Life With Father

There are many famous snubs throughout the nearly 80 year history of the Academy Awards. Some are more famous than others, such as Henry Fonda losing for "The Grapes of Wrath", or more recently "Shakespeare in Love" beating "Saving Private Ryan". One injustice which has not been given much press, but I feel is just as glaring, is William Powell losing Best Actor in 1947 for "Life With Father". Based on the Howard Lindsay play (itself based on the memoirs of Clarence Day, Jr., the oldest son character in the film) that ran on Broadway for years, "Life With Father" is an absolute tour de force by William Powell as Clarence Day Sr., an impossibly stubborn, but also extremely loving father and husband in late 19th century New York. One of Warner Bros. all star productions of the late 1940's, the film rivals any of MGM's Technicolor films of the time, given the same remarkable use of color, as well as incredibly detailed period appropriate sets by Warner's old reliable decorator Robert Haas. But all of this is secondary whenever William Powell is on screen. Powell dominates everyone around him, no easy feat considering the film provides him with a strong foil in the radiant Irene Dunne, as well as silent screen star Zasu Pitts in a nice supporting role and an impossibly gorgeous teenage Elizabeth Taylor (the only person in Hollywood history to be a super star as both a child, teenager, and adult). Clarence Day is a man whose life is built around routine, his fanatical obsession with order, punctuality and discipline, yet throughout the course of the movie you realize just how willing he is to compromise to please his wife and children, despite his stern exterior. Powell simply owns the role and frankly, losing Best Actor to Ronald Colman for "A Double Life", a long since forgotten noirish drama, is as great as injustice, given the juxtaposition of the two roles then, as well as their respective legacies now, as Marlon Brando losing for "A Streetcar Named Desire".

Directed by Michael Curtiz, the man responsible for virtually every Warners classic of the 1930's and 1940's (Captain Blood, The Adventures of Robin Hood, Casablanca, Mildred Pierce, the list goes on and on), the film was a guarenteed box office smash given its popular source material (see, nothing has changed in Hollywood). Still, notorious fiddler Jack Warner took no chances, securing his top director, his top decorator, an all star cast and Max Steiner, one of the most talented composers of the classical Hollywood era. It should then come as no surprise that Powell, Haas, and Steiner all received Oscar nominations, as did the film's color cinematography. Beginning with the credits over stereopticon slides of turn of the century New York, we are introduced to the world according to one man, Clarence Day. He doesn't appear on screen for about the first 20 minutes, but his presence is definitely felt, as every character is bustling about desperately trying to please him. The film does not really have a narrative arc, so much as Powell's character does. Sure things happen, such as his wife's Vinnie constantly trying to circumvent his tight fisted ways. Some memorable vignettes are Vinnie trying to convince him to take a carriage to Delmonico's or to keep an antique pug dog she bought on impulse (a hilarious running gag throughout the film, Clarence cannot stand his wife's impulsive spending, usually because it results in something as grostesque as the pug dog). There is also the small matter of Vinnie's cousin Cora coming to visit and her teenage guest, Mary Skinner (Clarence also cannot stand relatives imposing and several of the film's greatest lines come from him verbally expressing this pet peeve). Another problem is Clarence's youngest son Clarence Jr. who is plauged both by trying to impress his impossible father as well as the aforementioned impossibly gorgeous Mary Skinner. And finally, there is the small fact of Clarence's never having been baptized, which becomes significant when Vinnie has an unfortunate brush with death after consuming some of younger son Harlan's cheap elixir, which he is selling to make his industrious father proud of course.

Watching Clarence barrel through each of these problems is equally hilarious and touching. He is stern but caring with his children, short but polite to his relatives, and exasperated but always loving to his wife. We see the real man, buried underneath layers of structure and etiquette, when the reverend comes to their house to pray for the damned soul of Vinnie. Clarence considers this affront from God and demands(!) that God leave his poor wife alone. This scene sums up Clarence Day: a man who refuses to budge when it comes to his family, specifically his wife, even if it means challenging God himself. After Vinnie recovers, she implores Clarence to get baptized, something which he has steadfastly refused to do thus far, reasoning that God "can't keep him out of heaven on a technicality", but eventually agrees to, even letting Vinnie book them a carriage to the church for the special occasion. By the end of the film we realize Clarence is hardly the tyrant he appears to be. His brusque manner and biting wit are merely ways he burns off steam, after all, trying to appease a wife and four children is taxing. He even does not mind cousin Cora and Mary staying with them, after he launched a tirade against it earlier ("that is what hotels are for!"), he mellows. Vinnie's sickness shook him, and he realized that perhaps lightening up a little would do everyone a bit of good. This change, from domineering patriarch to agreeable family man, is expertly realized by Powell's larger than life portrayal. Powell's trademark comic timing and equisite line delivery serve him well in his early scenes, but it is truly a testament to his fine acting that we come to care for Clarence by the film's end. He makes his character's change one the audience does not necessarily want. When he is cutting down house maids and relatives in the first half, we love it. However when he is imploring God to spare his wife's soul, we realize this is the man we really want him to be, keeping that fire and brimstone tone, but harnessing it. Based on the incredible true life of Clarence Day Jr. (his father must really have been some man, even with some poetic license taken), "Life With Father" is a wonderful film, featuring one of the greatest actors of all time in his best (not signature, but he plays Clarnece Day better than Nick Charles) role.

Meet Me In St. Louis

There is a feeling that I cannot truly put into words that I feel when watching an old "chestnut" such as this. It is a mixing of nostalgia and optimism, completely irrational, and if you think about it too long, even some guilt at being so blissfully ignorant, but the feeling, at least for me, is unmistakable. While watching "Meet Me In St. Louis", one of MGM's most heart warming musicals ever, I cannot help but experience this feeling overwhelm me. The movie is just so warm, literally. A gorgeous "slice-of-life" tale about an ordinary family in picture perfect St. Louis (a cynic would argue that no where, let alone St. Louis, was ever as beautiful and idyllic as it is portrayed here) at the turn of the last century, the film concerns the Smith family: passionate and idealistic Esther, her over bearing older sister Rose, her adorable younger sister 'Tootie', her caring mother, her workaholic father, and her cantankerous old grandfather, played with spirit by the legendary Harry Davenport. The movie is exceedindly simple, fitting every small time cliche you can think of, sort of, for example, in this, the girl falls for the guy next door, not the more conventional other way around. The main conflict of the film is the father, Alonzo's, decision to accept a job in New York and move the family there, causing them to miss the World's Fair exhibition in their own home town. How can a movie string out a problem like that over 100 some odd minutes and still end up endearing and entertaining? Perhaps it is the marvelous attention to detail, courtesy of the legendary Arthur Freed and the time and money he spent on his "Freed Unit" productions. Or maybe the fine cast he assembled, including Judy Garland singing her second most famous song ever, the aforementioned Harry Davenport, Mary Astor, and little Margaret O'Brien, who won a special Oscar for her charming work as 'Tootie'. My vote is because of the music; "The Trolley Song" and "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" are American standards now, thanks to this film, and the mood each of them sets helps give this film something other musicals of the time just did not have, that you were watching something special. That, above all, is the sentiment you get from watching this film.

