Hollywood Spectator (1937-39)

Page Six July 17, 1937 ANOTHER handicap to the story’s effectiveness, how/lever, is the fact that we do not have much sympathy for the hen-pecked Topper. Perhaps it is because the spectacle of a man of his business position being dominated by a mouse-like wife seems a rather arbitrary situation. Perhaps it is because of a general boredom with henpecked husbands, since they are to be seen in so many pictures. At any rate, the Kerbys’ concern with Topper seems like a waste of time, and does not hold our interest, which lies primarily in the Kerbys themselves. Their long absences from the screen, together with their devotion to the interests of Topper when they are in the action, gives one the feeling that there is a void in the very middle of the film. Our interest in the story picks up, incidentally, toward the end of the picture, at a seaside resort, when jealousy gives the center of interest back to the couple by occasioning a slight rift between them, a fact which might be suggestive if retakes are in order. The end of the picture, like the beginning, is thoroughly engaging. The Kerbys are perched on the roof of Topper’s home like two elfins, taking in the reconciliation of Topper and his wife on terms of better understanding, going on below. In saying farewell to their friend they hang their heads downward from the roof and peer into the window, certainly a fantastic shot. Well — the idea for the film is good, if only some way could be found to patch up the middle portion so that a coherent and interesting story would result. One wonders if the rambling incoherency of the present script is not due to the fact that the script was worked on by three writers, and taken from an original story by Thorne Smith — which makes a good many fingers in the pie. I cannot recall at the moment any first-rate script which was adapted by more than two writers. If two cannot make a coherent script out of the material at hand, by what logic does a producer conclude that three can ? AJOTH Roland Young and Billie Burke are at their respectively suave and saucy best. Alan Mowbray, playing a butler to Topper, has some of the best lines in the picture, and puts them across with distinction. Says he to Topper, following an escapade which has landed the latter in the headlines, “You have become a legend before your time.” Eugene Pallette, Arthur Lake, Hedda Hopper, and Virginia Sale are well cast. A very unfunny aspect of the picture is the appearance of Tom Moore, Claire Windsor, Jack Mulhall and other former stars in uncredited bits. Deserving of a plume is Roy Seawright for his ingenious handling of the eerie photographic effects. Many of the fadings of the Kerbys were very deft. In one scene a rose is seen to move through the air, and in its course Constance Bennett materializes, holding it in her hand. Norbert Brodine was the general cinematographer. One song number is featured, “Old Man Moon,” written by Hoagy Carmichael, which has good rhythm but is not on a par with his best songs. Special mention should be made of the gowns, designed by Samuel M. Lange, which set off Miss Bennett with alluring effect, and Miss Burke with most frilly effect. Aspiration in the Tropics PARADISE ISLE, Monogram Pictures, Associate producer, Dorothy Reid; director, Arthur Greville Collins; screen play, Marion Orth; from the Cosmopolitan story, THE BELLED PALM, by Allan Vaughan Elston; photographed by Gilbert Warrenton, A.S.C.; technical director, E. R. Hickson; recorded by William Wilmarth; film editor, Russell Schoengarth; assistant director, Harry Knight; special music by Sam Koki, Tuiteleleapaga, and Lani McIntyre and his Hawaiians; special effects by Fred Jackman. Cast: Movita, Warren Hull, William Davidson, John St. Polis, George Piltz, Pierre Watkin, Kenneth Harlan, Tau Mana, Malia Makua. JUjONOGRAM PICTURES, in carrying out its, aslfl serted new policy of producing superior independent productions, could not have chosen a better locale for its initial “class” effort than the islands of the southern Pacific. Nature has provided these islands with features which are essentially good cinema material — the rhythm of the swaying palms, the lines of the gleaming and symetrical tree trunks rising obliquely out of the ground, the fantastic cloud formations set upon a clear sky, and above all a spirit of peace and escape. These features have been incorporated with fine effect in Paradise Isle. Some of Cameraman Gilbert Warrenton’s shots are truly magnificent. Many of the scenes of native life, especially those showing their dances, are at once beautiful and instructive. Dorothy Reid, associate producer, who spent several months in the Samoan Islands supervising these portions of the production, can consider them a feather in her hat. Only certain defects in the story and in the structure of the film itself keep the picture from being the first-rate entertainment which it might have been. There is a note of idealism in the story, which concerns the love of a blind artist and a native girl, and, viewed as a whole, it has a winning simplicity, but it is marred by incredible and melodramatic incidents. Why, for instance, could not the young painter have come to the island to paint and lost his sight from a fever or some tropical malignancy, instead of being washed up on the shore a blind man, and apparently the sole survivor of a wrecked ship which was carrying him to Java, where a noted eye specialist was to operate on his eyes? A really jarring incident, however, was the mutual killing of the two villains, undoubtedly the most spectacular the drama has afforded since Hamlet and Laertes exchanged weapons — the first villain shoots his antagonist just as the latter throws an antiseptic in his eyes, which compels him to falter agonizingly to a conveniently handy swamp, where he sinks with trepidation and vociferousness to the depths. /li S for the construction of the film itself, the script and possibly the editing do not always serve the best interests of the story. For one thing, the succession of the shots is too rapid for the languid mood of the story. Moreover, insufficient allowance was made in either the script or the editing of the scenes for character development and character motivation. A more frequent use of close-ups would have helped in this respect. Several of the situations could stand considerable building. For instance, the introduction of the prostrate artist, weltering in the surf, seems almost casual, following abruptly on a scene in which we have barely made the acquaintance of the native girl and her native lover.