Category: 1932

Grand Hotel (1932, Edmund Goulding)

Grand Hotel opens with an expository sequence–director Goulding cuts between each of the film’s major players as they talk in the hotel’s telephone booths. It’s a brief, fantastic sequence, thanks to Goulding’s direction and William H. Daniels’s photography, but most importantly, Blanche Sewell’s editing. The editing of this sequence brings the viewer into the hotel, which never gets an establishing shot.

Goulding follows up that exposition with a scene in the lobby to get the present action started. There are two basic plot lines in Hotel, Greta Garbo as an unhappy ballet star and Wallace Beery as a industrial magnet down on his luck. Beery brings in a secretary (Joan Crawford) who meets a nice gentleman (John Barrymore) who is actually a hotel thief targeting Garbo. John Barrymore befriends Lionel Barrymore–their relationship in the film is consistently wonderful, anything with Lionel Barrymore (particularly he and Crawford), but the brothers Barrymore show off their talent quite a bit in their scenes together.

There’s romance, there’s tragedy, there’s humor. Lionel Barrymore and Crawford are the viewer’s way into the film–the problems of Garbo are entirely otherworldly while Beery’s such a creep no one would want to identify with him–and it turns out John Barrymore isn’t so foreign either.

Great acting, a fast script and simply wonderful filmmaking from Goulding, Daniels and Sewell. There’s a freshness and imagination not just to Goulding’s composition, but how he moves the camera around the actors.

Grand Hotel is a masterful, magnificent film.

4/4★★★★

CREDITS

Directed by Edmund Goulding; screenplay by William Absalom Drake, based on a novel by Vicki Baum; director of photography, William H. Daniels; edited by Blanche Sewell; music by Charles Maxwell; produced by Irving Thalberg; released by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer.

Starring Greta Garbo (Grusinskaya), John Barrymore (The Baron), Joan Crawford (Flaemmchen), Wallace Beery (General Director Preysing), Lionel Barrymore (Otto Kringelein), Jean Hersholt (the porter) and Lewis Stone (Doctor Otternschlag).

blogathon-barrymore

THIS POST IS PART OF THE BARRYMORE TRILOGY BLOGATHON HOSTED BY CRYSTAL OF IN THE GOOD OLD DAYS OF CLASSIC HOLLYWOOD.

RELATED

The Mummy (1932, Karl Freund)

The Mummy is a strange horror movie. While there’s a definite villain–a monster–in Boris Karloff’s resurrected mummy, he poses a danger specifically to only one cast member–Zita Johann. She’s the reincarnation of his lost love and her exact importance to him isn’t clear until the last act. There’s a somewhat goofy moment where Edward Van Sloan, as Johann’s guardian and the closest thing to Karloff’s nemesis, reveals it all to David Manners (as Johann’s more appropriate suitor). Fortunately Van Sloan experiences the eureka moment just in time but not too early… otherwise the entire last act could have been avoided.

And the last act is the payoff of The Mummy. There are some excellent sequences throughout and Karloff is fantastic, but the last act is where Johann gets to toggle between a reincarnated Egyptian priestess finding herself in the 20th century and her initial character. It’s less than fifteen minutes of the runtime, but it’s awesome stuff. There’s an abrupt ending to the picture, but it has gotten the job done.

Van Sloan is reliable, Manners is likable–he and Johann’s initial flirtation scene is one of the film’s more successful ones between the couple. Arthur Byron is good as another Egyptologist.

John L. Balderston’s script has a lot of fine moments too, especially for Byron, as he comes to terms with meeting a reincarnated mummy.

As for Freund’s direction… it’s always good, but sometimes exceptional. Great editing from Milton Carruth too.

The Mummy is lean and successful. Rather good stuff.

3/4★★★

CREDITS

Directed by Karl Freund; screenplay by John L. Balderston, based on a story by Nina Wilcox Putnam and Richard Schayer; director of photography, Charles J. Stumar; edited by Milton Carruth; music by James Dietrich; produced by Carl Laemmle Jr.; released by Universal Pictures.

