- Published on
Warner Archive Collection DVD Cover
Date of Release: March 26, 1930
Studio: Warner Bros
Director: Michael Curtiz
Producer: Walter Morosco
Cinematographer: Barney McGill
Editor: Owen Marks
Screenplay: Gordon Rigby, Joseph Jackson
Music and Lyrics: Irving Berlin
Sound: George R. Groves
Costumes: Orry-Kelly
Leading Actors:
Al Jolson (Al Fuller)
Lois Moran (Nora Meadows)
Louise Dresser (Mrs. Fuller)
Lowell Sherman (Westy)
Noah Beery (Tonopaw Red)
Hobart Bosworth (Meadows)
Tully Marshall (Slats)
Mitchell Lewis (Tambo)
Lee Moran (Flat Feet)
Jack Curtis (Sheriff)
Stanley Fields (Pig Eyes)
Ray Cooke (Props)
Mammy was a film adaptation of Mr. Bones, an unproduced play by Irving Berlin and James Gleason.
The screenplay was written by Gordon Rigby and Joseph Jackson as a star vehicle for Al Jolson who had starred in the early talkies The Jazz Singer (1927), The Singing Fool (1928), and Say it With Songs (1929).
Mammy was directed by Michael Curtiz, a Hungarian-American director whose incredibly prolific career would span over half a century (more on Curtiz below).
The film was released by Warner Bros in March 1930. Advertising centered around Al Jolson, and the minstrel show within the film. A print ad in Variety showed images of Jolson in a top hat and tails, Jolson in black face, and a marching band in front of a marquee blazing Al Jolson’s name. The ad exclaimed, “Nothing but laughs! Joyous Jolson Jubilee… Jokes, Jazz, Jollity!”
According to Variety, Al Jolson performed in person at the film’s opening, singing “I’m Happy” with Arthur Johnson on the piano. Jolson reportedly told the audience “I hope you’re not kidding me; that you really like this picture, although I suppose in the morning I will read where some cuckoo says it’s lousy.”
Mammy received mixed reviews. Most noted the film was one of the Jolson’s best, and praised Louise Dresser’s performance. Critics also lamented the thin plot and when they mentioned Lois Moran either found her lackluster or described her with belittling language.
Norbert Lusk, writing for Picture Play Magazine, stated “There's a great deal more fun and geniality woven into the mammy-o theme than in Mr. Jolson's early pictures.” Lusk noted the lack of tear-jerking sentimentality Jolson was known for - “…the story does not matter: it's Jolson's singing you want.” Of the leading lady, Lusk wrote “Miss Moran is a nice little heroine.”
Variety described Mammy as “A lively picture playing fast… This picture has something that is now all by itself in America, and that might be worth a strong plug in exploitation–a minstrel show.” The reviewer also made a rare mention of the use of Technicolor, stating it “Looks good.”
Writing for The New Yorker, Robert M. Coates noted that despite his own general dislike of minstrel shows, Al Jolson and Irving Berlin’s score provided “some pleasant moments.”
The Ohio State Lantern’s film and stage critic Seth W. Mattingly, Jr. described Mammy as a “delightful story of minstrel life, with plenty of songs… and plenty of dances.” Mattingly Jr. stated Dressler “plays the title role admirably.”
Al Jolson received a Photoplay award for “Best Performances of the Month (June)”.
Mammy was not commercially successful. As noted by Curtiz’s biographer Alan K. Rode, “Although the picture was one of the more entertaining of Jolson’s movies, Mammy grossed less than $200,000 over its considerable cost.” Musical theatre historian John Kerick states that by 1930, Al Jolson’s “reign as a top Hollywood star was already over.”
An original print of Mammy, including some two-strip Technicolor footage, was discovered in the Netherlands in the early 2000s. The print was restored by the UCLA Film and TV Archive and screened at the UCLA Film & Television Archive Eleventh Festival of Preservation in 2002.
In 2010, Mammy was released on the Warner Archive Collection label in 2010 (which was coincidentally a week shy of the 48th anniversary of director Michael Curtiz’s death). George Feltenstein, a Warner Home Video executive, was quoted in the Los Angeles Times stating that the issue of blackface was carefully considered in releasing Mammy –
“The archive collection makes it possible for us to release a film like this in a historical context as opposed to someone just innocently putting the movie on a shelf in a store not knowing what it is and running the risk of being viewed out of context.”
Modern day reviewers agreed despite the difficult issue of blackface, Al Jolson’s performance was the highlight of an otherwise tepid film. New York Times film critic Dave Kehr noted that Al Jolson was “Simultaneously one of the most significant and most embarrassing show business figures of the 20th century…” and “What once seemed progressive a way of introducing African-American music to a wider public now seems anything but.” Kehr enjoyed the restored Technicolor sequences, stating they “have a bright, busy, carnavalesque look appropriate for numbers like “Yes, We Have No Bananas” and the ribald “Night Boat to Albany.””
Reviewer Glenn Erickson felt that Mammy was one of Al Jolson’s “better musical vehicles” and stated that the film “was clearly intended as a nostalgic return to an earlier era of show business still familiar to the 1930 audience.” Erickson enjoyed the DVD, and stated that despite the limitations of the color restoration, “delivers a very clean transfer of this eighty year-old show.”
Film historian John Howard Reid reported that “the archives did a remarkably good job” with the restoration, but felt that the “Overture" was lacking in its sound. Reid berated the flimsy plot, but noted Al Jolson’s work - “Even at his worst… Jolson is still almost the best thing about Mammy…” Reid also had high praise for Louise Dresser, stating she outshone Jolson, and despite “her rather small” role… you’ll never forget her.” Reid concluded, “Just sit back and enjoy all the standard Irving Berlin minstrelsy.”
I found Mammy tedious and painful to watch. A trite plot, with unlikeable people performing in blackface, and a whimpering sap of a leading lady (Lois Moran, who appeared in the now lost 1929 musicals Words and Music and A Song of Kentucky).
After a 7-minute overture, the opening scene shows a parade taking place in the pouring rain.
Al Jolson sings “I’m Happy” in a torrential downpour and reminisces about “cotton fields and Mammy’s arms.”
The majority of the next 20 minutes are devoted to Meadow’s Merry Minstrels, headlined by the “golden voiced” Al Fuller. The show is intertwined with brief scenes letting the cinematic audience know the show is in financial trouble.
The cinematography of the minstrel show is well done. “Here We Are” is a full company minstrel number, complete with tambourines and banjos. The Technicolor number is cleverly filmed, alternating between the house right box of the theatre, front on midshots and close-ups of the actors, wide shots that allow the film audience to see the full stage picture, and also shots from the wings give a behind-the-scenes feel. The Technicolor unfortunately makes the blackface all the more glaring.
After much hamming and stuttering from Al, it turns out the villainous sheriff longs to be in show business and saves the show by becoming a producer. The show tours successfully, and Al’s Mama is sad that Al keeps leaving. Al embraces Mama and kisses her on the lips before jumping on the next train.
Meanwhile, token-girl-in-the-show Nora is unhappy because her crush Westy is a flirtatious fop who has eyes for every pretty girl but her. Al tries to make Westy jealous by proposing to Nora, but it backfires and everyone thinks they’re engaged for real.
Al sings “Looking at You,” a sweet ballad, sung in the context of a rehearsal. Al is framed by the male ensemble, which is an effective bit of staging and camera work. Nora simpers in the wings.
Al gets drunk and sings an up-tempo reprise of “Looking at You” while sitting at the piano before hopping up for a quick tap dance.
Unaware his gun has been loaded for real, Al shoots Westy on stage during their “comedic” bit.
Evading the police, Al hops the “Night Train to Albany” and returns home to his Mama to tell her he has to “go to Europe for three years.” Al sits at the piano and sings to Mama – “I’m Everything to my Mammy.” Louise Dresser barely gets to speak, and looks like she is acting in a silent film. Al kisses her on the lips multiple times, which feels incredibly awkward.
Al returns to the scene of the crime to face the music. Hank has confessed to the shooting, and Al is a free man once again. The final number, a reprise of “I’m Happy” features another parade, this time in Technicolor. The parade includes a shot of a smiling Black Mammy in the crowd. The film ends with Al singing, “Just let me sing and I’m happy!”
While the sappy plot, Al kissing his mother on the lips repeatedly, and Blackface minstrel numbers were painful to watch, researching the film was a lot of fun, and reminds me why I started this insane project in the first place.
It was fascinating to dive into the career of the aforementioned director Michael Curtiz who worked in film from the silent era at the turn of the 20th century through to Hollywood’s Golden Age in the 1960s. Curtiz directed over 170 films in a variety of genres, and is credited with discovering Erroll Flynn and Doris Day. His extensive film credits include the movie musicals Yankee Doodle Dandy (1942), This is the Army (1943), Night and Day (1946), Romance on the High Seas (1948), Young Man with a Horn (1950), The Jazz Singer (1952), and White Christmas (1954). I feel it’s important to also mention he directed the film classic Casablanca (1942). You can see glimmers of his future potential in Mammy, but I’m looking forward to getting to his later work.
IMDb lists Orry-Kelly as the (uncredited) costume designer. Given that Orry Kelly was busy designing stage shows in New York between 1927 and 1930, and didn’t join Warner Bros until 1932, it’s doubtful the listing is correct. Despite this, I had so much fun learning about this incredible Australian who left his hometown of Kiama to pursue a creative life in the United States. Orry George Kelly, whose name was hyphenated to Orry-Kelly to make him sound French, worked on over 300 films, won 3 Oscars for Costume Design (An American In Paris (1952), Les Girls (1958), and Some Like it Hot (1960)) and was famous for creating iconic looks for Bette Davis, Marilyn Monroe, Rosalind Russell, and Shirley Maclaine. Gillian Armstrong directed a brilliant documentary about Orry Kelly, Women He’s Undressed, which was released in 2015 and is now available to stream. A short but informative biography by Robert Parkinson, Orry Kelly: Miss Weston’s Protege - The Story of a Great Hollywood Costume Designer was also released in 2015, though is already surprisingly difficult to come by.
On to the next!
Studio: Warner Bros
Director: Michael Curtiz
Producer: Walter Morosco
Cinematographer: Barney McGill
Editor: Owen Marks
Screenplay: Gordon Rigby, Joseph Jackson
Music and Lyrics: Irving Berlin
Sound: George R. Groves
Costumes: Orry-Kelly
Leading Actors:
Al Jolson (Al Fuller)
Lois Moran (Nora Meadows)
Louise Dresser (Mrs. Fuller)
Lowell Sherman (Westy)
Noah Beery (Tonopaw Red)
Hobart Bosworth (Meadows)
Tully Marshall (Slats)
Mitchell Lewis (Tambo)
Lee Moran (Flat Feet)
Jack Curtis (Sheriff)
Stanley Fields (Pig Eyes)
Ray Cooke (Props)
Mammy was a film adaptation of Mr. Bones, an unproduced play by Irving Berlin and James Gleason.
The screenplay was written by Gordon Rigby and Joseph Jackson as a star vehicle for Al Jolson who had starred in the early talkies The Jazz Singer (1927), The Singing Fool (1928), and Say it With Songs (1929).
Mammy was directed by Michael Curtiz, a Hungarian-American director whose incredibly prolific career would span over half a century (more on Curtiz below).
The film was released by Warner Bros in March 1930. Advertising centered around Al Jolson, and the minstrel show within the film. A print ad in Variety showed images of Jolson in a top hat and tails, Jolson in black face, and a marching band in front of a marquee blazing Al Jolson’s name. The ad exclaimed, “Nothing but laughs! Joyous Jolson Jubilee… Jokes, Jazz, Jollity!”
According to Variety, Al Jolson performed in person at the film’s opening, singing “I’m Happy” with Arthur Johnson on the piano. Jolson reportedly told the audience “I hope you’re not kidding me; that you really like this picture, although I suppose in the morning I will read where some cuckoo says it’s lousy.”
Mammy received mixed reviews. Most noted the film was one of the Jolson’s best, and praised Louise Dresser’s performance. Critics also lamented the thin plot and when they mentioned Lois Moran either found her lackluster or described her with belittling language.
Norbert Lusk, writing for Picture Play Magazine, stated “There's a great deal more fun and geniality woven into the mammy-o theme than in Mr. Jolson's early pictures.” Lusk noted the lack of tear-jerking sentimentality Jolson was known for - “…the story does not matter: it's Jolson's singing you want.” Of the leading lady, Lusk wrote “Miss Moran is a nice little heroine.”
Variety described Mammy as “A lively picture playing fast… This picture has something that is now all by itself in America, and that might be worth a strong plug in exploitation–a minstrel show.” The reviewer also made a rare mention of the use of Technicolor, stating it “Looks good.”
Writing for The New Yorker, Robert M. Coates noted that despite his own general dislike of minstrel shows, Al Jolson and Irving Berlin’s score provided “some pleasant moments.”
The Ohio State Lantern’s film and stage critic Seth W. Mattingly, Jr. described Mammy as a “delightful story of minstrel life, with plenty of songs… and plenty of dances.” Mattingly Jr. stated Dressler “plays the title role admirably.”
Al Jolson received a Photoplay award for “Best Performances of the Month (June)”.
Mammy was not commercially successful. As noted by Curtiz’s biographer Alan K. Rode, “Although the picture was one of the more entertaining of Jolson’s movies, Mammy grossed less than $200,000 over its considerable cost.” Musical theatre historian John Kerick states that by 1930, Al Jolson’s “reign as a top Hollywood star was already over.”
An original print of Mammy, including some two-strip Technicolor footage, was discovered in the Netherlands in the early 2000s. The print was restored by the UCLA Film and TV Archive and screened at the UCLA Film & Television Archive Eleventh Festival of Preservation in 2002.
In 2010, Mammy was released on the Warner Archive Collection label in 2010 (which was coincidentally a week shy of the 48th anniversary of director Michael Curtiz’s death). George Feltenstein, a Warner Home Video executive, was quoted in the Los Angeles Times stating that the issue of blackface was carefully considered in releasing Mammy –
“The archive collection makes it possible for us to release a film like this in a historical context as opposed to someone just innocently putting the movie on a shelf in a store not knowing what it is and running the risk of being viewed out of context.”
Modern day reviewers agreed despite the difficult issue of blackface, Al Jolson’s performance was the highlight of an otherwise tepid film. New York Times film critic Dave Kehr noted that Al Jolson was “Simultaneously one of the most significant and most embarrassing show business figures of the 20th century…” and “What once seemed progressive a way of introducing African-American music to a wider public now seems anything but.” Kehr enjoyed the restored Technicolor sequences, stating they “have a bright, busy, carnavalesque look appropriate for numbers like “Yes, We Have No Bananas” and the ribald “Night Boat to Albany.””
Reviewer Glenn Erickson felt that Mammy was one of Al Jolson’s “better musical vehicles” and stated that the film “was clearly intended as a nostalgic return to an earlier era of show business still familiar to the 1930 audience.” Erickson enjoyed the DVD, and stated that despite the limitations of the color restoration, “delivers a very clean transfer of this eighty year-old show.”
Film historian John Howard Reid reported that “the archives did a remarkably good job” with the restoration, but felt that the “Overture" was lacking in its sound. Reid berated the flimsy plot, but noted Al Jolson’s work - “Even at his worst… Jolson is still almost the best thing about Mammy…” Reid also had high praise for Louise Dresser, stating she outshone Jolson, and despite “her rather small” role… you’ll never forget her.” Reid concluded, “Just sit back and enjoy all the standard Irving Berlin minstrelsy.”
