Coquette (1929)

Hello and welcome to another episode of "How Much Can We Overact?"  Today's contestant:  little Mary Pickford!  

Mary won the 1930 Academy Award for her performance, proving that the judges that year were heavily swayed and/or hitting the bathtub gin.  She is terrible.  Even if you take away the fact that it was her first talkie, and technology certainly wasn't up to par yet (everyone sounds like goats)...it was still an awful picture.  Mary is almost a caricature of herself, overcompensating for the new format with ridiculously exaggerated facial expressions and movements.  She hadn't learned "talkie" acting yet, and it shows badly.  However, her costars fare no better - a very young Johnny Mack Brown, as her star-crossed love interest, is stilted and uncomfortable - and the plot itself presents Mary as a teenaged flirt, which is a bit of a stretch (though she does try her hardest). Also, what accent was that?! 

Watch it for historical value, count how many times she purses her lips, and if you enjoy it more than I did, please let me know. 

I give this one: 

The Passion of Joan of Arc (1928)

There is nothing I can say about this film that can express how phenomenal, how moving, how incredibly beautiful it is.  Extremely ahead of its time, foreshadowing work by Fellini; Dreyer's use of almost constant closeups is unnerving and highly effective.

Renee Falconetti gives a raw and unearthly performance as the Maid of Orleans.  This was her first and last role, and I can see why - it is emotionally destroying.  Only the fact that I was watching this at home, with its ambient distractions, kept me from dissolving completely into anguish.

To say this is highly recommended is a massive understatement.  Simply one of the best films ever made.

I give this one:

 

Madame X

So many years of swallowing your dreams and being smothered by Mumsie;

the doctors removed your blockage
but couldn't get it all -
perhaps because they neglected your spirit?

Your life provided much inspiration
for your tragedies - sorrow and
frustration and shattered desires...

Polly, no wonder you couldn't breathe.

Pauline Frederick

His Majesty, the American

Oh Douglas Fairbanks!  Has there ever been
A name which conjures up such suave finesse?
You were like nothing else they'd ever seen,
Your wit and humor bright and effortless;
Add in your strength and athlete's nimble air
And there was born a modern Musketeer -
So likeable that even an affair
With Mary made the audiences cheer.
As Robin Hood, or Baghdad's swarthy Thief
You made a genre single-handedly,
The "costume picture" to this day is strong -
Just one part of your lasting legacy.
Through ninety years, the public you've delighted...
It wasn't only artists you united!

Douglas Fairbanks

Adults Only Double Feature! - The Pace That Kills (1935) / Assassin of Youth (1937)

The Pace That Kills aka Cocaine Fiends (1935)

Question for you:  if the person giving you "headache powders" insists they must be snorted to work, wouldn't that raise, I don't know, RED FLAGS?!

Lois January (whose claim to fame these days is as Dorothy's manicurist, turning her frown into a smile) plays Jane Bradford, a naive small-town girl lured into the downward spiral of cocaine by a smooth-talking man (Noel Madison); her big-city brother Eddie (Dean Benton) is suffering the same fate at the hands of a beautiful girl (Sheila Manners).  The picture gets weird, with a protracted nightclub scene featuring some dubious "talent":

Frank Collins, the Singing Waiter.  Surprisingly, this was his only film credit.

It all goes to hell in a handbasket at the end, with the nogoodniks getting their due and Jane sacrificing her future in order for Eddie to have one again.  There was one scene that made me sit up: a complete ripoff of Tallulah Bankhead's touching "leaving for the drugstore" from Faithless.  Nice attempt to lend a bit of pathos to the story, but it just didn't work.

Scorecard:  crime, drug use, violence, prostitution, sex, unwed pregnancy, suicide, bad nightclub acts

Six Degrees of Ten Nights in a Barroom:  Sheila Manners 

---

Assassin of Youth aka The Marihuana Menace aka Miss Gulch's Doppleganger (1937)

I was impressed by this one - it actually had a plot!  Not a feasible one, mind you, but it's the thought that counts.  Joan Barry (Luana Walters, who found work in mostly unbilled parts until she drank herself to death at age 50) plays a girl who must stay "good" in order to inherit her grandmother's fortune; she's faced at every turn by the dangers of her fast-living cohorts, namely Linda Clayton (Fay McKenzie), who is actively trying to knock Joan off her pedestal.  Why?  You'll have to watch the picture.  Undercover pedophile reporter Art Brighton strives to steer her out of their clutches before it's too late. 

The most fascinating part of the picture for me was discovering Fern Emmett.  How in the world can there be another person that looks, sounds, and laughs exactly like Margaret Hamilton?!  According to her page at Allmovie.com the resemblance was so close that even historians mistakenly lump their film credits together.  It didn't help that Ms Emmett spent quite a few scenes putting around on a scooter, reminiscent of another Wizard of Oz moment:

Mommy, please leave the light on...

Scorecard:  drug use, nudity, alcohol, violence, sex

Six Degrees of Ten Nights in a Barroom: Fern Emmett and Henry Roquemore, Emmett's real life husband

Billy Haines Musical

Billy and Cranberry celebrate.  But is it too soon?

There's a new musical off-Broadway combining the life of William Haines with the story of twentysomethings trying to find their way (and themselves) in New York.  I have no idea how much of Billy makes it into the actual play, but reviews so far are mixed.  I'd love to hear from anyone who has the chance to see it!

Looking for Billy Haines

Upperworld (1934)

I'd noticed this was on TCM and, not having seen many Warren William pictures, decided at the last minute to tape it.   Last night I sat down to watch it while I worked on Silent Stanzas, and wound up scribbling notes for my review:

"Ginger is effervescent!"
"Drooling over the art deco!"
"Shake your Powder Puff!"

It started off as a rather lighthearted movie, going in the direction of so many pre-Codes: man is married, wife is neglectful, man finds consolation elsewhere - but then it took a sharp dramatic turn.  Ginger Rogers is just right as Lily Linda, the "elsewhere" - bright and lovely but with that slightly hard edge.  I was rather underwhelmed by Mary Astor, who spent the majority of the picture all but ignoring her husband and begrudging her son Tommy (Dickie Moore) for basically being a child; by the big apology/come-around at the end, I was indifferent. 

Warren William, however...now I know why he has so many admirers.  Even in a paint-by-numbers drama such as this, he exhibits such subtle control over his emotions...they play across his face like shadows, barely there and then gone.  You feel each one as he does, and at the apex of the story, your heart aches for him - even though he's been less than virtuous. 

My final note:  "Andy Devine gives his girlfriend used lipsticks.  Ew."

I give this one: