Star Dust (Walter Lang, 1940)

John Payne, Linda Darnell, and Jessie Ralph in Star Dust

Cast: Linda Darnell, John Payne, Roland Young, Charlotte Greenwood, William Gargan, Mary Beth Hughes, Mary Healy, Donald Meek, Jessie Ralph. Screenplay: Robert Ellis, Helen Logan, Jesse Malo, Kenneth Earl, Ivan Kahn. Cinematography: J. Peverell Marley. Art direction: Richard Day, Albert Hogsett. Film editing: Robert L. Simpson. Music: David Buttolph. 

Character actors gave a lot of energy to Hollywood movies of the '30s and '40s; they were depended on to bring a little of the pleasure of recognition to audiences who were familiar with their more or less established characteristics. So it's interesting to see two of the best cast against type in Star Dust, a fair-to-middling comic romance, designed around the up-and-coming Linda Darnell, whose ascent to stardom it's very loosely based on. Donald Meek, for example, had been typed from the beginning by his own surname, playing mousy, subservient types like the whiskey salesman whose sample case gets plundered in Stagecoach (John Ford, 1939). In Star Dust he's a casting director at a Hollywood studio, still subservient to the studio head played by William Gargan, but also conniving to advance the career of starlet June Lawrence (Mary Beth Hughes), with whom, if you know how to decode Breen Office censorship, it's suggested that he's been sleeping -- or at least plans to. Also cast against type is Roland Young, who often played underdogs with an edge, like the schemingly humble Uriah Heep in David Copperfield (George Cukor, 1935) or the henpecked Topper in a series of movies starting with Topper (Norman Z. McLeod, 1937). In Star Dust he's Thomas Brooke, a former silent movie star who now works as a talent scout for Amalgamated Pictures. On a scouting trip he discovers Carolyn Sayers (Darnell) in a small Arkansas town, but decides not to bring her to Hollywood because she's only 16. He returns to Hollywood with two discoveries: a football player, Bud Borden (John Payne), and a singer, Mary Andrews (Mary Healy). To Brooke's surprise, Carolyn turns up too, having forged a letter under his name recommending her to the studio. He overlooks this misdemeanor and decides to promote her anyway. The rest of the plot is the usual now they've got it, now they don't stuff about breaking into the movies. Mary Healy gets to sing the title song, the Hoagy Carmichael standard; she does it well enough, though nobody ever sang it better than Hoagy himself. Charlotte Greenwood, a celebrated comic actress on the stage, makes one of her few memorable movie appearances as an acting coach. Darnell is quite fresh and lovely, though the scene that provides her break into the movies displays her limitations as an actress even though it wows the audience in the film. Payne is likable as the handsome football player who keeps getting his nose broken before he's supposed to make a crucial screen test. 

Barbary Coast (Howard Hawks, 1935)

Miriam Hopkins and Edward G. Robinson in Barbary Coast

Mary Rutledge: Miriam Hopkins
Luis Chamalis: Edward G. Robinson
Jim Carmichael: Joel McCrea
Old Atrocity: Walter Brennan
Col. Marcus Aurelius Cobb: Frank Craven
Knuckles Jacoby: Brian Donlevy
Jed Slocum: Harry Carey
Sawbuck McTavish: Donald Meek

Director: Howard Hawks
Screenplay: Ben Hecht, Charles MacArthur
Cinematography: Ray June
Art direction: Richard Day

The chill, clammy hand of the Production Code's Joseph Breen is detectable in Barbary Coast, and only the diligent playfulness of director Howard Hawks and the cheeky irreverence of screenwriters Ben Hecht and Charles MacArthur make it watchable today. That, and the performances of Miriam Hopkins, Edward G. Robinson, Joel McCrea, and Walter Brennan, each of whom knows the whole thing is nonsense as far as actual history and human behavior are concerned, but are happy to go along with the joke. Hopkins's Mary Rutledge is a shady lady -- perhaps a prostitute and certainly the mistress of Robinson's Luis Chamalis -- but she becomes a Hawksian woman, who gets along in the world of men by keeping them at arm's length with wisecracks and wry condescension. She arrives in San Francisco supposedly to marry a man who has struck it rich in the gold fields, but finds out that he's dead and his winnings have been confiscated by Chamalis after losing at the roulette wheel. She's greeted with enthusiasm by the waterfront crowd, who keep exclaiming, "A white woman!" But in the face of bad luck she neither faints nor falls but instead takes her turn running the crooked wheel for Chamalis while coyly locking her door against him at night. Eventually, she will find her true love, McCrea's Jim Carmichael, who will have his own fortune robbed at the wheel, but through various improbable turns will wind up sailing back to New York with his recouped fortune and Mary herself. Brennan, after removing his false teeth, plays a character called "Old Atrocity," cackling and spitting his way through the scenes he steals. Though the film was produced by Sam Goldwyn,  Robinson is nothing more than one of his Warner Bros. gangsters wearing a frilled shirt and an earring, with Brian Donlevy, as a character called "Knuckles," to rough up his enemies, which include the newly arrived newspaper editor played by Frank Craven, who wants to clean up the town and install "law and order." Eventually, the cleaning up is done by vigilantes, who string up Knuckles, which is not exactly the kind of law and order that the editor had in mind. When he's rounded up by the vigilantes, Chamalis turns noble and releases Mary from her promise to marry him if he'll spare her true love's life. Melodrama never got more blatant than Barbary Coast, but there's wit in the lines and spirit in the performances.