James Stewart Blogathon: The FBI Story

 

THE FBI STORY (1959) is a product of its time, as conservative a movie made in the 1950s or any other decade. The FBI is portrayed as the finest friend the American citizen has, fighting against the Ku Klux Klan, those who would defraud Native Americans, gangsters, Nazis and, of course, Communists. I'm no  expert on American crime, but I know the FBI was hardly the halo-wearing bureau as presented here.

Alas, while THE FBI STORY is not one of Jimmy Stewart's most memorable films, it does utilize many aspects of the famed Stewart persona, and provides a preview of his “befuddled” father character he would play in the upcoming decade.

With Stewart's FBI special agent Chip Hardesty character guiding us through many of the most memorable crimes and outlaws of the 20^th century, there's a little something for every Jimmy Stewart fan.

You want Stewart as an upstanding lawman upholding American values? You got it here.

 

You like seeing Jimmy Stewart out west? Then you will likely enjoy a segment with Hardesty in Oklahoma investigating the murders of members of the Osage Indians and a plot to steal their oil-rich land. While the calendar says 1920s, it may as well be Stewart in the Old West, what with crooked bankers and shady lawyers.

Others may enjoy watching Stewart as family man. The family scenes get lots of footage with wife Vera Miles sometimes resentful, but ultimately accepting, of her husband's job and the responsibilities that come with it.

The casting of Miles is interesting because it gives us a what-if idea of what their scenes in VERTIGO (1958) would look like if Miles hadn't gotten pregnant and been replaced by Kim Novak. There's a scene involving a family crisis with close-ups of Stewart comforting Miles and one can't help but think of VERTIGO's many memorable close-ups.

It may be one of the most fortuitous pregnancies in movie history because as much as I try, I can't see Vera Miles as Madeline (or Judy). Because THE FBI STORY came one year after VERTIGO, I think it's easier to imagine the VERTIGO possibilities than the other Stewart-Miles pairing in THE MAN WHO SHOT LIBERTY VALANCE (1962), glamor-wise the complete antithesis of VERTIGO. (I find Novak so perfectly cast I can't imagine anyone else in the role.)

Stewart's scenes as the father trying to connect with his children look ahead to his father roles in such family friendly fare as TAKE HER SHE' S MINE (1963), MR. HOBBS TAKES A VACATION (1962) and DEAR BRIGITTE (1965). Personally, this is my least favorite Stewart persona, though I do enjoy the Mr. Hobbs film. The family scenes are the worst part of THE FBI STORY and help make the film an almost unendurable 149 minutes long.

They also provide what is, for me, the most painful scene in Stewart's career, where Chip Hardesty, who has fought every type of villain under the sun, throws a hissy fit because one of his kids used all the tissue paper to make an angel costume for the school's Christmas pageant. Hardesty mopes, yells and complains and its embarrassing to watch. The scene seems to go on forever and it took awhile for me to re-adjust my sympathy back to the Chip Hardesty character.

THE FBI STORY was directed by Mervyn LeRoy, and, alas, his best days were behind him. I'm not going to knock LeRoy, who directed several favorite films of mine, including two 1930s classics, I AM A FUGITIVE FROM A CHAIN GANG (1932) and GOLD DIGGERS OF 1933. Equal parts scrappy, biting and perceptive, these movies capture the 1930s as well as any documentary could, while being supremely entertaining. But none of the pep of these movies can be found in THE FBI STORY. A lumbering script, based on a best-selling 1956 novel by Don Whitehead doesn't help, but I'm not blaming LeRoy. He had less freedom on the film then any he did in his career, what with being under the steely glare of FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover for the length of the production.

According to “Official and Confidential: The Secret Life of J. Edgar Hoover” by Anthony Summers (G.P. Putnams Sons, 1993), Hoover cultivated Jack Warner for years. Agents would greet Warner at airports and arranged quick exits through the airport. If any studio was going to produce a love letter to the FBI, it was Warner Bros. Hoover provided THE FBI STORY with two special agents as technical advisors on government expense and five additional agents appeared in the film as agents. I'm guessing that in this case, technical advisors equals spies.

