"Pennies from Heaven" is thematically so similar to "Penny Serenade" (a classic tear-jerker) that one might think was Columbia's attempt to (forgive me) cash in on the success of "Penny Serenade" (another Columbia film). But the latter came five years later. "Pennies from Heaven" is little more than a Bing Crosby vehicle -- one badly in need of a tune-up.
It starts off well enough, with a man about to be executed for murder handing a letter to a self-styled "troubadour" (Bing Crosby) to be delivered to the family of the man he killed. Once Crosby finds them, he makes a half-hearted effort to help (he's on his way to Venice), but his affection for the man's daughter (Edith Fellows) encourages him to stay. When a social worker (Madge Evens) comes after the girl to put her in an orphanage, Crosby announces a plan to open a restaurant.
It is at this point that the story runs off the rails of plausibility, crashing into a chasm deeper than any Wile E Coyote ever fell into. I need not describe the fore-ordained and saccharine ending, made possible by the miracle of Arbitrary Plotting.
There are good things. If you like Der Bingle, you get to hear him introduce the classic title song. Louis Armstrong (whom Crosby insisted be hired) is a treat, Edith Fellows is an agreeably anarchic child, and Stanley Andrews (the host of "Death Valley Days") has an unbilled role as a plainclothes officer. Evans, though, is sufficiently blah one wonders how a woman-hater like Crosby's character would ever find her attractive.
Jo Swerling wrote better scripts than this one, but Norman McLeod's direction is tight and brisk. Note his unusual camera angles, as when Fellows looks through her opera glasses at Crosby.
Nevertheless, "Pennies from Heaven" is one of those "less than the sum of its parts" films in which everyone's contribution is wasted on a poor story. You may safely skip it.
PS: Crosby's character says at one point that he was born in Washington state -- which the real Crosby was. (Different city, though.)
It starts off well enough, with a man about to be executed for murder handing a letter to a self-styled "troubadour" (Bing Crosby) to be delivered to the family of the man he killed. Once Crosby finds them, he makes a half-hearted effort to help (he's on his way to Venice), but his affection for the man's daughter (Edith Fellows) encourages him to stay. When a social worker (Madge Evens) comes after the girl to put her in an orphanage, Crosby announces a plan to open a restaurant.
It is at this point that the story runs off the rails of plausibility, crashing into a chasm deeper than any Wile E Coyote ever fell into. I need not describe the fore-ordained and saccharine ending, made possible by the miracle of Arbitrary Plotting.
There are good things. If you like Der Bingle, you get to hear him introduce the classic title song. Louis Armstrong (whom Crosby insisted be hired) is a treat, Edith Fellows is an agreeably anarchic child, and Stanley Andrews (the host of "Death Valley Days") has an unbilled role as a plainclothes officer. Evans, though, is sufficiently blah one wonders how a woman-hater like Crosby's character would ever find her attractive.
Jo Swerling wrote better scripts than this one, but Norman McLeod's direction is tight and brisk. Note his unusual camera angles, as when Fellows looks through her opera glasses at Crosby.
Nevertheless, "Pennies from Heaven" is one of those "less than the sum of its parts" films in which everyone's contribution is wasted on a poor story. You may safely skip it.
PS: Crosby's character says at one point that he was born in Washington state -- which the real Crosby was. (Different city, though.)