Starring Boris Karloff (Imhotep), Zita Johann (Helen Grosvenor), David Manners (Frank Whemple), Arthur Byron (Sir Joseph Whemple), Edward Van Sloan (Docter Muller), Bramwell Fletcher (Ralph Norton), Noble Johnson (The Nubian), Kathryn Byron (Frau Muller), Leonard Mudie (Professor Pearson) and James Crane (The Pharaoh).

RELATED

The Old Dark House (1932, James Whale)

The Old Dark House is a strange film about strange people doing strange things. Director Whale and screenwriter Benn W. Levy rarely let the film get a set tone–unless one counts the consistent mix of comedy and horror. It’s not straight comedy; the comic elements tend to be either absurdly strange or pedestrian. Husband and wife Raymond Massey and Gloria Stuart bickering over his driving until the storm becomes too dangerous for an argument, for example.

Whale goes for peculiar horror elements–relying on his cast to be creepy enough in their performances sometimes, but other times utilizing for practical effects in scenes without a cast member having to do much. The editing, from Clarence Kolster, is spectacular. Whale often goes for a visceral reaction, like when Boris Karloff’s vicious manservant preys on Stuart.

But just like the mix of light comedy and horror, Whale and Levy take the time to deepen even Karloff’s character. All of the characters end up getting some depth, both the “regular” people and then the crazy family living in the titular house. The film’s both cynical and hopeful, with Lilian Bond’s chorus girl having an arrangement with industrialist Charles Laughton, but not one with expectations.

Because Laughton’s messed up, just like almost everyone in the film. Melvyn Douglas’s drunken, mildly broken World War I veteran is ostensible lead–it’s between him and Stuart–and the film subtly implies his problems.

It’s a deliberately, beautifully made, beautifully acted (Ernest Thesiger mesmerizes) film. Truly fantastic.

4/4★★★★

CREDITS

Directed by James Whale; screenplay by Benn W. Levy and R.C. Sherriff, based on a novel by J.B. Priestley; director of photography, Arthur Edeson; edited by Clarence Kolster; produced by Carl Laemmle Jr.; released by Universal Pictures.

Starring Boris Karloff (Morgan), Melvyn Douglas (Penderel), Charles Laughton (Sir William Porterhouse), Lilian Bond (Gladys), Ernest Thesiger (Horace Femm), Eva Moore (Rebecca Femm), Raymond Massey (Philip Waverton), Gloria Stuart (Margaret Waverton), Elspeth Dudgeon (Sir Roderick Femm) and Brember Wills (Saul Femm).

RELATED

Island of Lost Souls (1932, Erle C. Kenton)

What’s so incredible about Island of Lost Souls is how Charles Laughton doesn’t overpower the entire picture. Laughton’s take on the mad scientist role–playful, gleeful, callous, cruel–is a joy to watch and it definitely contributes but it doesn’t make Souls. Even with Laughton, Kenton’s direction is still a must, as are the performances of Richard Arlen and Arthur Hohl.

Arlen’s an unlucky shipwrecked man who ends up on Laughton’s island, Hohl’s Laughton’s assistant but also the guy who helped save Arlen. Waldemar Young and Philip Wylie’s script gives Hohl a lot of time to establish himself before revealing his profession. The big things in the film–Laughton, the island, the enormous action sequences–are all hidden at the beginning. It could very well just be the story of a man shipwrecked and tempted by a Polynesian native girl, a riff on a Maugham South Seas outing. And then things get very strange.

There’s no big standoff between Arlen and Laughton; Laughton’s not exactly an antagonist throughout the entire film. Instead, Laughton leads into the next antagonists… only they’re the most sympathetic characters in the film. The film moves fast and demands the viewer keep up pace. There are occasional humor payoffs, but things eventually just stay rough.

