Two sisters fight for the same man. 

Date of Release: Dec 29, 1929
Studio: First National
Director: William Beaudine
Screenplay: Ray Harris
Music: Al Bryan, Eddie Ward
Leading Actors: H. B. Warner (Lewis Dike), Lois Wilson (Cornelia Quinn), Olive Borden (Eve Quinn), Hallam Cooley (Wilfred Meadows), James Ford (Tom Hazelton), Kathlyn Williams (Agatha), Aileen Manning (Esther Quinn)      

The Engagement 
Wedding Rings was based on the book The Dark Swan (1924) by Ernest Pascal. English-born Pascal was a prolific writer who penned novels, Broadway plays and Hollywood screenplays. The Shirley Temple films Wee Willie Winke (1937) and The Blue Bird (1940) are among his forty screenwriting credits.
 
The story of Wedding Rings followed two sisters, Eve Quinn (Olive Borden), a flapper, and Cornelia Quinn (Lois Wilson), a “good girl.” Eve is forever stealing men away from Cornelia and it’s all fun and games until they meet Lewis Dike (H.B. Warner), a wealthy man. Olive falls in love with Lewis, but Eve succeeds in marrying him. Tired of Eve’s manipulations, Olive plots to break the newlyweds apart. All ends happily.
 
Variety thought the story trite, though felt the sister plotting to take away her sibling’s husband was “the “daring” modern angle" that "could be exploited.”

The Big Day and Reception 
Opening on December 29, 1929 in New York, Wedding Rings played to strong houses around the country. Not everyone was happy with the film, as Exhibitors Herald World (Jan 4, 1930) reported, the censor in Ohio had the film banned and stated that “The picture will have to have to be entirely remade if shown.” No reason was given for the ban.
 
The critics gave Wedding Rings mixed reviews. The Film Daily described it as “highly entertaining” while Motion Picture News claimed it was “very dull and entirely too talkative.” Variety noted that the film was “beautifully acted and splendidly staged,” but described it as “dull.” A modern day reviewer on IMDb called the surviving reels "dead boring." 

The Wedding Party
Variety praised the visuals of the production, and some of the credit must go to costume designer Edward Stevenson. Archives held at ISU Special Collections Digital Projects provide tantalizing descriptions of Stevenson’s designs for the film.
 
Stevenson worked for Fox, Columbia, First National, and eventually RKO, and became famous for designing beautiful gowns. In addition to his screen work, Stevenson ran a clothing boutique that catered to Hollywood’s most fashionable starlets. His work appeared in over two hundred films and television shows including Citizen Kane (1941), It’s A Wonderful Life (1946), The Lucy Show (1962-1968), and The Facts of Life (1960), the latter for which he won an Oscar.
 
Director William Beaudine, who had also directed The Girl from Woolworths, received generally positive reviews. After starting out as a silent film actor, Beaudine went on to become one of the most prolific directors of his time. He directed over 300 films and films and television shows, working in the UK and America, and for most of the major studios. Although he gained a reputation for low-budget films, he was highly respected within the industry for his efficiency and economical style of directing.
 
Variety felt actor H.B. Warner was miscast in his role. The Film Daily, however, gave him high praise stating “H.B. Warner adds another floral token to his bounty of successful and dramatically engrossing performances.” Born in England, Warner started out as a stage actor and worked on Broadway for over twenty years. He began working in film during the silent era, and made a successful transition to talkies, appearing in over 130 films. His credits include Mr. Deeds Goes to Washington (1936), It’s a Wonderful Life (1946), and Sunset Boulevard (1950).
 
The two female leads Lois Wilson was a much loved and highly regarded actress of stage and screen whose work spanned over four decades. She appeared in over 150 films including The Show of Shows (1929), Bright Eyes (1934), The Girl from Jones Beach (1949) and Guiding Light (1952).
 
In 1925 Olive Borden was named a WAMPAS Baby Star and quickly became a celebrated leading lady of the silent screen. Known as the “The Joy Girl,” Borden did not make a happy transition to talkies, and retired in 1934.
 
The Music
Wedding Rings was slated to feature three songs however it appears only two made the final cut – "Love Will Last Forever," a ballad, and "That's My Business," an up-tempo jazz number. Lois Wilson sang the ballad, while Olive Borden sang the jazz number. Variety stated “That’s My Business” was “nicely handled” and “likely to get some circulation.” 
 
Both songs were composed by Al Bryan and Eddie Ward, who had previously worked together on The Show of Shows. Al Bryan frequently collaborated with Fred Fisher, and some of his well-known songs include “Come Josephine in my Flying Machine,” the popular antiwar song “I Didn’t Raise My Boy to be a Soldier,” and “Oui, Oui, Marie.” He was inducted into the Songwriters Hall of Fame in 1970. His other credits from 1929 include The Wolf Song, Broadway Babies, The Girl from Woolworths, and Paris. 
 
