Date of Release: Nov 10, 1929
Studio: RKO
Director: Marshal Neilan
Screenplay: Thomas J. Geraghty, Louis Sarecky
Music: Sidney Clare, Oscar Levant
Choreographer: Pearl Eaton
Leading Actors: June Clyde (Peggy Reynolds), Arthur Lake (Bill), Sally Blane (Janet Reynolds), Allen Kearns (Roger), Albert Gran (Mr. Reynods), Nella Walker (Sophie Reynolds),  Edmund Burns (Clinton Darrow), Dorothy Revier (Mrs. Lyons-King), Ann Pennington (Tootie), Lincoln Stedman (Pudgy), Lloyd Hamilton (Detective)

Tanned Legs is a quintessential early talkie and pre-code musical, fluffy on the surface but containing plenty of wonderful music, and a genuine heart at its center. The script it often slow, with painful scenes shot as though the actors are standing on a stage, though plenty of comic relief is provided through suggestive humor and fluffy dance numbers.
 
Although the opening title card informs the audience that the most important thing of the summer is the Annual Orphan’s Benefit, the story is entirely focused on Peggy’s desire to stop her parents’ flirtations outside of their marriage and bring the family back together. The Benefit provides a backdrop for singing and dancing, and an excuse to feature plenty of chorus girls with the whitest tanned legs you've ever seen. 
 
Peggy (June Clyde) is being wooed by the sweet and attentive Bill (Arthur Lake), but she insists she is not interested in marriage until she sorts out her family. Her mother Sophie, played with great humor by Nella Walker, is having a summer fling with Roger (Allen Kearns). Meanwhile, her father Mr. Reynolds (Albert Gran) is flirting with Mrs. Lyons-King (Dorothy Revier). To top it all off, her sister Janet (Sally Blane) has engaged in a relationship with Mr. Darrow and regrettably written him salacious letters.
 
The scenes alternate between each of the couples, with tedious dialogue that is broken by the occasional witty jab, and song and dance number. When Peggy confronts her father for flirting, Mr. Reynolds claims that he and Mrs. Lyons-King were “just about to pop in the water for a dip.” Peggy replies, “You don’t need to go in the water, you’re already wet.”
 
Peggy is an interesting and frustrating character who is accurately described by Mordaunt Hall in the New York Times as “a complete nuisance, a Pollyanna, a little Miss Fixit and a “sweet young thing,” all rolled into one annoying role.” Although Peggy seems prudish with an obsessive desire to control the actions of her parents and sister, we learn that her actions come from a place of love.
 
Peggy is willing to sacrifice her own relationship with the devoted Bill to ensure her family stays together. She repeatedly tells Bill she is not ready to marry, finally stating “A girl has got a right not to get married until she wants to.” Even though Bill woos Peggy with the beautiful love song “With You – With Me,” she does not fall helplessly into his arms.

Furthermore, Peggy is willing to risk her reputation to help her family she is willing to risk her own reputation. She remains true to her purpose, and risks her own reputation to recover Janet’s letters.
 
In the process, Peggy reveals a scheme by Mr. Darrow and Mrs. Lyons-King to fleece the family of their money. Discovering what their youngest daughter and sister has done, and the potential sacrifice of her actions, the family realizes the error of their ways. The film closes with the fulfilment of Peggy’s desire for a cohesive family unit.
 
The highlight of Tanned Legs is the music, composed by prolific writers Sidney Clare and Oscar Levant. The opening number, “Come in the Water,” is light and silly and designed to show off the chorus girls’ legs. As suggested by the title, legs are a recurring visual theme throughout the film. Choreographed by Pearl Eaton, whose work in Rio Rita displayed some innovation, the dancing is quite repetitive. It served its purpose however, with the The Film Daily critic noting, “there are some bathing suit ensembles that don’t hurt the eyes at all,” and Hollywood Filmograph stating that the film was “easy to look at.”  
 
