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! 

SOURCES 
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)

Visually stunning musical that is a treat in Technicolor. 

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.

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.

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. ​

A tedious backstage comedy saved by Marie Dressler. 

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. 

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. ​

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. ​

Date of Release: 19 Oct 1929
Studio: Warner Bros
Director: Archie Mayo
Screenplay: James A. Starr, Joseph Jackson, De Leon Anthony
Composers: The Original Dixieland Jazz Band, Harry Akst, Grant Clarke, W. C. Handy,
Ted Lewis
Choreography: Larry Ceballos
Leading Actors: Ted Lewis (Ted Todd), Alice Day (Gail Wilson), Ann Pennington (Lena Schmitt), Lawrence Grant (Victor Molnár), Julia Swayne Gordon (Mrs. Molnár), Otto Hoffman (Landlord), Purnell Pratt (Stage manager)
 
Is Everybody Happy? was a star vehicle for Ted Lewis. Lewis was a popular composer, performer, and band leader who appeared on Broadway in revues and musical comedies throughout the 1920s. His well-known songs include “When My Baby Smiles at Me,” and “Me and My Shadow.”
 
The film told the story of a Hungarian immigrant, Ted (Ted Lewis), who left Hungary to seek his fame in America. Once in New York, Ted trades his violin for a saxophone and, with the help of pretty girl Gail (Alice Day), lands a job in a club. When Ted’s father finds out Ted is playing jazz music, he is promptly disowned. Of course, Ted becomes a success. He wins the girl, and Ted and his father are happily reunited on Christmas Day.
 
Although Is Everybody Happy? did well at the box office, the critics were not happy. Variety (Nov 1929) claimed it was a lesser replica of The Singing Fool. The reviewer thought the photography was average, and the sound worse. The Film Daily (Jan 1930) called the story “flat and uninteresting” and Motion Picture News (Nov 9, 1929) stated, rather condescendingly, the film would only play well “out of town where they are not so sophisticated.”

The clear highlight of Is Everybody Happy? was the music. The Film Daily described it as a “sheer delight” and Motion Picture News stated “Red hot jazz played by the orchestra is the redeeming feature of this.” The jazzy score featured the songs "Wouldn't It Be Wonderful?" "I'm the Medicine Man for the Blues," "New Orleans," "Samoa," "In the Land of Jazz," "Start the Band," "St. Louis Blues," and "Tiger Rag."
 
“Tiger Rag” was composed, and performed, by The Original Dixieland Jazz Band. The group is described on Red Hot Jazz as “the White guys who copied African-American music, and called it their own.” The first group to record jazz music, the band was a popular club act in New York for a brief period. The New Grove Dictionary of Jazz states that “No member of the Original Dixieland Jazz Band was particularly talented as an improviser, and the group’s phrasing was rhythmically stilted.” The group disbanded in the early 1930s.
 
“St. Louis Blues” was composed by “Father of the Blues” W. C. Handy. A composer, musician, and music publisher, Handy was instrumental in popularizing blues music. His song “Memphis Blues” is considered to be one of the first blues songs ever published. Handy grew up in Alabama, and later worked in various locations in the south including St. Louis and Mississippi. After moving to New York, Handy gained a prominent following as a performer and publisher. He published an autobiography, Father of the Blues in 1941. An excellent biography can be found at the Memphis Music Hall of Fame. 
 
The other songs were penned by Warner’s studio composers Harry Akst and Grant Clarke. Akst was a prolific and highly regarded composer and pianist. After working as an accompanist and composer in vaudeville and on Broadway, he joined the multitudes of musicians thriving in Hollywood. Grant Clarke was a successful lyricist who wrote for many big names on Broadway including Fanny Brice and Al Jolson.

While most of the actors had been successful stage actors and silent film stars, their careers faded following the early years of sound. 
 
A biopic about Ted Lewis, also titled Is Everybody Happy, was released in 1943.
 
Is Everybody Happy? is considered a lost film, though the sound reels are held at the UCLA Film and Television Archive. 

Warner Bros’ first contribution to the revue style musical. 

​Date of Release: Nov 20, 1929
Studio: Warner Bros
Director: John G. Adolfi
Screenplay: Frank Fay, J. Keirn Brennan
Composers: Al Bryan, Rube Bloom, Perry Bradford, J. Keirn Brennan, Nacio Herb Brown, Joe Burke, Michael H. Cleary, Al Dubin, Gus Edwards, Arthur Freed, Joe Goodwin, M. K. Jerome, Jimmy Johnson, Sam Lewis, Herb Magidson, Ray Perkins, Jean Schwartz, Bernie Seaman, Marvin Smolev, Ed Ward, Ned Washington, Joe Young
Musical Director: Louis Silvers
Choreographer: Larry Ceballos, Jack Haskell
Leading Actors: Frank Fay (Master of ceremonies), William Courtenay (The minister), H. B. Warner (The victim), Hobart Bosworth (The Executioner), Marian Nixon, Sally O'Neil, Myrna Loy, Alice Day, Patsy Ruth Miller (Florodora Sextette), Ben Turpin (Waiter), Heinie Conklin (Ice man), Lupino Lane (Street cleaner), Lee Moran (Plumber), Bert Roach (Father), Lloyd Hamilton (Hansom cabby), Noah Beery, Tully Marshall, Wheeler Oakman, Bull Montana, Kalla Pasha, Anders Randolf, Philo McCullough, Otto Matiesen, Jack Curtis (Pirates), Johnny Arthur (Hero), Julanne Johnston, Carmel Myers, Ruth Clifford, Sally Eilers, Viola Dana, Shirley Mason, Ethlyne Clair, Frances Lee, Julanne Johnston (Ladies), Douglas Fairbanks Jr. (Ambrose), Chester Conklin (Traffic cop), Grant Withers, William Collier Jr., Jack Mulhall, Chester Morris, William Bakewell (Boys), Lois Wilson, Gertrude Olmstead, Pauline Garon, Edna Murphy, Jaqueline Logan (Girls), Monte Blue (Condemned man), Albert Gran, Noah Beery, Tully Marshall, (Soldiers), Armida, John Barrymore, Richard Barthelmess, Sally Blan, Irene Bordini, Anthony Bushell, Marion Byron, Georges Carpentier, James Clemmons, Betty Compton, Dolores Costello, Helene Costello, Marceline Day, Louise Fazenda, Alexander Gray, Beatrice Lillie, Winnie Lightner, Hariette Lake, Lila Lee, Ted Lewis, Nick Lucas, Molly O'Day, Rin-Tin-Tin, E. J. Radcliffe, Sid Silvers, Sojin, Lola Vendrill, Ada Mae Vaughn, Alberta Vaughn, Ted Williams Adagio Dancers, Alice White, Loretta Young