Kenton and cinematographer Karl Struss do these wonderful one shots of Laughton being evil. Laughton takes such a joy in the role, frequently smiling at himself.

Great supporting turn from Bela Lugosi. Maybe his best work.

Souls is an excellent picture.

3/4★★★

CREDITS

Directed by Erle C. Kenton; screenplay by Waldemar Young and Philip Wylie, based on a novel by H.G. Wells; director of photography, Karl Struss; released by Paramount Pictures.

Starring Charles Laughton (Dr. Moreau), Richard Arlen (Edward Parker), Arthur Hohl (Montgomery), Leila Hyams (Ruth Thomas), Kathleen Burke (Lota), Stanley Fields (Captain Davies), Paul Hurst (Donahue), Hans Steinke (Ouran), Tetsu Komai (M’ling), George Irving (The Consul) and Bela Lugosi (Sayer of the Law).

RELATED

The Monster Walks (1932, Frank R. Strayer)

I went into The Monster Walks with what I consider reasonable expectations. I thought it would be bad. I thought it would be a bad, low budget, rainy night in a mansion with a killer ape loose movie.

It is all of those things, but it’s also awful. Director Strayer apparently had such a low budget he wasn’t even able to get shots of the mansion from outside. Inside, he’s going from one setup to another on a set. When he actually utilizes close-ups, it’s a big deal.

The editing, from Byron Robinson, is weak. He probably didn’t have much to work with, but he still cuts the shots poorly. It’s hard to explain; the characters seem paused between the angles.

The problem is Robert Ellis’s script. He doesn’t have any real drama. A girl, played by Vera Reynolds, travels home to the scary mansion for the reading of her father’s will. His body’s there too, which seems unsanitary. The other heirs have it in for her. Maybe.

None of these other heirs have much of anything going on for themselves. They want the money, sure, and they have some secrets, but none of them have anything going on. It’s not just a lack of subplots, it’s a lack of the characters having enough personality to have them.

A tepid performance from Rex Lease–as Reynolds’s beau–doesn’t help either.

Mischa Auer is exceeding creepy as the maid’s son, however. Great Nosferatu outfit on him.

It’s a dismal Walk.

0/4ⓏⒺⓇⓄ

CREDITS

Directed by Frank R. Strayer; written by Robert Ellis; director of photography, Jules Cronjager; edited by Byron Robinson; produced by Cliff P. Broughton; released by Action Pictures.

Starring Rex Lease (Dr. Ted Clayton), Vera Reynolds (Ruth Earlton), Sheldon Lewis (Robert Earlton), Mischa Auer (Hanns Krug), Martha Mattox (Mrs. Emma ‘Tanty’ Krug), Sidney Bracey (Herbert Wilkes) and Willie Best (Exodus).

The Phantom of Crestwood (1932, J. Walter Ruben)

When the politics of a murder mystery are more interesting than the mystery, there’s a bit of a problem. The Phantom of Crestwood involves a woman of the world (Karen Morley) blackmailing her former lovers so she can get out of the professional mistress life. Why’s it so easy to blackmail them? They’ve all been selling short during the Depression in order to profit off the miseries of the working man.

The film starts much better than it finishes, though Henry W. Gerrard’s photography is fantastic throughout. Director Ruben kind of runs out of interesting things to do in the second half. There’s a technically interesting gimmick for flashbacks, but the whole flashback structure of the murder investigation doesn’t work. Many cast members never become suspects, even though the script frequently casts doubts about them.

There’s a lot of good acting to carry the film–it only really gets tiresome in the last ten minutes or so, when there’s the big race for time sequence. Morley’s wonderful in the lead. Crestwood lionizes the crooks–a suspected murderer (Ricardo Cortez) ends up doing the investigating, with Sam Hardy as his sidekick. Both of them are excellent and play quite well off each other. And Richard ‘Skeets’ Gallagher. He’s great.