(The Warner Bros. TV series, THE FBI was also produced under close scrutiny by the agency. Hoover read all the scripts and an agent was on the set at all times to ensure proper procedures were shown, scripts were never deviated from and the bureau was always shown in the most positive light.)

Hoover could not have been more pleased with the film. He wrote to director LeRoy:

“Dear Mervyn: As I told you yesterday, words cannot express my complete delight at seeing THE FBI STORY. I felt certain the picture would be a great credit to the FBI but what I saw and heard was beyond my greatest expectations. Your treatment of the development and growth of our bureau, interwoven with a warm family story, will have a great impact on the American public. It was down with great warmth, humility and dignity...It can be truly be said you are one of us.”

According to “Puppetmaster: The Secret Life of J. Edgar Hoover” by Richard Hack (New Millennium Press, 2004), Hoover received $50,000 in unreported income for his services on the film as a technical consultant. No wonder he loved the film so much.

I've always thought THE FBI STORY came about due to the enormous success of THE UNTOUCHABLES television show, but that show premiered in 1959 as well. There seemed to be some sort of nostalgia boom in the late 1950s and early 1960s for the 1920s, especially its lawless years.

While THE FBI STORY shows the bureau tracking down Pretty Boy Floyd, Ma Barker, John Dillinger and Machine Gun Kelly, each of these famous characters, and others, received their own movies. Mickey Rooney shot up the screen as BABY FACE NELSON (1957), Rod Steiger was a memorable AL CAPONE (1959), Charles Bronson was a violent MACHINE GUN KELLY (1958), Lurene Tuttle scowled her way through MA BARKER'S KILLER BROOD (1960), Dorothy Provine was no Faye Dunaway in THE BONNIE PARKER STORY (1958), John Ericson played PRETTY BOY FLOYD (1960), and Ray Danton impressed in THE RISE AND FALL OF LEGS DIAMOND (1960). Even Robert Taylor got into the act as a 1920s gangland lawyer in the superb PARTY GIRL (1958). And of course, we can't forget Josephine and Daphne hiding from gangsters in SOME LIKE IT HOT (1959).

Sociologists more familiar than me with this fascination with the 1920s could provide a better explanation than me. Most of the above are of the B movie variety and have much more energy and zip than the often lethargic, though higher budget, THE FBI STORY.

But for its use of many facets of past Jimmy Stewart characterizations, and the first of his father vs. the generation gap characterizations, THE FBI STORY is worth watching for the Stewart admirer.

This post is part of the James Stewart Blogathon hosted by the Classic Film & TV Cafe. You can view the complete blogathon schedule here: http://www.classicfilmtvcafe.com/2014/03/announcing-james-stewart-blogathon.html)

Lots of great films to be covered by a lot of terrific writers. It's going to be a great week.

Firecreek

In any discussion of Sergio Leone’s “Once Upon A Time in the West” (1969) there is mention how shocked audiences must have been to see Henry Fonda’s outlaw character gun down a family in cold blood.

But audiences who saw “Firecreek” the year before probably weren’t surprised at all. In “Firecreek” Fonda plays another outlaw who shoots an unarmed James Stewart in the street and lynches a man in a barn. But “Firecreek” is no “Once Upon A Time in the West.”

“Firecreek” was the first pairing of long-time friends James Stewart and Henry Fonda, not counting a short skit in “On Our Merry Way” (1948). It’s odd that it took long for the two American icons to be cast together and even odder that they were cast as adversaries here.

Firecreek is the name of the title town, one of the saddest western towns I’ve ever seen. It’s more a collection of shacks and fallen down buildings – I’m not sure you can even call them buildings. The town doesn’t have a regular sheriff but farmer Johnny Cobb (James Stewart) takes over lawman responsibilities when needed, for an additional $2 a month.

He’s needed when a gang of outlaws led by Larkin (Henry Fonda) ride into town and rest for bit while Larkin recovers from a bullet wound. His gang includes familiar faces like Jack Elam, James Best and Gary Lockwood. They take great interest in the town’s women, and for such a small town, the town of Firecreek is home to more than a few attractive ladies, including Inger Stevens, Barbara Luna and Brooke Bundy.