By the end of 1929, every studio had released a revue style musical film featuring lavish production numbers performed by the studio’s roll call of stars; MGM’s The Hollywood Revue of 1929, Fox’s Movietone Follies, Paramount’s Paramount on Parade and Warner Bros’ The Show of Shows.
 
The Show of Shows was the largest of the revues, and featured 77 stars and hundreds of dancing girls (some sources say up to 1000). The studio built excitement for the film with frequent “COMING SOON” notices advertising prominent stars and announcing the addition of new cast members. 

​PUBLICITY
Theatre managers went all out with publicity stunts. In San Diego, the Plaza Theatre printed “trick heralds” of a woman sitting in a bathtub. When the bathtub flap was pulled down, it revealed, instead of a naked woman, advertising copy for the film. 
 
Colorado Springs installed a small bathtub and shower curtain in the foyer, complete with a life-size cutout of actress Winnie Lightner standing in the tub. The sign read “Singin’ in the shower is like singin’ in the rain, but you haven’t heard anything until you hear my comedy song hit ‘Singin' in the Bathtub’”
 
The Paramount Theatre in Atlanta, Georgia had a store window dressed to look like a bathroom, featuring a real bathtub with an actual girl singing in it. When the girl wasn’t on display, Victor records played hit songs from the show. According to Motion Picture News, the display drew crowds of over 50,000 people and the police had to be called in to re-direct traffic. 

In October 1929, many theatres were still being wired for sound. For many people, Show of Shows was the first talkie they saw, and heard.

​OPENING AND RECEPTION
Opening night was a buzzy and exciting affair. Film Daily (Nov 19, 1929) reported the Winter Garden theatre in New York erected a sign “155 feet in length and 33 feet in height” to accommodate pictures of the 40 top-billed performers in 3ft stars on the marquis, and an unprecedented 18 lamps were used to light the exterior of the theatre.
 
The Show of Shows opened to rave reviews and did very well at the box office. The Film Daily (Nov 21, 1929) called it “a modern, sophisticated, tuneful, fast moving musical cocktail.” The Educational Screen (Jan 1930) described it as an “Elaborate spectacle, all in gorgeous color,” and Picture Play (Feb 1930) stated it was “The most gorgeous and varied and interesting of all the revues.”

The Show of Shows
Despite the absence of a plot, and the painful race and gender politics, The Show of Shows is one of the most entertaining musicals of 1929. The conceit is that we are watching a live stage show, presented in a revue format. Frank Fay acts as the Master of Ceremonies, performing short bits between comedy sketches, large production numbers, and solo songs. 

Following the overture and credits, the film opens with a French revolution style execution. H.B Warner’s head is cut off at the guillotine, obscured from view by the attending soldiers, and cheering crowds. Hobart Bosworth announces, “On with the show of shows!” 

The camera immediately cuts to a large stage, most of which is covered with a staircase that spans the stage’s width. It is soon filled with over 100 soldiers for “The Military March.” The soldiers march up and down the stairs, creating geometric formations with their bodies, and their black-and-white capes forming different patterns. The number is beautifully choreographed, and highlights choreographer Larry Caballos’ innovative skill and vision. Just when you think they couldn’t possibly fit any more people on the stage, a drum corps appears complete with twirling batons. 

Frank Fay appears in front of the curtain in dressed in military garb. His patter is amusing, if not somewhat dated today, and the theme of Fay offering to perform and being interrupted by the "show" behind him recurs throughout the film. Fay was an immensely influential vaudeville star and comic. He was one of the first comedians to perform his act sans props, and as such is often cited as the first stand up comic. Although praised for his quick wit and unrelenting pace on stage, Fay was also famous for his intolerant and derisive racism and fascist affiliations. 

“The Floradora Sextette” features film stars Marian Nixon, Sally O'Neil, Myrna Loy, Alice Day, and Patsy Ruth Miller. Despite their individual abilities, the number does not showcase the talents of the women. They are dressed identically, and sing in unison, wondering “what has become of the Floradora Boys?” They are soon replaced by the six Floradora Boys; Ben Turpin, Heinie Conklin, Lupino Lane, Lee Moran, Bert Roach and Lloyd Hamilton. In contrast to the women, the men are dressed in unique costumes. Each actor has a solo verse, designed to highlight his comic abilities. 

Notorious for playing villains and sidekicks, Noah Beery, Tully Marshall, Wheeler Oakman, Bull Montana, Kalla Pasha, Anders Randolf, Philo McCullough, Otto Matiesen, and Jack Curtis appear as pirates for “Motion Picture Pirates.”A cheesy Gilbert and Sullivan type number, the men sing and swagger aboard a large ship. The "wenches" are summoned, and the women enter crying and screaming before singing a song about being leading ladies in distress. Johnny Arthur, “the hero” enters and promises to save the women and “protect the rear”. The women faun over the hero and exit. The hero is promptly tossed overboard, and a catch of "strange fish" is announced. 

The "strange fish" are in fact a well-dressed band “from the land of jazz, rhythm and melody.” They are led by Ted Lewis, a well-known stage and screen composer and performer. The captain declares if he likes the band, they’ll live, if not, they’ll die. A somewhat flat number about jazz musicians being akin to pirates follows. The jazzy music is enough to save the band and Ted Lewis leads a spirited rendition of “Lady Luck.” 

