Reviews

"Heaven Knows, Mr. Allison" was a considerable box office success in its day, directed by the legendary John Huston and starring popular A-list stars, Deborah Kerr and Robert Mitchum . Yet it has fallen into semi-obscurity, a fate it doesn't deserve. Of course it's been over sixty years since it was released in 1957. But I think the real problem for potential viewers is that with Kerr playing a nun, the film would be moralistic and preachy or saccharine and overly sweet, something too much a product of its decade. I'm glad to say it is neither of these. Kerr and Mitchum play real people in a series of tense and desperate situations which they handle as best they can while working out their own relationship with each other.

Huston directed many great films in his long career, the most popular of which was "The African Queen" (1951) with Humphrey Bogart and Katharine Hepburn, and its shadow looms over this film and unfortunately diminishes it in some eyes. You simply can't escape the fact that the setup is much the same in both films. A woman with a position in a religious organization and a scruffy, down to earth man must make it through a dangerous situation in a far flung tropical locale during a major war. That Huston might, in a sense, want to revisit this theme is understandable as well as the fact that the earlier film is one of the great classics in movie history.

But "Heaven Knows, Mr. Allison" is not some kind of shallow copy, but a strong film in its own right, largely due to its two stars. Plot similarities may exist in a general sense, but you see this film for Kerr and Mitchum, whose chemistry led them to be co-starred in three more films. Here Mitchum is at his tannest and most rugged, especially with a beard and permanently disheveled clothes after washing up on the shore of this small Pacific island in a rubber lifeboat. Kerr is at her most pale and fair even more so than usual in a white nun's habit. Her costume means she must do all her acting with her vocal intonation and facial expressions, certainly one of the reasons she received a Best Actress nomination for this role. Despite these limitations she makes Sister Angela a fully realized character, shy and introverted (though less so than as Sibyl in 1958's "Separate Tables") yet down to earth enough to tell jokes and brave enough to offer to turn herself in to the Japanese in order to save him. On his part, Mitchum shows a softer, more complex side than was usual in his action films, particularly when he finds himself falling for Sister Angela.

Here the film introduces a certain amount of tension and possibility by revealing that she has not taken her final vows. This makes a world of difference because until she did, she could simply announce that she had decided that the calling wasn't for her and leave, free and clear. This opens the film up to the possibility that they could become a married couple which creates a whole different feeling than if she was already vowed. And all this personal sorting takes place on an island sometimes occupied by Japanese soldiers who would possibly shoot them on sight. With the Japanese at a distance this becomes a film with only two characters, but any more would seem unnecessary and superfluous.

The cinematography is in beautiful Technicolor in totally realistic tones and was done by Oswald Morris, one of the best in Hollywood history. It was filmed in CinemaScope, probably because widescreen had grown beyond epics and musicals and was expected by now on any major film. Though not especially necessary here, it does show off the beautiful tropical location (actually Trinidad). The score, by French classical composer Georges Auric, is used sparingly but effectively at dramatic moments. Based on a novel, the setting's time was changed from the dark days of 1942 after Corregidor to the more optimistic time of 1944 when the Allies were on the offensive, a big plus for the film's overall tone. Curiously, at no time does Sister Angela ever say, "Heaven knows, Mr. Allison", which I was expecting at some point. It's a wonderfully acted film definitely worth watching.

One of the founding films of the gangster genre, "The Public Enemy" is still a vibrant film and watchable today despite its being an early talkie. It still has a somewhat primitive look, but that only adds to its feeling of authenticity. Director William Wellman's camera is remarkably fluid for 1931 and you never get the feeling that you're sitting in a theater watching a stage play. Wellman made some comedies and the original "A Star Is Born", but was mostly at home in action and adventure pictures, which made him the right man for this film.

Wellman's biggest contribution was casting Cagney as Tom Powers, which gave the picture its energy and made a major star of the actor. Originally Cagney was to play Matt Doyle, Powers' pal and the nicer hood with Edward Woods playing Tom. But after the first takes (and some say seeing Cagney in " Doorway To Hell") he had them switch roles. This switch, by the way, causes some confusion over the 1909 childhood scenes which had already been shot with the original casting in mind with the personalities opposite what they should be. It was a low budget film and reshooting was out of the question.

I wish I could see it as the audiences of the day did as a picture made with a bunch of essentially unknown actors. Cagney and Blondell were fairly fresh from Broadway and not too many people saw their first film, "Sinners' Holiday". Jean Harlow had had her first major role in "Hell's Angels" just a year before, but the World War I fighter pilot film focused on its two male leads. Even Edward Woods and Donald Cook (Tom's older brother Mike) were new to pictures. However, at least now we get to see the entire picture, which had enough pieces cut out to meet the moral standards of various cities (including New York) to make much of it episodic and reportedly even incomprehensible.

It's Cagney's movie, of course, and his Tom Powers is a very believable character. Cagney had a powerful, elemental presence. Tom is a not too bright young tough who still has some nice qualities, at least when he's around his mother or Gwen Allen (Jean Harlow). He's got a quick temper, acts on emotions rather than thinking things out, and makes plenty of mistakes. But he's not the psychotic Cody Jarrett of "White Heat" and seems to have had an entirely sexless courtship of Gwen. He's happy playing the big man with a new car and fancy clothes, but a disappointed child when he realizes, "I ain't so tough". There's a hilarious scene when he's being fitted by a tailor that would have never been allowed after the Hays Code.