The film begins with a shot of picaresque post card of St. Louis that comes to life, and we realize that it is the Smith's block. Everyone is excited about the coming World's Fair (an anomaly exclusive to essentially the fifty years from 1900 to 1950. A "World's Fair" today cannot be imagined in terms of the excitement, preparation, and wonder it inspired. St. Louis' of 1903 and Chicago's of the 1930's are the two most celebrated ones, and the last one of note was in New York in the 1960's, but by that point the wonder and excitement had long faded. However, it is to note that the sentiment of a World's Fair was Walt Disney's inspiration for Tomorrowland at his Disneyland theme park), particuarly the Smith family. Everything with the world is seemingly at ease, and the Smith family is a microcosm of that. However, trouble is brewing, in the name of New York. Successful banker/father Alonzo thinks he will be pleasing his family by telling them of his promotion to the New York office, instead the entire family is devastated by the news. Oldest sister Rose is in a tumultuous relationship in town and cannot simply bear to leave. Middle sister Esther too is interested in John Truett, their new neighbor, and youngest daughter Tootie possesses all the wonder and exuberance a World's Fair would bring on in a young child. Even the girl's mother is sad ot hear the news, knowing how much the children love St. Louis and are looking forward to the Fair. Arthur Freed went on record in subsequent interviews as saying that the real villain in this fim is the name "New York". Just the sense of having to uproot and leave fills the Smith girls with dread and anxiety. Alonzo, being the stubborn father these type movies always employ, initially refuses to budge, failing to see how much the Fair, and home, means to his family. He also fails to notice Esther's blossoming romance with John, a feat not lost on the viewer. Vincente Minnelli was a brilliant artist and his sets and shots were composed as an artist would fill a canvas. He too was clearly enamored with his young star and thus it comes as no surprise that Judy Garland never looks as beautiful as she does in this film thanks to Minnelli's eye for flattering angles and lenses.

The family's objections aside, as Christmas rolls around the plan is still to move, which puts everyone in a semi state of depression. Tootie goes around knocking over snowmen she is so upset, and even Esther, who is the optimist in the family, can only manage as depressing a song as "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" to cheer up Tootie. Now of course the viewer derives enormous pleasure from this song due mainly to its legacy as a Christmas staple. Second only to "Somewhere Over the Rainbow", this song is also one of Judy Garland's standards, and she sings it beautifully. But listening to the lyrics, you realize just how well it fits both the plot of the film, as well as the mood the characters are all in at the time. It is a song of reluctant optimism, of taking comfort in your few remaining joys (not surprisingly, the song was a huge hit during the War, as it connected with millions of families who were disjointed due to combat). Finally, as spring comes, Alonzo's frosty demeanor melts with the snow and he decides St. Louis is the place for his family, and the film ends with the family taking in the Fair, the great event they had spent the past year waiting in anticipation for. If the ending sounds a little familiar, the family so grateful to be "at home", it should come as no surprise that Arthur Freed also produced "The Wizard of Oz", which coined the phrase "there's no place like home". While today this film can be seen as incredibly corny and slight, the film's strong points are still there; Arthur Freed's famous generosity in regards to his productions, which resulted in collaborations with the finest crasftmen, is in full employ here, as Cedric Gibbons' gorgeous art direction and the fine score clearly set this apart from other musicals of the era. Freed was very proud of his films and his pride was also on display on screen. He was also, they say, a very kind, compassionate man, who favored his pool of talent, both in front of and behind the camera, and thus it is not surprising that his films always have such a fine polish about them. "Meet Me in St. Louis" is no exception.

Gaslight

On par with Hitchcock's finest, "Gaslight" is a working definition of the term "psychological thriller". Not a drop of blood is spilled in the movie, yet it crackles with tension and suspense. It features the stellar Ingrid Bergman as Paula, a wealthy young woman who is slowly convinced she is insane by her duplicitous husband, Gregory, exceptionally played by the suave Charles Boyer. "Gaslight" is also a notable departure for director George Cukor, who favored light romantic comedies and musicals for his entire career, with this being pretty much the only exception. "Gaslight" is also notable for being one of mega producer David O. Selznick's films, the mogul whose influence rippled through Hollywood like shockwaves, yet who remained autonomous throughout his entire career, never bowing down under any studio regime. Considering he was responsible for such epic productions as this, "Gone With the Wind" and "Duel In the Sun", it is even more remarkable. Instead, much like Scott Rudin and Brian Grazer do today, he would secure the hottest material and talent, and bring "his" production to a studio, for such amenities as sound stages and distribution resources. Selznick's operating outside of the studio regime left him more time to develop his projects, which is usually the reason his films were so successful, both critically and commercially. "Gaslight" was no exception, as it scored seven Oscar nominations and two wins, for Cedric Gibbons' incredible art direction, and for Ingrid Bergman's captivating performance. As word trickles in that a remake is in the works, moving the location from foggy, atmospheric London, to smoggy, modern day Los Angeles, I can only help but yawn. Check out the original "Gaslight" and realize that there is no need for a remake.

In the film's prolouge, a young girl is taken from her home by the police. Her aunt, and guardian, a famous opera singer, has just been murdered and the girl is shipped off to Italy, away from the sensational scene of the crime. Years later we realize this girl is Paula, a budding singer in her own right. A handsome young piano player, Gregory, soon takes notice of the young beauty and the two quickly fall in love, and marry. As Paula comes of age she inherits her aunt's fortune and on Gregory's recommendation they move back to London, back to her aunt's old house, which has been locked up for all these years. Initially the young couple are happily married, but after a few months, strange things begin to happen. Paula keeps forgetting things, misplacing items, and is prone to other bouts of irrational behavior. That is, she keeps being told so by Gregory. Paula cannot understand what is happening to her, since of course, there is nothing wrong with her. In a move which Hitchcock probably would have made, Cukor lets the audience in on the twist far too soon, whereas "The Master" would have kept dropping red herrings and let the audience figure it out for themselves, such as he did in "Rebecca" and "Suspicion". Obviously Gregory has some sort of scheme, which we know because he keeps insisting to Paula that she is forgetting things and misplacing items, as well as sneaking off late at night. The erratic behavior coming from the house, chilly master and potentially mad mistress, soon aroses suspicion from some of the neighbors. In an inspired role, Dame May Witty plays Miss Thwaites, a busy body who suspects something is up from the very beginning and who is prone to just barge in, unannounced, and see what gossip she can sniff out. Then there is Brian Cameron, a detective played by fellow Selznick contract player Joseph Cotton, who is initially suspicious of Gregory's late night business and is perplexed when he follows him down a dark alley from which he does not re-emerge. Gregory, in the one plot twist Cukor does keep hidden for some time, each night sneaks into the house's attic in a roundabout way. Whenever he is up there Paula notices the gaslight dim in her part of the house and hears her husband rummaging around up there, two points which convince her she is losing her mind, since Gregory obviously denies it and the maid (played by a slutty Angela Lansbury!) is too interested in flirting with the constable to notice any irregularities.

