The first thing I should note about this movie is that I saw it in the largest Museum of Modern Art's movie auditorium, which was full. Vincent Giordano and the Nighthawks were there to play an original score. That makes a big difference in how a movie affects me -- to see it as it was meant to be presented, instead of on my TV screen off a recording from TCM, with perhaps a piano score; it's the difference between being at Woodstock when Joe Cocker is performing "I Get By With a Little Help From My Friends" or hearing the tune off a hurdy-gurdy. We may know that as a fact, but it's a good idea to renew the experience occasionally.
In the movie, the luscious Billie Dove is the rich daughter of estranged parents: good-time-Charley father Phillips Smalley (director Weber's ex for two years at this point; I'd like to have been a fly on the wall when she made suggestions on how to play his part) and Church-going, suffering Edith Yorke (I'm sure Smalley had some thoughts on how she should play her part). Billie is wild but not a bad girl -- when the roadhouse she is drinking at is raided, she says she never lies about who she is. When her mother's handsome parson, Raymond Bloomer, does her the favor of bailing her out, there is instant attraction, and he spends the rest of the film trying to save her and she gives him every opportunity.
There are some very nice points about the gossip of small towns and unwillingness to forgive making things harder for a pastor, but the whole thing has a couple of major flaws: why is it always the beautiful girls who can be saved? If Zasu Pitts is at risk of eternal damnation, will hordes of clergy strive for her soul? If the minister looks like Billy Gilbert, will the girls come to him for instruction? Or is physical beauty a spiritual virtue? In any case, during the moments when these distracting thoughts occurred to me, the Nighthawks were there to draw my attention back, just like a good score is supposed to; and the sequence where the yacht Billie is on sinks and Bloomer rushes to save her is a real wow. I think if you get a chance to see it as I did, you'll enjoy it.
In the movie, the luscious Billie Dove is the rich daughter of estranged parents: good-time-Charley father Phillips Smalley (director Weber's ex for two years at this point; I'd like to have been a fly on the wall when she made suggestions on how to play his part) and Church-going, suffering Edith Yorke (I'm sure Smalley had some thoughts on how she should play her part). Billie is wild but not a bad girl -- when the roadhouse she is drinking at is raided, she says she never lies about who she is. When her mother's handsome parson, Raymond Bloomer, does her the favor of bailing her out, there is instant attraction, and he spends the rest of the film trying to save her and she gives him every opportunity.
There are some very nice points about the gossip of small towns and unwillingness to forgive making things harder for a pastor, but the whole thing has a couple of major flaws: why is it always the beautiful girls who can be saved? If Zasu Pitts is at risk of eternal damnation, will hordes of clergy strive for her soul? If the minister looks like Billy Gilbert, will the girls come to him for instruction? Or is physical beauty a spiritual virtue? In any case, during the moments when these distracting thoughts occurred to me, the Nighthawks were there to draw my attention back, just like a good score is supposed to; and the sequence where the yacht Billie is on sinks and Bloomer rushes to save her is a real wow. I think if you get a chance to see it as I did, you'll enjoy it.