The Saturday Night Kid, from 1929, is yet another old, old movie based on a play. Dealing with a romantic rivalry between two sisters, its chief interest lies in how well Clara Bow did in owning a part in a talkie. She has a not-bad voice and gives a grounded, energetic performance in a forgettable comedy-drama. Jean Arthur, with her Betty Boop voice, is serviceable. Kid almost sells us charm the way a Rene Clair French film did, but not quite. Still, I recommend it.
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Cover of Top Hat
I’m no judge of choreography, but that involving Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers in 1935’s Top Hat strikes me as palatable, not silly or clumsy or pretentious. More appealing are the Irving Berlin songs, all of which have decent melodies, one of which (“Cheek to Cheek”) has an outstanding one.
Directed by Mark Sandrich, Top Hat is a delicious musical comedy, as are other Astaire-and-Rogers musical comedies, and one which takes the comedy in its genre seriously, however trivial these nonstop jokes may be. No, they’re not Oscar Wilde but at least they’re funny. As for the actors, they form a rather remarkable comic ensemble, even the two dancing stars: beau-less Ginger, blurting out, “I HATE men!” holds her own. Always, of course, she held her own as a dancer, though with fewer sparks than Astaire, who has among other things the “damn-your-eyes violence of rhythm” (Otis Ferguson).
Top Hat was nominated for an Oscar for best interior decoration, but I’d rather see the damning-your-eyes. The interior decoration is dated now; Astaire’s dancing isn’t.
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- Gateways To Geekery: Elegance meets feistiness in the Astaire-Rogers musicals (avclub.com)
- Top Hat (myoldaddiction2.wordpress.com)
Starring Joel McCrea as Bat Masterson, The Gunfight at Dodge City (1959) is a smart Western about loss. The crux of the story is the loss of Bat’s brother Ed to violence, but the gunslinger loses—or else is on the verge of losing—much else besides. But Westerns aren’t pessimistic; he also gains before the movie ends. The film’s weakest link is the stuff about Billy the “half-wit” (Wright King), who does seem to know the difference between right and wrong no matter what his bro Ben says.
McCrea has a monotonous voice, but he believes in the role; and is manfully pleasant. Julie Adams fails to have her heart in it; not so Nancy Gates (Lily). Don Haggerty knows what he’s doing as an unconscientious sheriff. I said McCrea is pleasant. Gunfight is a pleasant Western in color. It does a fine job with flying fists and flying bullets. Directed by Joseph M. Newman.
The man who directed such masterworks as The Rules of the Game and La Grande illusion, Jean Renoir, should have purveyed a better Hollywood drama than The Southerner (1945), derived from a novel by George Sessions Perry. Zachary Scott and Betty Field have no real appeal as a Southern couple trying to support a family on miserable farmland. Even in ’45 this post-Depression picture had nothing new to say, and to me it gets tiring.
On the other hand, Renoir was a mostly serious man, and an artist, and The Southerner is at least a serious movie with a touch of art. Its outdoor shots are terrific. But the French auteur resembles a Southerner named William Faulkner in that he stopped proving he was a great artist after a certain period of time.
In The Ballad of Wallis Island (2025), two pop/folk musicians reunite to make some money through playing a gig on Wallis Island, off the coast of England. One musician, Herb (Tom Basden), is male; the other, Nell (Carey Mulligan), is female. An odd fan named Charles (Tim Key) hired them. Nice Nell, the singer and sharer of Herb’s music, much appeals again to Herb. He desires that they go back to performing together, because his love for Nell is reigniting. Nell, however, is now married.
Ballad was directed knowingly by James Griffiths. The screenplay, written by Basden and Key, is rather schematic but still sapid and humane. The performances are delightfully strong. Charles, it must be said, is a naif who talks too much; and, for my part, I wish there had been less Charles and more Nell. Oh, well . . .