“Aw, pluck him, he’s a
pansy!”
Chanteuse takes up with a
limp boxer and puts moxie in him.
“Cookin’ Breakfast for
the One I Love”, aped by a callboy at the very swank nightspot where she’s the
top act, “like a swan that is dying.”
The champ gets a nose job
and woos a floozy.
A return match flattens
his beezer and him.
Nevertheless, he wins a
private bout and swings back to the chanteuse.
Fanny Brice, Robert
Armstrong, décor by William Cameron Menzies.
Whoopee!
Goldwyn and Ziegfeld (who presents the squaw attired in
heavenly creations).
Cowboys and cowgirls join at a fork in the trail, the hypochondriac on
a frenetic rest cure (who of course is Harold Lloyd in Why Worry?) has a
nurse named Custer, Mary Custer.
Three cinematographers (Garmes, Rennahan, Toland) have this in
Technicolor (two-strip).
“Look, Jewish traffic cops!”
The suitor has a drop of Indian blood, the girl’s father forbids.
Sheriff Bob Wells means to have her.
Mr. Underwood, “a nervous man”, returns to his ranch.
The Goldwyn Girls, arranged by Busby Berkeley (Stuart Heisler
editing).
A foundling, as Mr. Oscar Wilde says, Mr. Eddie Cantor inducted into
the tribe, hoofing and warbling.
Dear Mr. Prohack
The senior official in the Treasury, who holds the purse strings of
the nation, comes into money and is nearly swept off his feet.
Crowther (New York Times), who knew nothing of such things,
calls it “a quaint little British effort”.
A very brilliant comedy that culminates in a fever dream whilst
listening to “Idylls of the King” on the Third Programme, the technique
is very advanced and altogether remarkable, Ken Russell’s late style is
prefigured.
Economically, this is related to the military snafu in Val Guest’s Further
Up the Creek.
It ends in a knighthood and a substantial benefit to the government.