“You’re Responsible,” performed by Janet and Roger preparing for the benefit, is a fun Cole Porter type song and dance about a couple’s love/hate relationship. Sally Blane, a former child star who had also appeared in The Show of Shows,  and Allen Kearns, a well-known Canadian stage actor, are terrific performers. In this number however, they are slightly mismatched as Blane is a stronger singer and Kearns a better dancer.
 
 “With You - With Me” is a beautiful love song, and occurs as an expression of Bill’s earnest love for Peggy. Breaking convention, the song is not part of a performance, or explained in any way. The ability of a character to break out into song without a convoluted set-up is incredibly refreshing. The song is later reprised by Peggy during the Orphan’s Benefit.
 
While The New York Times stated the film was “Filled with inanities,” and The Educational Screen called it “Cheap [and] unwholesome,” Tanned Legs received mostly positive reviews. Hollywood Filmograph stated, “Its chief purpose is to entertain and it accomplishes that with joyful ease.” Motion Picture News called the film “Good light entertainment,” and Variety affirmed it was “A gay little trifle.”
 
Audiences seemed to enjoy the film too, and the film played to strong houses around the country. 

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. ​

George Jessel's failed attempt to make it big in talkies. 

Date of Release: Nov 3, 1929
Studio: Fox
Director: William K. Howard, Henry Kolker (staged by)
Screenplay: Dana Burnet, Edwin Burke, George Jessel
Music: Abel Baer, L. Wolfe Gilbert
Leading Actors: George Jessel (Luigi), Lila Lee (Margharita), David Rollins (Pasquale Gallupi), Henry Kolker (Enrico), Kenneth MacKenna (Dr. Price), John Reinhardt (Mario), Dick Winslow Johnson (Mike), Henry Armetta (Tony), Marcia Manon (Sylvia), Jerry Mandy (Barber)
 
George Jessel was a prominent vaudeville performer who had starred in the hit stage production of The Jazz Singer. Due to conflicts with Warner Bros, Jessel did not star in the phenomenally successful movie version. While on the stage Jessel was just as popular as Al Jolson, he never achieved the same success or popularity on screen.
 
Jessel was keen to establish himself in talkies. After signing a lucrative deal with Fox, Jessel went into production on a film version of the play The Hurdy-Gurdy Man by Leroy Clemens and John B. Hymer. The play does not appear to have played on Broadway, and little information is currently available about its origins or history. At some point during production, the title of the film was changed to Love, Live and Laugh, a key line from the script.
 
The story followed an Italian immigrant in America, Luigi (George Jessel). Luigi has fallen in love with the sweet Margharita (Lila Lee), but before he can marry her, Luigi is called back to Italy to be with his dying father. Luigi is caught up in the Austro-Italian war, becomes a prisoner of war, and is blinded. Convinced Luigi is dead, Lila marries Dr. Price (Kenneth MacKenna). Three years later, Luigi finally returns to America. A surgeon is able to cure his blindness and Luigi seeks him out to express his gratitude. He discovers that the surgeon is Dr. Price, Margharita’s husband. Margharita offers to leave the doctor, but seeing she is happy in her new life, Luigi tells her it is her duty to “love, live and laugh” and he leaves.
 
Overall the reviews for Love, Live and Laugh were positive. The New York Times stated “It may be a piece of well-polished hokum in plot, but it possesses a certain refreshing levity that makes it a good entertainment.”
 
The critics gave particular praise to director William K. Howard. Howard started out as an engineer before moving into film distribution. He eventually became a director who was known for his fluid and dynamic visual style. Howard directed over fifty films including Sherlock Holmes (1932), Fire Over England (1937) and Johnny Come Lately (1943). Later in his career Howard was relegated to B-grade films, however his earlier work and style are considered quite influential.
 