There’s a lot of discussion about what worth’s fighting for. Sheriff Cobb elects to stand up to the outlaws to the dismay of several of the townspeople. Dean Jagger is the most cynical of the neighbors, calling Firecreek’s inhabitants losers, and such an unattractive town that it only attracts losers and no one else. To his credit, Jagger’s character includes himself in the loser category.

But in the great western tradition of a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do, a tentative Cobb straps on his guns and orders the Larkin gang out of town or else.

It’s all pretty cynical, and it makes for a long 104 minutes. Despite my love of the stars and the genre, I had never seen “Firecreek.” It didn’t get good reviews when it came out, with many critics saying it was just another western. Sometimes time has a way of making the once ordinary seem extraordinary today, but alas, for me, “Firecreek” reeks of the routine.

It’s not a total washout. The supporting cast is strong. In addition to the fine folk above, there’s also Ed Begley and Jay C. Flippen, who are always a pleasure to watch. Cinematography is by the great William Clothier who always makes his westerns look gritty while still highlighting the great natural beauty of the countryside.

I was fascinated by that town though. I had to rack my brains to think of a drearier western town than this one, and it came to me, and to my surprise it was another Henry Fonda film. Burt Kennedy’s “Welcome to Hard Times” (1967) offers one of the most depressing looking western towns in movie history, but it’s a much better film than “Firecreek.” Fonda made both a year apart, and I wonder what he thought, going from one decrepit western set to another?

Director is Vincent McEveety, best known for his work on various live action Disney films. There was nothing here that made me notice his contributions. It’s adequate, nothing more.

I guess that’s the word for “Firecreek” – adequate. It passes the time adequately enough, but nothing more. I don’t think I’ll be returning to this one too often.

Stewart and Fonda would fare together a little better with “The Cheyenne Social Club” (1970), a moderately entertaining western comedy where cowboy Stewart inherits a bordello.

CMBA Hitchcock Blogathon: Rope

“Rope” (1948) concerns two young intellectuals who are also killers. Not just any kind of killers, but thrill killers. They see murder as an intellectual exercise. They want to not only experience what it feels like to murder someone, but to see if they can get away with it.

To see if they can get away with it. It’s similar to what Alfred Hitchcock tried to do with “Rope.” Like his thrill killer subjects, he wanted to try something new to see if he could get away with it.

Get away with what?

“Rope” was based on a 1929 play by “Gaslight” and “Hangover Square” author Patrick Hamilton. Hitchcock wanted the movie audience to feel they were watching a play. That meant no cutting. With this decision in hand, Hitchcock set forth to undertake one of the most audacious films in his long and illustrious career.

Authors Robert A. Harris and Michael S. Lasky explain in their book “The Films of Alfred Hitchcock” (Citadel Press, 1976): “He shot Rope with no actual cuts and instead filmed ten-minute takes, the maximum amount of film (one thousand feet) that a camera will hold. Planning was necessary in defining just how the camera would move and how to create the effect of no cuts. The latter was obtained by closing and opening each ten-minute take in close up behind an actor or object so that they would create a solid texture on the screen. The total effect of Rope was of one continuous shot, the length of the film being the actual time of the action in the story.

“The single setting for the production had walls and furniture with silent wheels which could be moved away quietly while the camera was moving from place to place. A color backdrop skyline of New York was realistic. Clouds, made of spun glass, would move and the sky turned from the orange of sunset to the black and twinkling lights of night.”

In addition to the film’s technical challenges, it was also Hitchcock’s first color film. An odd choice for a color debut, since it all takes place on one set. It was also the first of four films James Stewart and Hitchcock made together. It proved a most fruitful collaboration.

The film cost $1.5 million to produce, mainly because of the many technical problems the film engendered. Plus, Stewart’s salary alone was $300,000. But the film earned its money back and even made a small profit.

While the no editing approach is interesting, it is somewhat limiting. To the best of my knowledge, no one ever tried to repeat this one-take approach. In that regard, “Rope” remains a most singular achievement.