Eddie Ward was a prolific composer who worked extensively in Hollywood for over four decades. He was nominated seven times for an Academy Award for Best Music or Best Scoring. His film credits include The Show of Shows (1929), No, No, Nanette (1930), The Mystery of Edwin Drood (1935), The Women (1939), and Phantom of the Opera (1944).
 
It Didn't Last 
Only 18 minutes worth of Wedding Rings survives, with the other reels deteriorating or missing altogether. Perhaps it's for the best this musical is no longer available... 

Early 1929 musical that is a part-talkie and part-silent film about a singing gangster. 

Date of Release: Jan 25, 1929
Studio: First National 
Director: Frank Lloyd
Screenplay: Courtney Ryley Cooper, Bradley King, Tom J. Geraghty, Paul Perez
Music: Grant Clarke, Louis Silvers 
Leading Actors: Richard Barthelmess (Jerry Larrabee), Betty Compson (Alice), William Holden (Warden), Louis Natheaux (Spadoni), George Stone (Blackie), Raymond Turner (Elevator boy), Gladden James (Manager)

Weary River, a part-silent, part-talkie musical film, tells the story of Jerry Larrabee (Richard Barthelmess), a gangster who is framed for a shooting and sent to prison. Befriended by the kindly warden (William Holden), and shaken by the hanging of a fellow prisoner, Larrabee turns his life around through the power of music. Thanks to his work with the prison band, Larrabee is granted an early pardon. Back out in the world, he struggles to stay away from the seedy underworld. Alice, Jerry's doting girlfriend (Betty Compson), and the warden help Jerry to find happiness.  

The film alternates between silent and talkie, with the talkie scenes inevitably leading into song. The silent scenes are artistically superior, with interesting composition, powerful acting from the leads, and a cracking pace. Particularly noteworthy is the haunting use of shadow to depict a convict's hanging, which takes place outside Larrabee's prison cell window. 

Once the microphones are switched on, all artistry flies out the door. The shots become less interesting, the dialogue is trite, and the acting is weak. Jerry Larrabee does all the singing, crooning sappy love songs to his girlfriend, Alice. The songs do not match his gruff gangster character, and the multiple repeats of the film’s title song are uninspiring.

Barthelmess insisted he did his own singing, but it was later revealed that the singing had been dubbed by Johnny Murray.

The critics were divided as to whether the talkie/silent split worked, though most agreed that the dialogue slowed the pacing of the film. 

​Overall, Weary River received mixed reviews. Cine-Mundial stated “Not only is the river weary, so is the viewer,” and The Film Daily lamented that the “story lacks action and rambles too much." 

Meanwhile, Close Up magazine film critic Walter Kron claimed Weary River was "one of the best talkies" he had seen. The National Board of Review Magazine included the film in its selected pictures guide, and noted “The acting and directing is good and the atmosphere in the prison sequences is well created.” Variety was also enthusiastic, stating “The advantage of Weary River is that it is artistic without being hard to 'get'.”

Richard Barthelmess' performance received mixed reviews. The Film Daily described his acting as “splendid,” while The New York Times lamented “It is a pity that Mr Barthemless should waste his talent on such a hopeless hodge-podge as this.” 

Despite with lukewarm reviews, Weary River was one of the top-selling, and top-priced, tickets in town. Although the Central was a smaller theatre, the film had some of the highest box office numbers in its opening week. Business only continued to improve, and Weary River grossed higher than the popular musical hit The Broadway Melody, playing to sold out houses for over 8 weeks.

As talkies continued to blossom, so did its cast and crew. In a career spanning close to five decades, Scottish-born director Frank Lloyd directed over 130 films. He was nominated four times for an Academy Award for Best Director, winning for The Divine Lady (1929) and Mutiny on the Bounty (1935).

Josephine McLaughlin, writing under the pseudonym of Bradley King, was one of the leading female screenwriters of the 1920s and 1930s. She wrote sixty screenplays, including A Passport to Hell (1932), Maid of Salem (1937), and That’s My Man (1947). More information can be found at the Women Film Pioneers Project. 

Richard Barthelmess, who had been a child actor in the theatre and an immensely popular silent film actor, continued to appear in films including The Show of Shows (1929), The Cabin in the Cotton (1932), and The Man Who Talked Too Much (1940, until his retirement in 1942. 

Betty Compson was a popular and talented actress who appeared in over two hundred films. By the age of 16 she was touring as a violin soloist on the vaudeville circuit. After being spotted by a producer, Compson went into film and became a versatile silent film actress. After running her own production company during the silent era, Compson continued to perform in well-received films throughout 1930s. Sadly, the studios considered her “old” by the age of 40, and her roles became increasingly smaller.

Weary River provides a great example of the difficult transition from silent to talkie. It has flashes of brilliance, but overall is, as the title suggests, a tiresome film. 

Thanks to the work of the Library of Congress, UCLA, Warner Bros, and Turner Entertainment, Weary River is available through the Warner Bros Archive Collection. ​

Silent film star Billie Dove's first talkie. 