Jean Harlow is good looking and sympathetic, perhaps a bit too naive as a good girl who accepts car rides from unknown young men. She's thankfully not cast as a moll and her innate sweetness comes out in a role that doesn't last nearly long enough. Joan Blondell is in the film, but she's just Matt's girlfriend and has little to do. Murray Kinnell is excellent as a Fagin-type to the boyhood Tom and Matt and has a memorable moment when they see him again after many years.

Leslie Fenton (who soon married Ann Dvorak) is only on briefly as boss Nails Nathan, but makes up for it in the wardrobe department who wears a tweed topcoat, suit and vest with a white ascot and jeweled stickpin, boutonniere, pocket square, gloves and a wide brimmed hat - a dandy among hoods who even owns a horse. Donald Cook as Tom's good boy older brother Mike stands out oddly for his stiff, over the top acting. He seems to be in a silent film with all his facial grimaces though his background was Broadway and this was only his second film. Perhaps these mannerisms worked from a stage with a live audience.

Then there is the famous scene, often excerpted, of Cagney shoving a grapefruit in Mae Clark's face. Like any scene that has become one of the most famous scenes in movie history there are many stories of its origin and many people connected with the film have claimed to have originated the idea. It will never be known for sure, but many sources believe the story that it was Clark and Cagney who decided to do it just to shock the crew as a joke, but Wellman liked it and kept it in the picture. The picture is too short to depict just what the trouble is between Tom and Clark's Kitty, but it seems Tom is just bored with her.

For a gangster film, "The Public Enemy" is as much a character study as a crime film. It's violent, but most of that takes place offscreen because of the time period. There is no big scene like the gangsters' banquet in "Little Caesar". Tom never climbs that high. This is the world of small time hoods in a working class neighborhood. There are some nice little montages and mini-scenes depicting city life and the last night before Prohibition goes into effect. This is Chicago, full of Central and Eastern Europeans, so the alcohol of choice was beer. The cinematography of Dev Jennings is ahead of its day for its clarity. Music is used sparingly but unlike many early talkies it actually has music and cleverly uses "I'm Forever Blowing Bubbles". It's not operatic like "Little Caesar", but its ending is just as absolutely unforgettable.

"Vacation From Marriage" ("Perfect Strangers" in Britain) is a real hidden gem, a charming British film featuring an up and coming Debirah Kerr in her seventh film and Robert Donat, already a major star. The film was the first of what was to be a series of films made in joint venture between Alexander Korda and MGM, creating an MGM British unit. That it was the only film they produced is not totally surprising with two important and strong-willed men like Korda and Mayer involved. Original director Wesley Ruggles left the production when he couldn't get along with Korda's constant interference and Korda ended the deal when he couldn't take Mayer's.

Fortunately none of this affected the principal actors, both of whom turn in wonderful performances as Robert and Cathy Wilson, a married couple deadened by the routines of their lives. It's shocking when we first see Kerr, who looks positively frumpy and worn down. Donat is not much better, an ineffectual man looking old before his time. Both have settled for lives of quiet desperation in the English fashion, a monotonous daily slog that at least offers some financial security with Robert's job as an accountant. They lack confidence and Robert cannot act in the way he thinks he should in situations aptly conveyed with a voiceover of his inner thoughts. A two week holiday at a seaside resort is all they have to look forward to each year and even that has become a rather humdrum affair.

The war will suddenly intervene in their lives, separating them, challenging them and eventually remaking them into entirely different people, confident and able to take charge. Two and a half years later each realizes that they cannot go back to their old, gray lives or their colorless spouses. What happens when you've simply outgrown your other half? In a small but crucial scene as Robert prepares to leave for the navy, the two actors manage to establish that there is a deep and abiding love between these two. This is important because it causes us to root for them getting back together despite all the travails and misunderstandings that arise to keep them apart. And you need that because this film takes its slow time reuniting them, seeming to enjoy keeping the audience frustrated when it's clear these two belong together. In fact I wouldn't have minded had it gone on longer, as it ends a bit too easily.

It's the acting by all involved that really makes this film. Donat could convey a great deal simply through posture and facial expressions that makes his transformation into a man of the world believable. He already looks years younger after his navy haircut and the shaving of his old fashioned mustache, but he remains hapless, only gradually finding himself. Kerr. As well goes from mousy housewife to a self-possessed woman taking charge of her unit. There's a moment in a club after they meet again, looking fit in their uniforms, when they almost kiss and Kerr is torn about it, conveying everything with just two blinks of her eyes. It's no wonder that this film caused Mayer to say, "This woman is a star", and immediately brought her to Hollywood.

They are supported by a fine group of players. Especially good is Glynis Johns as Dizzy Clayton, a self-assured, hip young woman who acts as Kerr's teacher and even succeeds in getting her to wear lipstick. It's great to see her early in her career since she's now known primarily for playing Mrs. Banks, the suffragette mother in "Mary Poppins". Both Cathy and Robert have believable flirtations that could become serious. Kerr with Richard, Dizzy's cousin, and Donat with a nurse, Elena. Roland Culver and Ann Todd play these characters believably.

This is a fine, barely postwar film that is sweet without overdoing it and serious enough that we never completely take things for granted. It is humorous without being a comedy and dramatic without getting melodramatic. What happens when two people outgrow each other? Watch this film for one possibility.