Unfortunately, there are bad performances too. Matty Kemp, Ivan F. Simpson and, especially, Pauline Frederick are awful. Between their weak performances in essential roles and the lackluster finish, Crestwood never gets near what the excellent first twenty minutes promises.

It’s too bad.

0/4ⓏⒺⓇⓄ

CREDITS

Directed by J. Walter Ruben; screenplay by Bartlett Cormack, based on a story by Cormack and Ruben; director of photography, Henry W. Gerrard; edited by Archie Marshek; released by RKO Radio Pictures.

Starring Ricardo Cortez (Gary Curtis), Karen Morley (Jenny Wren), Anita Louise (Esther Wren), Pauline Frederick (Faith Andes), H.B. Warner (Priam Andes), Mary Duncan (Dorothy Mears), Sam Hardy (Pete Harris), Tom Douglas (Allen Herrick), Richard ‘Skeets’ Gallagher (Eddie Mack), Aileen Pringle (Mrs. Walcott), Ivan F. Simpson (Mr. Vayne), George E. Stone (The Cat), Robert McWade (Herbert Walcott), Hilda Vaughn (Carter), Gavin Gordon (Will Jones), Matty Kemp (Frank Andes) and Eddie Sturgis (Bright Eyes).

RELATED

Taxi! (1932, Roy Del Ruth)

Even when the story falls apart, Del Ruth’s direction still keeps Taxi! somewhat afloat. It only runs seventy minutes and the first half is pretty good stuff. When it starts, the film’s about one cab company trying to muscle out its competitors-Guy Kibbee and James Cagney being some of those competitors. But Taxi! soon becomes a romance between Cagney and Kibbee’s daughter, played by Loretta Young. In fact, after the opening confrontations and Cagney’s profession, the title has nothing to do with the rest of the film.

Instead, it’s an urban romance between Cagney and Young. He’s a hot-head, always getting into fistfights, and she’s trying to cool him off. During their courtship, Taxi! works its best. Leila Bennett plays Young’s friend and she’s excellent. While the film definitely seems listless, it’s well-made and well-acted.

But then the plot takes over around the forty minute mark and everything starts to fall apart. It doesn’t help Dorothy Burgess turns up and she’s awful. Kubec Glasmon and John Bright’s dialogue, at least for the first half, is quite good. They bring a personality to the New York setting and there’s some great banter between Cagney and Young. Burgress butchers the dialogue, but then it too gets worse so no one’s able to do anything with it.

Except Bennett. She, director Del Ruth and cinematographer James Van Trees are Taxi!‘s constants.

If it were just a dumb ending, Taxi! might overcome it, but the whole third act is lame.

0/4ⓏⒺⓇⓄ

CREDITS

Directed by Roy Del Ruth; screenplay by Kubec Glasmon and John Bright, based on the play by Kenyon Nicholson; director of photography, James Van Trees; edited by James Gibbon; produced by Robert Lord; released by Warner Bros.

Starring James Cagney (Matt Nolan), Loretta Young (Sue Riley Nolan), George E. Stone (Skeets), Guy Kibbee (Pop Riley), Leila Bennett (Ruby), Dorothy Burgess (Marie Costa), David Landau (Buck Gerard), Ray Cooke (Danny Nolan), George MacFarlane (Father Nulty), Nat Pendleton (Bull Martin) and Berton Churchill (Judge West).

RELATED

The Thirteenth Guest (1932, Albert Ray)

The Thirteenth Guest has a lot of problems, but its biggest failing is Frances Hyland’s script. Hyland doesn’t just have a lot of logic problems, he also has a bunch of lousy humor. There’s Paul Hurst’s moronic police detective, who Hyland relies on for Guest‘s version of comic relief. Hurst whines a lot and annoys J. Farrell MacDonald, who should be a lot better as his superior. Why isn’t MacDonald better? Because Hyland writes in a bunch of jokes about MacDonald being upset about eccentric wealthy people.