Eventually Cameron figures out Gregory's scheme. Convinced Paula's aunt was in possession of a large collection of priceless jewels which she hid amongst her worthless costumes and props from her opera days, he desperately tears through the attic each night searching for them. In true Hitchcockian form, the jewels are in plain sight the entire time, sewn onto one of her aunt's old dresses, which Gregory disregards for being too obvious. Cameron tells Paula what has been happening the entire time and suddenly it all makes sense: Gregory's insistence on moving back to London, back to her aunt's old house, the way an old letter of her aunt's which referenced a handsome young piano player mysteriously disappeared. It was Gregory who murdered her aunt, and Paula finally gets her payback, as she plays dumb in response to Gregory's plea for support as the police are dragging him away. Having seen "Gaslight" both on film and on stage, the tension and mood the piece creates is exquisite. Cukor coaxes perfect performances from virtually everyone involved, with the exception being Joseph Cotton, an otherwise fine actor, but who is stuck in the cliched cop role here. Ironically enough, the film almost did not happen at all. MGM, the studio Selznick frequently collaborated with, would not budge on Charles Boyer's contract stipulation that he was to receive top billing in any of his films, fine print which needless to say, Selznick had a hard time swallowing. He insisted his star Ingrid Bergman be given top billing, and he was probably right in demanding it; Bergman was hot off of "Casablanca" and was a major star, whereas Charles Boyer had a nice career playing handsome men, but was never the anchor of major films. Thankfully Selznick checked his ego (settling for second billing) and the film was able to go into production. A film which still holds up marvelously today.

In Old Chicago

One of the most interesting things to study in film history are the cycles popular opinion goes in. Usually one big film can start a trend, and then a genre is reborn, or in some cases, a mini-genre is born altogether. In 2000, "Gladiator" swept the Oscars and over the next five years there have been, to varying degrees, a multitude of "swords-and-sandals" epics. The 1930's were no different. When "San Francisco", a dynamic combination of an all star cast and incredible special effects, was released in 1936, the craze for disaster movies was on. Much like studios do today, films were rushed into production by other studios to capitalize on the new trend, and the first successful result was 1937's "In Old Chicago". Much like "San Francisco", "In Old Chicago" assembled a strong cast (Fox's big star trio of Tyrone Power, Alice Faye and Don Ameche, as well as solid supporting players Brian Donlevy, Alice Brady and the incomparable Andy Devine) and combined that with a spectacular recreation of a historical event, in the former's case the 1906 San Francisco earthquake, and in this case, the 1871 Chicago fire. Using one of Hollywood's five or six timeless narrative blueprints, "In Old Chicago" features fictional characters involved in the film's narrative until history intervenes. It has been used countless times throughout cinema history, from "Gone With the Wind" through to "Titanic". It gives the story greater drama and grounds the fictional circumstances in something audiences can relate to. "In Old Chicago" features Dion and Jack O'Leary, two brothers who have each made a name for themself, but in vastly different ways, and who each disapprove of the other. Before the two can settle their differences the "Chicago" way, their mother's cow kicks over a lantern and one of the most impressive set pieces ever put to film follows (the nearly 70 year old fire effects and ravaged sets, as well as one particular explosion, still hold up incredibly well today). "In Old Chicago" is a fine example of a classic story, interwoven with some history, and told with the ingredients money could buy, thus it should come as no surprise that the film is incredibly entertaining.

As the film begins, the O'Leary clan is just arriving in Chicago. Their father is killed in a freak accident, leaving their mother to raise the three O'Leary boys on her own. Each son swears to make something of themself and honor the family name. Cut to 20 years later and each has, in a way. The youngest helps their mother around her house, which she turned (somehow) into Chicago's most successful laundry. Jack, the straight arrow, is a muckracking lawyer out to scourge Chicago of its rampant vice, and his main target is Gil Warren, a menacing nightclub owner and racketeer (played by menacing Hollywood character actor Brian Donlevy) who has just taken on a new protege, Jack's brother Dion. Dion, played with a devil-may-care attitude by matinee idol Tyrone Power, is the town playboy, who loves money almost as much as he loves opportunity. Upon learning that the intersection he was planning on putting up his own nightclub had already been purchased by Belle Fawcett, a volutuous singer, instead of muscling in on her, Dion used his good looks and rakish charm, and seduced her into letting him be her partner. Gil likes Dion, but is wary of the young man's ambition, as well as his crusading brother. After butting heads over money and Belle, Dion decides to join forces with his brother Jack, and the two plan to shut down Gil's operations, using the reform platform to catapult Jack into City Hall and the mayor's office. What he doesn't count on is Dion's knack for trouble. Dion sees this as his opportunity to make a play for the entire Patch, seeing as how his brother, the most honest man in Chicago, has his back, he does not fear retribution. Jack draws the line though and insists Dion give up his vice rackets and become an honest businessman. While all of this is going on, Ma O'Leary's cow (which is established as having a nasty kick) knocks over a lantern, and the cheap wooden houses of the Patch are in flames almost instantly. Gil Warren plans to kill both Dion and Jack in the ensuing chaos, as well as preventing Jack and the firemen from saving the Patch, preferring to let it all burn down and impose his grip on the "new" Chicago that is sure to built over its ashes.