Motion Picture News stated that Howard “imparted warmth and feeling to the story by his effective and appreciative treatment…” The Film Daily described Howard’s direction as “stimulating and diverting throughout.” Finally, Motion Picture News credited Howard with bringing out the best in Jessel – “Directional restraint and sympathy… lead Jessel through an intensely human and likeable role.”
 
George Jessel’s performance received mostly positive reviews. Photoplay described Jessel’s work as “splendid,” and Motion Picture News stated “Georgie gives a surprise performance, vastly different from those other screen appearances of his.” The same publication later wrote “The bravado is gone and in its stead, Jessel becomes a sympathetic and warm character.”
 
Others were not so enthralled. While The Film Daily called his performance “the best thing Jessel has done on the screen,” the reviewer panned his Italian accent. Picture Play criticized Jessel’s arrogance and claimed that “…it serves him right that once scene, from which he nobly absents himself, is the best in the picture.” Variety felt the film was too long and claimed that “All the cutting… will not eliminate the strained and highly artificial atmosphere dominated by Jessel.” Finally, Harrison’s Reports wrote “…George Jessel is too cold for the part of the hero. In situations where he is required to show deep emotion, he is like an icicle.”

The supporting cast received positive reviews, particularly Lila Lee, David Rollins, and Henry Kolker. Lee’s was described by Motion Picture News as “charming and again demonstrating that she ranks among the best of players brought forward by sound,” playing the role of the sweetheart “with a vast sympathy and understanding…”
 
Lila Lee was a child star affectionately known as Cuddles. Immensely popular during the silent film years, her star faded in the 1930s – most likely due to her struggles with alcoholism. She continued to act however, and appeared in B grade films and various television programs into the 1960s. Lee also appeared in the 1929 musicals Honky Tonk and The Show of Shows. She was the mother of James Kirkwood Jr., who wrote the book for A Chorus Line. 
 
David Rollins was predominantly a silent film star. He appeared in The Big Trail (1930), famous for being John Wayne's first starring role. Rollins was interviewed for Michael Ankerich's book, Broken Silence: Conversations with 23 Silent Film Stars. He appeared in Fox Movietone Follies of 1929 (1929), Happy Days (1930), The Big Trail (1930) and The Phantom Express (1932).
 
German-born Henry Kolker was a prominent stage actor who went on to appear in over 170 films. He also worked as a director during the silent era.
 
Unlike many of the films I’ve researched thus far, music actually played an important role in Love, Live and Laugh. Motion Picture News stated that “The musical interludes, in German and Italian, carry a vast appeal because they progress the action and, therefore, have a fitting place in the story.”
 
The score featured original songs, including “(A Song of) Margharita,” “Two Little Baby Arms,” and “If You Believe in Me,” written by Abel Baer and Louis Wolfe Gilbert. After starting out in medicine Abel Baer went on to become a prominent Broadway and Hollywood composer. His songs include “My Mother’s Eyes,” “Gee Buy You’re Swell,” “Chapel of the Roses,” and “I’m Sitting Pretty.”
 
Ukrainian-born Louis Wolfe Gilbert was a prominent stage and screen composer who is credited with writing the first theme song for a film, “Ramona.” His other songwriting credits include “Hop-along Cassidy March,” “Lucky Lindy,” and “My Mother’s Eyes.”
 
Recognizable songs such as “Santa Lucia,” “Funiculi, Funicula,” “O Sole Mio,” and “Silent Night” were also used. A scene in the trenches with Austrian, German, and Italian soldiers singing “Silent Night” in their respective languages was described by Mordaunt Hall in the New York Times as “touching.”
 
It seems that despite the strong use of music, the recording was not top quality. Several reviewers made mention of the poor quality of the sound.
 
Several reviewers also made mention of the film’s “particular” appeal to women. The Film Daily stated “…femmes…will eat up the sentiment and pathos…” and Variety claimed that David Rollins was “out of place but maybe the girls will go for him.” This infuriatingly reinforces a narrow view of women as emotional and only useful for their romantic interest in men.
 