The film received mixed reviews. The Educational Screen claimed Billie Dove was “not up to the requirements” of her role, and Variety stated “Miss Dove has no singing voice, choosing to articulate and pout her way through.”

​Variety praised the camera work, stating that a “High perched camera, as well as under leg” angles helped to “relieve the monotony of revue grind element.”

Despite having nothing to do with the plot, the production numbers were well-received. Screenland described the numbers as, “lavish," and perhaps even more Ziegfeld than Ziegfeld himself. 

Another musical featuring horse racing. 

The film is unusual for having two women in lead creative positions, Adelaide Heilbron and Gene Searle. Despite a thirty year career in Hollywood, there is very little information currently available about Heilbron. She worked predominantly during the silent era, and wrote the Broadway play Something Gay (1935).
 
Gene Searle is uncredited, however a feature article in Screenland (Feb 1930) mentions her work on the film. Born Genevieve Searle and known as Nagene Searle or Bobby Jackson, Searle worked as a script supervisor and script clerk throughout the 1930s. Searle reportedly wanted to be director and was working as an assistant to gain experience. Searle came from a wealthy family, and was known for traveling to the studio each day in chauffeured cars, or driving herself in a “powerful, expensive roadster.”
 
The film opened regionally in November 1929 before opening in New York at the Strand on January 31, 1930. Around the country, the box office numbers were hit and miss. While it bombed in Los Angeles, the film played better in various regional centers and in New York – possibly because Buzzell was better known on the east coast.
 
Although the critics found the script to be clichéd and not particularly memorable, they thought the film was entertaining overall. Motion Picture News described it as “A splendid piece of entertainment fodder for picture houses,” and particularly noted that “The horses were convincing and entertaining.” The Film Daily agreed that “The race track scenes [were] well done,” but felt the finale “could have been done better.” 

Motion Picture News gave praise to director Mervyn LeRoy, stating “His treatment carries a warmth and a naturalness that do much to make the picture the entertainment affair that it is.” LeRoy had started out in vaudeville before moving to film. He worked in a variety of departments, including as a writer and actor. Under the guidance of Cecile B. DeMille, LeRoy became a director and went on to direct a variety of well-received films including Show Girl in Hollywood (1930), Little Caeser (1931), Gold Diggers of 1933 (1933), Madame Curie (1943), Rose Marie (1954) and Gypsy (1962). He also directed Broadway Babies (1929).
 
Eddie Buzzell received positive reviews for his performance. Screenland claimed “…just to have Eddie with us on the screen is something,” and Motion Picture News stated Buzzell “comes through with a couple of colors flying bravely in the breeze. He is a surprise—the pleasant kind.” Despite Variety’s prediction that Little Johnny Jones was just the start of Buzzell’s talkie career, the film turned out to be his only feature length talkie. From the early 1930s he worked as a director for Universal and MGM, directing musical comedies such as Honolulu (1939), Song of the Thin Man (1947), and Neptune’s Daughter (1949).  
 
Buzzell’s co-stars received mixed reviews. Edna Murphy was described by Motion Picture News as “pretty terrible,” however Variety thought her “vamp [was] well and interestingly done.” Edna Murphy and Mervyn LeRoy were a married couple. In the gossip column “A Little from “Lots”” in The Film Daily (Aug 28, 1929), Ralph Wilk wrote “Mervyn LeRoy…declared this is the only time on record where a man not only refrained from stopping his wife’s talking, but actually directed her to do so.” Oh, sexism. Murphy had been a popular silent film actress and model, but retired from the industry in 1933 when she re-married. She also appeared in The Show of Shows (1929).
 
Variety found Alice Day to be “charming, as usual,” and Motion Picture News stated that she did “nice work in a so-so part.” Day was a silent film star who retired shortly after the advent of talkies. Her film credits include Is Everybody Happy (1929), The Show of Shows (1929), Melody Man (1930), The Lady from Nowhere (1931), and Gold (1932).
 
The critics agreed that the George M. Cohan songs "The Yankee Doodle Boy" and "Give My Regards to Broadway," were old-fashioned but carried sentimental appeal. Cohan was a multi-talented, versatile, and immensely influential performer and writer. Born into a show business family, Cohan started out as a child prodigy violinist. Little Johnny Jones, which he wrote and starred in, was his first Broadway hit. He went on to write over three hundred songs, as well as composing and performing in over fifty Broadway shows. 

Little Johnny Jones is now considered a lost film. The stage musical was revived on Broadway in 1982, starring Donny Osmond. The production was described by the New York Times as “listless,” and closed on opening night.

Around the country, local football teams were used to help promote the film, appearing in newspaper copy and in person at the cinema. In Reading, Pennsylvania, college and high school students were invited to attend special screenings, along with college cheerleaders who led the audience “in the different college songs and cheers.” Fliers were distributed at local football games and the gathered crowds heard announcements about the new feature.  
 
As reported by Variety (Oct 9, 1929), in return for promoting their team in the film, the University of Southern California appointed director Eddie Cline as their mascot for a game.
 