The fire scenes are incredible, specifically one shot of a firing wall being established to block the fire's path by dynamiting an entire city block. In a perfect example of the now abandoned rear projection matting process, poor Andy Devine, as Dion's loyal friend/bodyguard Pickle Bixby, is trapped in the wake of the explosion and for those tired of characters depicted against green screen looking cartoonish, check out how realistic it looks when an entire row of buildings explodes right in front of Pickle. Gil Warren and his mob succeed in killing Jack, who dies valiantly saving the life of Dion, but Dion is able to escape, and grabs his mother and Belle before the fire consumes them. Dion vows revenge for his brother's death, and with his mother and Belle by his side, he plans to help rebuild Chicago in his brother's image, working to rid the city of gangsters like Gil Warren. The film today comes across as fairly hoaky (Jack is extremely idealistic and Dion, while played by the handsome Tyrone Power, is portrayed as a god among men) and is almost devoid of subtlety (does the infamous cow that started the fire really have to belong to the main character's family?) but all of that is secondary to the film's entertaining story, which even though a bit broadly played, is still acted very well by Power, Ameche and Faye. 20th Century Fox had the rights to all three stars and used them together numerous times, Power and Faye especially (since Ameche was one of the earliest critics of the studio system's control of actors he was blacklisted until the system fell almost 40 years later) and their easy going chemistry shows. The supporting cast also scores here, with Donlevy one of the cinema's greatest "evil" villains, Alice Brady's Oscar winning turn as the boy's noble mother, and Andy Devine hamming it up. Still, nothing can top the fire effects, and though Hollywood would crank out several more disaster epics, ("The Hurricane" and "The Rains Came" in the next few years), "San Francisco" and "In Old Chicago" are the best.

Anchors Aweigh

Much like "Holiday Inn" being remembered today only for the inclusion of the song "White Christmas" or "The Seven Year Itch" being remembered as the movie in which Marilyn Monroe stands over the subway grate with her skirt billowing up, "Anchors Aweigh" is remembered mainly as the film in which Gene Kelly dances with Jerry the Mouse. Considering the dramatic advances in motion picture technology in the past 60 years, this sequence still is extremely impressive, and was one of the first seamless on-screen pairings of animation and live action. And while this sequence is rightly remembered, the rest of the film is a lot of fun too. Done while MGM was still working on the perfect formula for their musicals, "Anchors Aweigh" shows a bit of the fat that would subsequently be trimmed from more streamlined product in later years; the film's running time is a bit much at around 145 minutes, and at times it plays almost as an MGM catalog musical instead of an actual narrative film. There is still plenty of things to enjoy here though, mainly its two main stars: Frank Sinatra and Gene Kelly, ostensibly playing their sailor roles they would reprise four years later in "On the Town", are wonderful together, displaying great chemistry and each showcasing their respective talents (Sinatra sings, Kelly dances). The plot is light, two sailors get shore leave in Hollywood for a few days and plan on finding girls, but instead get involved in a pretty young singer and her dreams of becoming famous. Kathryn Grayson plays the young singer, Susan, and despite she too being largely forgotten over the years, actually gets billing above Gene Kelly in this film. MGM was still trying to figure out what to do with Kelly, and after he scored big with Columbia's "Cover Girl" the year before, the studio developed this as a vehicle for him to show off his dancing. Of course Kelly would go on to great acclaim, laregly thanks to his role here, yet still, "Anchors Aweigh" is mostly written off, despite featuring two legendary actors, launching the career of one. Oh the fickle nature of a film's legacy.

Upon first landing in Los Angeles, ladies man Joe (Kelly) plans on meeting up with his hot time girl, Lola, while his buddy Clarence (Sinatra) is too shy to actually chase girls, so seems content with just looking at them. After being brushed off by Lola, Joe agrees to help Clarence get a girl, and sets him up with a pretty singer after they inadvertently end up in charge of her young nephew. Joe promises her Clarence get can her an audition with Jose Iturbi, a famed conductor of the time who plays himself in the movie, as a ploy to keep her and Clarence together. Clarence however, is clueless in terms of how to talk to girls, and how to go about getting for Susan what Joe promised her he could. Stuck in a dive Mexican restaurant having a cheap dinner, Clarence bemoans his present situation with the song "I Fall In Love Too Easily", which gave audiences their first real sense of the power and clarity of Frank Sinatra's incredible voice. It is there however that he meets a girl from Brooklyn (oddly, the film does not give her a name, Clarence merely refers to her as "Brooklyn") and finds himself falling for her because they both are so homesick. This soon presents a problem though, because he is supposed to be helping Susan because he likes her, and Joe, who begins to have feelings for Susan, has to refrain from letting her know how he feels to honor his friend's alleged intentions. The two happen upon Jose Iturbi after sneaking onto the MGM lot and convince him to let Susan audition for him, which makes Susan extremely grateful to Clarence, even though it was Joe's cocky nature and fast talking which got them this far. Joe too has his moments of reflection towards the love triangle (soon to become a disjointed quadrangle type shape as "Brooklyn" and Clarence see each other again), and gets to express his feelings in two knockout numbers, the aforementioned dream sequence where he dances with Jerry the Mouse, and another elaborate set piece back at the Mexican cantina to the song "I Begged Her". Eventually everything is straightened out, as Clarence and Brooklyn inevitably end up together, and Susan, who nails her audition with Iturbi and is given a part in his show at the Hollywood Bowl, ends up with Joe, the duos locked in each others arms on screen together as the credits roll.

Considering this film as an early attempt at the big, colorful, splashy musicals MGM would ultimately go on to make to great critical and commercial acclaim, you can see a number of the themes established here. The silly circumstances which keep the two lovers apart, Sinatra's soft spoken, "simple life" kind of a guy character, and Kelly's out going, skirt chasing foil, which would be revived in "On the Town" as well as "Take Me Out to the Ball Game", to smaller things like the MGM art direction department's "look" of these musicals (always sets, but exquisitely dressed ones) and of course, a fine collection of songs. What interests me most about this movie is how the actors on screen personas were so different from their real life ones. Frank Sinatra might have early on been the shy kid with the great voice that he would play in a number of MGM musicals, but apparently the fame went to his head, as by all accounts he became a domineering, diva like force of nature on both movie sets as well as in his infamous stints in Las Vegas, and this was reflected in his later film roles. From the mid 1950's on, pretty much after he won his Oscar for playing Maggio in "From Here to Eternity", the MGM Frank Sinatra was gone, and the new one was born. Playing only hard boiled tough guys, from his non-musical roles in such classics as "The Manchurian Candidate", "Von Ryan's Express" or much later in "The Detective", even into his later musical films. After becoming the ring-a-ding leader of the Rat Pack (or the Clan as they called themselves), even his characters in musicals were tougher, more confident in their role as leader as well as with the ladies, and while not necessarily less charming or sympathetic, definitely less "gee whiz, aw shucks" cute. Gene Kelly also was by all accounts quite different from his on screen persona. While I am sure he had his romances, Kelly, like Fred Astaire, was in love with one thing: his craft. A consummate perfectionist and innovator, Kelly often quarrled with his studio assigned leading ladies who were not classicaly trained dancers (he famously clashed with Debbie Reynolds during the filming of "Singin' in the Rain"). The fast talking Joe Brady, or dashing Don Lockwood, his signature role in "Singin' in the Rain" were mere development department facades. None of this though, should take away from the fine performances Sinatra and Kelly give here, it merely serves as an interesting slice of film lore, and "Anchors Aweigh", a film unfairly forgotten today, is a film steeped in it.