"Little Caesar is an absolute powerhouse of a movie, fully deserving of its cult status. Although it lacks the shocking carnage of future gangster films and in fact, almost any scenes of an action variety, it is riveting in its portrayal of small town hood Caesar Enrico Bandello climbing the mob ladder in the big city. Rico is, of course, Edward G. Robinson in, not only his most famous performance, but one of the most famous screen characterizations on film. Robinson had had stage experience playing hoods, and had tried out for the role of Otero, but producer Hal Wallace knew he had the man to play Rico himself. He struts and preens, he's cocky and aggressive, he's crude and gauche and you can't take your eyes off him the entire time. His fall seems to be a fall of Shakespearean proportions.

But there's more to it even than Robinson's incredible performance. He's the energy of the film but he has a terrific screenplay to work with. A great deal happens in its remarkably fast eighty minutes. The pacing and editing is very brisk, moving swiftly from small town to big city in the first three minutes and from episode to episode after that. This is partly due to its being an early sound film that required this kind of approach. But it adds to the overall tension of the film by not having superfluous chase scenes or extra scenes of character development. Here that is not needed.

Though it was not the first gangster film, it created many of the tropes of the new genre. It is set entirely within the world of the mob, showing the audience the customs and ways of a practically feudal society. It's chilling when Rico takes control of his first gang with assent indicated by the silence of "the Boys'. It's brutal when Rico tells his pal Joe (Douglas Fairbanks Jr.), who objects to robbing the nightclub where he is a professional dancer, "THIS (the mob) is the joint you're working for." Even more so, is when a young gang member tries to run and knows he's already a dead man. He runs home to his mother who offers him dinner and a reminiscence of him dressed in white and singing in the church choir. Many of the types of characters, new here, would become standard in future crime films.

There is the big mob banquet at the Sicilian-named Palermo Club, with its banner proclaiming "Friendship/Loyalty" and a crude bunch of attendees who have to be shouted at to "Cut the Chatter". Rico is the guest of honor, and except for the gangsters, it could be a Rotary Club event. Rico, it seems, is just pursuing respectability and the American Dream. But that does not stop Irish Police Inspector Sgt. Flaherty from walking in on the proceedings and deliberately deflating Rico's big moment with a bit of pertinent information. It's a tense face-off between the leaders of two hostile tribes. The sergeant is played totally seriously - he's not a funny Irish beat cop - and though he isn't given much screen time, he's always out there somewhere closing in.

When Rico finally makes it to a personal visit to "Big Boy" (Sidney Blackmer), the head of the whole racket, based on a corrupt Chicago mayor, he's very crude in his attempts to complement the boss' home and shows his lower class origins. But even Big Boy shows his own crass nature when he has to tell Rico how much he paid for a painting of a king (Louis XV) in his coronation robes. The beginning of this scene is briefly shot through the flaming fireplace, giving the scene the look of the anteroom of Hell.

Though violence usually happens offscreen, by the standards of the thirties "Little Caesar" was an action film. But the film is also a character study with Rico as its nexus. It builds by piling one element upon another. There's Rico and the mob, Rico and Sgt. Flaherty, Rico and Big Boy (who Rico fantasizes replacing). There's also much tension created by Rico and Joe, and Rico and Otero. What exactly Rico's relationship with Joe and Otero is has been the subject of much speculation. Male bonding takes many forms and can be very intense without any conscious sexual element. But that Rico feels intensely about both men is clear and that Otero reciprocates in a more fervent way than Joe is also clear. To a 1930 audience, I think such a subtext would have been unthinkable in the sense that most would not have even considered it; though it's also true that the author of the source novel complained about it. Rico always defends Joe, is very solicitous toward Joe and has what seems to be a paternal fondness for him. Joe is friendly, but his whole trajectory is to get free from the mob. From the beginning, when Joe thought going to the city would be good because, "There's money in the big town. And the women", Rico corrects him that women aren't worth any time or interest. In their final heart-to-heart in Rico's elaborate Art Deco digs, it all comes to a head. He's disappointed in Joe, who has gone soft, in his eyes a major sin. He tells him this dancing career "isn't my idea of a man's game...And I kinda took pride in you, Joe, now you're getting to be a sissy."

Rico and Otero have another intense relationship. At first Otero is a minor figure in Sam Vettori's gang until he notes to everyone as Rico notices a flaw in Sam's plans., "See, smart guy, Rico". He moves forward as Joe disappears. Suddenly he's Rico's constant companion, and admiring in a way that seems almost worshipful. The two together become the focus of a whole section of the film. In a scene in Rico's bedroom, Rico brags about all the power he has as Otero looks on with incredible intensity, at one point getting halfway onto the bed with Rico, who grabs the lapel of his jacket. Again, as Rico dons his new tuxedo for his visit to Big Boy, it's Otero looking on as if he's adoring an icon. They are always together and even seem to be living together. When Joe visits, Otero seems visibly jealous, perhaps fearing the return of a prodigal son. Whatever you make of it, the two relationships add much tension to the film.

Then there's Joe and Olga. Douglas Fairbanks Jr. Could be bland in later films, but here comes across vibrantly as a young fellow who got involved with the wrong people and wants out. Olga is nicely played by Glenda Farrell in what for her is a big role. She is not just a love interest, but also represents the respectable world. This is nowhere clearer than on the night of the New Year's Eve caper when Joe drops into her apartment and it's very cozy and homey with a small Christmas tree in a corner.. From the beginning she has been trying to get Joe to leave the gang but he can only answer, "You can't go back on the gang". In the end it's below a large billboard of Joe and Olga in their new show, "Tipsy Topsy Turvy" and the line, "Laughing. Singing. Dancing. Success." that Rico, a failure, meets his end.