The Forward Pass opened to full houses, however business declined sharply after a couple of weeks.
 
The film received mixed reviews. The critics agreed the script and story-telling were nothing new, but overall provided good entertainment. As Motion Picture News stated, “It’s strictly an action picture for the great American game, and will hit for that reason.” The Educational Screen was less enthused about the action shots, claiming that that the live-action footage was below the standard of football footage seen in the newsreels.
 
The Film Daily credited director Eddie Cline for getting “a lot more from the story than the author put into it.” Eddie Cline was an actor and director. He directed over 170 films in a career spanning over forty years, primarily working on comedies. As an actor he appeared in over forty films, often in small or uncredited roles. Cline also worked as a writer, though the vast majority of his screenplays were written during the silent era.

Colleen Moore's second talkie.  

Director William Seiter received positive reviews. After starting out as an actor in early silent comedies, William A. Seiter went on to become a prominent musical and comedy director. He hit his stride in the 1930s, directing Laurel and Hardy in Sons of the Desert (1933), Irene Dunne, Ginger Rogers, and Fred Astaire in Roberta (1935), and Shirley Temple in Dimples and Stowaway (1936). Seiter directed 150 films and television shows, and in 1956 was nominated for a Directors Guild of America “Outstanding Directorial Achievement in Television” Award.
​
The supporting cast, notably Raymond Hackett, Fredric March, and Edward Martindel, also received good notices. Raymond Hackett started out a child actor and went onto success as a stage and screen actor throughout the silent era. He retired from show business in 1934.
 
Fredric March was a highly regarded and immensely successful screen and stage actor. He worked for most of the major studios, appearing in nearly 90 films including The Royal Family of Broadway (1930), Death Takes a Holiday (1935), Les Miserables (1935), A Star is Born (1937), Death of a Salesman (1951), Inherit the Wind (1960), and The Iceman Cometh (1973). He was nominated for numerous awards, including five nominations for an Academy Award for Best Actor in a Leading Role. He won the Oscar for his performances in Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and The Best Years of Our Lives. 
 
Edward Martindel was an actor in vaudeville in the early 20th century, and went on to appear in over 90 films. Though most of his work was during the silent era, Martindel appeared in several talkies and musicals of 1929, including Why Be Good?, The Desert Song, and Innocents of Paris. ​

Like the film in general, Colleen Moore received mixed reviews. The Film Daily stated her accent “isn’t so hot,” while the Morning Telegraph surmised that “movie-goers are not likely to become excited over Miss Moore’s rather embarrassing attempt to appear and sound Gallic.”
 
Other critics thought Footlights and Fools ​was Moore’s best work. The Evening Journal claimed “Colleen gives an excellent performance and turns the picture into better-than-average entertainment…” Variety stated “Miss Moore’s presentation of the one girl with two names and opposite characteristics is a good bit of acting. She is and always was a beautifully sincere performer.” Finally, Screenland wrote “…Colleen proves that she is just about the most versatile little girl in this blinking age of celluloid.”

Despite the prediction that Moore would go on to great success in talkies, she never again achieved the greatness of her silent films.

Moore retired from show business in the mid-1930s, and in the decades following reportedly discussed her time in the film industry with great affection. Thanks to savvy income investment, Moore was able to live luxuriously in her retirement. She dedicated time to building an elaborate 8 foot doll house which she toured around the country raising funds for various children’s charities. The doll house, now known as “Colleen Moore’s Fairy Castle,” is on display at the Chicago Museum of Science and Industry.

Moore wrote two autobiographies, The Story of My Life (1926) and Silent Star (1968). Colleen Moore: A Biography of the Silent Film Star by Jeff Codori was published in 2012. 
 
Footlights and Fools is believed lost. ​

​Alice White’s forgotten third talkie. 

Date of Release: Oct 27, 1929
Studio: First National
Director: William Beaudine
Screenplay: Adele Comandini, Richard Weil, Edward Ludwig
Music: George W. Meyer, Al Bryan, M.K. Jerome
Leading Actors: Alice White (Pat King), Charles Delaney (Bill Harrigan), Wheeler Oakman (Lawrence Mayfield), Ben Hall (Jerry Donnelly), Rita Flynn (Tille Hart), Gladden James (Dowling), Bert Moorhouse (Dave), Patricia Caron (Cleo), William Orlamond (Pa Donnelly), Milla Davenport (Ma Donnelly)
 
Following on from Show Girl (1928) and Broadway Babies (1929), The Girl from Woolworth’s was Alice White’s third talkie.
 
This film is a strange anomaly in my research in that there is very little information available about it. It only receives a footnote mention in Richard Barrios’ in A Song in the Dark, which states that the film was re-shot with Mervyn LeRoy directing, as the “first version…turned out poorly.”

It is conceivable Mervyn LeRoy assisted in the direction of The Girl from Woolworth's. He had directed Alice White in the earlier 1929 film Broadway Babies, and worked with her again on the popular 1930 film Show Girl in Hollywood. 