Against a Parisian backdrop, Georges Carpentier sings “If I Could Love Again,” accompanied by Alice White, Patsy Miller, and the chorus girls sporting pretty parasols. The number leads into an extended dance routine, featuring some interesting choreography shot from above. The highlight of the number comes at the end of the song, when the backdrop disappears and the chorus girls climb the black wall at the rear of the stage. The visual effect is quite impressive and must look incredible on a big screen. 

"Pingo-Pongo," a solo comedy number, is performed with panache by Winnie Lightner. Famous for her brassy voice and “risqué” performances, Winnie Lightner started out on the stage in vaudeville and on Broadway. Her first film Gold Diggers of Broadway (1929) was a huge hit, and she went on to make five more musicals in quick succession. The appearance of a woman in a featured number, playing a role apart from that of the damsel, is refreshing.   
Frank Fay drags a German Shepherd puppy onto the stage and is ready to launch into a song about the puppy when he is interrupted by Nick Lucas. Lucas was a highly successful jazz recording artist, and one of his signature songs was "Tiptoe Through the Tulips." Lucas sings “Lady Luck,” accompanying himself on guitar.  At the end of the number, the camera cuts back to Frank Fay who is now sporting a long white beard. The puppy has grown into celebrity canine Rin-Tin-Tin. Rin-Tin-Tin was rescued as a puppy from France during the First World War and went on to appear in nearly 30 films. 

In front of the curtain, Louise Fazenda, Beatrice Lillie, Frank Fay and Lloyd Hamilton recite poems one by one that eventually, when read together, create an amusing speech. Louise Fazenda was a highly successful actress who worked in both silent and talking pictures. She worked for MGM, Warner Bros, and Paramount, and was known for her funny character acting and “country bumpkin” characters. Canadian born Beatrice Lillie was a highly acclaimed comedienne and actress who performed in America and England. Her show, An Evening with Beatrice Lillie, won a Special Tony Award in 1953. Lloyd Hamilton started out as a stage actor and went onto become one of the most successful and well-regarded comedic actors of the silent era. Hamilton suffered from alcoholism and it took a toll on his career which declined into the late 1920s and early 1930s

“Meet My Sister” features eight pairs of sisters (seven of which were real-life siblings); Dolores and Helene Costello, Sally O’Neil and Molly Day, Alice and Marceline Day, Sally Blaine and Loretta Young, Armida and Lola Vendrill, Harriet and Marian Bryon, Alberta and Ada Mae Vaughn, and Viola Dana and Shirley Mason. Accompanied by the chorus girls, each set of sisters is dressed in a different national “costume.” While each sister-set has their own verse, complete with a dance break in the “style” of the nationality they are representing, the whole number is designed to highlight that Hollywood gals are attractive to men from any background. The song is catchy, but the lyrics often don't fit well with the melody. The final pair, Viola Dana and Shirly Mason dressed in Dutch outfits - complete with twirling windmills in the background - end their verse with a kiss.

Winnie Lightner returns for “Singin’ in the Bathtub,” joined by a chorus of tap dancing men in drag. The dance break features tubby elderly white men dressed in old-fashioned bathers. The number ends with wrestler Bull Montana dressed in top hat and tails singing “You Were Meant for Me” to Lightner, and the boys dancing below. Italian-born Bull Montana started out as a professional wrestler and after some encouragement from Douglas Fairbanks, went onto become a Hollywood actor, appearing in over 90 films. The number is silly and fun, and its easy to see why it was selling point of the film. The song went on to become a best-seller. 

Irene Bordoni stands in front of a piano, dressed in stunning black ball gown with strange white accents, and sings “Just an Hour of Love.” Her performance is lovely, though the song is forgettable. Bordoni started out a stage actress in Paris and went on to become a successful Broadway performer. She famously introduced several Cole Porter songs, including “Let’s Do It (Let’s Fall in Love).”

Nick Lucas and Myrna Loy lead the visually spectacular, the horribly dated and racist, “Li-Po-Li." Loy’s dancing is decidedly average, though Lucas’ voice sounds excellent. The number ends again with an ever-increasing number of chorus girls climbing up and down frames at the rear of the stage, Lucas and Myrna watching on. In my Warner Bros dvd copy, this is the only number in Technicolor. Watch the clip above, and look out for the descending black genie set piece! 

Frank Fay and Sid Silvers do an amusing bit about Al Jolson not being present in the film. Silvers does a decent Al Jolson impersonation, and it's a relief that he doesn't perform in blackface. Silvers started out in vaudeville and went on to become a prominent comedian and writer. The Show of Shows marked his screen debut. 

“On a bicycle built for two” performed by William Blakewell, Chester Conklin, Douglas Fairbanks Jr., Pauline Garon, Jacqueline Logan, Chester Morris, Jack Mulhal, Edna Murphy, Gertrude Olmstead, Ann Sothern, Lois Wilson, and Grant Withers contains some fun choreography and moving set pieces.  

Fay and Silvers return for “Why Should I,” which is capped by a cameo appearance by giant John Aasen. 

Most of the actors did not fare well following the advent of talkies. In the few years following The Show of Shows release, they faded into obscurity.  

The Show of Shows is a fascinating contribution to the movie musical genre. An early part of Hollywood's rich tradition of borrowing from the stage, and an attempt to capture the magic of stage on film. The result is slightly clunky, visually spectacular, and, apart from the awful sexism and racism, a lot of fun. 

​Motion Picture News predicted in October 1929 that revue movies would now be an annual staple. By mid-1930 however, audiences had tired of revues and backstage musicals. Motion Picture printed letters to the editor complaining of the saturation of musicals. One reader wrote that he was concerned producers were seeking only to film stage shows instead of making movies. Ah, if only!!! ​​

A Warner Bros vehicle for "The Last of the Red Hot Mamas," Sophie Tucker. 