The film is primitive compared to even a decade later, much less now, and some of the acting is stagey and there are even two title cards, a remnant of the silents. But there isn't any of the static nature of many early talkies; this film moves along. The cinematography is beautiful, the sets appropriate and lavish at times and there are a good many extras when they are needed. It was a solid production and Mervyn Leroy directed it well. Get through the technical limitations and you'll see a great film.

Everything comes together in "Separate Tables",,great writing, cast and production. It's every bit as good today as when it was released. Though superficially about the mostly aging residents of a hotel in Bournemouth on the Devon coast and a minor scandal concerning one of its members, it is a powerful drama and a deep look into the human psyche. "Separate Tables" appears in print as part of a description of the hotel at the beginning. The phrase indicated that this hotel had class and did not herd residents into a room with one big table for dinner like a common boarding house.

.The film was adapted from the play by British author Terrence Rattigan, also known for " The Winslow Boy" and "The Browning Version". Rattigan was one of the leading playwrights of postwar England and specialized in examinations of the repressed personalities of the British middle classes. He focused on the deep emotions that lay beneath the surface and the toll of repression on them. He is now known to have been a closeted gay man, so he knew something about repression. At this particular point he had suddenly gone out of fashion, his stiff upper lip dramas seeming dated by the new wave of openly and even violently emotional dramas of working class life often called the "Kitchen Sink" school and their authors, "The Angry Young Men". Both styles created excellent plays and films and I recommend both. It's just a shame that when a new fashion arrives there is often a wildly strong rejection of the previous style.

Rattigan himself wrote the screenplay with the assistance of John Gay and John Michael Hayes. The play was performed as two one-act plays: the story of emotionally repressed residents Major Pollock and Sybil and the tempestuous love story of John Malcolm and Ann Shankland. In the play the two pairs of characters were played by the same actors. Rattigan smoothly integrated the two dramas into one without it ever seeming artificial.

The film seems like one of the many black and white British films of the fifties but despite its mostly British cast, was shot entirely at the Samuel Goldwyn Studios in Hollywood by Hecht-Lancaster Productions. They wisely did not try to open the film up with unnecessary location side trips along the coast. Although this was the norm by this time, the film is enhanced by a more claustrophobic atmosphere. The studio chose director Delbert Mann, who had made a big splash with surprise Best Picture winner "Marty" just three years before. He kept the drama taut and simple without attention getting camera work or other cinematic flourishes. The film was shot in black and white not so much as a cost cutting act but because at this time color was reserved for musicals, comedies and escapist fare and black and white designated a serious film.

The cast is absolutely superb , one of the reasons it has aged so well and one of the main reasons for watching it. The two big American stars might seem like they were cast just to make the film bankable and that could have been part of the thinking, but both do quite well and fit in with the ensemble rather than overwhelming them. Lancaster could be faulted for casting himself as one of the male leads, especially since he had a reputation for overacting at times. Here he is suitably dialed back to fit in with the mood of the piece despite the role itself being the most emotional of the bunch. Rita Hayworth at forty was at a crossroads where having been formerly cast for her beauty, needed a role that required acting ability. The emotionally insecure socialite Ann, afraid of getting old, was perfect for her.

Deborah Kerr shows what a fine actress she was as the severely introverted and repressed daughter of a destructively domineering mother. Her range is such that she's almost unrecognizable, the complete opposite of the confident and winning Anna Leonowens in "The King and I" just two years before. It's absolutely amazing how deeply she inhabits the role. As usual she was nominated for Best Actress (six times altogether) but lost, this time to Susan Hayward for "I Want To Live". Best Actress was the most competitive category that year with showy performances by Elizabeth Taylor, Rosalind Russell and Shirley Maclaine. Gladys Cooper played the manipulative and soul killing mother, just as fiercely as she did with Bette Davis in "Now, Voyager".

David Niven and Wendy Hiller won deserved Oscars for their roles. Niven isn't really in the film that long, but when he is, he's the full center of attention as the Major with his pompous airs, stories of action in North Africa during the war and a secret which if revealed will destroy him. His anguish is palpable and the moment when he reads an article in a local newspaper conveys more in silence than in a lengthy monologue. He was making a big comeback after "Around the World in 80 Days" and it was good to see him get a role with some grist in it as he was usually typecast as a sophisticated bon vivant. Wendy Hiller is perhaps the most sympathetic character in the lot, as the owner of the hotel. She's understanding, thoughtful, kind and self controlled in the emotionally fraught situation she is cast into unexpectedly. She deserved her Best Supporting Actress win.

The rest of the fine cast are so interesting in their roles that I really wished the film had the time to give us more of them. Rod Taylor took a small role that has no bearing on the film's plot simply to be able to act with such a cast. May Halliat plays the no nonsense, racehorse betting Miss Meecham with authority. The octogenarian could actually play expert pool and made that tricky shot herself. Director Mann filmed it so the audience could see that she actually did it but film editors cut it to save a couple seconds in a way that makes it look like someone else actually did it. That and the sappy song by Vic Damone that opens the film are the only faults I find with it.

"Separate Tables" was a surprise hit, becoming one of the top ten box office films of the year. It was nominated for seven Oscars including Best Picture and won two. It was fortunate that there was no big juggernaut that year as there was the following year with "Ben Hur". What could have been and what still topped the year end box office chart was "South Pacific" but it had so many problems that it was ignored by the Academy. This film is a real gem.. It ends on an inconclusive note. There is resolution and new possibilities open up, but nothing is guaranteed and we don't know how things will eventually turn out.

