Picture Play Magazine (Mar-Jul 1929)

68 THE BROADWAY MELODY" is such an extraordinarily entertaining picture that it is difficult to decide what note to strike in sounding its praises. However, if, at the outset, I implore you to see it at all costs, you will know that I believe in it and wish to share my enjoyment with you. For it is unthinkable that any one could see it without marveling at the sudden turn audible pictures have taken in bringing to the silver screen a full-fledged musical comedy, with dialogue, song, dance, and spectacle. This is done in such a manner as to compete with a stage show and in some respects — notably in the greater intimacy of the screen — to surpass it. You have gleaned from this that "The Broadway Melody" is by way of being revolutionary. It is. There has been no talking picture comparable to it in speed, humanness, and novelty ; none with its swing and dash ; none in which music played so large a part. Besides orchestral accompaniment, and at least one chorus, there are three songs in the picture : "Broadway Melody," "You Were Meant For Me," and "The Wedding of the Painted Doll," the latter describing a gorgeous episode in color such as one sees in the Broadway revues. The picture, in fact, deals with a show of this kind, both backstage and before the footlights. But instead of there being a shallow story typical of musical comedy to justify it, there is a warmly human narrative concerning two sisters who bring their dancing act to New York, with the expectation of setting the town on fire. Hank Mahoncy, the elder, is engaged to Eddie Kern, a song and-dance artist in Zanficld's revue. But when he sees Queenie, the younger, for the first time since she was a kid, Eddie warms toward her. The struggle of the girls to gain a foothold, and the struggle of Eddie and Queenie not to confess their love because of their loyalty to Hank, are responsible for many tensely emotional moments. Meanwhile large portions of backstage life are revealed, with alternating smiles and pathos and the shrewdest psychology of theatrical folk the screen has ever attempted. There is the "feel" of authenticity in every note of "The Broadway Melody," its dialogue, direction, acting, and psychology. As for the acting, it is a revelation, or rather a series of them. Down to the smallest bit, nothing but perfection is evident. Charles King, recruited from musical comedy, is Eddie Kern, the song-and-dance man, whose voice is extremely agreeable and whose manner of putting over his songs bespeaks the veteran artist. Our own Bessie Love is Hank. We call her our own proudly, for she is no newcomer from the stage, but has grown up in the movies and has acquired from the screen her extraordinary skill and flawless technique. Instead of being limited by silence, she blossoms forth twice as fine an artist by means of dialogue, and achieves a performance that should never be forgotten. Abreast of her is Anita Page, whose experience on the screen covers less than half a dozen roles, but whose Queenie is astonishingly expert. Miss Page's combination of freshness, charm, and emotional force makes her, in my opinion, the most important "find" not of this year, but of several years ; and unless I am mistaken, she is the one new actress whose future is virtually unlimited. Let us now pray that congenial roles, sympathetic direction and a level head be vouchsafed her on her march to glory. Anita Page, Charles King, and Bessie Love share the triumph of "The Broadway Melody," as well as contribute largely to it. A Welcome Truant from the Stage Ruth Chatterton achieves two debuts this month, one in a silent picture, the other in an audible drama. Both performances are brilliant, but it is with the latter that we shall concern ourselves, the other being reviewed elsewhere in this department. Miss Chatterton's voice is recorded in "The Doctor's Secret," a talkie version of Barrie's one-act play, "Half an Hour." It is a voice unlike any so far heard on the screen ; it is another step toward perfection in conversational celluloid. Not only is Miss Chatterton's utterance clear and her enunciation perfect, but her voice has modulations and all the delicate nuances heard in cultivated speech. I might also add that her pronunciation is a joy to an ear that despaired of ever hearing perfection via the microphone. There is a difference between an actress whose skill in the use of her voice has been developed for years, and one who speaks in public for the first time. It is this difference which enables Miss Chatterton to triumph easily in a performance that adroitly combines the essentials of both stage and screen, and which would have been a fiasco had almost any other actress attempted it. For "The Doc