Date of Release: June 4, 1929
Studio: Warner Bros
Director: Lloyd Bacon
Screenplay: C. Graham Baker, Leslie S. Barrows, Jack Yellen, DeLeon Anthony
Music : Milton Ager, Shelton Brooksword, Jack Yellen
Choreographer: Larry Ceballos
Leading Actors: Sophie Tucker (Sophie Leonard), Lila Lee (Beth), Audrey Ferris (Jean Gilmore), George Duryea (Freddie Gilmore), Mahlon Hamilton (Jim), John T. Murray (Cafe manager)

​Honky Tonk tells the story of Sophie (Sophie Tucker) who works at a nightclub in order to pay for her daughter Beth (Lila Lee) to be educated overseas. Beth is oblivious to her mother’s vocation until, all grown up, she returns to America and falls in love with Freddie (George Duryea), who happens to be a patron at the club. Beth learns of Sophie’s scandalous employment, and vows to have nothing to do with her. Freddie convinces Beth that Sophie did it all for love, and all ends happily ever after, complete with a grandchild for the devoted Sophie.
 
The film was the screen debut of vaudeville star Sophie Tucker. Russian born Tucker grew up in Connecticut, and started out singing in restaurants and clubs, eventually touring in the south. Producers reportedly felt her “large size” would not be accepted by audiences, and so Tucker was required to perform in blackface. A chance performance without the blackface due to lost luggage wowed audiences, and from that point she was able to perform as herself. Tucker embraced her body size as part of her act and, combined with her sassy personality, became known as “The Last of the Red Hot Mamas.” She went on to become a huge star, performing around the world. A more detailed biography can be found here.

Overall the film did well at the box office, but it was not a smash. In New York, Honky Tonk opened during one of the worst heat waves in forty years. The theatres were not yet equipped with air conditioning, and audiences stayed way from the movies. In Hollywood, the MGM Hollywood Revue of 1929 provided stiff competition, and reduced the ticket sales.
 
Variety (June 12, 1929) claimed that the lackluster script was a purposeful choice in order to give Tucker a “light load” for her first feature. The critics agreed that, although the script and dialogue were mediocre, Sophie Tucker and her supporting cast gave excellent performances. 

The supporting cast were an impressive ensemble of well-established silent film stars. In the role of Sophie's daughter, Beth, Lila Lee was at the height of her fame in 1929. She had been a child star affectionately known as Cuddles, and due to her struggles with alcoholism her career declined in the 1930s. Despite her health troubles, Lee continued to act and appeared in B grade films and various television programs into the 1960s. She was the mother of James Kirkwood Jr., who wrote the book for A Chorus Line. 

The cafe manager was played by Australian born John T. Murray, who appeared in nearly 100 Hollywood films. It would be fascinating to find out more about how and why this Melbournian ended up in Hollywood, and remained there for the rest of his life. 
​
The highlight of Honky Tonk was the music, a vehicle for Tucker’s sassy, brassy vocals. Motion Picture News (June 8, 1929) reported that the songs “were greeted with cheers by the opening night audience.” The same reviewer gushed, “Sophie Tucker first, last and always… her songs and her inimitable manner of singing them.” Variety (June 12, 1929) wrote “Her singing voice aces and her speaking voice [is] far beyond expectation.” George Fenton, in his recently developed album review column in Photoplay (Dec 1929), described Tucker’s voice as “the voice with the smile of its own” and gave high praise to the “excellent” Victor recording.
 
The score featured some of Tucker’s most well-known hits, including "Some of These Days,” "I'm the Last of the Red-Hot Mammas," "I'm Doing What I'm Doing for Love," "He's a Good Man To Have Around," "I'm Feathering a Nest for a Little Bluebird," and "I Don't Want To Get Thin." The songs were composed by Milton Ager and Jack Yellen.

The second movie musical to feature an all African American cast. 

Up until 1929 African American actors had only appeared in Hollywood films in minor roles playing slaves, servants, and fools. As described in Frank Manchel’s Every Step A Struggle: Interviews with Seven Who Shaped the African-American Image in Movies, the studios were reluctant to create “black films” not only because of racism within the Hollywood system, but for fear of losing profits. Theatre managers across the country raised concerns that screening such films would cause black and white people to intermingle, while others insisted they would not screen “all-black” films at all. 

Following on the heels of Hearts in Dixie, Hallelujah was the second feature film with a cast comprised entirely of African American actors. Many commentators held high expectations for the film, hoping it would break stereotypical and conventional portrayals of African American people as established in silent film. 

Hallelujah tells the story of a young farm boy, Zeke (Daniel L. Haynes) who is lured into a rigged game of chance by Chick (Nina Mae McKinney), a beautiful dancer. In a scuffle with the dealer, Hot Shot (William E. Fountaine), Zeke accidentally kills his own brother. Filled with remorse, Zeke becomes a preacher. So powerful is his message, even Chick is converted. Despite being engaged to the sweet Missy Rose (Victoria Spivey) Zeke cannot ignore his lustful feelings for Chick, and runs away with her. Hot Shot returns and Chick abandons Zeke for her former lover. Zeke kills Hot Shot and is sent to prison. Eventually he is pardoned and reunited with his family, a man at peace.

Hallelujah was director King Vidor’s personal project, and his first talkie. He had started out as a script writer and went on to become one of the most influential and prominent directors of his time. As quoted in Judith Weisenfeld’s book Hollywood Be Thy Name Vidor stated “For several years I had nurtured a secret hope. I wanted to make a film about Negores, using only Negores in the cast.” He had hoped to capture the religious fervor he had observed growing up in Texas. Vidor felt so strongly about the project, he went without his salary, agreeing to a share of the profits if it went well, to ensure MGM would agree to produce the film.​

Hallelujah underwent an unusually long production period. While other films were usually completed within a matter of months, Hallelujah took over a year. The location shoots took place in Arkansas and Tennessee. Largely due to technological constraints, and to keep production costs down, the outdoor scenes were filmed silently and the sound was painstakingly synchronized later on.