The credited director, William Beaudine, started out as a silent film actor and went on to become one of the most prolific directors of his time. He directed over 300 films and films and television shows, working in the UK and America, and for most of the major studios. Although he gained a reputation for low-budget films, he was highly respected within the industry for his efficiency, and economical style of directing. He was the father of production manager and producer William Beaudine Jr.

It seems The Girl from Woolworth’s received a limited release, and little publicity, though it enjoyed strong box office sales. 
 
The Woolworths Museum has limited information and some media, and describes the film was “a smash at the box office” in the USA and UK.
 
The Girl from Woolworth’s opened at the Strand in New York on October 27, 1929. The critics were divided in their response. Motion Picture News described the film as White’s “best work of her career,” and Evening World stated she “puts over her stuff surprisingly well.”
 
The Graphic meanwhile described White as “a course, untalented young woman,” and Mordaunt Hall in his review for the New York Times stated she was “vapid, ingenuous and camera conscious.”
 
The Billings Gazette found the film be well directed, “Human and direct and simple.” While Mordaunt Hall found it to be “far short of being a satisfactory presentation.” Hall was also critical of the stylish and beautiful costumes, which were incongruous with the characters' meager incomes.
 
Cecilia Ager of the Variety Women’s Page described the costumes in detail: 

The Girl from Woolworth’s told the story of Pat King (Alice White), a singer at the Woolworth’s Demonstration Counter, who dreams of performing on Broadway. She meets and falls in love with Bill Harrigan (Charles Delaney). Harrigan works on the subway by day, and plays saxophone by night. Pat lands a chance to sing in a club, but the manager is only interested in one thing. After the manager makes his advances, Pat decides to quit being a career girl, and marries Harrigan.

The script was written by Adele Comandini, Richard Weil, and Edward Ludwig. There is little information about the three writers. Comandini wrote thirty screenplays and was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Writing for Three Smart Girls in 1936. Her other credits include Jane Eyre (1934), and Christmas in Connecticut (1945).

Actor Charles Delaney appeared predominantly in action and Western films, and his career spanned over five decades. The supporting cast were predominantly silent film actors who found their roles became increasingly diminished in the years following the introduction of talkies.
 
The music by George B. Meyer and Al Bryan can be heard on the Woolworths Museum site. George W. Meyer was a composer and lyricist who worked in Tin Pan Alley. His songs include “For Me and My Gal,” “Dixie Dreams,” and “Beautiful Annabelle Lee.” Al Bryan was a composer for stage and screen. He frequently collaborated with Fred Fisher, and some of his well-known songs include “Come Josephine in my Flying Machine,” the popular antiwar song “I Didn’t Raise My Boy to be a Soldier,” and “Oui, Oui, Marie.” Both composers were inducted into the Songwriters Hall of Fame in 1970.
 
Except for the trailer, which was found by the Vitaphone Project in 1997, The Girl from Woolworth’s is considered a lost film.  ​

​“I suppose you’d like to take me out to the big open spaces, where men are men and women are grateful, and make a good woman of me.”  

In a later edition (July 12, 1930) with reviews from theatre managers around the country, the film was described as “a good outdoor picture,” and “well acted.”
 
As explained in the opening titles, The Great Divide refers to the division between east and west in the United States. The film is set “near the Mexican border” and tells the story of the unlikely attraction between a miner, Steven (Ian Keith) and his dead mining partner’s daughter, Ruth (Dorothy Mackaill).
 
The opening song is sung acapella. Steven’s house-help Wong (Frank Tang) wanders down the stairs singing a little tune to himself. The local fiery Mexican girl, Manuella (Myrna Loy) is waiting downstairs. She has trained Steven’s parrot to say “A little kiss for Manuella,” much to the amusement of Wong, and Steven’s frustration. Manuella is the epitome of fiery Latina stereotypes. She is young and pretty, overtly sexual, and speaks with a vaguely Spanish accent (lots of rolled r’s).
 
Steven tells Manuella she is “a nice child” but he is not interested, and forces her to leave. Steven and Max discuss the forward and sexualized nature of Mexican women. Steven recalls meeting the ideal girl, his partner’s daughter Ruth, many years before, describing her as “The sweetest little thing… shy, modest.”
 
In the next shot we see a grown-up Ruth aboard a train, heading for the mining town. She is, of course, anything but shy and modest. With a short bob hair cut, and a short skirt, Ruth is a flapper girl seeking thrills and a good time. 
 
We return to the mining town, where the men are preparing for the fiesta. Gathered around a large fire, the men sing and joke and laugh. The sound in this scene is muddy and unclear, though it improves for the rest of the film.  MacGregor and Winthrop (George Fawcett and Claude Gillingwater) sing a ridiculous patter song, hoping the other men will give them money to “irrigate their pipes.” Not only are the lyrics uninteresting, but musically, the song is boring. The men sing in unison throughout, and there are no changes in tempo or dynamics.
 