Ernst Lubitsch's "To Be or Not To Be" has an assured place as not only one of Lubitsch's best films, but one of the best films of the classic era. AFI ranks it #49 in its comedy film 100 and it's held in general critical esteem. But this was not always the case. It was greatly misunderstood when it opened in February of 1942. Not just the public but even important critics felt the film was in poor taste mixing comedy, Nazis and the plight of Poland during the war. It seemed bizarre that anyone would set a comedy, even a black comedy in this particular time and place. It even included the bombing of Warsaw in September, 1939.

Early 1942 saw some of the darkest days of World War II. For one thing, Hitler seemed to be winning. The Nazis and their allies controlled most of Europe and Germany had even invaded Russia. Pearl Harbor had just happened, pulling the U. S. into the war. The climate was full of fear and dread and everything was more serious than ever. Making light of all this just didn't go down well with many people. And from Lubitsch, an esteemed director whose films were usually sophisticated romantic comedies set in make-believe kingdoms populated by people like Jeanette MacDonald and Maurice Chevalier, this was outrageous. Lubitsch, of course, wasn't making light of the situation itself, but using comedy to cut the Nazis down to size; to show them as human beings full of foibles, not unstoppable supermen. The film was not a failure at the box office but it wasn't a big hit either.

. He was ahead of his time. War films during the conflict were generally straight-on action films. After the war they were bigger and more iconic, but not comic. There were a few exceptions. "Stalag 17" had enough darkly comic elements to call it a comic drama but it was released in 1953, eight years after the war's end. Actual comedies set during World War II had to wait until the late 50s and early 60s, and they were generally set in the Pacific with tropical islands in the background, ("Operation Petticoat", "The Wackiest Ship in the Army") not devastated cities. Chaplin had made "The Great Dictator" in 1940, but that was an obvious satire and America had not entered the war.

The film is not a constant laugh fest, either. I would be tempted to call it a suspense/espionage film with comic elements. The serious parts of the film are quite serious. There's no glossing over bombed buildings or the general darkness and tension of the situation. The Nazis are vain and pompous men, on edge themselves and ready to cover any possible slip with a nervous Nazi salute, but they remain dangerous and powerful and most are not comic buffoons. When Carole Lombard as actress Maria Tura is approached by two German soldiers and told to come with them to Gestapo headquarters, there's a genuine feeling that she could be in serious trouble.

It's the first part of the film that is purely comic. Here Lubitsch opens the whole film with a joke about one of the players trying to prove he is convincing in his role, and ends it with another joke. Poland hasn't been invaded yet and there's time to introduce the various members of a Polish troupe of actors with all their foibles and little interpersonal dramas. Benny's Joseph Turaq is vain, a bit of a ham and jealous over his glamorous wife getting sent baskets of flowers from an admirer. Benny had been unsure of accepting such a role in an important film by a noted director. He was mainly a radio star but had made a few comedy films, most notably "Charlie's Aunt" .It took Lubitsch himself convincing Benny that all along he had been an actor playing a comic role, as his comedy was based around him being a particular character and not just jokes.

His wife was played by Carole Lombard who is absolutely wonderful. Her comic timing was notable ever since films like "Twentieth Century" and "My Man Godfrey" and here she does a great deal with facial expressions; watch her first meeting with Lieutenant Sobinski (Robert Stack) as she reacts to his knowledge of what she said in already-forgotten interviews: "What goldfish?" Her character is also shrewd, and knows to act to the Nazis as if her only cares are for nice clothes and a bigger apartment. This was her final film. She died in December, 1941 in a plane crash, returning from a War Bond drive in the Midwest. The public had really loved her and at showings applauded her on screen entrances.

Robert Stack, just 23, was breaking into pictures and this was a big break for him. He is as All-American as Gary Cooper or Jimmy Stewart playing Polish Lieutenant Stanislav Sobinski. It's surely for the better that he didn't try to put on a Polish accent, but his American speech among a largely European cast stands out more than it should. IThough they note that he had been in England, his accent certainly isn't British. I think they could have rewritten his character as an American volunteer in the RAF (there were such men) to account for his thoroughly American ways. Beyond that he's quite convincing.

Among the rest, Sig Ruman is particularly notable as Colonel Ehrhardt. The character gets a momentous buildup and by the time he enters over an hour into the film, you are expecting a total monster. Instead we get this insecure narcissist who is glad he is known as "Concentration Camp Ehrhardt" but who blames any perceived mistake on hapless Captain Schultz (Henry Victor) who often notes that it was the colonel's idea. Felix Bressart is Greenburg, a "Spear carrier" in most of their productions who always wants to get a laugh. He also yearns to play Shylock and perform his soliloquy at the end of "The Merchant of Venice" and finally gets his chance. Charles Halton's face will be recognizable to fans of classic films. Usually he played a wicked landlord about to foreclose on a mortgage or something similar but here he gets to play a rare sympathetic character as Jan Dobosz, the Producer of the troupe's plays.

After the initial foolishness the film turns serious and it stays serious. Much of the humor of the piece lies in the situation underlying everything, that these people are just actors trying to put one over on the Nazis. Knowing who they really are sets up conversations that are humorous for the audience. There are some overtly funny jokes along the way like when Benny continually mentions "The great Polish actor, Josef Tura" to people who don't recognize the name. The film's balance between humor and terror is subtle, but always present within the story. This is a film not to be missed.

