen Top Hat, you've seen them all," which is really unfair considering all the great composers with distinctive styles that worked on these films and the fact that Fred Astaire always took great pains to make sure each of his dance routines did not resemble any of his other work. Thus it is fallacious to claim that Top Hat became old hat. Yes, it's a fabulous movie, but viewing it is no excuse to skip the rest of the Astaire/Rogers collection.

Fred Astaire plays a Broadway star who comes to London to star in a West End show. He starts out by singing the exuberant ode to bachelorhood "No Strings," which makes one think that he's just tempting fate to make him fall in love. Since in works of fiction, moereover--as Tom Stoppard so brilliantly points out in Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead--there's no such thing as chance, he does fall in love with a girl immediately afterwards. The film thumbs its nose at our suspended disbelief while Fred is dancing to "No Strings" in his hotel room. Whereas in most musicals we are trained just to forget logistics like the fact that Fred's tap dancing in the middle of the night is creating a horrible racket for the other people at the hotel, this film actually shows some consequences. His downstairs neighbor Ginger Rogers comes up to complain about the noise, and Fred is instantly smitten with her. Although Ginger initially spurns his advances--a common trope in these movies--Fred wins her over by dancing with her in the song, "Isn't it a Lovely Day (to Be Caught in the Rain)?" which became a jazz standard overnight.

The rest of the plot deals with a Shakespeare-worthy case of mistaken identity, with Ginger mistaking Fred for the husband of her good friend (played by Helen Broderick), and everything everyone else saying things that unintentionally reinforcing that belief. Through it all Fred and Ginger get to dance their most famous number together--but not their best--"Cheek to Cheek." That song also features what is unquestionably the ugliest dress ever put on poor Ginger, a gaudy feathered affair that shed all over the stage and completely conceals her fabulous figure.

Another number in this movie that would be hallmark in Fred Astaire's career is "Top Hat, White Tie, and Tails." Fred Astaire had already been doing the debonair gentleman-dancer thing for the last fifteen years at that point, so a song about him getting dressed up to go dancing was considered to epitomize his on-screen/on-stage personality. Aside from that, it's also a really good tap number that includes a famous bit in which Fred's tapping simulates machine-gun fire, and he proceeds to mow down the chorus line behind him with his feet.

Really, though, as far as Astaire/Rogers films go, this one has no weak points--no weak points, that is, if you don't mind that the part of the film that's supposed to take place in Venice is so obviously a sound stage that only the most ignorant or credulous could suspend their disbelief for it. I rather think of it as a giant Art Deco re-imagining of the city than something that even remotely tries to resemble the real thing, and that has a certain charm for me. If you can forgive that fault, though, I really can't recommend a more enjoyable way to spend two hours than watching this gem of a movie.

I give this movie an 8.1 out of 10, easily one of the highest-rated Astaire and Rogers films.

Astaire and Rogers Series: Roberta (1935)

Fred and Ginger dance to Jerome Kern's immortal
"Smoke Gets in Your Eyes," in Roberta.

"Lovely to look at, delightful to know," that lyric from one of the many classic tunes in this picture perfectly describes how I feel about the film as a whole. Like the film preceding this one, Roberta is a film adaptation of a Broadway smash of the same name and staring Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. This time, however, they share the limelight with Irene Dunne and Randolph Scott to great effect. Dunne is already one of my favorite actresses of the era both from her operetta work in films like Showboat and her comedic chemistry with Cary Grant in The Awful Truth and My Favorite Wife. Meanwhile Randolph Scott fulfills his role admirably, though perhaps a slight criticism might be that his performance is a little too much a copy of Gary Cooper.

This film is easily a favorite with my family thanks to the tremendous score by Jerome Kern in which all the songs have become standards but some of the most memorable are "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes," "Lovely to Look at," and "I Won't Dance." The plot is also fun and well-acted by the supporting cast, two things that are always a plus. To top it off, Fred and Ginger have two great dances together, which is one less than usual, but the final one, done to a medley of "Lovely to Look at" and "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes," is absolutely spectacular.

What passes for a plot goes something like this: American football star John Kent (Randolph Scott) tags along with his friend, the jazz band-leaders Huck Haines (Fred Astaire), who takes his orchestra to Paris for a gig at a swanky cafe only to find that they've  been embroiled in a misunderstanding and have no job. Fortunately for them, John's aunt Madame Roberta owns the most exclusive couturiere in Paris, and thus has the connections to get them another job. That job comes through the Comtesse Scharwenka (Ginger Rogers), who in reality is Huck's high school sweetheart Lizzie. Unfortunately for John, his aunt dies and leaves him her shop, which he has no idea how to run. He would get rid of it, but he's fallen in love with Madame Roberta's assistant Stephanie (Irene Dunne), and decides to take her in as a partner in the business. This goes well until John's snobbish ex-girlfriend from America arrives, suddenly interested in him again because of his inheritance.