Despite the positive reviews, and relatively strong houses, Love, Live and Laugh was not the inspiring success Jessel had hoped for. Its release date meant it was competing with the box office smashes The Trespasser and Sweetie. 

Pehraps an earlier or later release would have helped, but ​Jessel's own behavior may have contributed to his lack of screen success. As mentioned by a few of the reviewers, Jessel had a reputation for being arrogant and self-absorbed. This trait is evident in his first talkie, the somewhat painful, Lucky Boy. 
 
Following the release of Love, Live and Laugh, Picture Play reported that Fox quietly bought out Jessel’s contract, releasing him from the studio. Jessel attempted a few more talkies, but they were not hits. He had more success on the stage and, later in his career, as a presenter and host and advocate for various charities. This latter work led to Jessel being awarded the Jean Hershold Humanitarian Academy Award in 1970.
 
Love, Live and Laugh is considered a lost film. ​

​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.  ​

Date of Release: Oct 12, 1929
Studio: Harold Lloyd Corp (distributed by Paramount Famous Lasky Corp)
Director: Clyde Bruckman
Screenplay: Clyde Bruckman, Lex Neal, Felix Adler, Paul Girard Smith
Music: Lynn Cowan, Paul Titsworth
Leading Actors: Harold Lloyd (Harold Bledsoe), Barbara Kent (Billie Lee), Noah Young (Clancy), Charles Middleton (John Thorne), William Walling (Captain Walton), James Wang (Doctor Gow), Douglas Haig (Roy)
 
Harold Lloyd was a gifted comedic actor who after starting in early silent comedies, went on to become one of the most successful and most highly paid silent film stars of his day. He specialized in situational comedy that placed him in dangerous situations, and performed most of his own stunts. He often produced in own films, and Welcome Danger was his first talkie.  
 
Like Charlie Chaplin, Harold Lloyd believed comedies were best served silent and, furthermore, did not believe the talkie phenomenon would last. As such, Welcome Danger was originally made as a silent film. The original version was screened to test audiences, who found the film too long and Lloyd set about trimming it down. Whilst editing, Lloyd came to realize that sound pictures were inescapable. He scrapped most of the silent version, and re-made a talkie version.

Welcome Danger was the first talkie to release a coordinated press book to industry players. Paramount’s advertising manager Russell Holman sent out letters to theatre managers requesting their ideas, which were compiled into a comprehensive publication. As reported in Exhibitors Herald World (Oct 26, 1929), the press book covered “every conceivable angle of exploitation, including newspaper layouts, tieups, lobby displays and ballyhoos.” The Managers’ Round Table Club, which had a regular feature in Motion Picture News promoting club activities, proudly claimed that of the fifty-one managers selected for inclusion out of thousands of submissions, thirty-one were members of the club.  
 
While theatre managers were being wooed with a comprehensive press book, audiences were being drawn to the theatre by Harold Lloyd’s name and distinctive man-with-glasses image. In Philadelphia, Harold Lloyd look-a-likes drove around the city in “old collegiate cars,” while in New York the Rivoli Theatre was decorated with life-size cardboard cutouts of Harold Lloyd in various states – clowning, pensive, fighting, and scared.
 
In a later publicity stunt, and act of charity, children from the San Francisco Protestant Orphanage were treated to a screening. As reported by Exhibitors Herald World (Dec 28, 1929), “Enroute to the theatre the children were amazed and amused at the spectacle of a headless man threading his way among the crowd. A placard on his back read: “I laughed my head off at Harold Lloyd in Welcome Danger.”" 

Why Bring That Up? was among the first films to be featured in a national newspaper campaign orchestrated by Paramount. In a time when people of color were rarely featured in film trade magazines, it is insulting and infuriating to see that most of the trade magazines running full-page spreads featuring Moran and Mack in blackface.
 