The film opens on a New York street and we see an eagle eye’s view of people (including our beloved director, in his cameo appearance) scurrying past an elegant apartment building. We then track to a window followed by a choked off scream. We then see two men with a third standing listlessly between them with a rope around his neck. At first glance it looks like a rehearsal of some kind (is Hitchcock playing tricks with us?), but no, its murder and the two men are then shown placing the body in a large chest.

The two are Brandon Shaw (John Dall) and Phillip Morgan (Farley Granger) who have just committed the murder just before hosting a small dinner party. Mrs. Wilson (Edith Evanson), their housekeeper and cook, is serving at the party.

Guest of honor is David Kently, a college classmate and friend of Brandon and Philip. Other guests include David’s father Henry (Sir Cedric Hardwicke), Henry’s sister-in-law Mrs. Atwater (Constance Collier), David’s fiancée Janet Walker (Joan Chandler), David’s former friend and Janet’s ex-boyfriend Kenneth Lawrence (Douglas Dick).

Late arrival is Rupert Cadell (James Stewart), the former teacher of the boys. Rupert is brilliant but has definite ideas of the superiority of some over others, and rationalizes killing the weaker elements in society.

Tension begins to rise at the party, not only at the guests’ repugnance at Rupert’s theories, but when the normally reliable David does not turn up at the party. The audience knows that David has been murdered by Brandon and Phillip and is now lying in a chest that’s being used as a buffet table for the dinner guests. Brandon finds this highly amusing and Phillip, who has shown doubts about the murder from the very beginning, begins to unravel over the course of the evening.

Rupert suspects something is up and after everyone has left, begins to bait the boys to get to the truth.

Running a crisp 80 minutes, the film is continually engrossing. Though based on a play, Hitchcock gives us two wonderful suspense sequences. Who but Hitchcock could squeeze suspense out of a stationary camera in a one-room setting with no editing?

In one, Rupert theorizes to Brandon and Phillip how the murder was committed. We don’t see the actors in the scene, only hear the actors as the camera tracks where the murder was committed, how the body was hid, how the furniture was re-arranged. The camera acts as a visual guide to Rupert’s remarks.

In the other, Mrs. Wilson cleans off the makeshift buffet table, removing the candles and dishes. The camera remains a stationary observer as she brings the dishes and food platters into the dining room in the background, and then returns with a stack of books brought from the dining room back to the chest. Running several minutes long, there’s no editing, but we hear the empty babble of a cocktail party conversation, and we wait in breathless anticipation for her to open the chest and put the books back in. It’s a marvelous sequence.

Because of the Production Code, any hint of homosexuality between Brandon and Phillip is buried, but astute viewers can figure out there’s something going on between the two, especially those viewers familiar with the Leopold and Loeb case, which helped inspire “Rope.”

Leopold and Loeb were two well-to-do students at the University of Chicago who in 1924 murdered their neighbor, 14-year-old Bobby Franks, in a desire to commit the perfect crime.

Both were homosexual and both subscribed to the Nietzschean philosophy of the superman – someone who has certain “superior” qualities inherent in themselves, and thus are exempt from the laws which govern “ordinary” men.

Brandon and Phillip think they’re above the law too, and I think Rupert does too. His realization that his theories have caused Brandon and Phillip to murder their friend is beautifully played by Stewart and is one of the most underrated bits of acting in his career.

Some think that Stewart is miscast here, and there may be some truth to that. Hitchcock wanted James Mason to play Rupert and I think he would have been marvelous. With that rich, plummy voice, I think Mason could make anyone feel inferior and not worthy of living. He’s so good in those kinds of roles.

But Stewart does well enough, and I think he’s good in the confrontational scenes with John Dall and Farley Granger. I’ve always liked Dall, ever since I first witnessed his magnificent sneering in “Atlantis, the Lost Continent” (1961) on Sunday afternoon TV.

“Rope” was adapted for the screen by Hume Cronyn, though the screenplay was written by Arthur Laurents. Laurents thought Jimmy Stewart was just playing Jimmy Stewart and someone like James Mason would have suggested a romantic relationship between the teacher and one, or both, of his students, thus giving the film even more of an edge.

