Hollywood Spectator (1937-39)

Page Twelve May 8, 1937 Julia Heron; costumes, Omar Kiam; musical direction, Alfred Newman; film editor, Daniel Mandell; assistant director, Eddie Bernoudy. Supporting cast: Charles Halton, Roger Gray, William Jaffrey, George Chandler, Mary Frances Gifford, Alan Bridge, Monte Vandergrift, Jack Baxley, Walter Soderling, Al K. Hall, Dick Cramer. Running time, 70 minutes. fARCES take liberties with everything, and that includes the standard of film criticism which might be applied when a reviewer is measuring the virtues of this Sam Goldwyn offering. If you read Spectator reviews to help you select the pictures you wish to see, I can be of no use to you in the case of Woman Chases Man. If you like a frothy thing which moves rapidly, is presented handsomely and has outstanding artists like Miriam Hopkins and Joel McCrea wasted in parts which could have been played as well by any two members of a studio stock company; and if you like a generous dash of impossibilities in your screen fare, then you probably will enjoy this farce comedy directed by Jack Blystone. I enjoyed it. I enjoy seeing Joel McCrea on the screen, no matter what he does; and in a slightly lesser degree I enjoy Miss Hopkins’ appearances. They develop all the possibilities of their roles, but the demands of the roles are so elemental any other couple could have played them as well, which is why I say they were wasted in such a trivial story. The same thing goes for Charlie Winninger, Erik Rhodes, Leona Maricle, Ella Logan, and Broderick Crawford. All of them assist in keeping the story hopping along to the almost continous accompaniment of audience laughter. Enter into the mood of it, accept the impossibilities as possibiliities because you see them happen, and you will have a nice time. There is no mob scene in the picture, but by way of compensation Sam Goldwyn had Lynn Root, Franklyn Fenton, Joseph Anthony, Manuel Self and David Hertz collaborate in writing the story. And having got the thing out of his system, Sam had better go back to his regular business. Loud, But Entertaining TURN OFF THE MOON, Paramount. Producer, Miss Fanchon; director, Lewis Seiler; based on story by Mildred Harrington; screen play, Marguerite Roberts, Harlan Ware and Paul Gerard Smith; musical director, Boris Morros; music and lyrics, Sam Coslow; arrangements, Victor Young and Phil Boutelje; vocal supervision, Al Siegel and Max Terr; photographer, Ted Tetzlaff; art director, Hans Dreier; dance director, LeRoy Prinz; costumes, Edith Head; assistant director, Edgar Anderson. Cast: Charlie Ruggles, Eleanor Whitney, Johnny Downs, Kenny Baker, Phil Harris and Orchestra, Ben Blue, Marjorie Gateson, Grady Sutton, Romo Vincent, Andrew Tombes, Constance Bergen, Franklin Pangborn, Albee Sisters, Christy and Gould, The Fanchonettes. HETHER its volume of sound was put into it at its source or only happened to come out at the preview, I do not know, but I do know T urn Off the Moon, as I heard it, is the loudest musical picture we have had. It is difficult to estimate the merits of a screen offering when the feature of its showing which commands your chief attention is the unnecessary din it is creating. If you are indifferent to noise, or if the noise at the preview was the fault of the gentleman who presides over the gadgets in the projection booth, I can recommend Turn Off the Moon to you as being fully up to the average standard set by the season’s music-dance-spectacle features. It is the first screen production of Fanchon and suggests no reason why Paramount should regret its action in adding her name to its roster of producers. The story is frankly a bunch of nonsense which at no stage asks the audience to take it seriously. At first it gives promise of developing a pretty romance between Eleanore Whitney, a cute little thing with big, wondering eyes and nimble dancing feet, and Johnny Downs, a good looking boy with the screen’s greatest box-office asset, an engaging personality. To please an audience, all the two of them have to do is to play themselves. The development of the romance, however, is purely mechanical; they meet, love, quarrel, separate, meet again, love again, all in a space of a few hours. And to remind us it is a standard screen romance, the last we see of them is in a fervid embrace with its customary kiss embellishment. The Academy should hang up a prize for the first writer who can devise another ending for a screen romance. w ff HERE Fanchon was given an opportunity to reflect on the screen her long experience in staging dance spectacles, the new producer is at her best. One number was particularly impressive. A group of girls, carrying a cloud of bubbles on their shoulders, their feet on large globes which they propel in a series of evolutions, is a real novelty in the way of ensemble presentations. Paramount has given the picture an elaborate and pictorially effective production, Hans Dreier excelling himself in designing sets. Their visual values are developed fully by the expert photography of Ted Tetzlaff. Sam Coslow contributes both the words and music for four songs which should be well up on the season’s list of popular numbers. Johnny Downs reveals himself as no mean singer. Kenny Baker, Romo Vincent and Phil Harris also please with their vocal efforts. For the first time in the credit list, I see “vocal supervision,” which was entrusted to Al Siegel and Max Terr, the wisdom of their choice being made apparent by the commendable results achieved. Ben Blue’s clever comedy pretty nearly steals the show. Charlie Ruggles gives us his usual brand of comedy, but reads his lines much too loudly and without shading to match the moods of his various scenes. He maintains an even level of loudness which finally becomes monotonous. Grady Sutton and Romo Vincent give satisfactory performances and Franklin Pangborn sparkles in a couple of scenes. To Lewis Seiler goes boundless credit for bis masterly handling of the widely diversified elements he had at his command. It is no easy task to create smooth forward progression of audience appeal with a script composed so largely of interpolated numbers, but Lew manages to do it. Is Much too Noisy DANCE, CHARLIE, DANCE, Warner release of a First National picture. Associate producer, Bryan Foy; directed by Frank McDonald; from the play, THE BUTTER AND EGG MAN, by George S. Kaufman; screen play by Crane Wilbur and William Jacobs; music and lyrics by M. K. Jerome and Jack Scholl; photographed by Warren Lynch; assistant director, Sherry Shourds; film editor,