Boxoffice (Oct-Dec 1939)

OF UNUSUAL interest to exhibitors and to the industry at large is the drastic about-face exe.cuted by Darryl F. Zanuck as regards radio and its logical relationship — if any — to motion pictures. In connection with the air dramatization of “Drums Along the Mohawk” on Kate Smith’s coast-to-coast program, the 20th Century-Fox generalissimo issued a statement in which he declared that if the film industry and radio collaborate in harmony, each in its respective field, “outstanding results may be obtained which are beneficial to both mediums of entertainment.” Zanuck termed the screen-radio liaison worked out from the “Drums” airing “mutually advantageous” and said he had received scores of favorable reactions to the experiment from broadcasting and film executives throughout the country. Further, the Westwood studio mogul cited the “tremendous entertainment value” inherent in the fact that the “Mohawk” broadcast reached a readymade listening audience of millions. Even an industry notorious for its short memory and mercurial policies will not have to strain to recall that this is the Zanuck who but a few short months ago afforded a welcome ray of hope to the nation’s showmen who have been adamant in their attitude that ether entertainment has always been and will always continue to be motion pictures’ most injurious competitor; and that there is no basis on which the two can flirt without substantial damage to theatre grosses. At that time Zanuck canceled the air appearances of Tyrone Power and Alice Faye because, he explained, “irreparable harm” was being done their boxoffice standings through improper supervision of their radio material. In taking such action, the Westwood executive declared that he was lending a receptive and concurring ear to the wail of the showmen, the justice of which he apparently recognized, thereby intimating, at least, that he, too, was of the opinion that radio and the screen made strange bedfellows, and unprofitable ones so far as the latter is concerned. Theatre owners may find it difficult to reconcile themselves to the idea that Alice Faye and Tyrone Power on the airwaves offer them competition which is not evidenced during the broadcasting from coast to coast of dramatized excerpts from one of the more pretentious Fox features. After all, members of the “ready-made listening audience of millions” are just as securely anchored in their living rooms and just as far removed from the boxoffice when listening to one as to the other; which fact, in the final analysis, is the principal count in the exhibitors’ indictment of radio and the aid and abetment it has received from the magi of motion picture-making. The last word in confidence reflects itself in the following from Metro’s welkinringers: “Whipping the annual Christmas slump, M-G-M has scheduled release date for ‘Balalaika’ for December 29.” Add One Woman's Opinion Department: "As an actress I am already beginning to feel I am a good columnist." — Louella Parsons. Now that there is a town officially rec ognized as Goldwyn, Ariz., the Grand Canyon had best look to its laurels as the tourist mecca of the west. Governor Jones may have established a dangerous precedent when he issued a proclamation giving regular township status to the community constructed 35 miles outside of Tucson by the Samuel Goldwyn studio as a location site for the new Gary Cooper starrer, “The Westerner.” It will operate under Arizona laws with a city government to be chosen from members of the film troupe. Consider the grief to which the postoffice department might be subjected if the practice of naming cities and towns after motion picture biggies becomes a habit. There might, for example, be a Mankiewicz, Pa., or a Chodorov. Neb. But the fun will really begin when the tribe of Cohen is honored in the name cities after producers marathon, what with the possibility of Cohen, Me.; Cohan, N. H.; Cohn, Vt.; Conn, Ore.; Kahane, Fla.; Kahn, Mich., and Kane, Wis. Let it not be said that Paramount publicists are not aspiring to bigger and better things. There was the time whe7i they turned to the lowly flea as a means to publicize a picture. That was on the historic occasion when Bill Hebert imported “Sam and Sadie,” trained members of the ctenocephalus canis, and for weeks filled Paramount news releases with detailed accounts of their every antic. The Marathon Street blurbists have now graduated to a giant panda — nothing less. However, the plan to utilize the Thespic and, far more important, publicity value of the ailurapoda in “The Road to Singapore” died a-borning. It seems that the custodians of this particular panda balked at having it appear under the bright lights of a studio sound stage because, among other physical peculiarities, it has such a delicate pair of eyes that Kleig lights might blind or permanently injure them. Kyser, Krime and a Kluck With but one exception the week’s preview assortment, although sub-normal in quantity, assayed far above par in quality. In a quintet of features unfurled for reviewers, four may safely be catalogued as profitable and popular boxoffice attractions. Because of its unique nature, RKO Radio’s “That’s Right — You’re Wrong” is entitled to first consideration. Since the advent of sound countless attempts have been made to build feature-length pictures around well-known dance and radio bands. Some of these efforts have been crowned with a modicum of success; most, however, have done classic nosedives. The Kay Kyser vehicle, if it does not rate the distinction of being the first recognized hit in this category, at least and undeniably deserves the distinction of being termed the outstanding best. The picture’s appeal and certain success is probably due principally to the fact that those who were responsible for its making approached their task with a definite tongue-in-cheek attitude. Instead of trying to make Kyser and his precedentally popular aggregation of entertainers something which they are not, a screenplay was conceived which subjected to a delightful teasing Hollywood and its chronic mania for gambling kings’ ransoms on films starring performers from other entertainment fields whose screen possibilities are unestablished. The result is a mirthful, melodious and engrossing concoction which is predestined to delight every type and age of theatre patron. Every production element contributed its pro-rata share toward the unusually acceptable ensemble, with extra accolades the just dues of William Conselman and James V. Kern for a fast-moving, laugh-laden screenplay based on an oi’iginal by Conselman and David Butler, and Butler for his shrewd and understanding direction. Butler, incidentally, also is credited as producer. The supporting cast is splendid throughout, Adolphe Menjou, Lucille Ball, Edward Everett Horton, Moroni Olsen and Hobart Cavanaugh contributing most substantially to the enhancing Thespic backgrounds against which the Kyser cavortings were staged. The tried-and-true wife vs. secretary formula, in a new and glitteringly sophisticated dress, is the backbone of 20th Century-Fox’s “Daytime Wife,” a class vehicle made to order for audiences clamoring for gay, frothy fare to counterbalance gloomy international conditions. Screenplay by Art Arthur and Robert Harari literally bristles with crisp and brilliant dialogue, clever situations and deft characterization. Given such meaty material with which to work, Gregory Ratoff turned in a first-rate directorial accomplishment, in which Tyrone Power and Linda Darnell, impressive in the leads, are (Continued on page 35) BOXOFFICE November 18, 1939 31