Like a lot of Hitchcock movies, the ghoulishness is lightened somewhat by some dry comedy. The dithery Mrs. Atwater can never remember the names of plays or movies she’s seen, though she recently adored the movie she recently saw with Cary Grant and Ingrid Bergman. I’m assuming she means Hitchcock’s “Notorious” (1946). And the alert Mrs. Wilson, with her snarky comments, shows she’s more on the ball than Brandon and Phillip think.

Atypical for Hitchcock, there’s no original score though a principal theme, “Perpetual Theme No. 1” by Francis Poulenec, is heard throughout the movie.

Despite its lack of editing, “Rope” remains a fascinating film. The wit of the script, performances, and Hitchcock’s unfailing visual eye make this one a winner.

There’s lots of good reading about other Hitchcock films in the Classic Film Association’s Alfred Hitchcock blogathon. Films and their sites are below. I’m looking forward to reading them and encourage others to do so as well, especially if you have a favorite Hitchcock title listed here.

1. The Birds – Classic Film & TV Café http://classic-film-tv.blogspot.com/

2. Dial M for Murder – True Classics: The ABCs of Film http://trueclassics.wordpress.com/

3. The Lady Vanishes – MacGuffin Movies http://macguffinmovies.wordpress.com/

4. Lifeboat – Classicfilmboy’s Movie Paradise http://www.classicfilmboy.com/

5. The Man Who Knew Too Much – Reel Revival http://reelrevival.blogspot.com/

6. Mr. and Mrs. Smith – Carole & Co. http://community.livejournal.com/carole_and_co/

7. North By Northwest – Bette’s Classic Movie Blog http://bettesmovieblog.blogspot.com/

8. Notorious – Twenty Four Frames http://twentyfourframes.wordpress.com/

9. The Pleasure Garden – Thrilling Days of Yesteryear http://www.thrillingdaysofyesteryear.blogspot.com/

10. Rear Window – Java’s Journey http://javabeanrush.blogspot.com/

11. Rebecca­ – ClassicBecky’s Film and Literary Review http://www.classicbeckybrainfood.blogspot.com/

12. Rope – Kevin’s Movie Corner http://kevinsmoviecorner.blogspot.com/

13. Shadow of a Doubt - Great Entertainers Media Archive http://greatentertainersarchives.blogspot.com/

14. The 39 Steps – Garbo Laughs http://garbolaughs.wordpress.com/

15. Three Classic Hitchcock Killers – The Lady Eve’s Reel Life http://eves-reel-life.blogspot.com/

16. Torn Curtain - Via Margutta 51 http://www.via-51.blogspot.com/

17. The Trouble with Harry – Bit Part Actors http://bitactors.blogspot.com/

18. Vertigo – Noir and Chick Flicks http://dawnschickflicks.blogspot.com/

19. The Wrong Man – The Movie Projector http://movieprojector.blogspot.com/

The Stratton Story

With no baseball to watch during the All-Star Game break, and with the White Sox happily, if tenuously, in first place, it seemed like a good time to watch “The Stratton Story” (1949), the bio pic starring James Stewart as White Sox pitcher Monty Stratton who waged a valiant comeback after having a leg amputated.

The strong message of overcoming a physical handicap struck a huge chord with post-WWII veterans who lost limbs during the war. “The Stratton Story” was one of 1949’s most successful films and earned an Academy Award for Best Writing, Motion Picture Story.

This is an absolutely wonderful movie, featuring one of Stewart’s best performances (which is saying something). It was, to date, Stewart’s biggest post-war hit. Don’t forget, “It’s A Wonderful Life” (1946) was not a success when it was first released.

Stratton himself served as technical advisor and was at Stewart’s side throughout filming, helping him with his pitching technique. Stratton said of the film, “Stewart did a great job of playing me, in a picture which I figure was about as true to life as they could make it.” Which I think is about the most you can expect from a Hollywood biography.

Monty Stratton is found pitching in a Texas league game by former catcher Barney Wile (Frank Morgan). An early scene between the two made me reverse the DVD several times to make sure I heard what I heard.