The next day, Ruth has arrived in town, and the fiesta is well under way. There are gorgeous costumes, a piñata, cock fighting, knife throwing, and plenty of dancing.
 
Although spirited in intention, the dancing is lackluster (the choreographer is not credited). Myrna Loy is a terrible dancer, and more than once bumps into members of the ensemble. At the end of the first dance number she is hidden somewhere in the back. The second dance sequence, a loose version of the fandango, Myrna is the featured dancer, but she looks floppy and unrehearsed compared to the ensemble behind her. The dances are unaided by the poor filming – the camera tries to track Myrna as she dances across the room, but keeps going in and out of focus.
 
The Mexican stereotype is emphasized once again when Steven appears on horseback dressed as a caballero, and is mistaken by Ruth for a Mexican bandit. Steven holds up the rouse, and only breaks character to sing the film’s theme song “At the End of the Lonesome Trail.” With a trite set up – “Come on Steve, give us that song you used to the sing! I’ll get the orchestra ready!” – the song seems tepid and out of place in the rowdy atmosphere of the fiesta. MacGregor and Winthrop sing another inconsequential theme song, delighting the party-goers. 
 
Softened by his beautiful song, Ruth agrees to take a stroll with Steven outside. In a thick ridiculous Mexican accent, he woos her with poetry. They share a passionate kiss and return to the fiesta. Manuella is furious, and insists Steven is her man. Steven is outed as an American, and a horrified Ruth tells him she is no longer interested.
 
Ruth returns to the train and is sitting with her beau who is trying to make advances. She pushes him off exclaiming, “Don’t you know I’m sick and tired of necking?!” Refreshingly, he acquiesces. Steven barges in and locks up Ruth’s beau in a cupboard. Steven confesses he is surprised to find Ruth with another man, and ruefully commiserates she is not the lady he expected. He tells her he’s going to take her away. Ruth knowingly responds, “I suppose you’d like to take me out to the big open spaces, where men are men and women are grateful, and make a good woman of me.” 
 
Steven whisks Ruth away on his horse, and once they are out in the wilderness, the film really finds its stride. The shots become more interesting, a fact acknowledged by Ruth and Steven – Steven asks, “Enjoying the view?” and Ruth replies, “Oh, it’s wonderful!” Even in black and white, it is really is wonderful, and filmed in long shots that capture the vastness and beauty of the south west.
 
The dialogue is surprisingly witty, and for its time, quite fast paced. The singing, what little there is, feels unforced and natural. While tending to the fire, Steven sings a reprise of “At the End of the Lonesome Trail,” acapella. In the rugged setting, the song is evocative and touching. We truly understand Steve’s loneliness since his partner died, and his readiness to move on to a new life beyond mining.
 
Meanwhile, Ruth’s beau offers to pay $10,000 to anyone who brings Ruth’s captor in, dead or alive. The infuriated miners set out to rescue Ruth and bring in the Mexican bandit.
 
The next morning Steven states, “I’m not going to take you back ‘til you’re different from what you are… There are lots of things wrong with you that need to be corrected.” Out in the wilderness, Ruth’s life as a carefree flapper is questioned. What’s the point of looking pretty in the desert? Steve speaks to her as if she is a child – “You’d better go to bed, you’re very tired,” – and Ruth begrudgingly becomes reliant on Steve for food and shelter. She is afraid of the mountain lions that cry out in the night, and turns to Steven for comfort.
 
Once installed at Steven’s house, she learns that Steven is her father’s dear friend and breaks down crying. Realizing that Steven only had good intentions, and that she is in love with him, she saves him from the angry mob by telling them that she came with him willingly. Ruth’s former beau is whisked away by the other miners to be made a part of the singing act.

“The Great Divide” is a literal reference to land, and a metaphorical reference to the divide between the sexes. Even as it conforms to gender stereotypes, the film the tropes. Manuella and Ruth both represent women in control of their sexuality and desires, even if Manuella is representative of Latina stereotypes. Ruth is a flapper girl, carefree, independent, and lacking in domestic skills – attributes that are traditionally “masculine.” Thanks to the death of her father (her mother is never mentioned), she also holds feminine virtues in longing to be cared for and protected  
 
Steven outwardly projects a masculine persona. He is rugged and handsome, respected by all the miners, and capable in the great outdoors. His feminine attributes are exemplified by his ability to cook and spout poetry, dress up in costume, and his longing to nurture and care for someone. Of course, this is considered “normal,” while Manulla is just a kid, and Ruth “needs fixing.”
 
The issue of whether or not Steven has successfully “corrected” Ruth is never really addressed. Although she has chosen to stay with Steven, Ruth is still her defiant and gutsy self. The Great Divide may have a “happily ever after” “boy gets girl” ending, but it is two independent people in need of love who come together rather than one dominating over the other. It is a case of opposites attract, a couple bonded by their shared history with Ruth’s father, and a genuine attraction to each other.​

The chemistry between Dorothy Mackaill and Ian Keith is palpable on the screen. Mackaill is wonderful as the feisty Ruth, a precursor to Doris Day portrayals of similar women in Calamity Jane and The Pajama Game. Ian Keith is also excellent in his role and injects plenty of unexpected humor into his performance.
 