The Thin Man

Fred and Ginger were not the only wildly popular cinematic couple of the 1930's. William Powell and Myrna Loy were slightly more prolific then their dancing contemporaries, appearing in thirteen films together between "The Thin Man" in 1934 and "Song of the Thin Man" in 1947. Handsome and charming William Powell matched perfectly on screen with the beautiful and elegant Myrna Loy, and the two had little trouble convincing audiences they were in love with each other, as the banter between them flowed effortlessly. Of course it also helped that the two of them were very gifted comedic actors; one liners were fired nearly as often as drinks were thrown back, and that is saying something. For as much as people rememeber Nick and Nora (their defining roles from "The Thin Man" series) as a handsome couple that tossed zingers back and forth at each other, they are also remembered for constantly drinking. Much like "Top Hat", "The Thin Man" was made at the height of the Great Depression, yet Nick and Nora are a happily married couple, very much in love, very rich (thanks to Nora's family's fortune) and very tipsy. The American public adored "The Thin Man" films, specifically the pairing of Powell and Loy, which prompted MGM to commission scripts for the two even when there was not a "Thin Man" film in production, resulting in such classics as "Libeled Lady" and "I Love You Again". But "The Thin Man" was the film they would forever be remembered for, and in spite of financial limitations, the film boasts more than just a pitch perfect starring duo; its script is extremely clever and hilarious (based on the great Dashiell Hammett novel of the same name) and it even features a charming dog: Asta (who would go on to his own acclaim in films such as "The Awful Truth" and "Bringing Up Baby"). Filmed in only two weeks by the legendary W.S. "One Shot" Van Dyke, "The Thin Man" is pure entertainment.

Subsequent Hollywood legend has decreed that the titular thin man is Nick Charles, William Powell's character. This, such as Ingrid Bergman saying "Play it again, Sam", is in fact, false. The thin man is really Clyde Wynant, a mysterious inventor whose disappearance sets the film in motion. Nevermind that this character only appears in "The Thin Man", thus rendering the subsequent films' titles completely ridiculous; by that point, people associated William Powell and Myrna Loy with "The Thin Man", whether he was in it or not. After Wynant disappears, his daughter appeals to Nick for his help in finding him. Nick politely declines because he is retired from the sleuthing business, spending the majority of his time these days bantering and drinking with his wife. Nora likes Dorothy, Wynant's daughter, though, and thinks Nick should take the case, if only so that she can see him do something other than mix a drink. Thus Nick reluctantly begins asking some questions and knocking on some doors. Soon it is revealed that Wynant's mistress has been murdered and that she had been in possession of some bearer bonds, which are also missing. The police suspect it is Wynant, who killed the mistress when she would not give up the bonds. Nick, always one step ahead of everyone, including the viewer, finds Wynant's body buried in his laboratory though, and knows that the real killer is still on the loose. After working his way through a variety of shady characters, Nick invites the ever growing cast involved in the case to a dinner party hosted by he and Nora, where he plans to expose the true culprit. What is funny is that the film breezes through Nick's actual sleuthing as if it were nothing really; even while working he is rarely seen without a drink in his hand, almost as if he would be doing this sort of thing anyway.

The dinner party scene is significant for a number of reasons. It plays out like an Agatha Christie novel, with all the principal players together in one room. Nick emcees the proceedings, working his way through every scenario: Wynant's ex-wife and her new gigolo boyfriend, his bizarre son, even his sympathetic daughter. The scene is a showcase for Nick, and in typical W.S. Van Dyke style, plays very fast as you realize just how good a detective Nick is. After identifying the killer (not nearly as striking as a young Jimmy Stewart being revealed as the criminally insane killer in the first sequel, 1936's "After the Thin Man"), Nick and Nora finally can get down to more important things: like drinking! For the next fifteen years, "The Thin Man" would come to define not only detective stories but also screwball comedies. Audiences clamored for more Powell and Loy and MGM responded, churning out "Thin Man" movies, adding a son to the proceedings and increasing Asta's part (really!); rival studios also sought to duplicate the rapid fire banter/chemistry between the two stars, sometimes succeeding, like in Howard Hawks' hard boiled newspaper story "His Girl Friday". What makes "The Thin Man" even more remarkable is that initially MGM had no faith in it. If you really consider the film, you can tell the neglect the studio showed it: bare sets, no exteriors, a small cast, and One Shot Woody at the helm to make sure there were no expensive delays. All of this actually aides the film though; by streamlining it, the dynamic pairing of William Powell and Myrna Loy becomes even more prominent, and that is certainly the main attraction, even 70 years later.

Raintree County

A film that has been written off as a pale imitation of "Gone With the Wind" and thus largely forgotten over the years, "Raintree County" is in fact a sprawling epic about love and life as seen through the eyes of one man, John Shawnessy. John is a philosopher and an unapologetic romantic and idealist, who longs to discover the meaning of life, which he associates with a mysterious golden rain tree. Pretty heady stuff for a big dumb epic. Which is why there is so much more to "Raintree County". The film chronicles John's life from his modest beginnings in the titular Indiana county, where he graduates from high school with a passion for discovering life's secrets, fueled by eccentric his eccentric professor, Jerusalem Webster Stiles, and follows him through his rocky marriage to Southern belle Susanna Drake, the Civil War and ultimately back to Raintree County. Much of the film's negative reactionary legacy is due to its then record budget (although in its defense, you can see every penny on screen, as clearly no expense was spared) and the fact that star Montgomery Clift was nearly killed in a horrific car accident in the middle of filming. The production had to shut down for three months while Clift's face was surgically repaired, but even though he was able to resume working, he and the production operated underneath a dark cloud for the remainder of the shoot. While this unfortunate accident definitely leaves its mark on the production (half of Clift's face was rendered immobile, and his speech pattern changed significantly) both literally and figuratively, the film is still incredibly impressive because it not only is a gorgeous, sprawling story filled with scenic backgrounds, beautiful music and colorful costumes and characters, but it is also grounded in profound ideas and intensely dramatic problems and situations. "Raintree County" is hardly the empty spectacle history would have you believe it is today.