Wile asks Stratton if he’s ever thought about pitching in the majors. Stratton tells him it’s all he ever thinks about. Wile then says, “Hell, what are you wasting your time here for?”

I was pretty surprised to hear this (admittedly mild) expletive and reversed the DVD to make sure I heard it correctly. It sure sounds like that’s what Wile says. Wonder how that got past the Hays Office? Maybe they thought Wile said, “Well, what are your wasting your time here for?” Anyway, it sure sounds like “Hell” to me.

No matter, because Barney and Monty convince Ma Stratton (Agnes Moorehead, in a wonderful performance) to let Monty leave the Texas farm and travel to California to try out with the Chicago White Sox during spring training. She grudgingly agrees and the two set off.

White Sox manager Jimmy Dykes, playing himself (Dykes was the White Sox’s manager from 1934-1946), isn’t pleased to see Barney Wile, but grudgingly agrees to see the new prospect. There’s raw talent in Monty Stratton’s throwing arm, but it needs to be nurtured. He’s sent to the minor leagues in Omaha, where he meets future wife Ethel (June Allyson) on a blind date.

Stratton soon makes it to the Big Leagues, where he becomes the leading pitcher in the American League. In 1938 while hunting, Stratton accidentally shoots himself in the right leg. The leg requires amputation below the knee.

Stratton is bitter and angry, despite the devotion of his wife and mother. He finally comes around when he sees his infant son attempt to walk. The scene of the infant and Stratton learning to walk together is beautifully done, as is the later reconciliation scene between the formerly embittered Monty and Ethel. Stewart and Allyson were a popular screen team, also appearing together in “The Glenn Miller Story” (1954) and “Strategic Air Command” (1955), two of Stewart’s most popular pictures of the 1950s.

Walking again with an artificial leg, Stratton attempts a comeback in the minor leagues. This entire game sequence is riveting, as Stratton slowly gets his game back after a couple of bad pitches. With the game on the line, the opposing team really plays dirty and start bunting, knowing the crippled Stratton will be unable to get off the pitcher’s mound in time to throw out the batter at first base.

Director of “The Stratton Story” was Sam Wood, and this was his penultimate film. Wood gets a bad rap among serious film critics. I’m not sure how this started but I suspect there are a variety of reasons. He was the butt of a lot of Groucho’s jokes during the making of “A Night at the Opera” (1935). Groucho famously said, “You can’t make a director out of Wood.” I’ve read where many attribute the success of the marvelous “King’s Row” (1941) to production designer William Cameron Menzies and composer Erich Wolfgang Korngold and not to Wood. He was also an arch conservative, which doesn’t go over well with the liberal critical establishment.

But his name graces the credits of many great films, including “Goodbye Mr. Chips” (1939), “Kitty Foyle” (1940) (he and Ginger Rogers both won Oscars for that one) and the wonderful “The Devil and Miss Jones” (1941), among many others. In addition to “A Night at the Opera” he also directed “A Day at the Races” (1937). I know I’m suppose to prefer the Paramount Marx Bros. flicks, but I absolutely adore these two M-G-M films, and think they represent some of the Brothers’ best work.

It’s likely that Wood was assigned “The Stratton Story” since he also directed the other great baseball tearjerker, “The Pride of the Yankees” (1942) with Gary Cooper as Lou Gehrig. Like that film, the sentiment in “The Stratton Story” is honestly earned, its strong emotions are rooted in reality, and the situations are never overplayed to maudlin excess. I think Wood is an underrated director, and “The Stratton Story” is one of his best.

Today, it remains a film that can be enjoyed by all. If it has any flaws, it’s that the exterior scenes on the farm are easily identifiable as being filmed on a soundstage, and some of the pitching scenes look like Stewart standing in front of a process screen. But when the performances are this good, the emotions so strong and that comeback game as breathless as a suspense sequence in a Hitchcock movie, I can easily forgive the flaws. This is the best movie I’ve seen in a long time.

And by the way, Go White Sox!

Born to Dance; Speedy

“Born to Dance” (1936) is oodles of fun to watch, 105 minutes of terrific Cole Porter songs, dancing, comedy and luscious production design in the best M-G-M style. There’s a lot of exuberance on display here, which translates into good will for the audience.

