The Unknown

So now she was Joan Crawford.

She hated the name, but what was one more?
She was already a kaleidoscope of a girl,

Billie with the rough start,
whose body was her ticket
(before she even knew the cost)

Lucille, diamond-hard beauty,
eyes focused like lasers
behind a pinup smile

and now Joan, flaming youth extraordinaire.

Which one was the real her?


She smiled to herself.



"The one that would make it big."

Joan Crawford

The Doorway to Hell (1930)

See?  I can be tough too, baby.

Lew Ayres plays Louie Ricarno, crime kingpin who organizes the various gangs into one syndicate, then “quits the racket” to rest on his laurels and enjoy his new wife (Dorothy Mathews). All is not as agreeable as it seems, and as soon as Louie is gone, warfare breaks out. Best pal and right-hand man Mileaway (Jimmy Cagney, in his second movie role) does his best to keep the peace but eventually the mob lures Ricarno back through a twist with his beloved little brother Jackie (a young Leon Janney).

Interesting early talkie that suffers from poor casting: it’s obvious to even the most casual film buff that Ayres and Cagney’s roles should’ve been reversed. Ayres does a commendable job, but is a bit too pretty, a bit too gentle. He doesn’t have the coiled menace that Cagney has, the sense of danger that’s just behind everything he says or does. You can’t believe “the boys” would be afraid of him. Mileaway, now, there’s someone I wouldn’t cross. (William Wellman thought the same thing – Jimmy’s performance here got him his breakout role in The Public Enemy.)

The Doorway to Hell is slow and ponderous in spots, and needlessly wordy (Hollywood was still in love with the sound of its own voice), but it has its moments – especially those involving Jackie. Cagney is, as always, electric anytime he’s on screen, and Ayres deserves credit for a genuinely moving ending.

I give this one: 



Just a Gigolo (1931)

"Nothing says love like false identity!"

Billy Haines once again plays it devil-may-care in this disposable romantic comedy. He’s still charming as Lord Bobby Brummell, a playboy and eternal bachelor who has little faith in women’s virtue. When Lord George Hampton, his aristocrat uncle (played with proper bluster by C Aubrey Smith) purports to arrange a marriage between Bobby and a Roxy Hartley, a friend’s daughter (the lovely and birdlike Irene Purcell), he balks – then decides to pose as a gigolo in order to trick Roxy into indiscretion, therefore proving his theory correct. Of course, nothing goes as planned, and Brummell finds himself falling for Hartley despite himself. How will this end? Will Roxy discover Bobby’s plan?

Haines is a bit long in the tooth to be playing the young, impetuous nephew, but he does so with his usual mischievous humor, and he and Purcell have an oddly pleasing chemistry together. Charlotte Granville is appropriately grand as Lady Jane Hartley, Roxy’s mother (and defender of her purity). The plot has some fun, racy dialogue, and goes south towards the end – are we to truly believe Bobby wouldn’t have taken advantage of Roxy in that situation? – but is otherwise like a cup of coffee from the corner deli: light and sweet and nothing to write home about. Keep an eye out for Lilian Bond and Yola d’Avril in small but pivotal parts, and a ridiculously young Ray Milland hiding amongst the cast.

I give this one:

Prince

In his photos,
I see not a Latin lover,
not an Arab or a sheik --
but a gentle, dark-eyed man,
beautiful, intelligent,
called by Hollywood and heaven
(some consider them the same)...

Madre de Dios,
you left your image on his heart,
A cloakful of roses
for the winter of his life.

Ramon Novarro

Blonde Crazy (1931)

Welcome!  It's time for Cooking with Flappers and Flickers!  Today's recipe:

Pre-Code Perfection

Aprons on?  Okay, let's begin.  Take one wiry, winsome tough guy, who knows all the angles (and loves all the curves)...

...then add one big-eyed beauty with a smart mouth (and a slap to match)...

Mix well with a snappy plot, witty dialogue and fast-paced direction.  Set on HIGH for 79 minutes, and you will get:

Man, do those two have chemistry!  I can see why they were paired up so often.  They make the most of a crackling script about the sordid life of con men.  It's sharp, it's funny, and although a sappy ending robs it of some of its steam, it's still a textbook example of what makes Blondell, Cagney, and early 30s movies so great.  I had so much fun with this one!  Highly recommended.

I give this one: 

Denizen of the Lost City

little princess
patchwork girl
your life was like
a tilt-a-whirl
brazen bullet
speeding star
flying faster
than your car
a household name
we all should know
but yours got buried
in the snow

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Juanita Hansen

The Poor Little Rich Girl (1917)

To watch Mary Pickford is to be instantly taken by her.  You enter a world where it is perfectly feasible for a 24-year-old to play a child, and what's more -- she's more charmingly childlike than the actual children in the film.

In one of her best-loved roles, Pickford plays Gwendolyn, the girl with everything anyone could ever want...except love and companionship.  She longingly gazes at the children playing outside and struggles for the attentions of her Wall Street father and social butterfly mother.  Gwen gets herself in more than one scrape, but always her cheery innocence saves her from real trouble.  When difficulties befall the family - and a desperate situation threatens Gwen - will they be able to pull together and learn to treasure what really matters?

It's a Pickford picture, so you can probaby guess the answer.

The film never tries to be anything but a sweet little melodrama, and this honesty of approach seems almost fresh through the veil of ninety years.  Sure, it's treacly ("why do my to-morrows never come?") but due to its simplicity, it works. 

Amazingly, this was my first time watching Mary in her prime; previously I'd only seen her in Coquette (not the best way to start).  I now can see why she was America's Sweetheart.  Her eyes, her smile, every move of her hand is magic.  Like Clara Bow, she commands the screen, but in a gentle, less kinetic way (even through some very cute foot-stomping tantrums).  I am very much looking forward to the rest of her early work.

I give this one: 

---

Chris Edwards of the sublime Silent Volume reviewed this, too.  Read it here.