The film opened at the Rialto in New York on October 4, 1929 (though the west coast premier appears to have taken place at the Paramount Theatre in Los Angeles a week earlier). The New York premier had the usual invited audience screening, followed by an experimental marathon where the theatre remained open throughout the night for late night viewings. The experiment was deemed a success, and plans were made to repeat it. 
 
The opening audience numbers were strong, however the film’s popularity quickly dropped and it closed less than a month later.
 
Why Bring That Up? is a backstage comedy that tells the story of vaudeville act Mack and Moran. After starting out in Ohio, the duo eventually make it big in New York. Moran’s attention is consumed by Betty (Evelyn Brent), a conniving woman out to trick gullible men out of their money. Moran and Mack fight over Betty, and Betty’s boyfriend knocks Moran out with a lamp. Betty and her boyfriend skip town, and Moran is left in a coma in hospital. Mack comes to his side and, using a line from the act, successfully re-awakens his friend. The pair are friends once again and all ends happily.
 
The film received mixed reviews. Several critics praised the “refreshing” comedy and the high quality of the sound recording.  Motion Picture News stated of the comedy sequences, “Every one is a natural” and noted that the sound recording “set a new standard for Paramount that has rarely been excelled by any picture.” The Educational Screen thought the film was a “delightful presentation for the millions…[and] human and appealing.”
 
The Film Daily was less enthusiastic, describing Why Bring That Up? as “Just another backstage story with Moran and Mack doing their blackface vaude stuff…” Screenland also felt the movie was redundant, given the plethora of recordings available of essentially the same material, and wondered why Paramount hadn’t just made “a series of short subjects” instead. Variety also gave a lukewarm review, stating that the final scene “amounts to the biggest punch in the picture – a picture with few real punches.”

Several critics commended director George Abbott for his attention to detail and realistic portrayal of backstage life. Abbott went onto become one of the most successful and prolific directors of his time. When he died at the age of 107, he had over 100 Broadway credits (including Damn Yankees, Wonderful Town, The Pajama Game, Flora and the Red Menace, and A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum), and over forty film credits (including All Quiet on the Western Front, and film versions of his musicals) to his name. Over the course of his career, Abbott won 7 Tony Awards, the Pulitzer Prize for Drama, and an Oscar nomination.

The supporting cast also received positive notices. Bert Swor was a minstrel performer who replaced Moran in The Two Crows after Moran quit the act due to a pay dispute with Mack. 
Monte Collins and Charles Hall made regular appearances in high profile comedies with Buster Keaton, the Three Stooges, and Laurel and Hardy. Lawrence Leslie was a stage and screen actor who appeared in several Broadway plays, and several contemporary sources described him as a brilliant actor. He tragically died less than a year after the film's release at the age of 22, possibly from influenza. 

A few reviews made mention of the spectacular and showy dance numbers. Given the prominence of chorus girls in some of the advertising, it is surprising that the dancers, and choreography, were uncredited. Several trade magazines stated that the dancers were from Albertina Rasch ballet, a dance corps known for its classically trained and highly disciplined dancers. The ballet had also appeared in the 1929 musicals Devil-May-Care, and The Hollywood Revue of 1929, and the 1930 musical Sally.  

Variety (Oct 9, 1929) however asserted that Earl Lindsey "was recognizable" as the choreographer. Lindsey was a prominent Broadway choreographer, producer and director who worked on many stage shows throughout the 1920s including Gay Paree (1925), Artists and Models (1927), Luana (1930) and Ballyhoo of 1930 (1930). In Hollywood, Lindsey’s credits included The Dance of Life (1929), Sweetie (1929), Happy Days (1930), and Her Golden Calf (1930).
 
While it was not unusual for choreographers to be uncredited at this time, the snub remains in place today on IMDb where the role of choreographer is listed under “Other crew." A petition was launched on Change.org at the beginning of 2016 requesting IMDb give choreographers their own category, and their due credit.