I found Mammy tedious and painful to watch. A trite plot, with unlikeable people performing in blackface, and a whimpering sap of a leading lady (Lois Moran, who appeared in the now lost 1929 musicals Words and Music and A Song of Kentucky).
After a 7-minute overture, the opening scene shows a parade taking place in the pouring rain.
Al Jolson sings “I’m Happy” in a torrential downpour and reminisces about “cotton fields and Mammy’s arms.”
The majority of the next 20 minutes are devoted to Meadow’s Merry Minstrels, headlined by the “golden voiced” Al Fuller. The show is intertwined with brief scenes letting the cinematic audience know the show is in financial trouble.
The cinematography of the minstrel show is well done. “Here We Are” is a full company minstrel number, complete with tambourines and banjos. The Technicolor number is cleverly filmed, alternating between the house right box of the theatre, front on midshots and close-ups of the actors, wide shots that allow the film audience to see the full stage picture, and also shots from the wings give a behind-the-scenes feel. The Technicolor unfortunately makes the blackface all the more glaring.
After much hamming and stuttering from Al, it turns out the villainous sheriff longs to be in show business and saves the show by becoming a producer. The show tours successfully, and Al’s Mama is sad that Al keeps leaving. Al embraces Mama and kisses her on the lips before jumping on the next train.
Meanwhile, token-girl-in-the-show Nora is unhappy because her crush Westy is a flirtatious fop who has eyes for every pretty girl but her. Al tries to make Westy jealous by proposing to Nora, but it backfires and everyone thinks they’re engaged for real.
Al sings “Looking at You,” a sweet ballad, sung in the context of a rehearsal. Al is framed by the male ensemble, which is an effective bit of staging and camera work. Nora simpers in the wings.
Al gets drunk and sings an up-tempo reprise of “Looking at You” while sitting at the piano before hopping up for a quick tap dance.
Unaware his gun has been loaded for real, Al shoots Westy on stage during their “comedic” bit.
Evading the police, Al hops the “Night Train to Albany” and returns home to his Mama to tell her he has to “go to Europe for three years.” Al sits at the piano and sings to Mama – “I’m Everything to my Mammy.” Louise Dresser barely gets to speak, and looks like she is acting in a silent film. Al kisses her on the lips multiple times, which feels incredibly awkward.
Al returns to the scene of the crime to face the music. Hank has confessed to the shooting, and Al is a free man once again. The final number, a reprise of “I’m Happy” features another parade, this time in Technicolor. The parade includes a shot of a smiling Black Mammy in the crowd. The film ends with Al singing, “Just let me sing and I’m happy!”
While the sappy plot, Al kissing his mother on the lips repeatedly, and Blackface minstrel numbers were painful to watch, researching the film was a lot of fun, and reminds me why I started this insane project in the first place.
It was fascinating to dive into the career of the aforementioned director Michael Curtiz who worked in film from the silent era at the turn of the 20th century through to Hollywood’s Golden Age in the 1960s. Curtiz directed over 170 films in a variety of genres, and is credited with discovering Erroll Flynn and Doris Day. His extensive film credits include the movie musicals Yankee Doodle Dandy (1942), This is the Army (1943), Night and Day (1946), Romance on the High Seas (1948), Young Man with a Horn (1950), The Jazz Singer (1952), and White Christmas (1954). I feel it’s important to also mention he directed the film classic Casablanca (1942). You can see glimmers of his future potential in Mammy, but I’m looking forward to getting to his later work.
IMDb lists Orry-Kelly as the (uncredited) costume designer. Given that Orry Kelly was busy designing stage shows in New York between 1927 and 1930, and didn’t join Warner Bros until 1932, it’s doubtful the listing is correct. Despite this, I had so much fun learning about this incredible Australian who left his hometown of Kiama to pursue a creative life in the United States. Orry George Kelly, whose name was hyphenated to Orry-Kelly to make him sound French, worked on over 300 films, won 3 Oscars for Costume Design (An American In Paris (1952), Les Girls (1958), and Some Like it Hot (1960)) and was famous for creating iconic looks for Bette Davis, Marilyn Monroe, Rosalind Russell, and Shirley Maclaine. Gillian Armstrong directed a brilliant documentary about Orry Kelly, Women He’s Undressed, which was released in 2015 and is now available to stream. A short but informative biography by Robert Parkinson, Orry Kelly: Miss Weston’s Protege - The Story of a Great Hollywood Costume Designer was also released in 2015, though is already surprisingly difficult to come by.
On to the next!
SOURCES
Books
Articles
Websites
Other
Books
- John Howard Reid, Silent Movies Plus! More Silent Films and Early Talkies on DVD, Reid Books (2015)
- Alan K. Rode, Michael Curtiz: A Life in Film, University Press of Kentucky (2017)
- Robert Parkinson, Orry Kelly: Miss Weston’s Protege - The Story of a Great Hollywood Costume Designer, Impact Press (2015)
Articles
- Robert M. Coates, “More Minstrels and Mr. Jolson’s Mammy,” The New Yorker (March 29, 1930), p.11
- Cornelia Emerson, “Summer Program: Festivsal of Preservation,” UCLA Film and Television Archive Newsletter (April/May 2002)
- Glenn Erickson, “Mammy: Restored and Remastered Edition: Warner Archive Collection,” DVDTalk (April 11, 2010)
- Dave Kehr, “Lessons in 20th-Century History,” New York Times (April 16, 2010),
- John Kenrick, “Al Jolson Biography - Part III,” Musicals 101 (2004)
- Susan King, “Rare Al Jolson movie ‘Mammy’ now on DVD,” Los Angeles Times (April 6, 2010)
- Norbert Lusk, “The Screen in Review: A Minstrel’s Mammy,” Picture Play Magazine (July 1930), p.72
- Seth W. Mattingly, Jr., “Stage and Screen: Al Jolson’s “Mammy” In Second Week at Grand,” The Ohio State Lantern (June 9, 1930) p.2
- Uncredited, “Critical Comment on Current Films: Mammy,” Screenland (July 1930), p.87
- Uncredited, “Film Reviews: Mammy,” Variety (April 2, 1930), p.19
- Uncredited, “Hollywood Star Walk: Michael Curtiz,” Los Angeles Times (April 12, 1962)
- Uncredited, “Michael Curtiz, film director, dies,” Los Angeles Times (April 12, 1962), p.1
- Print Ad, Variety, (April 9, 1930), p.13
Websites
- AFI, “Mammy (1930),” Accessed via: https://catalog.afi.com/Film/10535-MAMMY?sid=7a850fea-71c2-4cea-830c-337db6cae5c1&sr=11.621535&cp=1&pos=0
- IMDb, “Michael Curtiz,” Accessed via: https://www.imdb.com/name/nm0002031/?ref_=ttfc_fcr_1_1
Other
- Dir. Gillian Armstrong, Women He’s Undressed, Damien Parer Productions (2015)
- Published on
Image from IMDb
A mediocre musical that provides a glimpse of Buster Keaton’s brilliant comedy.
Date of Release: March 22, 1930
Studio: MGM
Director: Edward Sedgwick
Cinematographer: Leonard Smith
Editor: William Le Vanway, George Todd
Production Designer: Cedric Gibbons
Screenplay: Richard Schayer, Paul Dickey
Music: Fred E. Ahlert, Roy Turk
Sound: Karl E. Zint, Douglas Shearer
Choreography: Sammy Lee
Production Designer:
Costumes: David Ward
Leading Actors:
Buster Keaton (Elmer Butts)
Anita Page (Elvira)
Trixie Friganza (Ma)
Robert Montgomery (Larry)
Fred Niblo (Director)
Edgar Dearing (Officer)
Gwen Lee (herself)
John Milan (himself)
Lionel Barrymore (himself)
William Haines (himself, a guest)
Free and Easy was Buster Keaton’s first talkie, and second film with MGM after a non-speaking role in The Hollywood Revue of 1929. Buster Keaton was at the height of his career when he made Free and Easy, a somewhat ironic title given his sad decline following his move to MGM.
Production took place at the end of 1929 under the title On the Set. The film was released with the revamped title Free and Easy on March 22, 1930.
The plot follows Elmer Butz (Keaton), manager to Miss Gopher City and aspiring starlet Elvira (Anita Page) as he accompanies Elvira and her mother Ma Plunkett (Trixie Friganza) to Hollywood. After several hilarious mishaps, Elmer finds himself starring in a new musical and is awarded a studio contract. Not all ends happily however, as Elvira leaves to marry Larry (Robert Montgomery).
Demonstrating Keaton’s international appeal, the film was also shot in a Spanish-language version with Spanish actors, including Raquel Torres, and Keaton speaking Spanish phonetically. The Spanish version was released under the title Estrellados. An edited version of the original film with English and French intertitles was released in France.
Reviews were generally positive, praising the behind-the-scenes view into the MGM lot, the performances of Anita Page and Robert Montgomery, and most notably Buster Keaton’s comedic excellence. Reviewer Douglas Fox, writing for trade magazine Exhibitors Herald World, summarized “you have a picture that ought to attract people.” The National Board of Review Magazine noted the film was “exceedingly amusing where the star meets with many comic situations in his hapless manner but less so where he begins making slapstick.”
Buster Keaton received positive to glowing reviews. The New York Times film reviewer Mordaunt Hall enthused “In an extravaganza, with some violently funny episodes and others that are only mildly amusing, Buster Keaton… joins the ranks of the talking screen players and it is a pleasure to report that his voice… thoroughly suits his unique personality.” Writing for Hollywood Filmograph, Ed O’Malley stated Buster Keaton “has busted into the vocables, and if gusts of laughter coming from the auditories can be taken as criterion of his success, he surely has gone over the top with a wam…”
Free and Easy was a commercial hit. According to Keaton biographer James L. Neibaur, the film grossed $438,000 in the US alone. The film was still playing in December 1930, where it was advertised in Canada as “The Star-Studded Comedy Carnival.”
In 1958, Free and Easy was released on television under the title Easy Go.
In the early 1990s, TNT later aired Free and Easy under its original title.
Warner Bros released Free and Easy on DVD in 2004 as part of a 2-disc Buster Keaton Collection that also included The Cameraman, Spite Marriage, and a documentary So Funny It Hurts: Buster Keaton and MGM.
In 2014, the Warner Archive Collection released Free and Easy as a stand-alone DVD which included Estrellados.
Modern day reviewers agree that Keaton’s performance stands out in an otherwise banal film.
Reviewer J. Hoberman stated the film was “less a star vehicle than an advertisement for MGM,” and claimed that “Although inanely framed, Keaton’s performances are more than game.” Film historian Matthew Hoffman describes Free and Easy as “an awkward film,” but praises Buster Keaton’s performance. Hoffman noted “Despite the limitations imposed on him, Keaton is amazing... Unfortunately, when he’s not on the screen, the film is excruciating.”
I confess I had never seen a Buster Keaton movie until Free and Easy, and this film makes me want to seek out more of his work. I agree with other modern day reviewers – Keaton’s comedy is the saving grace of the film, and his sad clown persona is genuinely moving. Trixie Friganza as Ma Plunkett is a terrific foil to Keaton and it’s easy to see why she was a vaudeville headliner in her own right. The only musical numbers are scenes from the film which Elmer inadvertently finds himself in, over-the-top production numbers in period costume which do little to advance the plot.
Date of Release: March 22, 1930
Studio: MGM
Director: Edward Sedgwick
Cinematographer: Leonard Smith
Editor: William Le Vanway, George Todd
Production Designer: Cedric Gibbons
Screenplay: Richard Schayer, Paul Dickey
Music: Fred E. Ahlert, Roy Turk
Sound: Karl E. Zint, Douglas Shearer
Choreography: Sammy Lee
Production Designer:
Costumes: David Ward
Leading Actors:
Buster Keaton (Elmer Butts)
Anita Page (Elvira)
Trixie Friganza (Ma)
Robert Montgomery (Larry)
Fred Niblo (Director)
Edgar Dearing (Officer)
Gwen Lee (herself)
John Milan (himself)
Lionel Barrymore (himself)
William Haines (himself, a guest)
Free and Easy was Buster Keaton’s first talkie, and second film with MGM after a non-speaking role in The Hollywood Revue of 1929. Buster Keaton was at the height of his career when he made Free and Easy, a somewhat ironic title given his sad decline following his move to MGM.
Production took place at the end of 1929 under the title On the Set. The film was released with the revamped title Free and Easy on March 22, 1930.
The plot follows Elmer Butz (Keaton), manager to Miss Gopher City and aspiring starlet Elvira (Anita Page) as he accompanies Elvira and her mother Ma Plunkett (Trixie Friganza) to Hollywood. After several hilarious mishaps, Elmer finds himself starring in a new musical and is awarded a studio contract. Not all ends happily however, as Elvira leaves to marry Larry (Robert Montgomery).
Demonstrating Keaton’s international appeal, the film was also shot in a Spanish-language version with Spanish actors, including Raquel Torres, and Keaton speaking Spanish phonetically. The Spanish version was released under the title Estrellados. An edited version of the original film with English and French intertitles was released in France.
Reviews were generally positive, praising the behind-the-scenes view into the MGM lot, the performances of Anita Page and Robert Montgomery, and most notably Buster Keaton’s comedic excellence. Reviewer Douglas Fox, writing for trade magazine Exhibitors Herald World, summarized “you have a picture that ought to attract people.” The National Board of Review Magazine noted the film was “exceedingly amusing where the star meets with many comic situations in his hapless manner but less so where he begins making slapstick.”
Buster Keaton received positive to glowing reviews. The New York Times film reviewer Mordaunt Hall enthused “In an extravaganza, with some violently funny episodes and others that are only mildly amusing, Buster Keaton… joins the ranks of the talking screen players and it is a pleasure to report that his voice… thoroughly suits his unique personality.” Writing for Hollywood Filmograph, Ed O’Malley stated Buster Keaton “has busted into the vocables, and if gusts of laughter coming from the auditories can be taken as criterion of his success, he surely has gone over the top with a wam…”
Free and Easy was a commercial hit. According to Keaton biographer James L. Neibaur, the film grossed $438,000 in the US alone. The film was still playing in December 1930, where it was advertised in Canada as “The Star-Studded Comedy Carnival.”
In 1958, Free and Easy was released on television under the title Easy Go.
In the early 1990s, TNT later aired Free and Easy under its original title.
Warner Bros released Free and Easy on DVD in 2004 as part of a 2-disc Buster Keaton Collection that also included The Cameraman, Spite Marriage, and a documentary So Funny It Hurts: Buster Keaton and MGM.
In 2014, the Warner Archive Collection released Free and Easy as a stand-alone DVD which included Estrellados.
Modern day reviewers agree that Keaton’s performance stands out in an otherwise banal film.
Reviewer J. Hoberman stated the film was “less a star vehicle than an advertisement for MGM,” and claimed that “Although inanely framed, Keaton’s performances are more than game.” Film historian Matthew Hoffman describes Free and Easy as “an awkward film,” but praises Buster Keaton’s performance. Hoffman noted “Despite the limitations imposed on him, Keaton is amazing... Unfortunately, when he’s not on the screen, the film is excruciating.”