But the dumbest part of Hyland’s script has to be protagonist Lyle Talbot’s passionate anti-murder position. He just can’t stand murder… as opposed to being pro-murder. But Hyland also decides to make the dapper Talbot a reluctant genius detective. So, while Talbot can’t stand murder, he apparently can’t stand having to solve murder cases even more.

Still, Talbot gives a strong performance and, at times, he nearly makes Guest worthwhile. There are some other good supporting performances from James Eagles and Frances Rich. In the other lead role, Ginger Rogers is somewhat ineffective. She’s a lot better in her first scene than she is in the rest of the picture.

Ray’s direction isn’t bad, but Leete Renick Brown’s editing is terrible. The low budget hurts Guest quite a bit. Ray isn’t able to establish any settings. It all looks too cheap in daylight.

Guest should have a compelling narrative, but the budget keeps those involved from taking advantage of it.

0/4ⓏⒺⓇⓄ

CREDITS

Directed by Albert Ray; screenplay by Frances Hyland, based on the novel by Armitage Trail; directors of photography, Tom Galligan and Harry Neumann; edited by Leete Renick Brown; produced by M.H. Hoffman; released by Monogram Pictures.

Starring Lyle Talbot (Phil Winston), Ginger Rogers (Marie Morgan), J. Farrell MacDonald (Police Capt. Ryan), Paul Hurst (Detective Grump), Erville Alderson (Uncle John Adams), Ethel Wales (Aunt Jane Thornton), James Eagles (Harold ‘Bud’ Morgan), Crauford Kent (Dr. Sherwood), Eddie Phillips (Thor Jensen), Frances Rich (Marjorie Thornton) and Phillips Smalley (Uncle Dick Thornton).

RELATED

Breaking Even (1932, Aubrey Scotto)

Breaking Even has a number of surprises. Its star, Tom Howard, came from vaudeville and it shows. Not in a bad way, the short’s structured for his style. The only bad thing about Even is its editing. Director Scotto can direct dialogue sequences fine, but when he’s got to move the camera, it always ends in a bad edit. The disjointed cuts are probably his fault and not the uncredited editor’s.

Anyway, Howard plays a know-it-all who tries to talk a man in distress (George Shelton) out of committing suicide. It doesn’t going expectedly. The best parts are when Howard and Shelton are clearly making the other want to laugh.

In addition to the back and forth, there are a couple impressive sight gags. The final one’s a little obvious–and not the best joke for the situation–but Even’s a fairly amusing short. Howard’s always moving.

2/3Recommended

CREDITS

Directed by Aubrey Scotto; written by Harry W. Conn; released by Paramount Pictures.

Starring Tom Howard (the shopowner) and George Shelton (the businessman).

RELATED

The Studio Murder Mystery (1932, Joseph Henabery)

The Studio Murder Mystery is a lame little short mystery. It takes place at a Hollywood studio, just before and after a troublesome star is murdered. The before parts aren’t so bad–Henabery has a little fun with the movie in the movie stuff and the scene at the commissary where the cast’s gossip establishes the ground situation works too.

But then there’s the murder and the detectives arrive. Donald Meek’s the criminologist, John Hamilton’s the experienced copper. They have absolutely no chemistry together and Burnet Hershey’s script toggles between the two investigating. They never work together on the case.

The conclusion has a meager chase scene. Studio was obviously done cheap and Henabery just doesn’t have the chops to make a cheap chase work. He also can’t get it to pace well–the mystery is too thin–and Studio drags at nineteen minutes. The last handful are agonizingly boring.

1/3Not Recommended

CREDITS

Directed by Joseph Henabery; screenplay by Burnet Hershey, based on a story by S.S. Van Dine; director of photography, Edwin B. DuPar; released by Warner Bros.

Starring Donald Meek (Dr. Crabtree), John Hamilton (Insp. Carr), Robert Middlemass (Boris Seminoff), Thelma Tipson (Dolly Demarest), Walter Fenner (Ian Stevens) and Jane Bramley (Mae Norton).

RELATED