Hollywood Spectator (1931)

18 Hollywood Spectator actors seemed to rush through their lines to hold the picture within a decent footage. Harry Beaumont directs capably enough and with thorough realism. I have roamed about such drab hotels as Cedric Gibbons gives us. I have listened to wise cracks in the lobby, gazed a little squeamishly at the horrible furniture, and descended into the cemented basements where knights of the road display their wares on bare board shelves. The stuff is authentic and thoroughly unattractive. Instead of being amused at the picture I was embarrassed. Not for myself, but for Winnie Lightner, who should go back to the stage. And for Olsen and Johnson. And for the writers who adapted it. And for the poor director who was handed the thing and told to do his darndest. And for somebody out at Warner Brothers who recently sank four millions of his private fortune into the company in order to Permit it to turn out more pictures like Gold-Dust Gertie. Sparkling ▼ ▼ INDISCREET marks the arrival of Gloria Swanson in a role which is admirably suited to her capabilities. The opus by De Sylva, Brown and Henderson and Leo McCarey is deft, light and utterly without serious intent. Those three intolerable insults rampant on the screen at present — moony philosophy, obscene remarks and idiotic comedy — are completely absent. A smooth cast smoothly directed by Leo McCarey surrounds the star. Monroe Owsley is sufficiently snaky in his mildly villainous role of faithless sweetheart to Miss Swanson and later to her sister, Barbara Kent. Parenthetically Miss Kent is charming and almost steals a few scenes for herself. Ben Lyon as the impulsive and broad-minded novelist furnishes a lot of comedy with Gloria and ends by marrying her. Arthur Lake is the excessively juvenile suitor for Barbara Kent’s hand, and in my heart of hearts I do not blame the lady for almost ditching him in favor of Owsley. The boy is too calfish even for comedy. Young men of his age drink their liquor straight and murmur adolescent sophistries anent love, women and Havelock Ellis, instead of writhing in perpetual self-consciousness. An unostentatiously effective musical score added to the picture. I must confess, to the credit of A1 Newman, that I was not conscious of the exact moments it began and left off. Come to Me, the charming little song which the picture introduces, is used as an integral part of the plot, and instead of being superfluous becomes, almost essential. It is a perfect bit for Miss Swanson’s colorful voice. This United Artists production is a clever, sprightly affair which succeeds beautifully in its object of being entertaining over nothing at all. Low Down and Dull ▼ V GOLD-DUST GERTIE brings us Winnie Lightner and those two horrible clowns, Olsen and Johnson, in a photographed burlesque of the vintage of 1905. This melancholy affair, posing as comedy and directed by Lloyd Bacon, has only the excellent work of Claude Gillingwater to save it from being horrible beyond endurance. In view of the recent clamor among writers for screen credits, it might be appropriate to mention that the screen play is by William K. Wells and Ray Enright, and that the dialogue comes from Arthur Caesar. Vulgarity runs rampant. Nothing is left to the imagination. Senseless dirt is heaped all over the place in an effort to save the picture, and the whole show ends on the brink of the latrine. ▼ ▼ Winnie Lightner, having married, divorced and collected alimony from Olsen, Johnson and George Byron, captures Gillingwater as a fourth husband. The latter is still chartering yachts, although he manufactures bathing suits which do not expose the feminine form. But that is merely an incidental discrepancy. Mr. Olsen and Mr. Johnson, following their legitimate experience, point for laughs, and when they do not get them — as frequently they do not — the silent period designed to let the laugh die away is as gruesome as a morgue. Appealing ▼ ▼ 7 TAKE THIS WOMAN, based on the novel by Mary Roberts Rinehart, is by no means a masterpiece and does not pretend to be one. It is, I think, something more important than a masterpiece in these sad days. It is a good average film, the sort that will do a good average business and send the audiences home feeling mildly contented, which is to say that it contains pictorial emotion and action instead of audible philosophy, and that the dialogue is not only sensibly written, but also sensibly restrained. Carole Lombard falls in love with the rancher, Gary Cooper, marries him, escapes from him, and quite naturally capitulates in the end, deserting wealth for a Wyoming ranch. Of course the thing is impossibly conceived, but it is pleasant stuff about which to meditate. If Miss Lombard had played her character to a realistic climax there would have been present all the current laudations to honeymoons in a Cadillac, bed-time prayers to six per cent interest, and cradle songs to a new fur coat. ▼ ▼ The adaptation by Vincent Lawrence and the direction by Marion Gering and Slavko Vorkapich are impressive. Welford Beaton says: Frank McCoy makes his dining room gaily beautiful with the flowers he loves, and people flock to his Inn because they, too, love gorgeous blooms in generous profusion." Frank J. McCoy, Manager SANTA MARIA INN SANTA MARIA, CALIFORNIA It's always Blossom Time at the Santa Maria Inn.