Apart from the chorus girls, the only woman in Why Bring That Up? was Evelyn Brent playing the conniving Betty. The critics agreed she gave a decent performance. Brent started out as a stage actress and became a prominent silent film star noted for her strong acting abilities, beauty, and infamous scowl. She appeared in Paramount’s first talkie, Interference (1928), along with appearances in over 100 more films, though mostly in small secondary roles. She worked consistently as an actor, and then as an agent, until her death in 1975. A biography of her life, Evelyn Brent: The Life and Films of Hollywood’s Lady Crook by Lynn Kears was published in 2009. 
 
The score featured three songs, “The Early Bird,” “Do I Know What I’m Doing?” and “Shoo Shoo, Bogey Boo.” The tunes were composed by Paramount staff writers Richard Whiting, Sam Coslow, and Leo Robin who had contributed songs to other 1929 musicals
Sweetie, Broadway Scandals, The Dance of Life, The Time, the Place, and the Girl, and Syncopation.
 
Why Bring That Up? is not currently available to watch or buy commercially. The sound reels are held at the UCLA Film and Television Archive, and the film was screened in its entirety at the Syracuse Cinefest in 2013. Film historian Richard Barrios and critic Leonard Maltin both agreed that the film displays George Abbott's talents as a director, and provides an interesting look at backstage life. 
 
As Barrios wrote in his festival note, ​the film

​Gloria Swanson’s first talkie. 

​Date of Release: Sept 9, 1929
Studio: Gloria Productions, distributed by United Artists 
Director: Edmund Goulding
Screenplay: Edmund Goulding
Music: Edmund Goulding, Elsie Janis, Sigmund Spaeth, Enrico Toseli, Josiah Zoro
Leading Actors: Gloria Swanson (Marion Donnell), Robert Ames (Jack Merrick), Purnell Pratt (Hector Ferguson), Henry B. Walthall (Fuller), Wally Albright Jr. (Jackie), William Holden (John Merrick, Sr.), Blanche Frederici (Miss Potter), Kay Hammond (Catherine "Flip" Merrick), Mary Forbes (Mrs. Ferguson), Marcelle Corday (Blanche)

Due to scheduling conflicts in New York, The Trespasser had its official premier in London. Held at the New Gallery Kinema, the event was described by The Film Daily (Sept 11, 1929) as “one of the most brilliant premieres” in London history. According to Exhibitors Herald World (Sept 21, 1929), the premier attracted over 5000 people. After the opening, Variety (Sept 18) reported people were waiting in line “day and night” to see the film, and The Film Daily (Sept 16, 1929) announced that the run was anticipated to bring in $2,000,000, smashing box office records.
 
In conjunction with the London opening, Gloria Swanson performed the theme song, “Love” (also known as “Love, Your Magic Spell is Everywhere”). The song was recorded on RCA Photophone, and simultaneously relayed live by short wave to the United States - the first live transatlantic transmission by an American performer. According to Exhibitors Herald World (Sept 14, 1929), the unprecedented event required over 100 engineers stationed in four cities, London and Chelmsford in the UK, and Long Island and Manhattan in the USA. The Film Daily (Sept 9, 1929) called it “A great stunt…and [it was] hailed by RVA as a real scientific achievement.”
 
In the weeks following the London premier, The Trespasser had its American premier in Detroit and San Francisco. As it had in London, the film received rave reviews, and played to packed out houses.
 
Following an invite-only screening at the Embassy Theatre on October 3, The Trespasser officially opened in New York at the Rialto on November 1. The Film Daily (Nov 6, 1929) stated that “everybody in New York was trying to break in” to the opening. Swanson’s talkie debut was such a success that it became the first film at the Rialto to offer late night or “early morning” screenings, with 1.30am showings throughout the week, and 3am on Sundays.
 