Stepin Fetchit’s biography by Mel Watkins and the aforementioned Every Step A Struggle provide a fascinating and disheartening account of life on the Hallelujah set. On location, the cast were often subjected to verbal and physical abuse from white spectators, and even occasionally from the crew. They were required to sleep in a separate hotel from the production team, and were forced to use the freight elevator at the “main” hotel. White drivers drove recklessly when commissioned to drive the cast, or refused to drive them at all. The lead actors were paid less than fifty dollars a week – less than half a “small-sized star” could expect at that time, and up to four times less what a white leading actor would be paid. Finally, the cast were fed “smaller, less appetizing lunches than the white crew.”  The actors reportedly endured the conditions in the hope the film would “open the way for the Negro in the talking screen.” In a small but important victory, the cast changed many of the lines, taking out derogatory references to “niggers” and “coons.” 
​
Most films in 1929 had grand openings in New York at a Broadway theatre. Hallelujah was the first film to open simultaneously on Broadway and in Harlem, at the Embassy Theatre and Lafayette Theatre respectively. Although the separate premiers were criticized for reinforcing segregation, the unprecedented Harlem opening drew large crowds. The guest list included members of the cast and Oscar De Priest, the first African American elected to Congress in the twentieth century.  

Some white critics were divided as to whether or not Hallelujah was good enough to hold “universal appeal,” simply because of the all-black cast. Despite the Motion Picture News prediction that Hallelujah would play well “even in the south,” many southern theatres refused to screen it all, and the film barely played in regional centers across America. According to the Dictionary of Films, Hallelujah played well in Europe – a fact reinforced by the success of African American performers such as Nina Mae McKinney in Europe during this period. ​

Where Hallelujah did play, it played to packed houses and was deemed a surprise smash. Motion Picture News (Nov 9, 1929) stated that the film’s success had surprised the industry, and attributed its success not to the wonderful performances or the powerful impact of the film, but to the advertising campaign led by a (white) publicist who later became the head of public relations at MGM, Frank Whitbeck. Every ad for Hallelujah referred to its “colored” cast and very rarely showed pictures of the actors.

Despite the racist undercurrent in trade magazine and newspaper reviews, the critical response to Hallelujah was overwhelmingly positive. The white critics focused on the film’s technical brilliance, visual scope, and King Vidor’s direction. Film Daily stated the film was “an artistic and explorable production.” Educational Screen, rarely given to bestowing a good review, wrote “A picture much out of the ordinary and with real appeal to the intelligence. Several white reviewers claimed that Hallelujah succeeded in spite of its all-black cast rather than because of it.

The National Board of Review Magazine in both in the September/October and November editions gave Hallelujah unqualified praise – “In many ways it is an astonishing picture, it is also prophetic for its hints of a nobler form of motion picture for the future, a maturer concept of what motion accompanied by sound can bring to the screen.” The film was included in a list of “Exceptional Photoplays” which was distributed to theatre managers and critics across the country. 

Variety (August 28, 1929) deemed Hallelujah to be so unique, the magazine printed three reviews – two by their regular male correspondents (one each reporting from the New York and Harlem premiers), and a third by “a girl staff writer.” The Broadway reviewer felt that white people would love it, and that “negroes” would either love it or hate it. 

The Harlem reviewer noted that the African American portion of the audience laughed riotously, even through the serious scenes. He suggested it was “just a sincere form of hysterical appreciation.” 

Many African American critics voiced frustration at the southern-based story and what was essentially a reiteration of traditional representations of rural African American life. Most were impressed by the powerful performances delivered by the cast and hoped it was a sign of better things to come.

The white critics meanwhile mostly failed to mention the actors and their performances. When they were mentioned, the actors were never named, or the credit was given to Vidor for his ability to direct these “simple amateurs.” ​

Despite repeated assertions that the actors were inexperienced, many members of the cast were already seasoned performers by the time King Vidor “discovered” them. Vidor visited New York in 1928 to recruit his actors, and in the process cast Daniel L. Haynes (Zeke), Nina Mae McKinney (Chick), and Victoria Spivey (Missy Rose).  

In 1928, Haynes was understudying the role of Jules Bledsoe in Show Boat. In the year prior he had appeared in three stage shows, The Bottom of the Cup, Earth, and Rang Tang. Although he appeared in several more films after Hallelujah, including So the Red Rose (1935) and Escape from Devil’s Island (1935), the studios never cast him in a lead, and he did not achieve great stardom like Stepin Fetchit. 

After Hallelujah Haynes returned to New York and appeared in The Green Pastures (1930 and 1935) and Androcles and the Lion (1938). According to Every Step a Struggle Haynes left show business shortly after Androcles. Clarence Muse (Stepin Fetchit) stated, “It took a lot of guts to stay in this damned business… And Haynes was one who says I had enough and he quit.” Given his performance in Hallelujah, with his rich baritone voice and ability to move between comic and tragic, it is a real shame that Haynes was not afforded more opportunity simply because of the color of his skin. 

Nina Mae McKinney was just sixteen when she appeared in Hallelujah, and she is considered the first African American woman to star in a feature film (and the first to play the “tragic mulatto” character). Born in South Carolina, McKinney moved to New York when she was twelve. By fifteen she was performing in Lew Leslie’s Blackbirds on Broadway. Like Haynes, McKinney had limited film success, and, despite her best efforts to stay in the tabloids, also had limited success as a starlet.

In a rare feature in Photoplay (July 1929) on an African American actress, Nina Mae McKenney is described entirely by her physicality with stereotypes like “She rolled them eyes and she rolled them hips,” and “the little colored spasm.” McKenney is likened to a cat and the author attempts to play down her blackness with descriptions like “Nina isn’t black, she’s coppery with a crimson, pagan mouth…” and “She may be black but she’s got a blonde soul…”  

Following on from Hallelujah McKinney continued to work on the stage in New York and in Europe where she became known as “The Black Garbo”. Nina Mae McKinney: The Black Garbo, a biography on McKinney, was published in 2011.

