Hollywood Spectator (February 29, 1936)

Page Twelve February 29, 1936 I may be wrong when I say Carole and Foster quarrel all the way through the film. Somewhere during one of the quarrels I began to think about the big job Bill Le Baron had to get Paramount’s production wheels revolving smoothly, and when my mind came back to the picture the two were some place else quarreling about something else, so I suppose they kept it up while I was on my mental visit to Bill. Walter Lang, who directed, allows his characters to carry on loud dialogue while bumping into other couples on a dance floor. That is bad direction, showing supposedly intelligent and well bred people carrying on intimate conversations in tones loud enough to be heard by all the dancers on the floor. It is done in many pictures, but never by really efficient directors. With the exception of that lapse, Lang’s direction is very good, but his story material nullifies all his efforts. The picture talks incessantly, but a great deal of background music eases the pain of listening to it but does note condone its many faults. “Reviews by Allan Hersholt caso Has Much to Its Credit MEN WITHOUT LOVE, Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. Directed by Richard Boleslawski; produced by Joseph L. Mankiewicz: screen play by Edward E. Paramore, Jr. and Manuel Seff; from a book by Peter B. Kyne; musical score by Dr. William Axt; recording director, Douglas Shearer ; art director, Cedric Gibbons: associates, James Havens, Edwin B. Willis; wardrobe by Dolly Tree; photographed by Joseph Ruttenberg, ASC; film editor, Frank Sullivan; assistant director, Dolph Zimmer. Cast: Chester Morris, Lewis Stone, Walter Brennan, Irene Hervey, Sidney Toler, Dorothy Tree, Roger Imhof, Willard Robertson, Robert Livingston, John Sheehan, Joseph Marievsky, Victor Potel, Helen Brown, Harvey Clark, Virginia Brissac, Jean Kirchner. LTHOUGH somewhat dubious about the box-office appeal of this, I have no hesitation in classifying it as a worthy production. In but one respect is there cause for adverse criticism of its treatment. It contains more than the necessary amount of talk. Had the dialogue been stripped to its essentials, we would have had the sort of picture the screen should strive for: one with speech only where required to advance the story. There are scenes that would have carried more effectiveness with silence. Had Richard Boleslawski, who directed, been one of those, such as DeMille and Capra, not dominated by studio supervision and therefore able to shoot a script as they see fit, I am sure the film would have reached us with less dialogue. A Peter B. Kyne novel adapted by Edward Paramore, Jr., and Manuel Seff, Men Without Love presents a battle between man and thirst, showing us three humans suffer and slowly die from lack of water. Occurring almost entirely on a desert, it, perhaps, is too stark for popular consumption. The picture has some fine examples of cinematic art, presenting particularly good dramatic effect created by an intelligent use of the camera, not an uncommon thing for a Boleslawski offering to do. Previously, he has had greater opportunity for a manipulation of light and shade —in Les Miserables, for instance. Men Without Love treats us to some fascinating outdoor photography, for which Joseph Ruttenberg receives credit. The picture has several shots of the desert, some of them moving, which splendidly bring out the starkness, hoplessness of the place. Boleslawski’s direction always reveals a superb knowledge of human emotion. This story has permitted his exercising it more than usually is the case. The acting is excellent. Chester Morris offers his most notable portrayal, which means it is a magnificent exhibition of intelligent acting. The film is worth seeing for his characterization alone. Lewis Stone has his best role in some years and does a beautiful job. I can recall viewing Walter Brennan only once before on the screen; the picture was Barbary Coast and in it he gave an excellent stage performance. It is an excellent motion picture performance which he gives in Men Without Love. There are some stirringly effective close-ups of Morris, Stone and Brennan, made so by the facial expressions of the three. Dorothy Tree’s ability, charm and poise make her, in a small and unimportant part, a highlight of the picture. Irene Hervey is pleasing to both the eye and the intelligence. Roger Imhoff, Sidney Toler, Willard Robertson and John Sheehan are in for brief appearances and do exceptionally well. As is customary in a film directed by Boleslawski, characters who appear briefly with little or nothing to say, display confidence, have conviction and make lasting impressions. A Propagandic Piece ROAD GANG, Warnes release of First National production. Supervised by Bryan Foy; directed by Louis King; original story by Abem Finkel and Harold Buckley; screen play, Dalton Trumbo; photographed by L. O’Connell. Cast: Donald Woods, Kay Linaker, Carlyle Moore, Jr., Henry O’Neill, Joseph King, Addison Richards, Joseph Crehan, Charles Middleton, Olin Howland, William Davidson, Harry Cording, Marc Lawrence, Eddie Shubert, Ed anV Sloan, Ed Le Saint, George Lloyd, Tom Wilson, Constantin Romanoff, John Irwin. ERE we have grim, vital, stimulating views of imprisonment on a Southern penal farm, not unlike the one in I dm a Fugitive. Preaching against political crime and barbaric conditions assertedly in existence at some prisons of this country, it is too unpleasant to experience popularity as diversion. But no one, I feel, viewing it can fail to leave the theatre unimpressed by the stupid, brutal prison regulations and system of organized vengeance the production reveals. The plot is commonplace, a fact which I realized as an afterthought. I have a couple of minor objections to the story, an original by Abem Finkel and Harold Buckley, but they are not of sufficient importance to mention. The characters introduced as convicts, of course are lawbreakers, and yet they are human and likeable compared to the prison officials. There is much terror, pity and irony in the picture. It takes us to a prison where the laws, instead of rendering constructive influence in the lives of humanity’s weaklings, are employed for their destruction. One feels keenly that Road Gang is authentic in its panorama of life at such a place. Never before have prison scenes on the screen stirred me more than did those