As the film opens, John and Nell are two idealistic young lovers. Inspired by the legend of the raintree Johnny Appleseed was said to have planted deep in a local swamp, John attempts to find the tree, which his favorite professor tells him holds the meaning of life. After his search yields embaressing results, Nell is the only one to comfort John, who is ridiculed by the town braggarts and toughs. John is desperate to find the answers to life, and believes he can do this by acheiving greatness, which prompts him to challenge the leader of the town's scoundrels, Flash Perkins, self proclaimed "fastest man in the county", to a foot race. After winning the race, John is struck by the vision of Susanna Drake, a beautiful young woman in town to settle the estate of her aunt and uncle. Immediately forsaking the chaste love of the less attractive Nell, John falls deeply in love with Susanna, and follows her back to her home town of New Orleans. It is there he learns of Susanna's family's dark past; her parents died in a mysterious fire when she was a little girl, a horrible memory Susanna has buried underneath layers of guilt, paranoia and psychosis. She also seems to have inherited her mother's illness: extreme mental instability, as well as the South's perspective on slavery, which clashes with the abolitionist minded John. Turned off to the advances of Susanna, John returns to Raintree County, only to be followed by Susanna who tells him she is pregnant and that they must marry, which John consents to. It would prove to be the biggest regret of his life.

Soon after they are married Susanna confesses to John that she is not pregnant and that she only said that because she needs him. John is clearly upset at Susanna, but he also pities her, so they remain together and eventually do have a son. John even convinces them to move back to Raintree County with him, where he becomes a teacher. Everything is relatively peaceful until Susanna is overcome by one of her fits and makes off with their son, smuggling them across the Mason-Dixon line. The significance of that being that the Civil War has just begun and John now must face a choice: go against his pacifist ideals and join the war to get access across the border between North and South, or remain in Raintree County and never see his wife and son again. John chooses the former and sets off to the deep South, determined to find his wife and son. Eventually John does find Susanna, at an institution where she has been committed, and learns what really happened to her parents. After he mother became an invalid, her father began an affair with Susanna's maid, a slave woman. During a brief time when her mother regained her senses, she learned of her husband's lover, trapped both of them in their large house and burned it to the ground. A house slave managed to rescue young Susanna, and it is with him that John finds his son and learns the whole truth. The war now over, John returns home to Raintree County with Susanna and their son, but Susanna is beyond the point of saving. She tries to run away with their son a final time, and when the search party finds them, deep in the swamp John explored years ago, Susanna is dead. Ironically enough, John finds his son nearby, but fails to notice that he is hiding under the shade of the rain tree. The film's conclusion is extremely bleak: anyone seeking to gain complete understanding of the mysteries of life is doomed to suffer for their lofty goals. Much like Icarus, who was blessed with flight thanks to his father's invention and died when he got too close to the sun he sought to understand as no mortal had before, John's search for the rain tree only left him a broken hearted man, wondering what happened to the blissful days before he became consumed by his journey. "Raintree County" is an incredibly thought provoking film which unfortunately did not find its audience in 1957; as I said before, it was dismissed as MGM's blatant attempt to cash in on the memory of "Gone With the Wind", yet "Lawrence of Arabia" grappled with the same philosophical ideals to great acclaim only four short years later. It just goes to show that sometimes a film is unjustly maligned, and I only hope that one day this film is given its proper recognition.

Top Hat

While "Swing Time" may be the duo's funniest film, the main attraction at a Fred Astaire/Ginger Rogers musical was one thing: elegance. The two dancing together is the absolute epitome of elegance, and none of their films is more elegant than "Top Hat". Steeped in Art Deco design (which was huge at the time), "Top Hat" is Astaire and Rogers at their most simplistic: rich people in tuxedos and gowns who go from luxury hotel to luxury hotel in exotic countries, dancing all the time, yet the grace, sophistication, and elegance of how it is done is breathtaking. This was the duo's first lavish outing and it shows. RKO realized the gold mine they were sitting on and spared no expense; the Art Deco inspired Venice set at the end of the film, complete with canals(!) is stunning. And, like "Swing Time", the film is aided immeasurably by its strong supporting cast featuring Edward Everett Horton, Helen Broderick, Eric Blore, and Erik Rhodes. The plot is nonsense (Rogers mistakes Astaire for her friend Broderick's husband, who is actually Astaire's friend Horton....), but everyone knows how to dance and the music is lovely. Written by Irving Berlin, "Top Hat" features the song perhaps most often associated with Astaire and Rogers: "Cheek to Cheek". Much like "The Way You Look Tonight" would in "Swing Time" the next year, "Cheek to Cheek" creates such a special mood in the film that you are willing to forgive all of the film's shortcomings for just one more frame of the two of them singing and dancing together. Featured in "The Green Mile", "Cheek to Cheek" is just one of many wonderful moments in "Top Hat", for my money, the most romantic of the Astaire/Rogers romantic comedies.

It is inconceivable today in these (relatively speaking) gaudy financial times to think of film as pure escapism. Movies in the 1930's had no other choice, unless they were about dirt poor workers, anything was an escape. Watching an Astaire/Rogers movie, you would never imagine that millions were out of work. The world they lived in was champagne, tuxedos, music and romance. Not to say that the studios were ignorant of the Depression; they gave the public what they wanted. The last thing America needed was cinema verite. They wanted glamorous stars jet setting about. They wanted period spectacles and fantastic monsters. Anything but bread lines and unemployment rates. The world of Jerry Travers and Dale Tremont is exactly what they wanted. Jerry (Astaire) is a successful dancer and notorious playboy. His friend and producer Horace (Horton) desperately wants to avoid any bad press Jerry might get himself into via female entanglements, so he plans on bringing Jerry with him to visit his wife at their estate in Venice until the contract is made official. What neither man knows though is that Horace's wife Madge (the wonderful Helen Broderick) is planning on bringing her friend Dale (Rogers) along too to set up with Jerry. Of course Jerry and Dale meet while still in London and playboy Jerry (a feat which is fairly silly in its own regard; Astaire is hardly handsome enough to be considered playboy, and even though he always ended up with beautiful women, it was his modest charm, not his brash confidence, that did the trick, but for this film, it works) of course gets involved with her. After the two share a dance while hiding out together from a thunderstorm (to the tunes of "Isn't It a Lovely Day?") Dale realizes she is falling for Jerry, except she does not know who he is. This is only made worse when she thinks she has been flirting for the past couple of days with Horace, who she knows to be married to her friend, and subsequently slaps Jerry for being so openly interested in her. Jerry is confused, and when he finds out Dale is going to be in Venice, immediately agrees to go with Horace, who is of course oblivious to it all.