Texas born Victoria Spivey was a highly talented self-taught musician whose career spanned over forty years. After providing the music for her older sisters’ vaudeville acts, Spivey became a celebrated performer and recording artist, traveling all over the USA as a singer. She eventually started her own record label, Spivey Records, through which Bob Dylan made his first recording. 

Also downplayed or completely ignored by the white reviewers were the female creatives on Hallelujah – Wanda Tuchock and Eva Jessye.  ​

Although Wanda Tuchock is often criticized for the racist language she employed in the initial Hallelujah script, she is unique for being a credited, paid, female writer in Hollywood in 1929. She worked in Hollywood for almost thirty years and her credits include Show People (1928), Billy the Kid (1930), Little Orphan Annie (1932), Finishing School (1934), and This is the Life (1944). Tuchock was a charter member of the Screen Writers Guild and a lifetime member of the board of trustees of the Motion Picture and Television Fund. 

Hallelujah deserves to be better remembered and celebrated. It is a real shame that racism is the cause of shunning and ignoring the talent it showcased, and the powerful story at its heart. 

Remember last week when I said there were three musicals about college football in 1929? I lied. There were four. They all had similar plots, featured footage from actual games, and weren't particularly musical. Warner Bros' offering was The Time, the Place, and the Girl. 

Date of Release: July 6, 1929
Studio: Warner Bros. 
Director: Howard Bretherton 
Screenplay: Robert Lord, De Leon Anthony 
Music: Frank Adams, Irving Berlin, Nat Bonx, J. Fred Coots, Sam Coslow, Herman Darewski, Dorothy Fields, Jack Glogau, E. Ray Goetz, Will Hough, Joseph E. Howard, Moe Jaffe, Robert King, Ray Klages, Herb Magidson, Jimmy McHugh, Al Sherman, Larry Spier, Arthur Wimperis
Leading Actors: Grant Withers (Jim Crane), Betty Compson (Doris Ward), Gertrude Olmstead (Mae Ellis), James Kirkwood (Professor), Vivian Oakland (Mrs. Davis), Gretchen Hartman (Mrs. Winter), Irene Haisman (Mrs. Parks), John Davidson (Ward), Gerald King (Radio announcer), Bert Roach (Butter & egg man)

​Based on the play of the same name by Frank R. Adams, Joseph E. Howard and Will Hough (New York, 5 Aug 1907), The Time, the Place, and the Girl is now a lost film. According to a review in the Exhibitors Herald World (June 22, 1929), the “gags were updated” for the film, and the score was completely re-written — with the exception of the original song “Honeymoon.” 

Production began in January 1929, and was finished just two months later. The film received little print advertising as Warner Bros was in the middle of production for fourteen Vitaphone films, including On With the Show andThe Desert Song. During production, The Film Daily shared that parts of the Vitaphone sequences would be filmed outside, along with casting announcements. 

Although little print advertising can be found in the trade magazines, Warner Bros used other gimmicks to get the audiences into the theatre. Film Daily (Oct 7, 1929) reported that in Colorado, the studio had “Distributed three different kinds of cards, 500 of them reading “The Time”; 500 more reading, “The Place”, and only 50 reading “The Girl.” The game was that if a person turned up to the theatre with a complete set, they would be given three free tickets to the film. 

Another gimmick was a kind of film festival. Exhibitors Herald World (July 27, 1929) reported that the film was screened during “The Big 6” at the Minnesota theatre in Minneapolis, a six-week talkie extravaganza to try and lure audiences back into the theatre “after the novelty” of talkies had worn off. The event was advertised “with every possible medium,” including “Billboards, tack cards, programs and the screen.” Each week the theater screened a different film, and audiences were encouraged to come back each week and compare the films.

According to reports in Motion Picture News and Variety, although the film started very well at the box office, it took a nosedive within a couple of weeks. 

The reviews were mixed, and critics either loved or hated the film. Motion Picture News (May 4, 1929) declared it “by far one of the best all-talkers that have come from Warners” and praised the “excellent” cast and “humorous, wise-cracking” dialogue.  

A critic who had seen the original stage show (though they confessed it had been quite some time between viewings), gushed in the Exhibitors Herald World (June 22, 1929), “It’s a smart, swift, amusing, clever and altogether excellent talking-picture… The new version is better than the old one ever was or could be. It’s great.”  

Meanwhile, the critic at The Educational Screen (June, 1929) declared “Another hero with colossal ego, blatant conceit supposed to be funny. Crude voices, diction and dialog. Perfect illustration of ignorance and bad taste in production.” The journal’s hilariously condescending rating guide, divided into three groups “For Intelligent Adults,” “For Youth (15-20)” and “For Children (Under 15),” rated the film as “Stupid,” “Doubtful,” and “No” for each category respectively.

A later review in Exhibitors Herald World (Nov 16, 1929) stated, “Not much to this, no plot or story. Pulled them in fair but failed to satisfy.” Conversely, in the same publication a week later, another critic wrote, “Interesting story, very entertaining… Good satisfaction here.”

Unlike other musical films, none of the reviews make any mention of the music. This supports Jeff Cohen’s (author of the excellent Vitaphone Varieties blog), statement that the music in the film is mostly underscoring, with just one song, the aforementioned “Honeymoon.”

If this is the case, it is puzzling as to why the AFI catalogue lists a massive 19 composers (many of whom went on to highly successful musical careers) and the following songs, “How Many Times,” "I Wonder Who's Kissing Her Now," “Collegiate," “Collegiana," "Doin' the Raccoon,” "Fashionette," "Jack and Jill,” "Everything I Do I Do for You,” and "If You Could Care.”

The cast and creatives on the film were, for the most part, successful in their Hollywood careers. I've chosen not to include information on the composers here, as I cannot verify if their music was actually used in the film. 

The Film Daily (Dec 10, 1929) reported that in 1929 alone, Howard Bretherton directed four feature films and 10 Vitaphone Varieties (short talkies). By the end of his three decade career, Bretherton had directed over 100 films, mostly B grade westerns, often also assuming the role of editor.