I confess I had never seen a Buster Keaton movie until Free and Easy, and this film makes me want to seek out more of his work. I agree with other modern day reviewers – Keaton’s comedy is the saving grace of the film, and his sad clown persona is genuinely moving. Trixie Friganza as Ma Plunkett is a terrific foil to Keaton and it’s easy to see why she was a vaudeville headliner in her own right. The only musical numbers are scenes from the film which Elmer inadvertently finds himself in, over-the-top production numbers in period costume which do little to advance the plot.
RESEARCH SOURCES
Books
Articles
Websites
Other
Books
- Richard Barrios, A Song in the Dark: The Birth of the Musical Film, Oxford University Press (1995)
- James L. Neibaur, The Fall of Buster Keaton: His Films for MGM, Educational Pictures, and Columbia, Bloomsbury (2010)
Articles
- Brian Cady, “Free and Easy,” Turner Classic Movies (Nov 12, 2004)
- Lindsey D, “Free and Easy (1930)” The Motion Pictures (June 5, 2014)
- Douglas Fox, “Service on Pictures: Free and Easy,” Exhibitors Herald-World (April 26, 1930) p.28
- Ed. Bettina Gunczy, “Selected Pictures Guide: Free and Easy,” National Board of Review Magazine (March 1930) p.16
- Mordaunt Hall, “THE SCREEN; Buster Keaton Talks. "Music Hath Charms,” NY Times (April 19, 1930)
- J. Hoberman, “Silent Comic, Finding His Voice,” NY Times (March 23, 2014)
- Matthew Hoffman, “Buster Keaton in Free and Easy (1930),” Park Ridge Classic Film (March 10, 2017)
- Ed O’Malley, “Free and Easy,” Hollywood Filmograph (April 19, 1930), p.29
- Richard T. Ryan, “Want dopey fun? Then play ‘Dodgeball’: New to DVD,” The Ann Arbor News (Dec 10, 2004)
- Uncredited, “The Shadow Stage: Free and Easy,” Photoplay (May 1930), p.55
- Uncredited, “Big All-Star-Cast in “Free and Easy”,” Drumheller Review (Dec 19, 1930), p.4
- Uncredited, “TV Today: Wednesday, August 20, 1958,” Tampa Bay Times, (Aug 20, 1958), p.13B
- Uncredited, “Monday late night,” The Herald: TV Herald (Rock Hill, South Carolina), (Oct 4, 1992), p.11
Websites
- AFI Catalog, “FREE AND EASY (1930)
Accessed via: https://catalog.afi.com/Film/9238-FREE-AND-EASY?cxt=filmography - Buster Keaton, “Keaton’s Films”
Accessed via: https://web.archive.org/web/20120712140907/http://www.busterkeaton.com/ - Criterion Forum, “Buster Keaton Collection”
Accessed via: https://criterionforum.org/Video/buster-keaton-collection-warner-bros-dvd
Other
- Dir. Christopher Bird and Kevin Brownlow, So Funny It Hurts: Buster Keaton and MGM (2004)
- Published on
via IMDb (https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0021152)
Date of Release: March 20, 1930
Studio: MGM
Director: Malcolm St. Clair
Cinematographer: Cedric Gibbons
Editor: Carl Pierson, Leslie F. Wilder
Screenplay: Sylvia Thalberg, Frank Butler, Joseph White Farnham
Music: Clifford Grey, Herbert Stothart, Arthur Freed
Sound: Paul Neal, Douglas Shearer
Production Designer: Cedric Gubbons
Costumes: Adrian
Leading Actors: Joan Crawford (Joan), Johnny Mack Brown (Larry), Dorothy Sebastian (Elizabeth), Ricardo Cortez (Jeff), Benny Rubin (“The Doctor”), Cliff Edwards (Froggy), Karl Dane (Hank), Lloyd Ingraham (Mr. Prescott)
Montana Moon is described by Turner Classic Movies as “the first-ever singing cowboy film.” It was a star vehicle for Joan Crawford, who had in 1929 appeared in two other talkies, MGM’s The Hollywood Revue of 1929 and Untamed.
Crawford plays Joan “Montana” Prescott, daughter of wealthy rancher John Prescott (Lloyd Ingram). On a train headed home, Joan fights off the admiration of Jeff Pelham (Ricardo Cortez) to save the honor of her sister Elizabeth (Dorothy Sebastian), who is madly in love with Jeff. To save all the trouble, Joan hops off the train in the middle of nowhere and stumbles upon cowboy Larry Kerrigan (John Mack Brown). The unlikely pair quickly fall in love, and marry. Joan is torn between life with her cowboy husband and being her former party girl self, while Larry feels uncomfortable in Joan’s socialite crowd. Joan heads back to New York, only for the train to be “hijacked,” and she falls gratefully into the arms of her beloved cowboy. Comic interludes are provided by The Doctor (Benny Rubin) and cowboy Froggy (Cliff Edwards).
Unusually, although there is a plethora of material about Joan Crawford available through biographies and interviews, very little has been written about the making of Montana Moon. According to Samuel Garza Bernstein, Montana Moon was intended to set Crawford and John Mack Brown as a team, however after seeing the chemistry between Crawford and Clark Gable in Dance, Fools, Dance (1931), future films with Brown were scrapped.
It seems that Montanta Moon was viewed as trite even in its day, and was not considered a groundbreaking film, despite its status as the first “cowboy musical” and unique (at least for a musical) use of outdoor settings.
Montana Moon was released across the United States on March 20, 1930.
As noted in the Los Angeles Record, Leo the Lion made “in-person” appearances outside the theatre at select times in early April 1930.
Montana Moon received lukewarm reviews. While critics found Sylvia Thalberg and Frank Butler’s plot formulaic, they generally had praise for leading lady Joan Crawford, and funny man Cliff Edwards. Almost no critics even made mention of the music.
Mordaunt Hall, film critic for The New York Times, described the film as “An interminable, amateurish talking picture, with spasmodic snatches of melody…” Hall found the sound recording to be lacking with “little or no idea of sound perspective,” and the dialogue “poor” and “frequently lacking in good taste.” Hall felt Joan Crawford “appears to enjoy her role and sometimes her acting is quite fair.” Hall also gave credit to comedians Benny Rubin and Cliff Edwards, though felt their role was stymied by “none too witty” dialogue. Hall snarkily surmised, “...the most pleasing features of this production are Miss Crawford’s camel hair coat and her jodhpur riding outfit.” Hall also noted that the cinema audience applauded when cowboy Larry punched socialite Jeff.
Writing for Picture Play Magazine, Norbert Lusk stated that while Joan Crawford delivered a “spontaneous, likeable performance,” it was perhaps not enough to save the “trite, artificial whole.” Screenland editor and critic Delight Evans described the plot as using a “familiar formula,” but concluded that Crawford “couldn’t very well be easier on the eyes. Mr. John Brown is nice. [And] Cliff Edwards is very funny.”
Meanwhile, Photoplay listed Montana Moon as one of “The Best Pictures of the Month.” The Photoplay review stated “Even if you rebel in spots, you’ll care for this picture in a big way, in spite of yourself, for it has great gusto and paprika.” The review praised the comic talents of Benny Rubin, Karl Dane, and Cliff Edwards, and concluded “Bubbling Joan is back where she belongs, in a light frolicsome picture…”
Writing for Outlook and Independent, Creighton Peet was also enamored with Joan Crawford’s performance, which he described as “simple, straightforward…so honest and convincing that it almost makes up for the conventional plot…”
Douglas Fox, writing for Exhibitors Herald-World derided the film as a “mixture of sense and nonsense which is not amusing but becomes… a positive bore, too irritating to be a sporific [sic], and not quite irritating enough to make you get up and walk out.” Fox was the only critic that mentioned the music, stating “Musical comedy bits shoved in here and there, while nice enough in themselves, stick out like sore thumbs and remind you of those early days in talking pictures a few months ago when sound was introduced for its own sake, no other excuse being available.”
Whatever the critics thought, Crawford had box office appeal. Exhibitors Herald-World described the film as “The kind of picture that would be good anywhere” and noted “Crawford gets better and people like her.” George E. Fuller, an exhibitor from Alaska, enthusiastically wrote in Exhibitors Herald-World,
Studio: MGM
Director: Malcolm St. Clair
Cinematographer: Cedric Gibbons
Editor: Carl Pierson, Leslie F. Wilder
Screenplay: Sylvia Thalberg, Frank Butler, Joseph White Farnham
Music: Clifford Grey, Herbert Stothart, Arthur Freed
Sound: Paul Neal, Douglas Shearer
Production Designer: Cedric Gubbons
Costumes: Adrian
Leading Actors: Joan Crawford (Joan), Johnny Mack Brown (Larry), Dorothy Sebastian (Elizabeth), Ricardo Cortez (Jeff), Benny Rubin (“The Doctor”), Cliff Edwards (Froggy), Karl Dane (Hank), Lloyd Ingraham (Mr. Prescott)
Montana Moon is described by Turner Classic Movies as “the first-ever singing cowboy film.” It was a star vehicle for Joan Crawford, who had in 1929 appeared in two other talkies, MGM’s The Hollywood Revue of 1929 and Untamed.
Crawford plays Joan “Montana” Prescott, daughter of wealthy rancher John Prescott (Lloyd Ingram). On a train headed home, Joan fights off the admiration of Jeff Pelham (Ricardo Cortez) to save the honor of her sister Elizabeth (Dorothy Sebastian), who is madly in love with Jeff. To save all the trouble, Joan hops off the train in the middle of nowhere and stumbles upon cowboy Larry Kerrigan (John Mack Brown). The unlikely pair quickly fall in love, and marry. Joan is torn between life with her cowboy husband and being her former party girl self, while Larry feels uncomfortable in Joan’s socialite crowd. Joan heads back to New York, only for the train to be “hijacked,” and she falls gratefully into the arms of her beloved cowboy. Comic interludes are provided by The Doctor (Benny Rubin) and cowboy Froggy (Cliff Edwards).
Unusually, although there is a plethora of material about Joan Crawford available through biographies and interviews, very little has been written about the making of Montana Moon. According to Samuel Garza Bernstein, Montana Moon was intended to set Crawford and John Mack Brown as a team, however after seeing the chemistry between Crawford and Clark Gable in Dance, Fools, Dance (1931), future films with Brown were scrapped.
It seems that Montanta Moon was viewed as trite even in its day, and was not considered a groundbreaking film, despite its status as the first “cowboy musical” and unique (at least for a musical) use of outdoor settings.
Montana Moon was released across the United States on March 20, 1930.
As noted in the Los Angeles Record, Leo the Lion made “in-person” appearances outside the theatre at select times in early April 1930.
Montana Moon received lukewarm reviews. While critics found Sylvia Thalberg and Frank Butler’s plot formulaic, they generally had praise for leading lady Joan Crawford, and funny man Cliff Edwards. Almost no critics even made mention of the music.
Mordaunt Hall, film critic for The New York Times, described the film as “An interminable, amateurish talking picture, with spasmodic snatches of melody…” Hall found the sound recording to be lacking with “little or no idea of sound perspective,” and the dialogue “poor” and “frequently lacking in good taste.” Hall felt Joan Crawford “appears to enjoy her role and sometimes her acting is quite fair.” Hall also gave credit to comedians Benny Rubin and Cliff Edwards, though felt their role was stymied by “none too witty” dialogue. Hall snarkily surmised, “...the most pleasing features of this production are Miss Crawford’s camel hair coat and her jodhpur riding outfit.” Hall also noted that the cinema audience applauded when cowboy Larry punched socialite Jeff.
Writing for Picture Play Magazine, Norbert Lusk stated that while Joan Crawford delivered a “spontaneous, likeable performance,” it was perhaps not enough to save the “trite, artificial whole.” Screenland editor and critic Delight Evans described the plot as using a “familiar formula,” but concluded that Crawford “couldn’t very well be easier on the eyes. Mr. John Brown is nice. [And] Cliff Edwards is very funny.”
Meanwhile, Photoplay listed Montana Moon as one of “The Best Pictures of the Month.” The Photoplay review stated “Even if you rebel in spots, you’ll care for this picture in a big way, in spite of yourself, for it has great gusto and paprika.” The review praised the comic talents of Benny Rubin, Karl Dane, and Cliff Edwards, and concluded “Bubbling Joan is back where she belongs, in a light frolicsome picture…”
Writing for Outlook and Independent, Creighton Peet was also enamored with Joan Crawford’s performance, which he described as “simple, straightforward…so honest and convincing that it almost makes up for the conventional plot…”
Douglas Fox, writing for Exhibitors Herald-World derided the film as a “mixture of sense and nonsense which is not amusing but becomes… a positive bore, too irritating to be a sporific [sic], and not quite irritating enough to make you get up and walk out.” Fox was the only critic that mentioned the music, stating “Musical comedy bits shoved in here and there, while nice enough in themselves, stick out like sore thumbs and remind you of those early days in talking pictures a few months ago when sound was introduced for its own sake, no other excuse being available.”
Whatever the critics thought, Crawford had box office appeal. Exhibitors Herald-World described the film as “The kind of picture that would be good anywhere” and noted “Crawford gets better and people like her.” George E. Fuller, an exhibitor from Alaska, enthusiastically wrote in Exhibitors Herald-World,
“Montana Moon is the exhibitor’s birthday cake. It has ingredients that appeal to every class of theatregoer. Society drama, Western action and cowboy comedy and songs, spiced up with sex and sugar-coated with pleasing personalities in Joan Crawford and Johnnie Mack Brown.”
As reported in Motion Picture News, Montana Moon was the highest grossing film in Cleveland in the first week of April 1930, bringing in $25,000.
Crawford herself later described the film as “a bit of fluff that was supposed to help Johnny Mack Brown but I think it hurt him instead.” Crawford summarized, “It was awful.”
Crawford biographers Lawrence J. Quirk and William Schoell describe the film as a “bit of froufrou,” and noted that “Technical problems of the new sound process did not distract reviewers from noticing that Montana Moon was a pretty silly, flimsy concoction.”
Watching Montana Moon almost 100 years later is a fascinating exercise (it’s available on DVD and to stream). The film is not much of a musical – the first “song” doesn’t come in until 22 minutes in – but more of a comedy with a few songs.
What is surprising is that, unlike other films of this era, Montana Moon never attempts to justify why people sing, they just do. Joan sings lazily on a rock while Larry works, the cowboys sing in camp, and as they leave Joan and Larry to start their new life together. When Joan and Larry arrive at Mr Prescott’s house, music plays in the background and we never see the orchestra, and the revelers sing for fun at the party. Following Joan and Larry’s fight, Froggy and the cowboys sing “Sing a Song of Old Montana,” with Froggy strumming on his ukulele. When Larry is feeling down about the separation, and sits perched atop a rocky vista, Froggy sings “The Moon is Low,” again strumming on his “lampchop” or ukulele.
There is only one scene with dancing, when Joan and Jeffrey dance a short tango at the party.
In the finale of the film, Larry hijacks the train “disguised” as a Mexican bandit and rescues Joan from a life of parties and vapid socialites. The whole scene is cringeworthy, but at least Joan makes fun of Larry’s accent – “That accent of yours is so thick I could cut it with a knife.” The cowboys and Joan ride happily, unusually toward the camera and not away from it, singing a reprise of “Happy Cowboy.” It’s amusing to see Benny Rubin and some of the other cowboys intentionally just opening and closing their mouths, pretending to sing, and almost hamming for the camera. I think this is one of the reasons the critics of the day derided the poor sound quality, but it’s funny now.
