Claudette Colbert's Cleopatra arrives rolled up in a rug and meets her end by clasping a rather limp garden snake to her bosom, and in between there's a lot of posing and tin-eared dialogue superimposed on the story told by Plutarch and Shakespeare. It won't do, of course, except for the camp extravagance of Hollywood awash in Cecil B. DeMille's usual sin, sex, and sadism. If the 1963 version of the story had been this entertainingly vulgar, it might have made money.
A blog formerly known as Bookishness / By Charles Matthews
"Dazzled by so many and such marvelous inventions, the people of Macondo ... became indignant over the living images that the prosperous merchant Bruno Crespi projected in the theater with the lion-head ticket windows, for a character who had died and was buried in one film and for whose misfortune tears had been shed would reappear alive and transformed into an Arab in the next one. The audience, who had paid two cents apiece to share the difficulties of the actors, would not tolerate that outlandish fraud and they broke up the seats. The mayor, at the urging of Bruno Crespi, explained in a proclamation that the cinema was a machine of illusions that did not merit the emotional outbursts of the audience. With that discouraging explanation many ... decided not to return to the movies, considering that they already had too many troubles of their own to weep over the acted-out misfortunes of imaginary beings."--Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude
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Showing posts with label Warren William. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Warren William. Show all posts
Thursday, February 27, 2025
Cleopatra (Cecil B. DeMille, 1934)
Cast: Claudette Colbert, Warren William, Henry Wilcoxon, Joseph Schildkraut, Ian Keith, Gertrude Michael, C. Aubrey Smith, Irving Pichel, Arthur Hohl, Edwin Maxwell, Ian Maclaren. Screenplay: Waldemar Young, Vincent Lawrence, Bartlett Cormack. Cinematography: Victor Milner. Art direction: Roland Anderson, Hans Dreier. Costume design: Travis Banton. Film editing: Anne Bauchens. Music: Rudolph G. Kopp.
Thursday, September 3, 2020
Three on a Match (Mervyn LeRoy, 1932)
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Bette Davis, Joan Blondell, and Ann Dvorak in Three on a Match |
This crisply directed and tightly edited Warner Bros. crime movie is almost too snugly put together. It runs for only a little over an hour and still manages to tell a pretty complex story that spans the years from 1919 to 1932 in the lives of three women as they grow from schoolgirls to adults. The "bad girl," Mary Keaton, is first played by Virginia Davis as a tomboy showing off her black bloomers on the monkey bars. She barely graduates from elementary school, then spends time in a reformatory before taking a job as a show girl, played by Joan Blondell. The "rich girl," Vivian Revere, played by Anne Shirley under her first screen name, Dawn O'Day, is a bit of a flirt, who confides in the boys that her bloomers are pink, but doesn't show them off. She grows up to be played by Ann Dvorak as a bored socialite married to Robert Kirkwood (Warren William) with whom she has an adorable (read: cloyingly cute) child (Buster Phelps), but runs off with a ne'er-do-well played by Lyle Talbot, who gets in trouble with the mob, headed by Ace (Edward Arnold) and his enforcer, Harve (Humphrey Bogart). The "smart girl," Ruth Westcott, starts out as the class valedictorian (Betty Carse) and goes to business school. Her story, even though she's played by Bette Davis, is the least interesting of the three. In fact, she seems to be there only to make it possible for the three women to light their cigarettes on one match, setting off the supposed curse on the third to catch the flame, who happens to be Mary. The result is that Dvorak, though her career never took off like that of Blondell or Davis, gets the juiciest part in the film and makes the most of it. Of course, Warners didn't know that Davis would become its biggest star, but anyone who decides to watch Three on a Match thinking it's a "Bette Davis movie" is going to be disappointed. Still, there are worse ways to spend an hour than watching formative moments in the careers of stars like Davis -- or for that matter, Bogart, in one of his first gangster roles.
Friday, December 6, 2019
Lady for a Day (Frank Capra, 1933)
Lady for a Day (Frank Capra, 1933)
Cast: May Robson, Warren William, Guy Kibbee, Glenda Farrell, Ned Sparks, Walter Connolly, Jean Parker, Nat Pendleton, Barry Norton, Halliwell Hobbes, Hobart Bosworth, Robert Emmett O'Connor. Screenplay: Robert Riskin, based on a story by Damon Runyon. Cinematography: Joseph Walker. Art direction: Stephen Goosson. Film editing: Gene Havlick. Music: Howard Jackson.
There's almost enough salt in Robert Riskin's screenplay for Lady for a Day -- much of it supplied by the Damon Runyon story on which it's based -- to offset Frank Capra's characteristic indulgence in sweets. Much of the fiber of the movie is provided by such worthy character actors as pickle-faced Ned Sparks, brassy Glenda Farrell, florid Guy Kibbee, and beefy Nat Pendleton, who help us tolerate the saccharine qualities of the tale of mother love. We never find out a lot of the backstory of Apple Annie, the gin-swigging street vendor who must pose as a society dame to fulfill the illusions she has raised in the letters she's written over the years to her daughter, Louise. The girl was raised in a convent in Europe and is now engaged to the son of a Spanish count; she wants to bring her fiancé and prospective father-in-law to New York to meet her mother. Covering up the truth about Annie necessitates a lot of manipulation by the swanky Dave the Dude, one of the denizens of the Runyon underworld. But what is the truth about Annie? Riskin and Capra never tell us who Louise's father was, let alone how Annie managed to send the child abroad and keep her secret all these years. Or, at the end, exactly how Dave the Dude saves the day when all looks lost. But this is for the good: Finessing the backstory turns Lady for a Day into what it has to be in order to be palatable at all: a fairy tale. To my tastes, which usually can't tolerate Capra's sentimental populism, this is one of his best films. Just don't look to it for plausibility.
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