Upon arrival in Venice Madge finds it hilarious that her husband is not only flirting with pretty young women, but succeeding in gaining their affection. After a series of circumstances keep the foursome from being together at the same time for another day, thus preventing them from clearing everything up, the relationship almost falters. Dale's patron, the pompous Italian designer Beddini takes great offense at "Horace" and vows to kill him in a sword fight. He also is in love with Dale and intends to marry her, which he nearly succeeds in doing. The two think they are married, but thanks to the quick thinking of Horace's valet Bates (played with perfect exasperation by character actor Eric Blore), the ceremony is actually presided over by Bates in a priest's frock. Jerry and Dale find each other, have Madge and Horace explain the whole thing, and breath a sigh of relief, knowing that the feelings that had been developing between them (beautifully realized during the "Cheek to Cheek" number, which as I said before, perfectly illustrates the relationship between beautiful music, dancing and just sheer elegance that made them such a popular pairing) are not at the expense of Madge and Horace. While "Cheek to Cheek" is the song that everyone remembers from this film, the movie actually concludes with "The Picolino", which I think was intended to be the film's big knockout number. For whatever reason (imdb surmises that it was because Astaire was not fond of the song) it is done as a Rogers solo (a rare experience in and of itself) and then the duo, with a large ensemble, dances to it. The tune is catchy, even if the lyrics are ridiculous, and the number is impressively staged, as the dancers weave their way throughout the elaborate Venice set. While this number is entertaining, and concludes the film, "Cheek to Cheek" serves as not only the film's highlight, but also the number which insured the legendary duo's place in cinematic history.

The Music Man

A charming slice of life set in an idyllic America of days gone by. Robert Preston, in the role of a lifetime, stars as Prof. Harold Hill, a con man who sweeps through the Midwest selling the simple townsfolk he ingratiates himself with on the notion of a boys' band. After collecting their payments for instruments and uniforms Hill hops on the next train out of town, just ahead of the tar and feather mobs which usually accompany him to the train station. Written and scored entirely by Meredith Wilson, based on his own life in Mason City, Iowa (River City for the show), and a huge hit on Broadway, "The Music Man" was one of Warner Bros.' big films for 1962; that is, if the notoriously meddlesome Jack Warner could be convinced to keep his hands off of the property. Similar to the tweakings he had imagined for "My Fair Lady" (trying to cast Cary Grant as Henry Higgins instead of Rex Harrison, who owned the role), Jack Warner initially sought Frank Sinatra to play the fast talking ne'er do well Harold Hill. Sinatra balked and other actors were considered. In true Hollywood "putting the cart before the horse" fashion, the studio had already locked up Shirley Jones to play Marion the Librarian, the film's female lead, and thus were considering younger actors whose romantic chemistry would be more palpable than that of the older Robert Preston. Nevermind that Preston dominated the role on Broadway, won the Tony, and was the choice everyone wanted to see. Finally cooler heads prevailed, Preston was given the part and "The Music Man" could go on to become the huge success everyone knew it would.

From the very first number in the movie, you can tell Meredith Wilson was a genius. Perfectly timing an extended sequence of syncopated speaking amongst a group of traveling salesmen bemoaning Harold Hill for giving all of them a bad name. The sequence goes on for more than 5 minutes, all of it done to a beat, and it really is quite remarkable. As the train the group is riding pulls into the next town, River City, Iowa, Harold Hill, who was sitting right in their midst the entire time, disembarks, ready to conquer another tiny hamlet. River City is the quintessential small town; extremely conservative, stubborn, and unhappily content with how the town is run. Its mayor is a pompous blowhard named George Shinn, who freqently mispronounces words, and his wife is an obnoxious browbeater, who with her gaggle of ladies resemble a flock of clucking hens (which Wilson brilliantly realizes later in the film when Hill has them sing together). The only one in town with a mind of her own is Marian, the pretty librarian who on the outside is buttoned up and stand offish, but on the inside is a romantic yearning for her white knight. Marian is an outcast in the town for allowing children to read the classics, which are chock full of vice and sin, and initially Hill uses this to his advantage. Relying on the town's intense fear of sin, he convinces them that the new pool hall is the first step towards the downfall of civilization in the rousing number "Trouble". The answer to the rampant degredation: a boys band, of course.

The plan going well, Hill turns his attention to other matters, namely winning over the beautiful Marian. She warms to him after Hill befriends young Winthrop, her troubled younger brother with a bad speech problem played by an 8 year old Ron Howard with a full head of red hair. Hill also ingratiates himself with the rest of the town by doing other good civic deeds: keeping town troublemaker Tommy out of trouble by putting him to work as the band's leader and organizing the four constantly bickering town elders into a barbershop quartet. The entire town is so excited by the prospect of the band (especially after Hill so vividly convinces them of it with the show stopping number "76 Trombones") and Hill is so smooth, that they continually neglect to check his references or even to ask anything specific of the man. At first Marian was suspicious of him, to the extent that she did some research on his purported alma mater, "Gary, Indiana, Conservatory of Music, Class of 'aught ten!", but soon she too falls under his spell. It is not until an anvil salesman comes to town and confirms Marian's initial doubts that Hill's scheme is foiled. Hill makes a break for the train station, but cannot bring himself to leave Marian, and the rest of the town that he has gron extremely fond of. Marian speaks up on behalf of Hill, imploring the town to forgive the man who, despite lying to them, also created a genuine air of kindness and compassion while he was in town. The town reluctantly forgives Hill, who agrees to stay on as band leader. The film ends with the band playing horribly, but the boys' parents are so proud that the clueless band, to their ears, segues into a tremendous orchestra, which Hill gallantly leads down the street. Perhaps the greatest compliment that can be bestowed upon "The Music Man" is that "The Simpsons" greatest episode in their long run was a direct parody of the classic film, with a con man trying to convince the citizens of Springfield that they need a monorail. That episode is truly classic, as is the film which inspired it.

One, Two, Three

I thought "His Girl Friday" was the fastest machine gun-style screenplay I had ever seen done on film. I was wrong. Billy Wilder and I.A.L. Diamond topped them, going to almost ludicrous (but always hilarious) extremes in their 1961 film "One, Two, Three". Bringing new meaning to the term "everything but the kitchen sink" (actually, this screenplay includes even that), Wilder and Diamond's screenplay leaves you breathless after watching it. Set in Berlin, with the Wall playing a very significant role, in the late 1950's, the film concerns C.R. MacNamara (played brilliantly by consummate professional James Cagney) who is trying desperately to scheme his way into a promotion for Coca Cola. When he learns that his boss' daughter will be staying with him in Berlin for a few weeks he sees this as his opportunity to impress, that is until she marries a Communist. On the verge of losing his job and his wife, Mac hatches an elaborate plan to convince the parents their new son in-law is a good match for their partying daughter, that is, after he has had the young man jailed to initially dispose of him. The plot is frenzied, and the entire cast is surprisingly up to the task. Not one actor or actress in this film suffers from the frenetically paced screenplay, and the final 30-40 minutes of the film, where Mac's plan is put into motion is a tour de force for not only Cagney, but everyone else involved. Billy Wilder made many classics throughout his career, and this is one of, if not the, most underrated of them all.