"Dodsworth" is every bit the great classic film that it is generally held to be and one of the finest films of the Thirties. Unusual for its time, a decade of musicals, screwball comedies and escapist fare, :Dodsworth" is a serious exploration of the gradual dissolution of a marriage, a drama but not a melodrama. Sam Goldwyn didn't even want to make it at first, thinking no one would want to see a middle aged love story, but when screenwriter Sidney Howard made it into a hit play on Broadway, Goldwyn changed his mind. Goldwyn wanted to only put out high quality films and brought in the best people, including Walter Huston who played the title role on stage.

He gave it to up and coming director William Wyler. Wyler had spent a long apprenticeship at Universal cranking out routine Westerns, but once he left them for Goldwyn, he became an uncannily fine director. This was his first masterpiece in a career of many that led to a record twelve Academy Award nominations as best director and three wins. He was particularly good with actors and fourteen actors and actresses won Oscars under his direction. His ability to do this was a mystery. He had no experience in the theater and had been raised to take over the family's haberdashery in Alsace. He was not well read and more likely to be found motorboating or skiing in his free time. He was known for doing as many as 40 takes to get what he wanted from an actor or a scene and yet was loath to give actors any instruction. Some say he thought their performance would look artificial if he did and that it had to come from them. Others said he just couldn't articulate what he wanted but knew it when he got it. All of his actors simply trusted him and though he was a taskmaker, his record stood for itself.

Sidney Howard adapted his own play for the screen, from the original Sinclair Lewis novel. It's a fantastic screenplay with quotable lines in every scene. In fact, every scene is major in this film, with no filler and it moves along at a brisk pace. Sam Dodsworth is an auto manufacturer who has sold his factory and business in order to retire. He's a solid American type of his era, a man who has been enormously successful but who is down to earth and plain spoken. All his employees turn out to bid him goodbye on his last day. Walter Huston plays him as a man of dignity and patience, but nobody's fool.

His wife, Fran, is played by Ruth Chatterton. She was one of the biggest actresses of her day, up there with Constance Bennett and Norma Shearer, both of whom, like her, are mostly forgotten today by the general public. This was one of her last pictures. Fran is superficial, snobby, frivolous and dying to get away from Zenith, Indiana, the factory town of her husband's automotive business. She wants them to go to Europe. But she doesn;t just want a vacation, saying, "I want a new life, all over from the very beginning. A perfectly glorious, free, adventurous life." Her description of her daily life in Zenith, always surrounded by the same women, shows her to be an adventurous, if foolish spirit and she comes off more sympathetic because of this. Her characterization was a topic of great arguments between Wyler and Chatterton, who saw her as simply evil. Wyler felt that she had to be somewhat sympathetic for the film to work and he was right. This is a story of two people who find they are far more different than they imagined and though Fran is unsympathetic, she is not a villain.

Mary Astor is softer and sweeter than the roles she is famous for as Edith Cortright, an American woman living in Italy. She's far more perceptive and sophisticated than poor Fran and makes a pointed comment when Fran tells her she's turning 35. Fran is in the middle of what later would be called a midlife crisis and fears aging.. Everything she does is an attempt to deny that she's aging and news of becoming a grandmother in the near future really devastates her.

David Niven appears in an early role as Captain Lockert, a man who shows Fran that she is out of her depth on the transatlantic voyage on the Queen Mary. Niven had recently been taken up and given a contract by Goldwyn, a real stroke of luck for the actor who had only recently been an extra. He's good as a sophisticated cad who immediately notes how charming Fran looks in her outfit even though both she and Sam have committed an innocent faux pas by dressing up on the first night. Paul Lukas is every bit the suave European who also pronounces Fran as "charming", which seems to be a code for "interesting." Maria Ouspenskaya makes a great appearance as the Baroness Von Obersdorf, dressed in black and with all the intensity she could muster. She tells it like it is and spares no feelings in her single scene that got her a Best Supporting Actress nomination.

The film is beautifully photographed and Goldwyn sent a second unit to Europe to film scenes of the places visited by the Dodsworths, opening up the film in a clever, if expensive way before the days of frequent location shooting. Much more was filmed but both Goldwyn and Wyler didn't want the film to become a travelog and distract from its real intent. This film is a sincere look at life, marriage and the differences between various people in a way that completely holds up today.

EXTRA NOTE: This is a good film in which to see Ruth Chatterton. As big as she was, most of her films were fairly lightweight and are hard to find in any format. Chatterton was very different from the characters she usually played. After her retirement from films just two years after "Dodsworth," she became an author of several novels, one of which became a bestseller. She was also a noted aviator who flew solo across the U. S. several times and was a friend of Amelia Earhart.

One of the biggest and best films of the 1950's, "From Here to Eternity" matched an excellent cast with a masterful director, good writing and Oscar winning black and white cinematography. In fact it was nominated in thirteen categories and won eight including Best Picture, Director and both Supporting Actress and Supporting Actor. Though Montgomery Clift, Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr did not win in the acting categories, many think they should have, and really, it doesn't matter because they were great whether or not they won an award.