The few songs in Montana Moon, including “Let Me Give You Love,” “Happy Cowboy,” “The Moon is Low,” “Trailin’ in Old Montana,” and “Montana Call,” are sweet. The male chorus is a treat, even if most of the time they are singing off in the distance. The songs were written by Nacio Herb Brown and Arthur Freed, with “interpolations” by Herbert Stothart and Clifford Grey.
Another surprising aspect of Montana Moon is that a great deal of it is filmed outdoors. The outdoor adventure is highlighted with a few fun shots of cowboys on their horses galloping through the dust.
Montana Moon was directed by Malcolm St. Clair, who directed over 100 films between 1919 and 1948. Historians generally agree he was at his peak during the silent era, though much of his work has been lost.
I enjoyed Crawford’s performance in Untamed (even if the film itself was awful), and she is once again her radiant self in Montana Moon. She’s funny and sassy, and refreshingly forward – an aspect of the film that Picture Play reviewer Norbert Lusk found “baffling,” and wondered how it made it past the censors. The scandal. Biographer Samuel Garza Bernstein notes that this is what made Crawford so appealing and controversial — “her appearance is almost feminine, her actions, not so much.”
In short, Montana Moon is an early Joan Crawford vehicle with a few fun comedic moments and some sweet songs, surrounded by an overall dull and predictable script.
Crawford herself later described the film as “a bit of fluff that was supposed to help Johnny Mack Brown but I think it hurt him instead.” Crawford summarized, “It was awful.”
Crawford biographers Lawrence J. Quirk and William Schoell describe the film as a “bit of froufrou,” and noted that “Technical problems of the new sound process did not distract reviewers from noticing that Montana Moon was a pretty silly, flimsy concoction.”
Watching Montana Moon almost 100 years later is a fascinating exercise (it’s available on DVD and to stream). The film is not much of a musical – the first “song” doesn’t come in until 22 minutes in – but more of a comedy with a few songs.
What is surprising is that, unlike other films of this era, Montana Moon never attempts to justify why people sing, they just do. Joan sings lazily on a rock while Larry works, the cowboys sing in camp, and as they leave Joan and Larry to start their new life together. When Joan and Larry arrive at Mr Prescott’s house, music plays in the background and we never see the orchestra, and the revelers sing for fun at the party. Following Joan and Larry’s fight, Froggy and the cowboys sing “Sing a Song of Old Montana,” with Froggy strumming on his ukulele. When Larry is feeling down about the separation, and sits perched atop a rocky vista, Froggy sings “The Moon is Low,” again strumming on his “lampchop” or ukulele.
There is only one scene with dancing, when Joan and Jeffrey dance a short tango at the party.
In the finale of the film, Larry hijacks the train “disguised” as a Mexican bandit and rescues Joan from a life of parties and vapid socialites. The whole scene is cringeworthy, but at least Joan makes fun of Larry’s accent – “That accent of yours is so thick I could cut it with a knife.” The cowboys and Joan ride happily, unusually toward the camera and not away from it, singing a reprise of “Happy Cowboy.” It’s amusing to see Benny Rubin and some of the other cowboys intentionally just opening and closing their mouths, pretending to sing, and almost hamming for the camera. I think this is one of the reasons the critics of the day derided the poor sound quality, but it’s funny now.
The few songs in Montana Moon, including “Let Me Give You Love,” “Happy Cowboy,” “The Moon is Low,” “Trailin’ in Old Montana,” and “Montana Call,” are sweet. The male chorus is a treat, even if most of the time they are singing off in the distance. The songs were written by Nacio Herb Brown and Arthur Freed, with “interpolations” by Herbert Stothart and Clifford Grey.
Another surprising aspect of Montana Moon is that a great deal of it is filmed outdoors. The outdoor adventure is highlighted with a few fun shots of cowboys on their horses galloping through the dust.
Montana Moon was directed by Malcolm St. Clair, who directed over 100 films between 1919 and 1948. Historians generally agree he was at his peak during the silent era, though much of his work has been lost.
I enjoyed Crawford’s performance in Untamed (even if the film itself was awful), and she is once again her radiant self in Montana Moon. She’s funny and sassy, and refreshingly forward – an aspect of the film that Picture Play reviewer Norbert Lusk found “baffling,” and wondered how it made it past the censors. The scandal. Biographer Samuel Garza Bernstein notes that this is what made Crawford so appealing and controversial — “her appearance is almost feminine, her actions, not so much.”
In short, Montana Moon is an early Joan Crawford vehicle with a few fun comedic moments and some sweet songs, surrounded by an overall dull and predictable script.
- Published on
An inane film with an unlikeable protagonist but interesting characters off the screen.
ad from Exhibitors Herald World (June 29, 1929)
Date of Release: Feb 28, 1930
Studio: MGM
Director: William Nigh, Harry Beaumont
Cinematographer: Henry Sharo
Editor: Anne Bauchens
Screenplay: Crane Wilbur, Willard Mack
Music: Arthur Freed and Nacio Herb Brown, Joe Goodwin and Louis Alter, Dimitri Tiomkin and Raymond B. Egan, Richard A. Whiting
Choreographer: Sammy Lee, ballet by Albertina Rasch
Leading Actors: Charles Kaley (Roy), Ethelind Terry (Adria), Marion Shilling (Nancy), Cliff Edwards (Joe), Gwen Lee (Bessie), Benny Rubin (Phil), Drew Demorest (Edwards), John Byron (Mr Millaire), Rita Flynn (Redhead), Hazel Craven (Blondie)
Studio: MGM
Director: William Nigh, Harry Beaumont
Cinematographer: Henry Sharo
Editor: Anne Bauchens
Screenplay: Crane Wilbur, Willard Mack
Music: Arthur Freed and Nacio Herb Brown, Joe Goodwin and Louis Alter, Dimitri Tiomkin and Raymond B. Egan, Richard A. Whiting
Choreographer: Sammy Lee, ballet by Albertina Rasch
Leading Actors: Charles Kaley (Roy), Ethelind Terry (Adria), Marion Shilling (Nancy), Cliff Edwards (Joe), Gwen Lee (Bessie), Benny Rubin (Phil), Drew Demorest (Edwards), John Byron (Mr Millaire), Rita Flynn (Redhead), Hazel Craven (Blondie)
Lord Byron of Broadway tells the story of a conceited and womanizing song writer, Roy (Charles Kaley), who uses his flings with women to write hit songs.
Nell Martin in Exhibitors Herald World (Aug 8, 1925)
ad for "The Adventures of Mazie" Motion Picture News (Sept 5, 1925)
The plot came from a popular novel of the same name, published in 1928 by writer Nell Martin. Little information is currently available about Martin, despite having lived a seemingly interesting life. She wrote 8 novels, and over 200 short stories, one of which, The Adventures of Mazie, was adapted into a series of silent shorts by F.B.O. starring Alberta Vaughn (not to be confused with the Maisie films starring Ann Sothern). According to a brief biography in A Dashiell Hammett Companion, Martin worked in a variety of jobs from “migrant worker, laundry worker, clerk, and taxi driver,” to “proof reader, journalist, singer, and actress.” Film historian Edwin M. Bradley notes Martin was a “vaudevillian and newspaper reporter.” She was married twice, and was a known lover of famed writer Dashiell Hammett (who wrote The Maltese Falcon, The Thin Man, and The Glass Key, the last of which he dedicated to Martin). Dates of her death are conflicting across sources, and it appears that Nell Martin died in obscurity.
At the end of 1928, MGM announced a film version of Lord Byron of Broadway, slated to star Bessie Love and Williams Haines, with William Nigh directing. It was later announced that Charles King was starring.
As noted in Edwin M. Bradley’s Unsung Hollywood Musicals of the Golden Era, Lord Byron of Broadway was beset with casting and production problems. This didn’t stop MGM promoting the film, with an ad in Exhibitors Herald World in June 1929 extolling it was “A heart-stirring story of Tin Pan alley… It’s got everything that the human Talking screen can give!”
Production finally began around the fall of 1929, with vaudeville performers Charles Kaley, "the boy with the golden voice," a vaudevillian and master of ceremonies and Ethelind Terry, star of Rio Rita on Broadway, in the lead roles.
According to Bradley, director William Nigh was fired shortly after producer Harry Rapf saw the first rough cut, and demanded a remake. Harry Beaumont (The Broadway Melody) was bought on, who attempted to make Roy’s character more palatable.
The music was provided by MGM studio composers Arthur Freed and Nacio Herb Brown, Joe Goodwin and Louis Alter, Dimitri Tiomkin, and Raymond B. Egan, and Richard A. Whiting. Sheet music for songs “Should I?”, “The Woman in the Shoe,” “A Bundle of Old Love Letters,” and “Only Love is Real,” was released in late 1929, and proved to be popular. Victor Arden, Phil Ohman and Orchestra recorded “Should I” and “A Bundle of Old Love Letters.” “Should I” was briefly a top 10 song, and according to Variety was also the subject of four separate copyright suits.
Lord Byron of Broadway was finally released in February, 1930. Was it worth the drama? The Tin Pan Alley inspired musical was panned by the critics.
The Motion Picture Committee of The Women’s University stated it was “a weak edition of The Broadway Melody”, and The New Movie Magazine described it as “almost utterly lacking personality.” Norbert Lusk, writing for Picture Play, stated the film was “A stew without salt, because it is… careless and undistinguished…”
Several critics felt the story had potential, but, as Lusk noted, “the idea never quite comes through the morass of hackneyed situations, trite dialogue and other conventions of a backstage story.”
At the end of 1928, MGM announced a film version of Lord Byron of Broadway, slated to star Bessie Love and Williams Haines, with William Nigh directing. It was later announced that Charles King was starring.
As noted in Edwin M. Bradley’s Unsung Hollywood Musicals of the Golden Era, Lord Byron of Broadway was beset with casting and production problems. This didn’t stop MGM promoting the film, with an ad in Exhibitors Herald World in June 1929 extolling it was “A heart-stirring story of Tin Pan alley… It’s got everything that the human Talking screen can give!”
Production finally began around the fall of 1929, with vaudeville performers Charles Kaley, "the boy with the golden voice," a vaudevillian and master of ceremonies and Ethelind Terry, star of Rio Rita on Broadway, in the lead roles.
According to Bradley, director William Nigh was fired shortly after producer Harry Rapf saw the first rough cut, and demanded a remake. Harry Beaumont (The Broadway Melody) was bought on, who attempted to make Roy’s character more palatable.
The music was provided by MGM studio composers Arthur Freed and Nacio Herb Brown, Joe Goodwin and Louis Alter, Dimitri Tiomkin, and Raymond B. Egan, and Richard A. Whiting. Sheet music for songs “Should I?”, “The Woman in the Shoe,” “A Bundle of Old Love Letters,” and “Only Love is Real,” was released in late 1929, and proved to be popular. Victor Arden, Phil Ohman and Orchestra recorded “Should I” and “A Bundle of Old Love Letters.” “Should I” was briefly a top 10 song, and according to Variety was also the subject of four separate copyright suits.
Lord Byron of Broadway was finally released in February, 1930. Was it worth the drama? The Tin Pan Alley inspired musical was panned by the critics.
The Motion Picture Committee of The Women’s University stated it was “a weak edition of The Broadway Melody”, and The New Movie Magazine described it as “almost utterly lacking personality.” Norbert Lusk, writing for Picture Play, stated the film was “A stew without salt, because it is… careless and undistinguished…”
Several critics felt the story had potential, but, as Lusk noted, “the idea never quite comes through the morass of hackneyed situations, trite dialogue and other conventions of a backstage story.”
An ad for Charles Kaley in Variety (Sept 17, 1930)
Charles Kaley received entirely negative reviews for his first feature. Harrison’s Reports stated “he is like a stick” and Variety expounded his character was “a doltish conceited cad.” Ethelind Terry and Marion Shilling also received sour reviews, with critics complaining that Terry’s vaudevillian mannerisms were too over-the-top for screen work, and that Shilling was too inexperienced to be effective as the ingenue. Their supporting stars fared better, with Cliff Edwards (The Hollywood Revue of 1929, So This is College) and Benny Rubin, garnering warm praise for their performances.
Lord Byron of Broadway contained two Technicolor sequences, “Blue Daughter of Heaven” and “The Woman in the Shoe,” staged by Sammy Lee (The Hollywood Revue of 1929 and Chasing Rainbows), and Albertina Rasch (Devil-May-Care, The Hollywood Revue of 1929, Sally, Pointed Heels). The numbers didn’t do much to save the film. The New York Times’ Mordaunt Hall stated that while the numbers used “some clever staging and striking camera angles…, [they are] too dark and often indistinct.” Harrison’s Reports also noted “the color work is very poor,” and Variety’s Ruth Morris felt the dance numbers, though “very pretty,” were “incongruous.”
Reviews aside, the footage from “Woman in the Shoe” was later re-used in Nertsery Rhymes (1933) and Roast Beef and Movies (1934).
Charles Kaley performed at screenings of Lord Byron of Broadway in Chicago. This was not unusual, as many theatres still split their programming between vaudeville acts and movie screenings. A Variety review mentioned a particularly effective act presented at the Fox in Brooklyn in May 1930, which included an acrobatic troupe, The Son Linfield Co., who entered the stage via an oversized prop shoe, built to resemble the shoe house from the aforementioned “Woman in the Shoe.”
Unfortunately for Kaley, vaudeville was well on its way out. As reported in Exhibitors Herald World in February 1930, talking pictures were directly responsible for changing audience tastes and bringing about the death of vaudeville. In 1920, there had been more than 80 theatres “playing big-time, two a day policy vaudeville.” By 1930, that number had dropped to just 8. While vaudeville actors were being lured to Hollywood to film shorts for big pay, the performers quickly found themselves with less work and less pay on the stage. Compounding their problems was that, like Charles Kaley and Ethelind Terry, their stage skills did not translate well on screen.
Lord Byron of Broadway was also released as a silent film, as many theatres were still not equipped for sound. Although, for some audiences, Lord Byron of Broadway may have been their first talkie. The film received mention as the first talkie seen at the new American theatre in Harlowtown, Montana which had been fitted out with Western Electric, Vitaphone, and Movietone.
Silent or talkie, Lord Byron of Broadway flopped at the box office.
The film occasionally aired on television in the 1960s, and later on Turner Classic Movies.
Lord Byron of Broadway was included in a five-week film festival, “Musicals Before the Code,” at Film Forum 2 in New York City in 1996.
The Warner Bros Archive Collection released the film on DVD in 2010.
Modern day critics are kinder to Lord Byron of Broadway. Writing for Vitaphone Varieties, Jeff Cohen describes it as “a film I've long considered to be among the best photographed and recorded of all the early screen musicals,” and Edwin M. Bradley states “it’s a valuable reminder of good and bad of the earliest film musicals.”
I sat down to watch Lord Byron of Broadway with mixed expectations. Was it going to be like Syncopation, which was far more amusing than the critics had led me to believe? Or was it going to be another painful hour of eye-rolling why-did-I-choose-this-project boredom?
Sadly, it was the latter. The script and dialogue are inane, the music is not the best work of the composers, and not even the warm and amusing Cliff Edwards or Benny Rubin can save it all. Charles Kaley is wooden, and utterly unbelievable as someone whom all the women would fall madly in love with.