Since the setting for this film is a couturiere, all the dresses are completely outlandish, sometimes to great and sometimes to horrible effect. Thus there's plenty of eye candy in the wardrobe department, but there's just as many eyesores, especially Ginger's gown for the "I Won't Dance" sequence, which has one of the ugliest set of shoulders I've ever seen on a dress. I do, however, rather like the simple black gown she wears in the picture above, which has a flattering cut, practical racer-back straps for dancing, and is made from a silken satin (most satin today is made from nylon or some synthetic fabric. To make it from silk is extremely costly).

Even though their romance takes a back seat to the Irene Dunne/Randolph Scott plot, Fred and Ginger are quite endearing in this picture the way they playfully flirt with each other and outright tease each other at times. In addition they get plenty of screen time and have distinctive enough characters that it feels like they're truly sharing the limelight rather than playing second fiddle as they did in Flying Down to Rio. In addition Irene Dunne and Randolph Scott are much better actors than the leads in the aforementioned film, so when the focus is on them, they do not bore us. Irene Dunne further charms us with her classical voice in the two ballads she sings, "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes," and "Yesterdays."


I give this film a 8 out of 10. Even though it doesn't feature Fred and Ginger as prominently as some of their other films, it manages to find a good balance of all the elements needed for a successful musical comedy.


Buy it Now:
Roberta, Show Boat (1936) [VHS], The Awful Truth, My Favorite Wife

Astaire and Rogers Series: The Gay Divorcee (1934)

In this iconic photo, Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers
romance to Cole Porter's immortal "Night and Day"
in their first starring film, The Gay Divorcee.

Welcome to the first of my series on the greatest film duo of all time: Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. I know that sticking a superlative on anything warrants debate, but I think I may so term these two without much fear of contradiction. In terms of name-recognition, number of movies made together, and the quality of those films, Astaire and Rogers have no real competition for screen duos. They were the biggest thing in Hollywood during the '30s, and made a stunning nine movies together in the course of seven years. Not only that, but all of their films feature superb music by the greatest composers of the day such as Gershwin (who was a personal friend of Fred Astaire's and who wrote the immortal "Let's Call the Whole Thing Off" because his brother and lyricist Ira Gershwin noticed that Fred and Ginger pronounced certain words differently), Irving Berlin, Jerome Kern, and Cole Porter. On a less important note, a lot of high-end designers clamored for Ginger to wear their gowns, resulting in a lot of fabulous and a lot of horrible wardrobe choices for her. I will be monitoring both throughout the series.

A typical Astaire and Rogers musical features a light romantic comedy plot with colorful minor characters and plenty of misunderstandings. Fred and Ginger normally have about three dances together and a few more songs, but it's during the dances that they fall in love. This dynamic duo was first teamed together for supporting roles in the 1933 film Flying Down to Rio, a film that many people consider to be the first of great the Astaire/Rogers movies, but I exclude it on the grounds that they're barely in it and when they're not on-screen it's a pretty wretched film. Fortunately for the world, the producers at RKO Pictures realized that they had something special in those two, and decided to give them their own film based on a play Fred had done on Broadway, The Gay Divorce (the title was changed to The Gay Divorcee in order to eliminate the implication that anything could be fun about divorce, but the theme of the play still seems to support that thesis).

As the first real Astaire/Rogers film, therefore, this film has a lot of magic moments, but it also has a lot of things that will be improved upon in later outings. Let's start with what's good, shall we? First off the plot is simple but amusing, and the character actors are hilarious especially Alice Brady, Edward Everett Horton, Eric Blore, and Eric Rhodes. Of course Fred and Ginger have a couple of good dances together in "Night and Day" and "The Continental,." a 17-minute extravaganza.  I also can say that this is the only one of their movies in which I like all of Ginger's outfits. In every other film she has one dress that's absolutely hideous but in this one she escapes possibly because she was not yet a big enough star to get really avant-garde designers. I especially like the ball gown in which she's pictured above.

Now, unfortunately I have to tell what's sub-par. To start, with the exception of the two already mentioned musical numbers, the rest of the score is completely forgettable. Secondly there's a musical number featuring Betty Grable called "Let's Knock Knees" that's extraneous and painfully bad--and that's only partially because Edward Everett Horton tries to sing! Also as well as the plot works it's not as refined or tightly-woven as their later films would be, but this is a minor quibble.