The film broke the Rialto box office records, grossing $65,158 in its first week alone. The previous record holder had been The Wolf of Wall Street, which grossed approximately $58,000. Despite a previously set Rialto rule “that no picture can remain…for over six weeks,” The Trespasser ran for a total of seven, and delayed the opening of The Virginian for several weeks. 
 
The Trespasser continued its unrivaled success around the country, and internationally. According to John Reid in Movies Magnificent, it was one of the top ten grossing films of 1930 in Australia.
 
Although considered lost for many years, the complete discs of The Trespasser were uncovered by the diligent work of the Vitaphone Project, and restored. The film is now available on DVD and on YouTube. And thank goodness it is.

​“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. ​

​The first “deranged ventriloquist” film. 

​​Date of Release: Sept 12, 1929
Studio: Sono-Art
Director: James Cruze
Screenplay: Ben Hecht, Hugh Herbert
Music: Lynn Cowan, Paul Titsworth, Donald McNamee, King Zany, Howard Jackson
Choreographer: Maurice L. Kusell
Leading Actors: Erich von Stroheim (Gabbo), Betty Compson (Mary), Donald Douglas (Frank), Margie Kane (Babe) 

Motion Picture News (March 22, 1930) reported that Pauline Starke, who was originally signed to play the role of Mary, sued for breach of contract after director Cruze replaced her with his own wife, Betty Compson.
 
Later, the Good Amusement Company attempted to sue James Cruze for failing to pay laboratory bills, and threatened to hold the film’s negative until Cruze settled his debt. The case went to the New York Supreme Court, where the judge ruled in Cruze’s favor, stating that the Good Amusement Company didn’t have distribution rights, and therefore couldn’t hold onto the negative.

​At the Manhattan Revue, we are treated to an elaborate stage show. The numbers are filled with large numbers of men and women in gorgeous costumes, singing and dancing on increasingly extravagant sets. The numbers come thick and fast, with wonderful choreography by the innovative Maurice L. Kusell. The dances range from a ballet on point for “I’m in Love With You,” to the fast and flashy tap routine “The New Step,” to the stunning “Web of Love” set on a giant spider web complete with dancers dangling upside down. The revue scenes were originally shot in multicolor, however only the black and white prints have been preserved.
 
Gabbo finally expresses his love for Mary, without the aid of Otto. It is too late however, as Mary is already married to Frank, her new act partner. Although she will always carry a flame for Gabbo, she loves Frank and is happier with him. The flashy numbers are overlaid onto a close-up of Gabbo having a breakdown. The twirling and grandiose set pieces serve to beautifully illustrate Gabbo’s tormented mind. 

The film is available to watch on YouTube. ​

Magic, betrayal, and love in vaudeville. 

​Date of Release: September 21, 1929
Studio: Paramount
Director: Lothar Mendes
Screenplay: E. Lloyd Sheldon, Richard H. Digges Jr.
Music: Lou Davis, J. Fred Coots, Sam Coslow, Larry Spier
Leading Actors: Charles "Buddy" Rogers (Carlee Thorpe), Nancy Carroll (Claire Jernigan), June Collyer (Hilda Schmittlap), Regis Toomey (Eric Schmittlap), Knute Erickson (Mr. Jacob Schmittlap), Kay Francis (Zelda Paxton), Eugenie Besserer (Mrs. Jacob Schmittlap), Maude Turner Gordon (Queen of Dalmatia), William Austin (Mr. Z), Emilie Melville (Mother Fay), Frances Raymond (Mrs. Y), Catherine Wallace (Mrs. Z), J. E. Nash (Mr. X), William McLaughlin (Mr. Y), Eddie Kane (Gus Bloomberg), Michael Visaroff (Equerry), Paul Lucas (Count Fortuny), Richard Cramer (Magus), Bessie Lyle (Consuelo), Col. G. L. McDonnell (Jarman), Lillian Roth (Herself, a singer), Harriet Spiker (Midget), Anna Magruder (Fat lady), Albert Wolfe (Giant)