Lord Byron of Broadway contained two Technicolor sequences, “Blue Daughter of Heaven” and “The Woman in the Shoe,” staged by Sammy Lee (The Hollywood Revue of 1929 and Chasing Rainbows), and Albertina Rasch (Devil-May-Care, The Hollywood Revue of 1929, Sally, Pointed Heels). The numbers didn’t do much to save the film. The New York Times’ Mordaunt Hall stated that while the numbers used “some clever staging and striking camera angles…, [they are] too dark and often indistinct.” Harrison’s Reports also noted “the color work is very poor,” and Variety’s Ruth Morris felt the dance numbers, though “very pretty,” were “incongruous.”
Reviews aside, the footage from “Woman in the Shoe” was later re-used in Nertsery Rhymes (1933) and Roast Beef and Movies (1934).
Charles Kaley performed at screenings of Lord Byron of Broadway in Chicago. This was not unusual, as many theatres still split their programming between vaudeville acts and movie screenings. A Variety review mentioned a particularly effective act presented at the Fox in Brooklyn in May 1930, which included an acrobatic troupe, The Son Linfield Co., who entered the stage via an oversized prop shoe, built to resemble the shoe house from the aforementioned “Woman in the Shoe.”
Unfortunately for Kaley, vaudeville was well on its way out. As reported in Exhibitors Herald World in February 1930, talking pictures were directly responsible for changing audience tastes and bringing about the death of vaudeville. In 1920, there had been more than 80 theatres “playing big-time, two a day policy vaudeville.” By 1930, that number had dropped to just 8. While vaudeville actors were being lured to Hollywood to film shorts for big pay, the performers quickly found themselves with less work and less pay on the stage. Compounding their problems was that, like Charles Kaley and Ethelind Terry, their stage skills did not translate well on screen.
Lord Byron of Broadway was also released as a silent film, as many theatres were still not equipped for sound. Although, for some audiences, Lord Byron of Broadway may have been their first talkie. The film received mention as the first talkie seen at the new American theatre in Harlowtown, Montana which had been fitted out with Western Electric, Vitaphone, and Movietone.
Silent or talkie, Lord Byron of Broadway flopped at the box office.
The film occasionally aired on television in the 1960s, and later on Turner Classic Movies.
Lord Byron of Broadway was included in a five-week film festival, “Musicals Before the Code,” at Film Forum 2 in New York City in 1996.
The Warner Bros Archive Collection released the film on DVD in 2010.
Modern day critics are kinder to Lord Byron of Broadway. Writing for Vitaphone Varieties, Jeff Cohen describes it as “a film I've long considered to be among the best photographed and recorded of all the early screen musicals,” and Edwin M. Bradley states “it’s a valuable reminder of good and bad of the earliest film musicals.”
I sat down to watch Lord Byron of Broadway with mixed expectations. Was it going to be like Syncopation, which was far more amusing than the critics had led me to believe? Or was it going to be another painful hour of eye-rolling why-did-I-choose-this-project boredom?
Sadly, it was the latter. The script and dialogue are inane, the music is not the best work of the composers, and not even the warm and amusing Cliff Edwards or Benny Rubin can save it all. Charles Kaley is wooden, and utterly unbelievable as someone whom all the women would fall madly in love with.
Charles Kaley walks toward a delightfully hammy Ethelind Terry.
Contrary to what the critics believed, Ethelind Terry is a delight to watch and surprisingly funny. An unintended highlight of the film occurs when Terry looks straight at the camera mid-take with a joyful grin and a twinkle in her eye. Perhaps with better material, or a director willing to find a way to work with her stage background, Terry could have been a great screen comedienne.
Often with these dull early musicals, I have found solace in the Technicolor song-and-dance numbers. Unfortunately, I concur with the critics. Choreographed by Albertina Rasch (The Hollywood Revue of 1929, Pointed Heels, Devil-May-Care, Sally) and Sammy Lee (The Hollywood Revue of 1929, Chasing Rainbows), the numbers are just not filmed well. “Blue Daughter of Heaven” makes nice use of aerial shots, the number is essentially long-legged chorus girls dancing in circles on a revolve, made all the more problematic by the all-white cast wearing Chinese-themed costumes. “Woman in the Shoe” is amusing, and a beautifully designed play on the well-known children’s story, but the dark blackbird costumes do not look good on screen.
A saving grace of the film are the gorgeous dresses and outfits, designed by David Cox. Cox worked as the costume designer on over 40 films, and in wardrobe on another 34. According to film fashion historian Kimberly Truhler, although he is relatively unknown today, Cox’s groundbreaking designs, particularly for the 1928 silent Our Dancing Daughters starring Joan Crawford, have become the reference point for productions set in the 1920s. I’m rather enamored by the opening sequence of that film (featured on historian Heather Vaughan Lee’s blog). Just gorgeous!
A saving grace of the film are the gorgeous dresses and outfits, designed by David Cox. Cox worked as the costume designer on over 40 films, and in wardrobe on another 34. According to film fashion historian Kimberly Truhler, although he is relatively unknown today, Cox’s groundbreaking designs, particularly for the 1928 silent Our Dancing Daughters starring Joan Crawford, have become the reference point for productions set in the 1920s. I’m rather enamored by the opening sequence of that film (featured on historian Heather Vaughan Lee’s blog). Just gorgeous!
Charles Kaley returned to the diminishing vaudeville circuit, and only returned to Hollywood in small uncredited appearances in a small number of films. Ethelind Terry returned to Broadway and only appeared in another film in a small role. Marion Shilling had better success in Hollywood, appearing in over 40 films before she left the industry in 1936 to become a mother.
Lord Byron of Broadway was a lot of fun to research, from reading the scathing reviews through to discovering people like Nell Martin, Ethelind Terry, and David Cox, whom I might never have heard of otherwise. As for the film itself, it’s one that will stay on the shelf.
Lord Byron of Broadway was a lot of fun to research, from reading the scathing reviews through to discovering people like Nell Martin, Ethelind Terry, and David Cox, whom I might never have heard of otherwise. As for the film itself, it’s one that will stay on the shelf.
Sources
Books
Books
- Richard Barrios, A Song in the Dark: The Birth of the Musical Film, 2nd Ed, Oxford University Press (2010)
- Robert L. Gale, “A Dashiell Hammett Companion” Greenwood Press (2000)
- Edwin M. Bradley, Unsung Hollywood Musicals of the Golden Era: 50 Overlooked Films and Their Stars, 1929-1939, McFarland (2016)
- Jeff Cohen, “Dancing the Devil Away,” Vitaphone Varieties (Nov 7, 2007)
- Douglas Fox, “Lord Byron of Broadway,” Exhibitors Herald-World (March 15, 1930), p.37
- Mordaunt Hall, “The Screen: The Ungrateful Song Writer,” New York Times (March 8, 1930), p. 23
- P.S. Harrison, ““Lord Byron of Broadway” (100% T-F & DN)” Harrison’s Reports (March 15, 1930), p. 43
- Caryn James, “CRITIC'S NOTEBOOK;Singing, Dancing and Sinning” New York Times (April 26, 1996) Section C, p.1
- Heather Vaughan Lee, “Joan Crawford, Costumes and Publicity in ‘Our Dancing Daughters’ (1928)” Fashion Historia (May 14, 2012)
- Norbert Lusk, “The Screen in Review,” Picture Play Magazine (April 1930), p.100
- Samuel Richard Mook, “Bread-and-butter Babies Looking for Cake,” Picture Play Magazine (April 1930), p.20 - 23
- Ruth Morris, “Uncommon Chatter,” Variety (March 19, 1930), p.55
- Don Samson, “Music and Talent: Talkies Lure Stage Show Artists,” Exhibitors Herald World (Feb 15, 1930), p. 48
- Edwin Schallert, “Lord Byron of Broadway,” Motion Picture News (Jan 25, 1930), p. 43
- Kimberly Truhler, “The Style Essentials--Joan Crawford Struts Her Stuff in 1928's OUR DANCING DAUGHTERS,” Glamamor (Nov 27, 2012)
- Lawrence A. Urbach, Jerry Hoffman, “Hollywood,” Motion Picture News (Feb 16, 1929), p.497
- Uncredited, "Pictorial Section of Exhibitors Herald,” Exhibitors Herald, (Aug 8, 1925), p.45
- Uncredited, “Last Minute News” Motion Picture News, (Feb, 1929) p.6
- Uncredited, “Charles King starred,” The Film Daily, (April 14, 1929), p.10
- Uncredited, “The following 47 Pictures are available for Wired Houses,” Exhibitors Herald World, (June 29, 1929), MGM Product Announcement Feature
- Uncredited, “High and Low — Along Music Row” Motion Picture News, (Feb 8, 1930), p.62
- Uncredited, “Robbins Net $650,000 for Last Eight Months of 1929,” Motion Picture News, (March 1, 1930), p.18
- Uncredited, “Variety’s Chicago Office,” Variety, (March 5, 1930), p.69
- Uncredited, “Announce Opening House, Newly Equipped for Sound, Exhibitors Herald World, (March 29, 1930) p.22
- Uncredited, “The Big Ten: Best Selling Popular Songs of the Month,” Radio Revue, (March 1930), p. 46
- Uncredited, “The Film Estimates” The Educational Screen (April 1930), p.112
- Uncredited, April 1930 Reviews, The Motion Picture Committee of The Women’s University Club, Los Angeles Branch, American Association of University Women (April 1930)
- Uncredited, “Music of the Screen,” The New Movie Magazine, (April, 1930)
- Uncredited, “Film House Reviews: Fox, B’KLYN,” Variety, (May 28, 1930), p.43
- Uncredited, “Critical Comment on Current Films: Lord Byron of Broadway,” Screenland, (June 30, 1930)
- Uncredited, “Brief Guide,” (June, 1930), Talking Screen, p.6
- Uncredited, “18 Alleged Infringements Against M-G-M Music,” Variety, (Aug 6, 1930), p.65
- AFI Catalog, “Lord Byron of Broadway (1930)” Accessed via: https://catalog.afi.com/Film/10367-LORD-BYRONOFBROADWAY?sid=64a16e6c-b73e-43c8-b8f4-83b07e5dfaf2&sr=14.640628&cp=1&pos=0
- Published on
Vaudeville meets baseball with an inane love diamond.
Date of Release: Jan 31, 1930
Studio: MGM
Director: Jack Conway and Sam Wood
Screenplay: A.P. Younger (story), Sarah Y. Mason (scenario), Arthur “Bugs” Baer (dialogue)
Music: Milton Ager, Jack Yellen
Choreographer: Sammy Lee
Leading Actors:
Joe Schenck (Jack)
Gus Van (Jerry)
Bessie Love (Mary)
Mary Doran (Daisy)
J.C. Nugent (Stafford)
Benny Rubin (Sam)
Tom Dugan (Tim)
Eddie Gribbon (Brennan)
Francis X. Bushman Jr. (Haskins)
Nina Mae McKinney (Harlem Madness Singer)
Cliff Edwards (Singer in Harlem Madness)
Van and Schenck were well-known vaudeville performers from Brooklyn. The duo had been performing together for nearly two decades, and had appeared in several MGM “movietone” shorts.
Initially announced in late 1929 under the titles Playing the Field, The Pennant Winning Battery, and Play it Big, Van and Schenck’s first and only feature film They Learned About Women was released by MGM in January 1930. The final title was derived from a 1927 Van and Schenck short.
The film was written by Sarah Y. Mason, who also wrote for Broadway Melody, along with sports commentator Arthur “Bugs” Baer. Giant’s player Mike Donin also reportedly served as the baseball supervisor.
They Learned About Women tells the story of two Blue Sox baseball players, straight-laced Jack (Schenck) and party boy Jerry (Van) who perform a vaudeville act in the off-season. Jack is in love with Mary (Bessie Love), but is quickly wooed by “bad girl” Daisy (Mary Doran). Jack marries Daisy, who forces Jack to leave baseball and his vaudeville partner of fifteen years to start their own act. The Blue Sox are in the finals of the World Series, but things are looking grim without the old partnership of Jerry and Jack. Jack returns, no longer with Daisy, and brings about a win for the Blue Sox. Realizing his buddy still loves Mary, and that Mary still loves Jack, Jerry graciously steps away.
I had initially brushed off the notion of vaudeville singin’ baseball players as a contrived way to work music into a baseball themed movie, but after chatting with baseball historian and theatre director Ralph Carhart, I discovered this was actually quite common.
As baseball historian John Thorn notes in the foreward to Carhart’s book The Hall Ball, “Players. That standard baseball term… derives from the theater… Practitioners of the baseball arts were thus named because they were regarded as entertainers…” Schenck and Van were not themselves professional baseball players, but were reportedly avid fans. Schenck had also “once captained the vaudeville “All-stars” team.”
Schenck and Van were not themselves professional baseball players, but were reportedly avid fans. Schenck had also “once captained the vaudeville “All-stars” team.”
Perhaps testing the waters to see how Van and Schenck fared in a feature length film, MGM did not give They Learned About Women much in the way of publicity.
Some theatre owners attempted new ways to lure in patrons. The Fox Theatre in Detroit invited the local baseball team, the Detroit Tigers, to attend a showing, while Trenton theatre in Lynchburg, Virginia, collaborated with Power Laundries for a promotion using an anagraphic puzzle and movie pass giveaways. The Lyric Theatre in Tennessee attempted to use “the feminine penchant for reducing,” ie. losing weight, to entice female audiences by promoting Bessie Love’s “1930 Beauty Form Chart.” According to Exhibitors Herald-World, the chart detailed how Love retained her “vim, vigor, and vitality,” and encouraged daily physical activity in the form of physical culture.
The Film Daily noted “the baseball stuff is good” and summarized that the film was a “a peppy number that should please.” The Motion Picture Committee of the Los Angeles Branch of The Women’s University Club stated the film would “probably have a wide range of appeal since it combines the ever-popular baseball theme with new song hits.”
They Learned About Women featured 6 songs by Milton Ager and Jack Yellen (both of whom had previously worked on Honkey Tonk and Chasing Rainbows) — ‘There Will Never Be Another Mary’, ’Harlem Madness’, ‘Does My Baby Love?’, ‘He’s That Kind of a Pal’, ‘Aintcha Baby’, ’A Man of My Own’ — and 2 songs by Van and Schenck, ‘Dougherty is the Name’ and ‘I’m an Old Fashioned Guy’.
Despite predictions of wide appeal, Exhibitors Herald-World published several reports noting that They Learned About Women failed to draw in audiences. Some also mentioned that the film’s strange title did not help.
Apart from a few industry reviews, They Learned About Women was not reviewed by any major publications.
As with just about every movie musical from this period, watching They Learned About Women today is both a frustrating and surprising experience. The ho hum story of the love diamond between Jerry, Jack, Mary, and Daisy is eye-roll inducing, and the only two speaking women in the film fall into the predictable dichotomy of sweet good girl/vixen bad girl.
People of color exist only in subservient roles, until we arrive at the theatre. The film features the fabulous ‘Harlem Madness’, a musical number performed by a troupe made up entirely of people of color. The troupe is led by Nina Mae McKinney, who was uncredited, who had starred in Hallelujah the year before. ‘Harlem Madness’ was originally shot in Technicolor, and oh for those prints to be restored! The scene is a joyous highlight of the film, even if it has no relevance to the plot.
The inane script, and terrible politics aside, the music is delightful and Joe Schenck and Gus Van are charming. The joyful chemistry between them, and with Bessie Love (who had previously starred in Broadway Melody, The Girl in the Show, and Chasing Rainbows) is clearly visible.
The camaraderie is also evident in the fun shower room scene following baseball practise. The entire male cast engages in silly play, and joyful ensemble singing of ‘Ten Sweet Mamas’. The fellow baseball players are good in their comedic sidekick roles, notably Tom Dugan as a stuttering fool.