Fred Zinneman was a director actors wanted to work with because he brought out fine performances. He also directed a string of fine films with no misfires, at this point just coming off "High Noon" and "The Member of the Wedding". He directed serious films in general, with the exception of "Oklahoma!", and even that musical has its dark moments. He seemed to be most interested in human nature and in particular, how people with principles act under trying or challenging circumstances. This is as true for Montgomery Clift's Robert Pruitt and Burt Lancaster's Sgt. Warden as it was for Paul Scofield's Sir Thomas More in "A Man For All Seasons" (1966). Zinneman had to fight Columbia President Harry Cohn to get Montgomery Clift, who Cohn felt wouldn't be suitable as a boxer or a soldier. There was also a fight over Sinatra, who Zinneman didn't want but Cohn did. Both worked out well.

The film included subjects that were very controversial and envelope-pushing in 1953, so much so that it would be hard to imagine the impact from the standpoint of today. This was part of a major change in films of the 50s which took on topics unthinkable in the previous decade and a half. There is open adultery between Kerr and Lancaster that includes one of the most famous scenes in movie history as they kiss, in a horizontal embrace on the beach; this was very daring in its time. The military is shown to include corruption, violence and injustice. There is sadistic bullying, violence and murder. Some say there is prostitution, but though Donna Reed's Alma (Lorene) was a prostitute in the novel, here she's a hostess in a club that is presented as above board. This had to be done to meet the Code, though it's done vaguely enough that one can take it as one wishes. These people are not models of behavior, but act as people generally would, warts and all.

Set in Oahu's Schofield Barracks just before Pearl Harbor, the story is told from the multiple viewpoints of various pairs of characters interacting with each other. There are Kerr and Lancaster, Lancaster and Clift, Clift and Reed, Clift and Sinatra, Sinatra and Borgnine and Clift and everyone in his platoon. Clift's role is especially difficult and ambiguous. He brings nearly everyone down on him because although he is a champion boxer, he won't box for his platoon o and is mercilessly hazed. At first he doesn't explain that it's because he blinded a friend while they were boxing. Still, it was accidental and from their viewpoint, he is a soldier who should know that accidents happen. He's "a hardhead" as Lancaster calls him, in fact so intensely that there's more going on here than what shows on the surface. I wonder why a stubborn individualist like him chose a career in the military. Clift gives it all he's got and totally inhabits Pruitt, as usual saying so much simply by his expressions without saying a word.

Lancaster and Kerr are the other centers of the film, and the buildup to their affair is intense. Kerr. Usually a prim and proper lady in films, plays almost totally against type. She's also blonde, which changes her look considerably. She speaks in such good American English that you really don't remember she's British. She comes with a reputation but Lancaster doesn't seem to care, any more than he cares that she's his commanding officer's wife. In her entrance, walking across a lawn toward Lancaster she's practically luminous, I assume it's a trick of cinematography, but she almost seems to be filmed in pale color for a moment. They play cat and mouse for a while, but before long they're headed to the beach for a night swim, which leads to a critical revelation from her that softens her character and makes it clear she's still a lady inside. Lancaster is less than noble, getting possessive and jealous with her and acting put off about her past, but however unfair, he's just acting as many men would.

Sinatra is streetwise, hot tempered, big mouthed,thoughtless and irresponsible, but that's Private Maggio. He's a pest and often a troublemaker but he stands up for people when he sees they're being treated unfairly and seems to have a good heart beneath his obvious problems. He looks hopelessly skinny and you wonder how he's ever going to make it in the Army. He befriends Pruitt and they become drinking buddies at a local social club where Pruitt falls in love with hostess Lorene, played by Donna Reed, like Kerr, against type. With dark hair she seems cynical, particularly about soldiers but eventually falls for Pruitt. Then there's Ernest Borgnine, who is the most frightening film presence since William Bendix, as the bullying Sgt."Fatso" Judson. Only Lancaster can dominate him. He becomes Sinatra's personal tormenter and could have used a little more time on screen for the audience to appreciate how horrible he truly was.

The film explores these people and others, living ordinary lives, carrying out their affairs and schemes, hopes and suffering and the boredom of daily routines. Then the calendar by a wall phone shows that it's Sunday, December 6th and everything is dwarfed and shattered by the attack on Pearl Harbor, an event that trumps all other events. Although the film doesn't pack the same punch it did in 1953, it's still powerful and a must see for any classic film fan.

There are many odd facts and legends surrounding this film, most of all the horse head scene in both the book and film of "The Godfather. Sinatra was at the nadir of his popularity and needed something, anything to help revive his career. But everyone involved in the production said there was no such incident and it was Ava Gardner, Sinatra's then wife and a good friend of the Cohns, who got him the role. Deborah Kerr and Burt Lancaster may have had an actual affair during the shooting of this film; he said they did but she said there was an attraction but nothing more. The famous beach scene was so risque that the censors made sure that Kerr's swimsuit had a skirt in its design. Photos of that scene were forbidden for being too racy and were not used for the publicity or lobby cards.

"Dinner at Eight " is the great classic that everyone says it is, however, so much time has passed since its making that I feel I need to comment a bit on its style for those who haven't seen many films of its vintage before. I've seen this film a number of times on television, at repertoire theaters and on video but this is the first time I really noticed how much has changed since it was made. The same goes for other thirties films like "Grand Hotel", to which "Dinner At Eight" was a kind of follow-up. These were early talkies, following on the heels of the late twenties talkies which were mostly musicals that have seemingly totally vanished. The overall effect is more like a filmed play than the way films are today. The camera is fairly static, with only a few closeups. The acting is still stagelike as well, with a certain amount of what looks today like overacting. Many of the actors had been recently recruited from Broadway because they knew how to deliver a line and had voices that could resonate on film. It took a while to develop this new art of talking films as well as to develop more flexible equipment to record the sound and film the picture. Don't get me wrong, it's not all making big faces and twirling mustaches, but it is noticeable.