As the film begins, Mac is a bored executive angling for the top spot. He has a cushy job which he does well, lives a cushy life, and has a gorgeous secretary (literally, damn!). But he still resents the fact that he was passed over for promotion over ten years before and has been working his way back up since. When his boss tells him his daughter is coming, a real southern belle named appropriately Scarlett, and that he must host her and not let her run off with any men, Mac only sees opportunity. However he soon realizes that keeping the flirty Scarlett under control is going to be harder than he anticipated. When she blissfully informs Mac that she married a card carrying member of the Communist party, he sees his dreams of a promotion go up in smoke. He shrewdly arranges to have the Commie (an angry young man named Otto Piffl) arrested for distributing Capitalist propaganda, until Scarlett again blissfully informs everyone she is having his baby! Now Mac must really start thinking, but not before bemoaning "Mother of Mercy, is this the end of Rico?" (in one of the film's three amazing references to Cagney's gangster movie past). He sneaks into East Berlin with his top assistant and gorgeous secretary, and after a night of partying, is able to make a mad dash back to West Berlin with Otto. The young lovers are reunited, but Scarlett's parents are coming to town, leaving Mac with only a few hours to turn Otto into a dignified Western gentleman, which Otto steadfastly opposes.

As the final hours count down (with reminders and tightening of the pacing brought about by the chime of an obnoxious American cuckoo clock) Mac seemingly involves everyone in West Berlin in his plot to transform Otto. He purchases him clothing, a wedding ring, hats, shoes, a car, a fake royal father, a family crest, everything. He does all this while dodging the MPs who begin sniffing around after getting wind of Mac's stealing Otto back across the East/West border. One of the MPs, after getting brushed off by Mac, responds with a flawless Cagney impression, complete with sneer and brush-off-of-the-lapels-motion Cagney made famous in his gangster films such as "The Public Enemy" and "Angels With Dirty Faces" nearly 30 years prior. (The last of the three great references comes when Otto dares give up the whole ordeal; Mac threatens him with a grapefruit to the face and that calsm him down) At first Otto fights Mac over every little point, cherishing his Communist upbringing, but finally he is cowed by the relentless Mac and his rat-a-tat-tat barking of orders. Finally the entire group meets Scarlett's parents at the airport, Otto plays the part well enough, and Mac is rewarded with his promotion--not to London, that goes to the new favored son Otto(!); instead Mac is given a job in America, which is what his wife wanted all along. Billy Wilder was the king of cynical comedy and this film is no different, as he mercilessly pokes fun at Communism, East Berlin, Russia, etc (a fact given greater significance considering Wilder had fled Nazi Germany 30 years earlier), but also skewers American/Western capitalism as well. Leaving no subject unscathed it is no surprise that this film is absolutely hilarious, and is a true showcase for James Cagney, the great actor who, though he always played the parts well, was too often pigeon holed into the tough guy-gangster role, and rarely got to display his immense comedic ability. "One, Two, Three" though is an absolute triumph, for all involved.

Swing Time

While most of the films Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers made together contained light humor, "Swing Time" is the only one that is outright hilarious. Of course it features sublime dancing and for my money, some of the greatest songs the duo (both able, but by no means great singers) ever got to sing. Just try and listen to "The Way You Look Tonight" and not fall in love with the melody, lyrics and mood it sets. The plot is typical nonsense, but the set pieces are incredible, the supporting cast is impeccable (I truly believe that is what sets this film and "Top Hat" apart from the duo's other films) and again, that music! Jerome Kern and Dorothy Fields both had very nice careers, but never reached the level of stardom acheived by George Gershwin, Irving Berlin or Cole Porter, each of whom also contributed songs to an Astaire/Rogers film, but they simply cannot match the score Kern and Fields put together for this film. But getting back to the comedy; many of their movies featured humor revolving around a mistaken identity plot (the go-to comedic trope of 1930's comedies) and Astaire and Rogers each had decent comedic timing and banter (probably the result of their vaudevillian backgrounds which would have accounted for a well rounded theatrical education), but the jokes in this film are actually laugh out loud funny, mostly thanks to the strong supporting work of Victor Moore, Helen Broderick and Eric Blore. Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers would ultimately make ten films together, but their absolute best work (not just my opinion, Rogers is on the record too) is "Swing Time".

As the film opens, Lucky Garnett is running very late to his wedding. While Astaire usually plays a confident hoofer in his movies, Lucky is fun because he is positively cocky. A born winner who gambles for a living and dances to pay the bills (an interesting twist, which the film employs several times throughout), he gets caught up in a game of craps and misses his wedding to rich socialite Margaret, whose father strongly disapproves of the union. When Lucky strolls in hours late, her father sees this as his opportunity to chew the young man out, and he does, along with the cat who hisses at him, the dog who barks, and the portrait on the wall that scowls. Ever the smooth talker, Lucky convinces the father and his fiancee that he was simply seeing to his latest business endeavor, and that he is going to New York to make $25,000, after which time he will return to marry Margaret. Ably dodging that bullet, Lucky and his good friend Pop sneak onto a train bound for New York, Lucky bringing nothing with him except the tuxedo he is wearing. For two con men like Lucky and Pop, that is hardly a problem. No sooner are they in New York, then Lucky has gotten himself and a pretty young lady an audition at a hot night spot. The pretty young lady is of course Ginger Rogers, playing the exasperated Penny, who in tow with her cynical friend Mabel, get caught up in the smooth charm of Lucky and the improbable charm of Pop.

After nearly costing Penny her job as dance instructor (Lucky bombs the lesson to keep talking to her, then turns it on when her imperious boss fires her, to the tune of "Pick Yourself Up"), he and Penny get the chance to audition at the club where Ricardo Romero and his orchestra are playing. "Ricky" is in love with Penny though and refuses to play for them, so Lucky and Pop take matters into their own hands and in a high stakes game of high card, win Romero's contract from shady nightclub owner Dice Raymond. Lucky and Penny are a huge success and are given top billing, but Lucky knows when he makes $25,000 he will be expected to go home and marry Margaret, so he keeps drawing out their engagements, as well as the blossoming romance between he and Penny. Penny perfectly sums up her frustration with the hot and cold Lucky in the song "A Fine Romance", which offers Rogers a rare opportunity to get some laughs at Astaire's expense. Everything falls apart though when Dice Raymond strong arms Pop into giving up the contract to Romero's orchestra, followed immediately by Margaret suddenly showing up in New York and walking in on him and Penny. This being a silly musical though, everything gets worked out: the contract ends up back in the hands of its original owner, who insists that Lucky and Penny dance together, and Margaret tells him she only came to New York to call the wedding off. The foursome now finally together, with no secrets between them, "Swing Time" ends, and the career of Astaire and Rogers, while still in tact for several more years, would only be going down from this point on. But remember "Swing Time" as the way they looked "that" night.