The final scene was shot at Wrigley Stadium, and features 1000s of extras. Despite some repetitive use of one or two action shots, the scene successfully conveys the excitement and drama of a high stakes baseball game.
They Learned About Women was Van and Schenck’s last feature film. Schenck died suddenly of a heart attack whilst on tour in June, 1930, reportedly dying in Van’s arms.
The film was the basis for the 1949 musical Take Me Out to the Ball Game starring Gene Kelly, Frank Sinatra, and Esther Williams, and a guest appearance by Tom Dugan.
TCM released They Learned About Women on television and on laser-disc in the mid-1990s. The Warner Archive Collection released They Learned About Women on DVD in 2009.
Studio: MGM
Director: Jack Conway and Sam Wood
Screenplay: A.P. Younger (story), Sarah Y. Mason (scenario), Arthur “Bugs” Baer (dialogue)
Music: Milton Ager, Jack Yellen
Choreographer: Sammy Lee
Leading Actors:
Joe Schenck (Jack)
Gus Van (Jerry)
Bessie Love (Mary)
Mary Doran (Daisy)
J.C. Nugent (Stafford)
Benny Rubin (Sam)
Tom Dugan (Tim)
Eddie Gribbon (Brennan)
Francis X. Bushman Jr. (Haskins)
Nina Mae McKinney (Harlem Madness Singer)
Cliff Edwards (Singer in Harlem Madness)
Van and Schenck were well-known vaudeville performers from Brooklyn. The duo had been performing together for nearly two decades, and had appeared in several MGM “movietone” shorts.
Initially announced in late 1929 under the titles Playing the Field, The Pennant Winning Battery, and Play it Big, Van and Schenck’s first and only feature film They Learned About Women was released by MGM in January 1930. The final title was derived from a 1927 Van and Schenck short.
The film was written by Sarah Y. Mason, who also wrote for Broadway Melody, along with sports commentator Arthur “Bugs” Baer. Giant’s player Mike Donin also reportedly served as the baseball supervisor.
They Learned About Women tells the story of two Blue Sox baseball players, straight-laced Jack (Schenck) and party boy Jerry (Van) who perform a vaudeville act in the off-season. Jack is in love with Mary (Bessie Love), but is quickly wooed by “bad girl” Daisy (Mary Doran). Jack marries Daisy, who forces Jack to leave baseball and his vaudeville partner of fifteen years to start their own act. The Blue Sox are in the finals of the World Series, but things are looking grim without the old partnership of Jerry and Jack. Jack returns, no longer with Daisy, and brings about a win for the Blue Sox. Realizing his buddy still loves Mary, and that Mary still loves Jack, Jerry graciously steps away.
I had initially brushed off the notion of vaudeville singin’ baseball players as a contrived way to work music into a baseball themed movie, but after chatting with baseball historian and theatre director Ralph Carhart, I discovered this was actually quite common.
As baseball historian John Thorn notes in the foreward to Carhart’s book The Hall Ball, “Players. That standard baseball term… derives from the theater… Practitioners of the baseball arts were thus named because they were regarded as entertainers…” Schenck and Van were not themselves professional baseball players, but were reportedly avid fans. Schenck had also “once captained the vaudeville “All-stars” team.”
Schenck and Van were not themselves professional baseball players, but were reportedly avid fans. Schenck had also “once captained the vaudeville “All-stars” team.”
Perhaps testing the waters to see how Van and Schenck fared in a feature length film, MGM did not give They Learned About Women much in the way of publicity.
Some theatre owners attempted new ways to lure in patrons. The Fox Theatre in Detroit invited the local baseball team, the Detroit Tigers, to attend a showing, while Trenton theatre in Lynchburg, Virginia, collaborated with Power Laundries for a promotion using an anagraphic puzzle and movie pass giveaways. The Lyric Theatre in Tennessee attempted to use “the feminine penchant for reducing,” ie. losing weight, to entice female audiences by promoting Bessie Love’s “1930 Beauty Form Chart.” According to Exhibitors Herald-World, the chart detailed how Love retained her “vim, vigor, and vitality,” and encouraged daily physical activity in the form of physical culture.
The Film Daily noted “the baseball stuff is good” and summarized that the film was a “a peppy number that should please.” The Motion Picture Committee of the Los Angeles Branch of The Women’s University Club stated the film would “probably have a wide range of appeal since it combines the ever-popular baseball theme with new song hits.”
They Learned About Women featured 6 songs by Milton Ager and Jack Yellen (both of whom had previously worked on Honkey Tonk and Chasing Rainbows) — ‘There Will Never Be Another Mary’, ’Harlem Madness’, ‘Does My Baby Love?’, ‘He’s That Kind of a Pal’, ‘Aintcha Baby’, ’A Man of My Own’ — and 2 songs by Van and Schenck, ‘Dougherty is the Name’ and ‘I’m an Old Fashioned Guy’.
Despite predictions of wide appeal, Exhibitors Herald-World published several reports noting that They Learned About Women failed to draw in audiences. Some also mentioned that the film’s strange title did not help.
Apart from a few industry reviews, They Learned About Women was not reviewed by any major publications.
As with just about every movie musical from this period, watching They Learned About Women today is both a frustrating and surprising experience. The ho hum story of the love diamond between Jerry, Jack, Mary, and Daisy is eye-roll inducing, and the only two speaking women in the film fall into the predictable dichotomy of sweet good girl/vixen bad girl.
People of color exist only in subservient roles, until we arrive at the theatre. The film features the fabulous ‘Harlem Madness’, a musical number performed by a troupe made up entirely of people of color. The troupe is led by Nina Mae McKinney, who was uncredited, who had starred in Hallelujah the year before. ‘Harlem Madness’ was originally shot in Technicolor, and oh for those prints to be restored! The scene is a joyous highlight of the film, even if it has no relevance to the plot.
The inane script, and terrible politics aside, the music is delightful and Joe Schenck and Gus Van are charming. The joyful chemistry between them, and with Bessie Love (who had previously starred in Broadway Melody, The Girl in the Show, and Chasing Rainbows) is clearly visible.
The camaraderie is also evident in the fun shower room scene following baseball practise. The entire male cast engages in silly play, and joyful ensemble singing of ‘Ten Sweet Mamas’. The fellow baseball players are good in their comedic sidekick roles, notably Tom Dugan as a stuttering fool.
The final scene was shot at Wrigley Stadium, and features 1000s of extras. Despite some repetitive use of one or two action shots, the scene successfully conveys the excitement and drama of a high stakes baseball game.
They Learned About Women was Van and Schenck’s last feature film. Schenck died suddenly of a heart attack whilst on tour in June, 1930, reportedly dying in Van’s arms.
The film was the basis for the 1949 musical Take Me Out to the Ball Game starring Gene Kelly, Frank Sinatra, and Esther Williams, and a guest appearance by Tom Dugan.
TCM released They Learned About Women on television and on laser-disc in the mid-1990s. The Warner Archive Collection released They Learned About Women on DVD in 2009.
SOURCES
Books
Articles
Exhibitors Herald - World
The Film Daily
Motion Picture News
Websites
Books
- Ralph Carhart, The Hall Ball: One Fan's Journey to Unite Cooperstown Immortals with a Single Baseball, McFarland (2020)
- Edwin M. Bradley, The First Hollywood Musicals: A Critical Filmography of 171 Features, 1927 Through 1932, McFarland (1996)
- Hal Erickson, The Baseball Filmography, 1915 Through 2001, McFarland, 2d Ed (2016)
Articles
- Jeff Cohen, “Why Bring That Up?” Vitaphone Varieties (April 1, 2007)
- David Kehr, “When Hollywood Learned to Talk, Sing and Dance,” New York Times (Jan 15, 2010)
- Jonas Nordin, “An early talkie Christmas - Part 2,” All Talking! All Singing! All Dancing! (Dec 8, 2009)
- The Educational Screen, "The Film Estimates,” April 1930, p. 113
- Motion Picture Reviews, February 1930, (The Motion Picture Committee of The Women’s University Club, Los Angeles Branch, American Association of University Women), p.6-7
- Ottawa Citizen, “All-Colored Review Hit Featured in Centre Film,” July 19, 1930, p.22
- Variety, “Obituary: Joseph T. Schenck,” July 2, 1930, p. 76
Exhibitors Herald - World
- “Busiest Summer at MGM Studio,” June 29, 1930, p. 144
- “New Pictures,” March 15, 1930, p.64
- “Song Hits In Current Films,” April 5, 1930, p.18
- “What the Picture Did For Me,” July 12, 1930, p. 56
- “What the Picture Did For Me,” July 19, 1930, p.56
- “The Voice of the Industry: Letters from Readers,” Aug 9, 1930, p. 56
- “‘They Learned About Women’ And Tieups, Too, at Lynchburg,” Sept 13, 1930, p.55
The Film Daily
- “Two MGM Films Renamed,” Dec 15, 1929, p. 7
- “They Learned About Women,” July 6. 1930, p.10
Motion Picture News
- “Managers’ Round Table Club,” May 17, 1930, p.75
- “Managers’ Round Table Club,” June 21, 1930, p.51
Websites
- IMDb, “They Learned About Women (1930),” Accessed via:
https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0021464/fullcredits/?ref_=tt_ov_st_sm
- Published on
Early Lubitsch musical with great performances and terrible sexism.
National Board of Review Magazine (Jan 1930)
Date of Release: Jan 18, 1930
Studio: Paramount
Director: Ernst Lubitsch
Screenplay: Guy Bolton, Ernest Vajda
Music: Clifford Grey, Victor Schertzinger
Leading Actors:
Maurice Chevalier (Count Alfred)
Jeanette MacDonald (Queen Louise)
Lupino Lane (Jacques)
Lillian Roth (Lulu)
Edgar Norton (Master of ceremonies)
Lionel Belmore (Prime Minister)
Albert Roccardi (Foreign Minister)
Carlton Stockdale (Admiral)
Eugene Pallette (Minister of War)
Russell Powell (Afghan Ambassador)
E. H. Calvert (Ambassador)
André Sheron (Le Mari)
Yola d’Avril (Paulette)
Winter Hall (Priest)
Ben Turpin (Cross-Eyed Lackey)
Anton Vaverka (Cabinet Minster)
Albert De Winton (Cabinet Minster)
William von Hardenburg (Cabinet Minsters)
Margaret Fealy (Lady in Waiting)
Virginia Bruce (Lady in Waiting)
Josephine Hall (Lady in Waiting)
Rosalind Charles (Lady in Waiting)
Helene Friend (Lady in Waiting)
Studio: Paramount
Director: Ernst Lubitsch
Screenplay: Guy Bolton, Ernest Vajda
Music: Clifford Grey, Victor Schertzinger
Leading Actors:
Maurice Chevalier (Count Alfred)
Jeanette MacDonald (Queen Louise)
Lupino Lane (Jacques)
Lillian Roth (Lulu)
Edgar Norton (Master of ceremonies)
Lionel Belmore (Prime Minister)
Albert Roccardi (Foreign Minister)
Carlton Stockdale (Admiral)
Eugene Pallette (Minister of War)
Russell Powell (Afghan Ambassador)
E. H. Calvert (Ambassador)
André Sheron (Le Mari)
Yola d’Avril (Paulette)
Winter Hall (Priest)
Ben Turpin (Cross-Eyed Lackey)
Anton Vaverka (Cabinet Minster)
Albert De Winton (Cabinet Minster)
William von Hardenburg (Cabinet Minsters)
Margaret Fealy (Lady in Waiting)
Virginia Bruce (Lady in Waiting)
Josephine Hall (Lady in Waiting)
Rosalind Charles (Lady in Waiting)
Helene Friend (Lady in Waiting)
The Film Daily (Dec 10, 1929)
Like Sally, The Love Parade received a limited release in late 1929 and was officially released in early 1930.
The Love Parade was frequently referred to in advertising as the “first film operetta,” however The Desert Song was actually the first. Some advertising refers to The Love Parade as the first original operetta, though as it was based on the play The Prince Consort by Leon Xanrof and Jules Chancel, this claim is also not entirely true.
According to Screenland, the film was shot in seven weeks and cost $650,000 to make.
The Love Parade received extensive publicity. In addition to print publicity, songs and scenes from the film were aired on Columbia Radio on the Paramount-Publix Hour. It was the first film to be advertised in a “tie-up” between Paramount and the Philco Storage Battery Company.
The Love Parade was frequently referred to in advertising as the “first film operetta,” however The Desert Song was actually the first. Some advertising refers to The Love Parade as the first original operetta, though as it was based on the play The Prince Consort by Leon Xanrof and Jules Chancel, this claim is also not entirely true.
According to Screenland, the film was shot in seven weeks and cost $650,000 to make.
The Love Parade received extensive publicity. In addition to print publicity, songs and scenes from the film were aired on Columbia Radio on the Paramount-Publix Hour. It was the first film to be advertised in a “tie-up” between Paramount and the Philco Storage Battery Company.
Motion Picture News (Feb 8, 1930)
In an unusual publicity stunt, the Capitol Theatre in Macon, Georgia, had a tie-in with the Goodyear Tire company. A giant tire with a sign bearing the film’s title was positioned outside the theatre, and featured in a parade. Motion Picture News described the stunt as “one of the best traveling “billboards” ever used in exploiting a picture.”
Motion Picture News (Feb 15, 1930)
Some “risque” print advertising (pictured left) caused a stir. Over two weeks, Motion Picture News reported on a scandal that involved an ad printed in the St. Louis Star. Letters to the editor, and an editorial published in the paper, claimed the advert was a prime example of how theatre and motion pictures were “in the gutter.” The Hays Office intervened and promptly had the ad pulled from circulation.
Leading man Maurice Chevalier, who had just appeared in the critically panned Innocents of Paris, was a huge draw. One reporter claimed that Chevalier’s appeal was only to women, who supposedly made up the vast majority of the audiences. Images of the cinema going crowds suggest otherwise.
Leading man Maurice Chevalier, who had just appeared in the critically panned Innocents of Paris, was a huge draw. One reporter claimed that Chevalier’s appeal was only to women, who supposedly made up the vast majority of the audiences. Images of the cinema going crowds suggest otherwise.
The Love Parade premiered in New York at the Criterion Theatre on November 19, 1929. The film was a smash hit, breaking the Criterion’s records for advance sales and continuing to play well during an extended run.
The film was released around the world, including in London, Sydney, and Buenos Aires. In London, the film became the longest running talking picture at the Carleton Theatre. English and French versions were released in Canada.
Unusually, The Love Parade was screened in Antarctica. As reported in The Film Daily, the film was broadcast from the Prince Edward Theatre in Sydney to Richard E. Byrd who was on expedition in the Antarctic.
The film was released around the world, including in London, Sydney, and Buenos Aires. In London, the film became the longest running talking picture at the Carleton Theatre. English and French versions were released in Canada.
Unusually, The Love Parade was screened in Antarctica. As reported in The Film Daily, the film was broadcast from the Prince Edward Theatre in Sydney to Richard E. Byrd who was on expedition in the Antarctic.
Reporters claimed the film was only a draw for women. The images suggest otherwise. (The Film Daily, Dec 20, 1929)
Audiences and critics alike fell for The Love Parade, and the film received universal rave reviews. Reviewers praised the performances of Maurice Chevalier and Jeanette MacDonald, and Ernst Lubitsch’s artful direction.
