Queen Christina (1933)

Garbo stars in this provocative and very likeable film loosely based on the life of Queen Christina of Sweden.  Christina was never cut out to be a proper woman, and lived most of her life as men did in her time; her clothes were rough, but her intellect was sharp, and she made no apologies for doing things her way.  Her father, King Gustavus, insisted that she be reared as a "prince", and his death brought her to the throne as the "Girl King". 

In time-tested Hollywood fashion, the fascinating life of the real Queen Christina is changed, creating a love interest who moves her enough to abdicate the throne.  In reality, she abdicates due to a desire to study her secret Catholic beliefs more fully.  Most of the film veers off course from this point, tailoring history to serve the bedroom-eyed Garbo and her lover, the affable and breezy John Gilbert.  She specifically requested Gilbert for this movie, and he does not disappoint.  I've said it before and I'll say it again, the fact that his career crashed and burned is one of the sorrows of cinema. 

The first half of Queen Christina is rife with lines and moments that could only have been realized in a pre-Code.   Garbo is the perfect actress for this gender-bending role, dashing off lines like this with believeable intensity and ardor:

Chancellor:  But, your Majesty, you cannot die an old maid!

Queen Christina:  I have no intention to, Chancellor.  I shall die a bachelor!

The second half of the film follows a more traditional course of hearts and flowers and romance.  But still, Garbo is strong, fiercely independent, to the last frame of the picture:

I give this one: 

Tol'able Richard

When Nasimova urged him to be an actor
so long ago,
did she see Cheng Huan's tears in his eyes?

It is the way of life
for certain names to be lost in the folds of time;
his should not be one of them.

Richard Barthelmess

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