Like the film itself, Mackaill’s performance received mixed reviews. Screenland (1929) claimed “Dorothy Mackaill does not fare so well… she can be charming and seductive – but in The Great Divide she is obliged to merely be a good example of bad manners.” I’m guessing the critic was not much of a feminist. More enlightened critics saw the strength in Mackaill’s performance, with The Educational Screen (November 1929) describing her performance as “exceptional,” and the Exhibitors Herald World noting the naturalness of her character.
 
English-born Dorothy Mackaill started out as a Ziegfeld girl and moved west to work in Hollywood. After initial success in silent film, Mackaill’s career idled with the introduction of the talkies and she retired in 1937. She later appeared in the tv series Hawaii Five O. 
 
Ian Keith received positive reviews, with critics describing him as “excellent” and a “great surprise.” Keith was a successful stage actor before transitioning to an equally successful film career. He appeared in nearly 120 films and television shows over thirty years, often playing strong supporting roles.
 
Myrna Loy, though beautiful, is once again miscast in a musical role. Her dancing was average in The Show of Shows, and it does not improve in The Great Divide. Loy appeared in many small roles in the lead up to her “breakthrough” in The Thin Man (1934). From there, Loy became an immensely popular actress and went on to appear in over 100 films. She was voted Queen of Film in 1936 (along with Clark Gable as King), and in 1991, received an Honorary Academy Award “In recognition of her extraordinary qualities both on screen and off, with appreciation for a lifetime's worth of indelible performances.”
 
After reading reviews and plot outlines for The Great Divide, I was nervous it was going to be an awful glorification of Stockholm syndrome with singing and dancing, a kind of early Beauty and the Beast. After watching the film, I was pleasantly surprised by its relatively progressive representations of gender, and wonderful female lead. It’s a shame Mackaill’s career did not survive talkies, because she is truly a delight to watch. The film’s use of acapella singing, and occasionally having characters break out into song without explanation or set-up, is also refreshing.
 
The Great Divide is available on DVD through the Warner Bros Archive Collection. ​

No smiles or luck of the Irish for Colleen Moore with this monumental flop. 

​Date of Release: July 23, 1929
Studio: First National
Director: William A. Seiter
Screenplay: Tom J. Geraghty
Composers: Ray Perkins, Herman Ruby, Norman Spencer
Choreography: Larry Ceballos, Walter Wills, Carl McBride
Leading Actors: Colleen Moore (Kathleen O'Connor), James Hall (Rory O'More), Robert Homans (Shamus O'Connor), Claude Gillingwater (Michael O'Connor), Tom O'Brien ("Black Barney" O'Toole), Robert E. O'Connor (Sir Timothy Tyrone), Aggie Herring (Grandmother O'More), Betty Francisco (Frankie West), Julianne Johnston (Goldie De Vere), Edward Earle (George Prescott), Fred Kelsey (County fair manager), Barney Gilmore (His assistant), Charles McHugh (His assistant), Madame Bosocki (Fortune-teller), George Hayes (Taxi driver), Anne Schaefer (Landlady), John Beck (Sir Timothy's butler), Oscar Apfel (Max North), Otto Lederer (Izzy Levi), William Strauss (Moe Levi), Dave Thursby (Scotch barker), Dan Crimmins (The Trouble-maker)  

Smiling Irish Eyes was the first talkie of silent film star Colleen Moore. Heralded as one of the first screen flapper girls, and an early wearer of the bob haircut, Moore was an immensely popular silent film star noted for her versatility. She had started acting in film at just age 15, and appeared in over fifty silent films. There was much excitement for Moore’s first talkie and all the advertising featured images of Moore inviting the audience to come and see, and hear, her speaking and singing. ​

​Apart from the usual print advertisements, various publicity stunts were employed to promote the film. As reported in Motion Picture News (Oct 19, 1929), the Broadway Theatre in Springfield, Massachusetts, created a “ballyhoo” with a “one hundred year old Irish jaunting car with mule” that toured the streets for four days carrying two people in traditional Irish costumes accompanied by a live pig. Meanwhile, the Algoma Theatre in Sualte St. Marie, Ontario, offered free tickets to any girl named Colleen.

Not even Colleen’s and pigs could help Smiling Irish Eyes. It was a total flop at the box office, and the critics gave scathing reviews. The Film Daily (July 28, 1929) berated the tired script and The Educational Screen (Oct 1929) called it “very sentimental old-fashioned stuff.”Variety (July 31, 1929) stated “it is pretty poor stuff, thoroughly obvious from the first reel on.”

Variety was highly critical of William Seiter’s direction. After starting out as an actor in silent comedies, Seiter finally hit his stride in the 1930s. His credits include Sons of the Desert (1933) featuring Laurel and Hardy, Roberta (1935) with Irene Dunne, Ginger Rogers, and Fred Astaire, and Dimples and Stowaway (1936) starring Shirley Temple.
 