Eleanor Powell was one of the great female dancers in the movies, and she’s shown to her best advantage here. The final number is a little ditty called “Swingin’ the Jinx Away” set on the deck of a mock battleship. It runs more than 10 minutes along, boasts seemingly a hundred or so extras, but Powell commands center stage and is amazing to watch. She sports a huge grin throughout the whole number, and golly, I think she means it. In her numbers she looks like she’s having the time of her life as she taps away. With other dancers, sometimes the smiles look forced, like Ray McDonald in the “Hoe Down” number from “Babes on Broadway” (1941). But dancers like Powell and Rita Hayworth seem to attain a special glow when dancing and it’s a lot of fun to watch.

Equally enjoyable is James Stewart in one of his first movies. He exhibits a pleasant singing voice as he croons “Easy to Love” to Powell and joins the cast and crew in the exuberant “Hey, Babe, Hey” number. He kicks up his heels in the number, and appears astonished, and pleased with himself, that he’s keeping up with professional dancers like Powell and Buddy Ebsen.

The trailer on the DVD is interesting, because it highlights selections from the Porter score, but does not highlight the song that has stood the test of time, “I’ve Got You Under My Skin.” Not the swinging version known thanks to Frank Sinatra, the song here is sung at a more languid tempo by Virginia Bruce. I love the look she gives Stewart as she finishes the song, a long lingering close up of her over a champagne glass. That inviting look says more than pages of dialogue could.

“Born to Dance” is probably the best sounding of the 1930s M-G-M musicals, thanks to Alfred Newman’s musical direction. He was freelancing at this point in his career before deciding on a long-term contract with 20th Century Fox in the late 1930s. It’s fun to think what he could have bought to M-G-M, but with Lennie Hayton, Johnny Green, Conrad Salinger and others in the future, the M-G-M musical was in more than capable hands. But there’s no denying the extra oomph that Newman brings here.

There’s a riotous scene after the “Easy to Love” number when a suspicious cop (Reginald Gardiner) spies Powell dancing while Stewart air conducts the orchestra. Gardiner stops the proceedings, holds up his hands, and then proceeds to air conduct the music in a manner befitting a symphony conductor, with the music taking on the flavor of a vast symphony. Gardiner’s facial expressions are priceless here, and his great mop of hair is flying every which way as he conducts the music to an ever faster pitch.

The scene must have been popular with audiences, since the next year in the delightful Astaire musical “A Damsel in Distress” he does a similar scene, only this time with grand opera.

Any movie with Raymond Walburn as a dimwitted admiral is OK with me. There’s also an astonishing number Virginia Bruce called “Love Me, Love Me Pekingese” which has to be seen to be believed, and I mean in a good way. This love song to her favorite pooch, with accompanying approval from the lads of the U.S. Navy, is one of the many highlights of this most enjoyable movie.

Rating for “Born to Dance”: Three stars.

I also watched “Speedy” (1928), Harold Lloyd’s last silent feature, and a wonderful time capsule of a movie. Filmed on location in New York, there’s a marvelous sequence where Harold takes his girlfriend (Ann Christy) to the Coney Island amusement park for a day. It looks like a wonderful place to spend the day. I’ve heard relatives speak of the fun they used to have at Chicago’s version of Coney Island, Riverview, and think it must have been something like the Coney Island on display here.

There’s a fun cameo by Babe Ruth too, as cabbie Harold gives The Babe a cab ride from Hell. What fun to see a true baseball legend.

“Speedy” ends with a big chase scene and while it doesn’t contain the laughs and thrills that Harold gave us in “Girl Shy” (1924) or “For Heaven’s Sake” (1926) it still astonishes us with its stunt work, especially since it was filmed on actual New York streets. No soundstage work here.

What I like about a lot of Harold’s movies is he knows how to leave us laughing. Many of his films have a final scene or image that gives the audience one final laugh, sending us out on a grinning high. “Speedy” is no exception and its last image is one of Harold’s best.

Rating for “Speedy”: Three stars.