Hollywood Spectator (1937-39)

Hollywood Spectator Page Eleven of genres makes of the picture a sort of hybrid, neither fish, fowl, nor good red herring. 0.N the credit side of the production are some fine shots of the contesting yachts under sail, caught by Cinematographer Frank B. Goode. No spectacle of nature or man makes a more graceful camera study than a billowing sailboat. Also on the credit side is William Hall, who, as the outlaw Captain Morgan, comes perilously close to taking the picture away from our hero. Some of his leering villainy is a bit overdone, but on the whole he plays with notable authority and conviction. Too, he boasts a burly, commanding voice, and a physique which dominates the camera. Constance Worth reflects experience in her work, and she is likeable, albeit she is not always attractively lighted. Brandon Evans, the Commodore, is as bigoted and stupid as he is supposed to be, and Gavin Gordon uses his chief asset, poise, for all it is worth in performing another of his pussy-foot gentlemen. Among those doing competent work in small parts are Lai Chand Mehra, Ben Hendripks, Frank Hagney, and Sam Flint. Ewing Scott directed. Unsustained Satire SUPER SLEUTH, R.K.O. Producer, Edward Small; director, Ben Stoloff; play, Harry Segall; screen play, Gertrude Purcell and Ernest Pagano; photographer, Joseph H. August; special effects, Vernon L. Walker; film editor, Kenny Holmes. Cast: Jack Oakie, Ann Sothern, Eduardo Ciannelli, Alan Bruce, Edgar Kennedy, Joan Woodbury, Bradley Page, Paul Guilfoyle, Willie Best, William Corson, Alec Craig, Richard Lane, Paul Hurst, George Rosener, Fred Kelsey, Robert E. O'Connor, Philip Morris, Dick Rush. SATIRICAL viewpoint is the saving grace of this film. The story, a comedy-mystery affair adapted by Gertrude Purcell and Ernest Pagano from a play by Harry Segall, has a good plot but it gets out of hand and goes violently slapstick toward the end. Moreover, there are manifested throughout the film numerous signs of haste, carelessness, and indifference in production. Hollywood is the locale and the movie star Bill Martin, played by Jack Oakie, famed for being a super sleuth in his pictures, undertakes to track down a “poison pen” writer in competition with the police, a feat which, though incurring several hazardous risks to his person, needless to say he ultimately accomplishes, with the aid of extraordinarily good luck. A peculiar feature of the film is that the audience knows the identity of the mysterious criminal all along. The most interesting aspect of the picture is its portrayal of the behind-the-scenes activities of Hollywood. There is an amusing frankness in the film’s revelation of the intimacy of the workers in a studio, and the far from awe-inspiring position held by an actor on the lot. In these studio scenes Director Ben Stoloff has gotten some cleverness. J ACK OAKIE again performs in his usual loose style, as though he were “emceeing” a vaudeville show, sometimes being very funny through sheer ability at mimicry, sometimes missing his points by a wide margin. Ann Sothern has nothing very exacting to do, but does it competently. Eduardo Ciannelli is effectively sinister as the murderous “poison pen” writer. Edgar Kennedy still gets laughs with his old bag of tricks as the police lieutenant. Alan Bruce was pleasing in a small part, and Joan Woodbury and Bradley Page also lent good support. The jerky final shot of Oakie and Miss Sothern, seated on a trap settee, being whisked in and out of the wall, first their feet and then their heads uppermost, all the while engrossed in amour, was offensive and silly and by all means should be cut. IS IT ACTING? By Gene Lockhart N a quiet corner on the set, the Character Actor sat reading a copy of the Hollywood Spectator. As his eyes followed the persuasive path of Mr. Beaton’s phrases the Young Actor ambled over, straddled a chair, pointed to the Only Magazine Devoted to the Screen as an Art, and remarked, “He says that stage training is not necessary to success on the screen.” The Character Actor nodded. “He says that personalities are more important than trained actors.” “Yes?” “He says that the screen is not an acting art.” “So I understand.” “He also says that it’s an art of the projection of personality.” The Character Actor closed his copy of Hollywood’s oldest film publication and studied the handsome, wavyhaired Young Actor. “How long have you been in motion pictures?” “Over seven months.” “Ah, it’s a pleasant feeling.” “What is?” “To have your option taken up. Have you had any stage experience?” “Sure. I was in two plays at college. That’s how they discovered me.” “Mm! I understand that the studio has decided to make you a star.” “Well, I’m playing the lead in this picture.” “And playing it nicely.” “Thanks. Of course this part is sort of easy for me, being the part of a fellow just out of college. I’m just playing myself. They say I’m a personality.” “I see.” “Later on I’m going to get to play character parts, I hope; but you haven’t told me what you think of Mr. Beaton’s remarks.” “Well, the proof of one of his remarks is self-evident.” “Which one is that?” “That stage training is not necessary to success on the screen.” “If you mean me I guess you’re right; of course, I don’t know yet what it’s all about. They tell me to look like this, speak like that and I keep on doing it till they get what they want.”