Colleen Moore did not enjoy the same success. The critics were divided over her performance in Smiling Irish Eyes – either hailing it as one of her greatest performances, or, more frequently, her worst. Motion Picture News (July 27, 1929) wrote, 

Moore only made a few more films following Smiling Irish Eyes, and her star quickly faded. For the most part, the rest of the cast also faded into obscurity in the years following. Although many had been prominent silent stars and continued to perform, their roles were often small or uncredited.
 
Smiling Irish Eyes featured four songs, "A Wee Bit o' Love," "Then I'll Ride Home With You," "Old Killarney Fair," and the theme song “Smiling Irish Eyes." The score was composed by Ray Perkins, Herman Ruby, and Norman Spencer. Perkins served as head of music at Warner Bros and First National, and Norman Spencer went on to contribute scores to animated films, including the early Looney Tunes cartoons. The sheet music for the theme song was a best-seller, though the critics agreed the music was not memorable or noteworthy. 
 
Although released in July, production of Smiling Irish Eyes had wrapped up a full six months before, in January. As Variety noted in July 1929, the industry had changed at a rapid pace in that time. Less than a year old, Smiling Irish Eyes was already a relic of the difficult transition period from silent to talkies. Perhaps if it had been released earlier, it would have fared better. As Sir Timothy laments in the film, “Contented? Don’t you know that an Irishman is never contented, except when he’s discontented.”

Although the sound reels are held at the UCLA Film and Television Archive, Smiling Irish Eyes is considered a lost film. 
 
Happy St. Patrick’s Day! ​​​

Can't sing? Can't dance? That's entertainment! 

Though his name is not well known today, Larry Ceballos was an innovative choreographer of stage and screen who worked in Hollywood from 1927 until 1951. His credits include ten Broadway shows and over sixty films including On With the Show! (1929), Honky Tonk (1929), No, No, Nanette (1930), Redheads on Parade (1935), Follies Girl (1943) and an episode of The Colgate Comedy Hour (1951) which was a tribute to vaudeville.
Ceballos was the head of dance at Warner Bros and First National from its early talkie days.   

Many sources cite Busby Berkley and Fred Astaire for changing the way dance was filmed. In the few years before either arrived on the scene, Ceballos was creating dance sequences that were innovative and often well received by the critics and loved by audiences. In 1930 a feature article (as referenced on Vitaphone Varieties) describes how Ceballos understood that in order for the camera to effectively capture the chorus line on camera, it was better to stage the dancers vertically instead of horizontally. 

Ceballos advocated for a variety of camera angles in filming his sequences, such as from the perspective of the orchestra pit, the top of the curtain, and from the follow spot. Although a live theatre audience would not be able to see from all those angles, Ceballos understood that film requires “greater realism than the stage.” In increasing the shots available to the audience, Ceballos aimed to create a more authentic viewing experience for the audience. It would be fascinating to see what Ceballos would come up with given today’s technology! 

​As she did for Show Girl, Alice White received mixed reviews. The critics found her to be a fine enough actress, but could not understand how an actress with no singing or dancing ability kept getting cast in musical comedies. After watching the clips included in this post, I'm unfortunately inclined to agree. ​

Broadway Babies contained three songs, “Broadway Baby Dolls” and “Jig, Jig, Jigaloo,” and “Wishing and Waiting for Love.” The score was composed by Tin Pan Alley composers Al Bryan, Harry Akst, Grant Clarke, and George W. Meyer. 

Al Bryan, also known as Alfred Bryan, was a composer for stage and screen. He frequently collaborated with Fred Fisher, and some of his well-known songs include “Come Josephine in my Flying Machine,” the popular antiwar song “I Didn’t Raise My Boy to be a Soldier,” and “Oui, Oui, Marie.” He was inducted into the Songwriters Hall of Fame in 1970. 

Harry Akst was a talented pianist and a prolific composer. Collaborating with Sam Lewis, Irving Berlin, and Benny Davis, Akst wrote hundreds of songs. Some of his well-known compositions include “Am I Blue,” “Baby Face,” “Dinah,” and “In the Land of Let’s Pretend.” Akst is credited with discovering Judy Garland whilst he was on one of many tours. He was inducted into the Songwriters Hall of Fame in 1983. 

Grant Clarke was a charter member of ASCAP and wrote for stage and screen. He contributed lyrics to The Jazz Singer and, in collaboration with a host of other composers composed “My Sahara Rose,” “Ragtime Cowboy Joe,” and “Second Hand Rose.”
George W. Meyer was a charter member of ASCAP, and for a considerable time also served as its director. His hit songs include “For My and My Gal,” “Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep” and “Under my Umbrella.” 
​
Unfortunately I had trouble tracking down a copy of Broadway Babies. It has been released on Blu-Ray, but not on DVD. According to Project Gutenburg, it has been aired on television and cable. The film can also be viewed at the UCLA Film and Television Archive.