Robert Lord wrote, or provided the story, for over 70 films between 1925 and 1957. These included several musicals such as My Man, So Long Letty, and Gold Diggers of Broadway. He won an Oscar for Best Original Screenplay for One Way Passage (1932), and was nominated for Black Legion (1937). 

De Leon Anthony was a writer and editor. 

Date of Release: Dec 15, 1928
Studio: Warner Bros 
Director: Archie Mayo 
Screenplay: Robert Lord, Mark Canfield, Joe Jackson, James A. Starr
Music: James Hanley, Harry Carroll, Grant Clarke, Mort Dixon, Leo Edwards, Fred Fisher, Oscar Levant, Ballard MacDonald, Blanche Merrill, Channing Pollock, Billy Rose
Leading Actors: Fanny Brice, Guinn Williams, Edna Murphy, Andrés de Segurola, Richard Tucker, Billy Seay, Arthur Hoyt, Ann Brody, Clarissa Selwynn

The Internet Is Really Great 
As I near the end of films released in 1929, I’m catching up on a few films I’ve missed from the list. When I first started this project (way back when in 2010), I skipped over films that were lost, or weren’t publicly available. It’s remarkable how much information has been digitized and made available through the internet in the intervening five years. 

The Internet Archive is a particularly fascinating place. With a little searching, old issues of film trade mags such as Variety, Film Daily, and PhotoPlay are all available freely online. Even more astonishingly, entire soundtracks of lost films such as My Man have been made available. 

A Lost Film
My Man is famously considered a lost film. Wikipedia and IMDB claim, without references, that three of eleven reels still exist at the Associated Artists Productions (AAP) library, however no such library seems to exist. AAP and Warner Bros are now owned by Time Warner (not to be confused with Time Warner Cable), and I have been unable to find information on where or how to access their archives.

The UCLA Film and Television Archive and the Library of Congress, the two largest moving image archives in the USA, do not hold copies of the existing reels.

As My Man was released by Warner Bros, I attempted to track down the reels through them. The Warner Bros. Archives are held at the University of Southern California, but are primarily paper archives, and no film reels are kept in the collection. 

Warner Bros now offers Warner Archive Instant, an online subscription-based streaming service for “classic TV and hard-to-find movies” that works similarly to Netflix or HBOGo. My best guess is that Time Warner (who also own Turner Classics and HBO) are holding the entire collection privately in order to be able to release films on their streaming services at a profit. While streaming makes content available to the wider public, not all films are available, and some are only available for a limited time. 

Fragments and Sound Reels
Although the films reels are lost, stills and Vitaphone disks have survived. The English version of Photoplay released a photographic special feature to coincide with the film's release in England. It contains stills from the film, and copies of the book are available from the Fanny Brice Collection, Ebay and Abe Books. 

One amazing soul has made the soundtrack available on the Internet Archive. It is not easy to ascertain where this person uploaded the soundtrack from (or with what permissions), but I'm so glad they have. With its awful dialogue and pleasant underscore, the soundtrack is quite amusing to listen to. For the most part, the stilted dialogue segues unnaturally into songs with lines like, “Hey Fanny! Sing us that song you did yesterday!” repeated before every song. 

Leading Lady - Fanny Brice
My Man was a star vehicle for Broadway star Fanny Brice. She was already well known for her performances in the Ziegfeld Follies, and her signature songs, including “My Man,” “I’d Rather Be Blue Over You,” and “Second-Hand Rosie” all appeared in the film. Although clearly enamored with Fanny Brice’s comedic and singing talent, both Variety and The New York Times were critical of her “Jewishness.” This didn’t stop Brice from being one of the biggest stage stars of her day, and her life was later portrayed in the Barbara Streisand star vehicles, Funny Girl and Funny Lady. A hauntingly beautiful recording of the title song, recorded in 1921 is available at the Library of Congress, and on YouTube. Unfortunately, the film version is not quite as touching as this rendition.

Cast and Crew
Apart from Guinn Williams, who went on to a healthy career in westerns, the rest of the cast faded from Hollywood as talkies gained momentum. Director Archie Mayo and screenwriter Robert Lord, continued to work extensively in Hollywood in genres other than musicals. 

Most note-worthy from the cast and crew, apart from Fanny Brice, was screenwriter Mark Canfield, better known as Darryl F. Zanuck. Zanuck left Warner Bros in 1933, co-founded 20th Century Pictures and went on to become one of the greatest producers in Hollywood with over 200 movies to his name.  

Music
The musical numbers received universal praise from the critics. Despite the song “I’m an Indian,” a painful reminder of America’s overtly racist past, the music throughout is light-hearted and fun. It’s easy to see why the songs were already audience favorites, and the film’s advertising plays on the their popularity. The score was composed by a large team of established musicians who all went on to become highly successful songwriters for stage and screen. Most of the My Man composers were eventually inducted into the Songwriters Hall of Fame.

Critical Reception
Although My Man claimed to be a “tense drama, full of tragedy and comedy,” Brice was clearly its only drawcard. Even then, some advertisements encouraged audiences to see the film even if their cinema was not yet equipped for sound. In January 1929, Variety reported that the censors had cut whole sections of dialogue from the film, but “titles bridged the gaps with a certain measure of success, few any the wiser.” 

Produced during the awkward transition between silent films and talkies, My Man was not a strong example of the early movie musical. The film was criticized for being too long, and the predictable plot, centered around the trials and tribulations of an aspiring actress working in a costume house, was derided as inane. 

The NY Times was critical of the clunky use of sound, and the film’s long length (though at 99 minutes, I wonder what those poor critics would have thought of later musicals which run for over three hours). 

Variety called My Man technically “good and smart,” but also lamented its length, and the poor execution of technical elements including sound, scenic composition, and the fact that Brice was likely to only be a “one picture star.” 

Finale
Despite the lukewarm critical praise, My Man turned a profit for Warner Bros, and ensured the studio would continue to invest in talking pictures. 