The plot synopsis is simple. Ginger Rogers plays an American girl who finds to her dismay that her husband, a British professor, is a fortune hunter. Obviously she needs a divorce, but in 1930s Britain, women could only get divorces with either their husbands' permission or in a case of proven infidelity. So in order to get grounds for her divorce, Ginger must fake an affair with a hired correspondent. Unfortunately she mistakes the man who, unaware of her marital status, has been romantically pursuing her for the hired correspondent, creating some memorably awkward and funny scenes.

Despite a few objections and the fact that it's not as good as their later pairings, I still give this film a 7.6 out of 10, a solid Astaire/Rogers outing.

Buy it on DVD:
The Gay Divorcee, Flying Down to Rio

Film Review: Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (1936)

Jean Arthur begs Gary Cooper to defend his sanity
at a hearing in Frank Capra's Mr. Deeds Goes to Town.

For those of you who saw the remake with Adam Sandler, I am profoundly sorry for you. The original is one of the best works of acclaimed director Frank Capra, starring ("trying hard to look like") Gary Cooper ("super-duper!" *ten points if you can name the song and composer for that lyric. Points will be tallied and a prize given at the end of the year) and Jean Arthur.

Capra was riding high at the time, having swept the Oscars in 1934, but a close brush with death made him re-evaluate the content of his films. He realized that his chosen medium had the power to reach untold millions all over the world, and thus would be a great vehicle for social messages, and from that point on, he tried only to make movies that had strong redeeming value. This was not always possible when funding ran low during and after the Second World War, but Capra stuck to his mantra for the rest of the '30s with the results being this film, Lost Horizon, You Can't Take it With You, and the incomparable Mr. Smith Goes to Washington. Mr. Deeds Goes to Town was the first of these ventures, and it made an instant star of Jean Arthur, though no other director could utilize her talents the same way Capra could.

Inspired by classic works like Don Quixote and The Idiot--though thankfully with a happier end than either of those works--Capra tells the story of a small-town businessman and poet who inherits $20 million (that's like a billion dollars in today's money) from his estranged uncle. What Deeds doesn't know is that his uncle's lawyers have been embezzling his money for years, and they want to keep Deeds ignorant of that fact. At first this looks like an easy task because the country boy seems naive and completely uninterested in the money, saying he'll probably give it away.

When Deeds is whisked away to the bustle and glamor of New York, he begins to forget about his idea for putting the money to a good cause, especially when he has the opportunity to rescue a damsel in distress (which is a musical from 1937 starring Fred Astaire, Joan Fontaine, George Burns and Gracie Allen, with a screenplay by P.G. Wodehouse and music by Gershwin. It's not wonderful, but worth watching if you're a fan of any of the above, and especially worthwhile if you're fans of ALL of the above as I am.) just as he's always dreamed of doing.

This fair lady, however, is not the innocent he imagines. She is in reality Babe Bennet, a star reporter trying to get the scoop on New York's newest millionaire, and she succeeds with flying colors. As her scorching articles continue to drag Deed's name through the mud, he becomes more and more embittered, finding solace only in the company of the very woman who is betraying him. As jaded as Babe is, however, she cannot help noticing that Deeds possesses a good mind along with an admirable sincerity and selflessness that most New Yorkers lack. As she slowly succumbs to his quiet charms, she has increasing difficulty writing her articles, and eventually quits her job entirely. Just when it looks like the two of them can have a happy ending, however, the truth comes out about Babe's past actions.

Devastated by the loss of the woman he loved, Deeds is saved from despair by a chance encounter with the terrible conditions of the Great Depression. He revives his plan to give all his money away, coming up with an idea to build small homesteads for farmers who lost everything during the Dust Bowl fiasco.

As soon as his uncle's lawyers hear about this, however, they swear out an insanity warrant against Deeds. With all his irregular behavior, moreover, the lawyers seem to have an open-and-shut case until Deeds gets up to "put in his two cents" in one of the most memorable scenes in cinematic history.

Really, the only problem with this film is that the music feels stilted and vaudevillian, just as most movies from the '30s do. I'm not saying it entirely ruins the mood of the picture, but it certainly detracts from it instead of augmenting it as is the intent of music in films.


I give this film at least 8.7 out of ten, truly one for the ages.

Buy it now:
Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (Remastered),Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, Lost Horizon, You Can't Take It with You (Remastered), Don Quixote (Penguin Classics), The Idiot (Oxford World's Classics)