After reading a slew of ecstatic reviews, I was excited to sit down and watch The Love Parade, which Criterion released on DVD in 2008 as part of an Ernst Lubitsch musicals collection.
German-born Ernst Lubitsch was a prolific actor, writer, director, and producer who was considered one of the finest artists of his generation. His style, known as “the Lubitsch Touch,” was characterized by poignant humor and insightful representations of money and sex. After starting out as an actor, Lubitsch transitioned to directing where he had great success in Germany. His success continued in the United States, where he directed comedies, musicals, and dramas. Criterion released a set of Lubitsch musicals on DVD in 2008. The collection includes The Love Parade (1929), Monte Carlo (1930), The Smiling Lieutenant (1931), and One Hour With You (1932).
The Love Parade opens with Count Alfred (Maurice Chevalier), Sylvanian ambassador to France, caught in yet another love scandal. Alfred is promptly requested to return home to Sylvania for an audience with Queen Louise. Queen Louise (Jeanette MacDonald), who sleeps in late and has time to luxuriate in baths, is tired of all her subjects wondering when she is going to find herself a husband. Count Alfred returns to court, and as punishment for all his affairs is to marry Louise. Alfred may only ever have the rank of Consort, and his life quickly descends into boredom, because it is clearly unnatural for a man to be at the whim of a woman. Louise must keep up the facade of a happy marriage, or else foreign countries will not repay their loans and Sylvania will become bankrupt. The film ends with Louise tearfully declaring Alfred may be King, and order is restored.
Lubitsch’s direction lives up to the hype. The film is visually stunning, with terrific performances by its leads Maurice Chevalier and Jeanette MacDonald. The couple have a pleasant screen chemistry, but it is hard to believe they love each other romantically. Lupino Lane and Lillian Roth deliver equally spirited performances, however their comedic side-plot could be cut from the film without any loss to the story.
The Love Parade features a terrific score by Clifford Grey (who had also composed for Syncopation, Sally, and The Vagabond Lover), and Victor Schertzinger (who had directed Fashions in Love). The songs are light-hearted, with catchy melodies and fun lyrics. Highlights include “Champagne,” a chance for Chevalier to show off his Frenchness, “Let’s Be Common,” a delightful Cole Porter-esque duet, and the rousing “March of the Grenadiers” featuring Jeanette MacDonald supported by a male chorus.
Lubitsch’s direction helps to lift the songs. Clever staging, dynamic camera work, and use of the ensemble to frame the lead singer all contribute to making the songs an integral part of the film. Tellingly, The Love Parade was the first film where critics were not annoyed by the fact characters just broke out into song, without first explaining why.
After reading a slew of ecstatic reviews, I was excited to sit down and watch The Love Parade, which Criterion released on DVD in 2008 as part of an Ernst Lubitsch musicals collection.
German-born Ernst Lubitsch was a prolific actor, writer, director, and producer who was considered one of the finest artists of his generation. His style, known as “the Lubitsch Touch,” was characterized by poignant humor and insightful representations of money and sex. After starting out as an actor, Lubitsch transitioned to directing where he had great success in Germany. His success continued in the United States, where he directed comedies, musicals, and dramas. Criterion released a set of Lubitsch musicals on DVD in 2008. The collection includes The Love Parade (1929), Monte Carlo (1930), The Smiling Lieutenant (1931), and One Hour With You (1932).
The Love Parade opens with Count Alfred (Maurice Chevalier), Sylvanian ambassador to France, caught in yet another love scandal. Alfred is promptly requested to return home to Sylvania for an audience with Queen Louise. Queen Louise (Jeanette MacDonald), who sleeps in late and has time to luxuriate in baths, is tired of all her subjects wondering when she is going to find herself a husband. Count Alfred returns to court, and as punishment for all his affairs is to marry Louise. Alfred may only ever have the rank of Consort, and his life quickly descends into boredom, because it is clearly unnatural for a man to be at the whim of a woman. Louise must keep up the facade of a happy marriage, or else foreign countries will not repay their loans and Sylvania will become bankrupt. The film ends with Louise tearfully declaring Alfred may be King, and order is restored.
Lubitsch’s direction lives up to the hype. The film is visually stunning, with terrific performances by its leads Maurice Chevalier and Jeanette MacDonald. The couple have a pleasant screen chemistry, but it is hard to believe they love each other romantically. Lupino Lane and Lillian Roth deliver equally spirited performances, however their comedic side-plot could be cut from the film without any loss to the story.
The Love Parade features a terrific score by Clifford Grey (who had also composed for Syncopation, Sally, and The Vagabond Lover), and Victor Schertzinger (who had directed Fashions in Love). The songs are light-hearted, with catchy melodies and fun lyrics. Highlights include “Champagne,” a chance for Chevalier to show off his Frenchness, “Let’s Be Common,” a delightful Cole Porter-esque duet, and the rousing “March of the Grenadiers” featuring Jeanette MacDonald supported by a male chorus.
Lubitsch’s direction helps to lift the songs. Clever staging, dynamic camera work, and use of the ensemble to frame the lead singer all contribute to making the songs an integral part of the film. Tellingly, The Love Parade was the first film where critics were not annoyed by the fact characters just broke out into song, without first explaining why.
Despite the performances and music, the inherent sexism in The Love Parade makes for painful viewing. The basic premise of the film is that women should be submissive to men. Even as queen, Louise cannot escape the fact she is “just a mere woman.” She is defined only by her beauty, having the most “perfect” legs in the land, and her relationship to men.
Along with its overtly sexist script, The Love Parade also suffers from racism. The entire population of the fictional Sylvania is white (though I suppose it receives points for not casting people of color as servants). The token foreign head of state is Afghani, known for his belief that women can’t hold power, and played by white actor Russell Powell dressed with a turban.
Perhaps worth a watch for early Jeanette MacDonald and Maurice Chevalier, and a demonstration of Lubitsch’s iconic style, but not a recommended early movie musical.
Along with its overtly sexist script, The Love Parade also suffers from racism. The entire population of the fictional Sylvania is white (though I suppose it receives points for not casting people of color as servants). The token foreign head of state is Afghani, known for his belief that women can’t hold power, and played by white actor Russell Powell dressed with a turban.
Perhaps worth a watch for early Jeanette MacDonald and Maurice Chevalier, and a demonstration of Lubitsch’s iconic style, but not a recommended early movie musical.
- Published on
Visually stunning musical that is a treat in Technicolor.
Picture Play Magazine (Jan 1930)
Date of Release: Jan 12, 1930
Studio: First National
Director: John Francis Dilllon
Screenplay: Waldermar Young
Music: Joe Burke, B. G. DeSylva, Al Dubin, Clifford Grey, Jerome Kern
Choreographer: Larry Ceballos
Leading Actors: Marilyn Miller (Sally), Alexander Gray (Blair Farquar), Joe E. Brown (Connie [The Grand Duke]), T. Roy Barnes (Otis Hooper), Pert Kelton (Rosie, his girlfriend), Ford Sterling ("Pops" Shendorff), Maude Turner Gordon (Mrs. Ten Brock), Nora Lane (Marcia, her daughter), E. J. Ratcliffe (John Farquar, Blair's father), Jack Duffy (The Old Roué), Albertina Rasch Ballet
Sally was based on Ziegfeld’s Broadway musical of the same name. The Broadway show opened in 1920 and ran for two years, and marked the height of leading lady Marilyn Miller’s career.
Studio: First National
Director: John Francis Dilllon
Screenplay: Waldermar Young
Music: Joe Burke, B. G. DeSylva, Al Dubin, Clifford Grey, Jerome Kern
Choreographer: Larry Ceballos
Leading Actors: Marilyn Miller (Sally), Alexander Gray (Blair Farquar), Joe E. Brown (Connie [The Grand Duke]), T. Roy Barnes (Otis Hooper), Pert Kelton (Rosie, his girlfriend), Ford Sterling ("Pops" Shendorff), Maude Turner Gordon (Mrs. Ten Brock), Nora Lane (Marcia, her daughter), E. J. Ratcliffe (John Farquar, Blair's father), Jack Duffy (The Old Roué), Albertina Rasch Ballet
Sally was based on Ziegfeld’s Broadway musical of the same name. The Broadway show opened in 1920 and ran for two years, and marked the height of leading lady Marilyn Miller’s career.
Marilyn Miller in Screenland (Nov 1929)
Marilyn Miller was a popular Broadway actress who performed in the USA and across Europe. Miller was married and divorced several times, and suffered from chronic sinus issues and alcoholism. Sally was the first of three film appearances for Miller, and she was reportedly paid $100,000 for her film debut. While not the top salary in Hollywood, it was certainly one of the highest.
Sally had a limited release in late December 1929 at the Winter Garden Theatre, New York, but did not officially open until January 12, 1930. It played at the Winter Garden until March, when it moved to the Strand. In Los Angeles, the film played at the Warner Bros Theatre in Hollywood.
The critics praised the use of Technicolor, describing the visuals as spectacular and gorgeous. The usually restrained Education Screen described it “One of the best productions of its kind to date,” and The New York Times stated it “…the most beautiful picture that has come to the screen.”
Variety was less enthusiastic, claiming the film was “old-fashioned” and predicting it wouldn’t last longer than a week.
The prediction proved inaccurate, and Sally broke box office records around the country.
Sally had a limited release in late December 1929 at the Winter Garden Theatre, New York, but did not officially open until January 12, 1930. It played at the Winter Garden until March, when it moved to the Strand. In Los Angeles, the film played at the Warner Bros Theatre in Hollywood.
The critics praised the use of Technicolor, describing the visuals as spectacular and gorgeous. The usually restrained Education Screen described it “One of the best productions of its kind to date,” and The New York Times stated it “…the most beautiful picture that has come to the screen.”
Variety was less enthusiastic, claiming the film was “old-fashioned” and predicting it wouldn’t last longer than a week.
The prediction proved inaccurate, and Sally broke box office records around the country.
Technicolor advert for Sally in The Film Daily (Jan 5, 1930)
Sally was one of the earliest First National films to have a nationally coordinated advertising effort. Advertisements focused heavily on Marilyn Miller, the use of Technicolor, and the idea that the movie was bigger than the Broadway production. Among some unusual stunts were free movie tickets to women named Sally, and a tie-in with a bakery that distributed free tickets in loaves of bread.
It was common for musicals of this period to include one or two lavish production numbers filmed in Technicolor. In a break from convention, the entirety of Sally was filmed in Technicolor.
It is unclear if the full color prints have survived. In 1971, MoMA announced that a full color print had been found, and a screening would take place as part of an American musical film retrospective. For reasons yet unknown, the screening did not take place. After contacting MoMA, I learnt that the print was on loan from United Artists, which is now owned by Warner Bros. While this print may still exist, the Warner Archive DVD release from 2009 only contains one Technicolor scene.
Sally was directed by John Francis Dilllon, also known as Jack Dillon, an actor and director of the silent era. The screenplay was written by Waldermar Young, a Mormon screenwriter whose twenty year career spanned both the silent and early talkie eras.
Given that most early musicals created by silent film veterans are painful to watch today, and the fact that most of the film is now only available to view in black and white, Sally is a surprise treat.
Marilyn Miller is gorgeous, and it is clear she was a terrific stage performer, but her singing and dancing do not read well on screen. While Alexander Gray’s voice comes across as rich and resonant, Miller’s voice is grating.
Most songs are played as performances at the club, at the Ten Brock garden party, or on Broadway, however a couple of songs are sung as extensions of the characters’ feelings. Some critics were not enamored with this breaking of musical convention. As Motion Picture News noted, “Right then and there, logic died and musical comedy was crowned king.”
The score was written by Joe Burke, B.G. DeSylva, Al Dubin, Clifford Grey, and Jerome Kern. This team of highly accomplished musicians and composers contributed to many of the movie musicals of 1929 including The Show of Shows, Gold Diggers of Broadway, The Hollywood Revue of 1929, Say it With Songs, The Cock-Eyed World, The Vagabond Lover, and Show Boat.
It was common for musicals of this period to include one or two lavish production numbers filmed in Technicolor. In a break from convention, the entirety of Sally was filmed in Technicolor.
It is unclear if the full color prints have survived. In 1971, MoMA announced that a full color print had been found, and a screening would take place as part of an American musical film retrospective. For reasons yet unknown, the screening did not take place. After contacting MoMA, I learnt that the print was on loan from United Artists, which is now owned by Warner Bros. While this print may still exist, the Warner Archive DVD release from 2009 only contains one Technicolor scene.
Sally was directed by John Francis Dilllon, also known as Jack Dillon, an actor and director of the silent era. The screenplay was written by Waldermar Young, a Mormon screenwriter whose twenty year career spanned both the silent and early talkie eras.
Given that most early musicals created by silent film veterans are painful to watch today, and the fact that most of the film is now only available to view in black and white, Sally is a surprise treat.
Marilyn Miller is gorgeous, and it is clear she was a terrific stage performer, but her singing and dancing do not read well on screen. While Alexander Gray’s voice comes across as rich and resonant, Miller’s voice is grating.
Most songs are played as performances at the club, at the Ten Brock garden party, or on Broadway, however a couple of songs are sung as extensions of the characters’ feelings. Some critics were not enamored with this breaking of musical convention. As Motion Picture News noted, “Right then and there, logic died and musical comedy was crowned king.”
The score was written by Joe Burke, B.G. DeSylva, Al Dubin, Clifford Grey, and Jerome Kern. This team of highly accomplished musicians and composers contributed to many of the movie musicals of 1929 including The Show of Shows, Gold Diggers of Broadway, The Hollywood Revue of 1929, Say it With Songs, The Cock-Eyed World, The Vagabond Lover, and Show Boat.
Alexander Gray and Marilyn Miller in Picture Play (May, 1930)
Blair (Alexander Gray) sings “Look for the Silver Lining” to comfort the miserable Sally (Marilyn Miller). Gray’s rich baritone voice is incongruous with his sappy character, but the delightful melody and arrangement are a treat. Alexander Gray was a classically trained singer who appeared on Broadway in the Ziegfeld Follies and several musical productions including Rio Rita and The Desert Song. He was reportedly bought onto Sally at Marilyn Miller’s request. Gray also appeared in The Show of Shows (1929), and No, No, Nanette (1930).
Later, Blair literally exclaims he “doesn’t have the words to express what I really think of her” and breaks out into the charming tune “Sally.” His party of friends join in with a rich male chorus refrain.
A reprise of “Look for the Silver Lining” has a well filmed dance number, but the music and choreography are incongruous. The music is light and floating, while the dancing is energetic and staccato.
Sally’s dance at the club, "All I Want To Do, Do, Do Is Dance” is another energetic tap number, however the routine is uninspiring.
A comedy routine involving a ladder and Joe E. Brown playing an old man is presumably lifted straight from the Broadway show. It is amusing, but drags on too long. Brown deservedly received good notices for his role in Sally. He started out as an acrobat in vaudeville, and worked as a baseball player, and briefly in business. After returning to show business, he appeared in at least six Broadway productions, and toured extensively around the country. Brown was awarded a Special Tony Award in 1948 for his work in the touring production of Harvey. He appeared in over 70 films including On With the Show (1929) Show Boat (1951), and Some Like it Hot (1959), His biography, Laughter is a Wonderful Thing was published in 1956.
Later, Blair literally exclaims he “doesn’t have the words to express what I really think of her” and breaks out into the charming tune “Sally.” His party of friends join in with a rich male chorus refrain.