Date of Release: Nov 8, 1929
Studio: MGM 
Director: Sam Wood
Screenplay: Al Boasberg, Delmer Daves 
Music: Al Boasberg, Martin Broones, Fred Fisher, Charlotte Greenwood, Jesse Greer, Raymond Klages
Leading Actors: Elliott Nugent, Robert Montgomery, Cliff Edwards, Sally Starr, Phyllis Crane, Dorothy Dehn, Max Davidson, Ann Brody, Oscar Rudolph, Gene Stone, Polly Moran, Lee Shumway

So This is College, along with Sweetie (Paramount’s contribution to the college movie musical genre), was one of the more profitable films of 1929. Although an MGM production, the film has been made available on DVD through the Warner Bros Archive. It is a fun comedy that, apart from pervasive sexism, holds up surprisingly well over time. 

The comedic skills of all involved are evident in So This is College. Boasberg and Daves’ witty script, and deft performances from the whole cast, save what is otherwise a formulaic and predictable plot. The film centers around two University of Southern California (USC) footballers, close friends Biff (Robert Montgomery) and Eddie (Elliot Nugent) who compete for the affections of the same girl, Babs (Sally Starr). Underscored by (an unseen) marching band fanfare, the opening scenes of college students returning to college after summer vacation are boisterous and fun. Particularly noteworthy is a sketch-like scene involving two desperate-to-please freshmen (including a young Oscar Rudolph who later made his name directing The Lone Ranger, Batman, The Donna Reed Show and The Brady Bunch) carrying a trunk up a flight of stairs.

The score is comprised almost entirely of upbeat and lively jazz, composed by a team of Tin Pan Alley writers, (you may recognize Charlotte Greenwood's name from So Long Letty, though So This is College appears to be her only songwriting credit). Although the style and flavor of the music is consistent, there is no through-voice pulling the songs together. As a result, the songs appear inserted into the film for the sake of including popular music, rather than for any story-telling devices. Early in the film, Eddie sings, “I don’t want your kisses, if I can’t have your love,” featuring some (rather unconvincing) scat singing. At the song’s conclusion Babs wittily retorts, “That’s a great song, I’d love to hear somebody sing it.” 

The only ballad occurs in the frat dining hall. The boys are gathered waiting for their evening meal, and sing their house song, “Friends Until the End.” The sobriety of the song is humorously undercut by the playful banter between Biff and Eddie. The song is later reprised to surprising dramatic effect when Biff and Eddie’s friendship is tested and they part ways. This kind of juxtaposition between song and action is used effectively at the school dance during the reprise of “I don’t want your kisses,” with a lovely tender moment between Babs and Eddie. 

A college musical wouldn’t be a college musical without a school dance. Unfortunately So This is College is not nearly as slick as Sweetie in the dance department, though it is certainly as enthusiastic. Exactly like Sweetie, the scene begins with the lead female, Babs, surrounded by boys, singing about the school dance, “Campus Capers." The song leads into a frenzied foxtrot, full of energetic, almost violent, bouncing and waving of arms. The result is amusing, though not particularly noteworthy for its choreography or camera work. The costume design in the dance does nothing to help. While the rest of the cast are in standard 1920s flapper dresses and suits, our eye is continually pulled from the dancing, and drawn to the sparkles of Babs’ uniquely spangly flapper dress.  

The pace drags in the second half, unassisted by several scenes featuring secondary characters. Ann Brody, Max Davidson, and Polly Moran were all well-known vaudeville and silent movie stars and their appearances, though funny, distract from the plot. Brody and Davidson are sweet as the Jewish laundry proprietors, but we have no reason to invest in their characters. Moran, playing the poorly treated house cook, Polly, is a genuinely funny comedic actress. She shines in a late scene listening to the big game on the wireless, tears streaming down her face as she laments for her boys, only to discover she is holding an onion to her cheek. Although the performances are fun to watch, these side characters could be cut from the film and nothing would be lost from the story. 

The same could be said of the final scenes at the big football game. Filmed at an enormous stadium complete with thousands of cheering spectators, the footage is from newsreel of a real football match between USC and Stanford in 1928. Although the editing is quite clever, the newsreel images are grainy, and the sheer scale is inconsistent with the rest of the film. 

What really drags So This is College down is the pervasive sexism. Polly appears in the dining room, and the boys prompt her to say, “Polly wants a…[cracker].” When she relents, the boys gleefully throw fistfuls at crackers at her until she retreats back into the kitchen. Babs is twice referred to as a “lovable little mutt”, and despite making her feelings for Biff clearly known, Eddie continues to make unwanted moves towards her. When Babs finally declares, “I don’t know why I’m letting you get away with this,” we wonder the same thing. 

Despite her sole purpose in the film as a love interest, Babs is not without agency. She gets her own back when we discover she has invited just about every boy on campus to pick her up at 8 o’clock, and that her flings with both Eddie and Biff are just part of a larger scheme. Through her snappy one-liners and knowing wink, we understand that boys and dating is all just a game to her. 

The AFI classifies So This is College as a “comedy with songs”, though it is no more or less a musical than the “musical” Sweetie. Despite this, So This is College is more memorable as a comedy than a musical. 

The film marked the beginning of several successful Hollywood careers, though not in movie musicals. Director Sam Wood became a prolific director, well known off-screen for his conservative politics. Scriptwriter Al Boasberg would go on to become a highly influential comedic writer, script doctor and director. Songwriter Fred Fisher penned many hit songs including “Chicago,” “Come Josephine in my Flying Machine,” “And the band played on,” and “I’m on my way to Mandalay”. Actor Robert Montgomery eventually became an award winning actor and director (and father of Elizabeth Montgomery - Samantha in Bewitched). Cliff Edwards, better known as Ukulele Ike, appeared in over 100 films, and is perhaps best remembered as the voice of Jiminy Cricket in Pinocchio. Phyllis Crane became famous for her appearances in the Three Stooges comedies.