A reprise of “Look for the Silver Lining” has a well filmed dance number, but the music and choreography are incongruous. The music is light and floating, while the dancing is energetic and staccato.
Sally’s dance at the club, "All I Want To Do, Do, Do Is Dance” is another energetic tap number, however the routine is uninspiring.
A comedy routine involving a ladder and Joe E. Brown playing an old man is presumably lifted straight from the Broadway show. It is amusing, but drags on too long. Brown deservedly received good notices for his role in Sally. He started out as an acrobat in vaudeville, and worked as a baseball player, and briefly in business. After returning to show business, he appeared in at least six Broadway productions, and toured extensively around the country. Brown was awarded a Special Tony Award in 1948 for his work in the touring production of Harvey. He appeared in over 70 films including On With the Show (1929) Show Boat (1951), and Some Like it Hot (1959), His biography, Laughter is a Wonderful Thing was published in 1956.
Still from the Warner Bros Archive dvd
“Wild Rose” takes place at the Ten Brock garden, "the biggest party of the year", and is the only number currently available in color. The composition of the shots, the dancing, and music all come together to create a visually radiant scene. The color prints bring the scene to life in a way black and white cannot replicate. The presence of an all-male ensemble, instead of the usual white long-limbed girls is also refreshing!
The final number is a reproduction of the Butterfly Ballet from the Broadway show. Even in black and white it is visually stunning, and one can only imagine how it must have looked in color.
The most difficult aspect of Sally is the dialogue. It is stilted and cliched, unaided by use of unchanging straight on mid-shots.
Marilyn Miller appeared in two more films, Sunny (1930) and Her Majesty, Love (1931) before her death in 1936 at the age of 37.
Sally is currently available on Youtube (sans the Technicolor) and on DVD through the Warner Archive.
The most difficult aspect of Sally is the dialogue. It is stilted and cliched, unaided by use of unchanging straight on mid-shots.
Marilyn Miller appeared in two more films, Sunny (1930) and Her Majesty, Love (1931) before her death in 1936 at the age of 37.
Sally is currently available on Youtube (sans the Technicolor) and on DVD through the Warner Archive.
- Published on
A tedious backstage comedy saved by Marie Dressler.
A still of Nita Martan, Bessie Love, and Charles King in Picture Play (June 1930)
Date of Release: Jan 10, 1930
Studio: MGM
Director: Charles F. Reisner
Screenplay: Wells Root, Bess Meredyth, Charles F. Reisner, Robert Hopkins, Kenyon Nicholson, Al Boasberg
Music: Milton Ager, Louis Alter, Sam Coslow, Joe Goodwin, Leo Robin, Richard A. Whiting, Jack Yellen
Leading Actors: Bessie Love (Carlie), Charles King (Terry), Jack Benny (Eddie), George K. Arthur (Loster), Polly Moran (Polly), Gwen Lee (Peggy), Nita Martan (Daphne), Eddie Phillips (Cordova), Marie Dressler (Bonnie), Youcca Troubetzkoy (Lanning)
Studio: MGM
Director: Charles F. Reisner
Screenplay: Wells Root, Bess Meredyth, Charles F. Reisner, Robert Hopkins, Kenyon Nicholson, Al Boasberg
Music: Milton Ager, Louis Alter, Sam Coslow, Joe Goodwin, Leo Robin, Richard A. Whiting, Jack Yellen
Leading Actors: Bessie Love (Carlie), Charles King (Terry), Jack Benny (Eddie), George K. Arthur (Loster), Polly Moran (Polly), Gwen Lee (Peggy), Nita Martan (Daphne), Eddie Phillips (Cordova), Marie Dressler (Bonnie), Youcca Troubetzkoy (Lanning)
The film was initially marketed as "The Road Show" (Picture Play, Feb 1930)
Aiming to capitalize on the success of The Broadway Melody, MGM paired Bessie Love and Charles King together again in yet another backstage comedy musical. Initially titled The Road Show, the studio wanted to release the film under the title Happy Days, using the title of one of its theme songs. Unfortunately, Fox already had a release on the way under the same title. MGM settled on Chasing Rainbows and the film was released at the beginning of 1930.
The film included several Technicolor production numbers, featuring Bessie Love and Charles King singing and dancing.
The film included several Technicolor production numbers, featuring Bessie Love and Charles King singing and dancing.
Advertising focused on the film's stars Bessie Love and played up the use of Technicolor (Motion Picture, May 1930)
Theatre managers engaged the usual publicity stunts to draw pundits. The Park Theatre Manager organized a tie-in with a local prom, which included a pot-o-pennies guessing competition, free tickets, and an orchestra performing songs from the film. Another theatre in Washington connected with a local dance school which offered “free instruction in a “Rainbow Tap” dance.”
Stars Bessie Love and Charles King were featured heavily in promotions. In San Francisco, free pictures of the actors were distributed with purchases of the films record, and in Albany the cinema window display featured life-size cardboard cut-outs.
The Palace Theatre in Torrington, Connecticut had a tie-in with a local newspaper where a photographer published photos taken around town, and anyone whose face appeared in the picture received a free ticket to the film.
Chasing Rainbows received lackluster reviews. Most critics dismissed the tedious plot, and lamented that the whole film was an inferior copy of The Broadway Melody. Mordaunt Hall of the New York Times wrote “It is so utterly nonsensical that it becomes tedious before it is half way over, and that in spite of some impressive Technicolor episodes.” Modern day viewer Jeff Cohen of Vitaphone Varieties called it a “dismal affair.”
The story follows Terry (Charles King) and Carlie (Bessie Love), a partner act in a touring musical revue “Last Days,” a musical comedy about the end of the war. Carlie is in love with Terry, doing all his chores for him and being his greatest support. Terry only has eyes for the show’s leading lady, a rotating cast of women who leave once they become sick of Terry’s depressive moods. Daphne (Nita Martan) is bought into star in the show. She is in love with Cordova (Eddie Phillips), and she only wants to use Terry to get to Broadway. The film bounces around the various love intrigues, with the supporting ensemble Bonnie (Marie Dressler), Polly (Polly Moran), and stage manager Eddie (Jack Benny) providing the much needed comic relief.
Warner Bros Archive have restored Chasing Rainbows and made it available on DVD.
Chasing Rainbows opens with the credits playing over footage of a speeding train. The opening number is the tail end of the finale of a show, “Happy Days.” The composition of the scene is great, and the music is fun and engaging.
Chasing Rainbows suffers from needing to explain actors breaking out into song. The first full song, “Poor but Honest,” sung by Marie Dressler, is performed on the train to entertain the company. The camera stays on Dressler in a tight mid-shot, and it is Dressler’s wonderful interpretation that keeps the audience riveted through the patter song.
“Lucky Me, Lovable You,” performed in rehearsal, is a sweet love song which moves into a light tap number performed by Bessie Love and Charles King. Following the dance break, the accompaniment shifts into a three-part harmony sung by three male members of the ensemble. It is a wonderful arrangement, showcasing the flexibility of the delightful tune.
“Do I Know What I’m Doing?” performed at the same rehearsal, is lackluster during Nita Martan’s verse, but gains energy when handed over to Marie Dressler and Polly Moran performing a comedic bit with a hot iron.
Charles King sings the inane ballad reprise of “Lucky Me, Loveable You,” as Terry tries to win back Carlie.
Stars Bessie Love and Charles King were featured heavily in promotions. In San Francisco, free pictures of the actors were distributed with purchases of the films record, and in Albany the cinema window display featured life-size cardboard cut-outs.
The Palace Theatre in Torrington, Connecticut had a tie-in with a local newspaper where a photographer published photos taken around town, and anyone whose face appeared in the picture received a free ticket to the film.
Chasing Rainbows received lackluster reviews. Most critics dismissed the tedious plot, and lamented that the whole film was an inferior copy of The Broadway Melody. Mordaunt Hall of the New York Times wrote “It is so utterly nonsensical that it becomes tedious before it is half way over, and that in spite of some impressive Technicolor episodes.” Modern day viewer Jeff Cohen of Vitaphone Varieties called it a “dismal affair.”
The story follows Terry (Charles King) and Carlie (Bessie Love), a partner act in a touring musical revue “Last Days,” a musical comedy about the end of the war. Carlie is in love with Terry, doing all his chores for him and being his greatest support. Terry only has eyes for the show’s leading lady, a rotating cast of women who leave once they become sick of Terry’s depressive moods. Daphne (Nita Martan) is bought into star in the show. She is in love with Cordova (Eddie Phillips), and she only wants to use Terry to get to Broadway. The film bounces around the various love intrigues, with the supporting ensemble Bonnie (Marie Dressler), Polly (Polly Moran), and stage manager Eddie (Jack Benny) providing the much needed comic relief.
Warner Bros Archive have restored Chasing Rainbows and made it available on DVD.
Chasing Rainbows opens with the credits playing over footage of a speeding train. The opening number is the tail end of the finale of a show, “Happy Days.” The composition of the scene is great, and the music is fun and engaging.
Chasing Rainbows suffers from needing to explain actors breaking out into song. The first full song, “Poor but Honest,” sung by Marie Dressler, is performed on the train to entertain the company. The camera stays on Dressler in a tight mid-shot, and it is Dressler’s wonderful interpretation that keeps the audience riveted through the patter song.
“Lucky Me, Lovable You,” performed in rehearsal, is a sweet love song which moves into a light tap number performed by Bessie Love and Charles King. Following the dance break, the accompaniment shifts into a three-part harmony sung by three male members of the ensemble. It is a wonderful arrangement, showcasing the flexibility of the delightful tune.
“Do I Know What I’m Doing?” performed at the same rehearsal, is lackluster during Nita Martan’s verse, but gains energy when handed over to Marie Dressler and Polly Moran performing a comedic bit with a hot iron.
Charles King sings the inane ballad reprise of “Lucky Me, Loveable You,” as Terry tries to win back Carlie.
A tantalizing still from the Warner Bros Archive dvd
While the opening number provides promise of high quality production numbers, the footage of the Technicolor numbers has been lost. Warner Bros have attempted to fill in the gaps with stills and segments of the music.
While the existing musical numbers are outstanding, the script and dialogue are tedious. The hour and a half running time (even without the missing production numbers), feels like an eternity.
The awful script is is surprising given the later prominence of the scriptwriting team. After starting out as a newspaper writer and editor, Wells Root went on to become a prominent screen writer and educator. He was a founding member of the Screen Writers Guild, and wrote for film and television. In addition to teaching at UCLA for over thirty years, Root published the highly popular and successful handbook Writing the Script.
Also known as Helen MacGlashan, Bess Meredyth, was born into a theatrical family. During the silent era, Meredyth worked extensively as a director, writer, and actor and was highly regarded in the industry for ability to create a high level of work under pressure. A fascinating biography can be found at the Women Film Pioneers Project.
Robert E. Hopkins started out as a title writer, and went onto to write over 50 scripts in a career spanning almost 25 years. He was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Writing (Original Story) for San Francisco (1936). He also contributed to The Hollywood Revue of 1929.
Kenyon Nicholson was a novelist and playwright. He wrote over 20 screenplays, and nearly as many Broadway plays.
Scriptwriter Al Boasberg would go on to become a highly influential comedic writer, script doctor and director. He also wrote So This is College (1929), and contributed to The Hollywood Revue of 1929.
The performances by the cast are admirable given the material. Charles King is utterly detestable as the leading man who falls in and out of love with his leading ladies.
Bessie Love, whom the New York Times declared "is worthy of a far better vehicle," is immensely watchable as Terry's ever-suffering act partner. It is frustrating to watch her moon over the awful man that is Terry.
Jack Benny, appearing in his first feature film, is delightful as the stage manager Eddie. He started out in vaudeville as a violinist, and went on to become a prominent entertainment personality and comedian, working in film, radio, and television. His television show, The Jack Benny Show, ran for over fifteen years.
The saving grace of Chasing Rainbows is Marie Dressler. Dressler appeared in the The Vagabond Lover and was my favorite supporting actor of 1929. She received universal praise for her performance in Chasing Rainbows. Early on in the film Dressler states, “I’m getting too good for musical comedy.” It's unfortunately true. She steals every scene with her contorting facial expressions, dry delivery, and outstanding comic timing.
Close behind Dressler is another great comedienne, Polly Moran. Moran was a successful internationally touring vaudeville artist. She appeared in the 1929 musicals So This is College and Hot for Paris.
Dressler and Moran are a fantastic duo. It is refreshing to watch entire minutes of two hilarious women hamming it up, and not once pining after a man or needing to be the object of a man’s affections. More like this please!
Despite the critical reviews and awful script, Chasing Rainbows proved a draw and performed very well at the box office, occasionally breaking box office records.
Here’s hoping archivists continue to chase the Technicolor rainbow to restore the rest of the production numbers to give us something more interesting to watch.
While the existing musical numbers are outstanding, the script and dialogue are tedious. The hour and a half running time (even without the missing production numbers), feels like an eternity.
The awful script is is surprising given the later prominence of the scriptwriting team. After starting out as a newspaper writer and editor, Wells Root went on to become a prominent screen writer and educator. He was a founding member of the Screen Writers Guild, and wrote for film and television. In addition to teaching at UCLA for over thirty years, Root published the highly popular and successful handbook Writing the Script.
Also known as Helen MacGlashan, Bess Meredyth, was born into a theatrical family. During the silent era, Meredyth worked extensively as a director, writer, and actor and was highly regarded in the industry for ability to create a high level of work under pressure. A fascinating biography can be found at the Women Film Pioneers Project.
Robert E. Hopkins started out as a title writer, and went onto to write over 50 scripts in a career spanning almost 25 years. He was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Writing (Original Story) for San Francisco (1936). He also contributed to The Hollywood Revue of 1929.
Kenyon Nicholson was a novelist and playwright. He wrote over 20 screenplays, and nearly as many Broadway plays.
Scriptwriter Al Boasberg would go on to become a highly influential comedic writer, script doctor and director. He also wrote So This is College (1929), and contributed to The Hollywood Revue of 1929.
The performances by the cast are admirable given the material. Charles King is utterly detestable as the leading man who falls in and out of love with his leading ladies.
Bessie Love, whom the New York Times declared "is worthy of a far better vehicle," is immensely watchable as Terry's ever-suffering act partner. It is frustrating to watch her moon over the awful man that is Terry.
Jack Benny, appearing in his first feature film, is delightful as the stage manager Eddie. He started out in vaudeville as a violinist, and went on to become a prominent entertainment personality and comedian, working in film, radio, and television. His television show, The Jack Benny Show, ran for over fifteen years.
The saving grace of Chasing Rainbows is Marie Dressler. Dressler appeared in the The Vagabond Lover and was my favorite supporting actor of 1929. She received universal praise for her performance in Chasing Rainbows. Early on in the film Dressler states, “I’m getting too good for musical comedy.” It's unfortunately true. She steals every scene with her contorting facial expressions, dry delivery, and outstanding comic timing.
Close behind Dressler is another great comedienne, Polly Moran. Moran was a successful internationally touring vaudeville artist. She appeared in the 1929 musicals So This is College and Hot for Paris.
Dressler and Moran are a fantastic duo. It is refreshing to watch entire minutes of two hilarious women hamming it up, and not once pining after a man or needing to be the object of a man’s affections. More like this please!
Despite the critical reviews and awful script, Chasing Rainbows proved a draw and performed very well at the box office, occasionally breaking box office records.
Here’s hoping archivists continue to chase the Technicolor rainbow to restore the rest of the production numbers to give us something more interesting to watch.