After "Grand Hotel" broke records as the first dramatic all-star film, MGM wanted another hit and kept several of the earlier film's elements. It is set in a wealthy and glamorous world, something which became a convention of many thirties films and which also allowed for beautiful costumes and sets. Ostensibly a comedy, each of the characters has some very serious things going on beneath the veneer of social grace. By the end of the film many of the character's lives have changed in significant ways. Both John and Lionel Barrymore were in "Grand Hotel" as was Wallace Beery.

Every one of the major actors gets a juicy role and each plays their part well. The shadow of the Depression hangs over all of them. Lionel Barrymore as Oliver Jordan is the harried shipping magnate whose business is slipping and who finds himself in the middle of what we would call today a hostile takeover. His wife Millicent (Billie Burke) is the dithering, air-headed society wife trying to bring off this dinner with the social coup of giving it in honor of Lord and Lady Ferncliffe, who she had met in Antibes. Burke shines in this role, one which she would repeat in one way or another in many films in a way that no one could do better. (She is, by the way, not a social climber as some seem to think. As a wealthy, multi-generation shipping family the Jordans would be well-within high society. But it would always be a social coup to have titled guests).

Their daughter Paula (Madge Evans) is bored with her society boyfriend and thinks she is in love with aging actor Larry Renault (John Barrymore). Renault is running out of money and is waiting to get a big role in a Broadway play, though only he thinks he is the big star he used to be. Another aging thespian, Carlotta Vance (Marie Dressler) is also low on funds and has come to New York to sell her stock in Jordan's company at a most inconvenient time. Dan Packard (Wallace Beery) is a crass, boorish businessman with dreams of being a Cabinet member who sees Jordan's company as easy pickings. His trophy wife Kitty (Jean Harlow) is totally bored and wants some social recognition rather than the bracelets Dan gives her and staying in bed all day eating chocolates. Harlow is an absolute hoot in this role, one that opened future roles for her that would be more rewarding than what she had been doing. Marie Dressler, the most unlikely top box-office draw in Hollywood at that time, and Harlow, the actress one would not expect to be any more than decorative, together practically run away with the film and share the last, famous conversational lines together.

All this is enhanced by a production team one could only dream about. This was David O. Selznik's first production after he moved from Paramount to MGM. With him he brought his protege, director George Cukor, who became legendary in his own right. The witty and keenly observational script was by Frances Marion, Herman Mankiewicz and Donald Ogden Stewart, from a play by George S. Kaufman and Edna Ferber. This was some of the top writing talent of the day and because the script is Pre-Code, it openly addresses issues of adultery, compulsive womanizing and alcoholism. Look past the older styles and take in this superb film.

"The Sundowners" was a modest box office hit with a notable cast, distinguished director and eight Academy Award nominations, but despite all that it seems to have been somewhat forgotten over the years. It's not a film you find anyone mentioning anymore. This is too bad because it's a very entertaining film that is very rewarding if you are patient enough. It runs a bit over two hours and the only thing you hear about it that is negative, when you hear anything about it at all, is that it's too long. I can understand that opinion, but I disagree.

Director Fred Zinnemann made mostly serious dramatic films, many of which are genuine classics. They included "High Noon", "From Here To Eternity", "Oklahoma!", "The Nun's Story", and later on, "A Man For All Seasons". "The Sundowners" seems almost like a vacation for him from his usual fare. Still, he brought to it his well-known attention to detail, strong visuals and his ability to draw fine performances from his actors. This film may be on the lighter side but it is not trivial. The screenplay was adapted from a best-selling novel of the same title by John Cleary (who appears in the film briefly near the end as a man who wants to buy the family's horse). There is a deep underlying tension in the Carmody family. It's set in Australia in the 1920's. Paddy is a sheep drover and shearer, traveling in a small wagon from job to job with his wife Ida and his son Sean.

He's a good-hearted man who hates routine, fears settling down as a kind of prison and is very happy in the itinerant life they lead. His wife, Ida, a down-to-earth woman, is more intelligent and observant and feels it's time they settled down on a small farm of their own. She knows they can't go on into their old age this way, while Paddy seems to live for the moment as if he'll always be able to do his hard, demanding work. They also have a son, Sean, now in his mid-teens, who agrees with his mother that he'd like a settled life (and perhaps some friends his own age). The story takes place over a year in the sprawling Outback, bringing a flock of sheep from one place to another, later staying at a shearing station.

The casting is exceptional. Robert Mitchum and Deborah Kerr are the Carmodys. They had appeared in "Heaven Knows, Mr. Allison" together and had become good friends. Mitchum accepted second-billing for a chance to work with her again. His earthiness and her ladylike English breeding worked well together as a couple. Kerr, of course, was a versatile actress, as she showed in "From Here to Eternity" and was quite able to play the wife of a wandering drover convincingly. You can absolutely feel her yearning for a settled life. In one telling scene, she looks longingly at a well-dressed young woman on a train stopped at a station as she touches up her makeup; it says everything without one spoken word. Mitchum is fine as Paddy, drinking and gambling and having a good time. But it's Kerr who keeps the money jar, and Kerr who decides he must take a sheep-shearing job he doesn't really want. Still, you can really see their love for each other and it's fascinating to watch them negotiate the ups and downs of their lives.

Michael Anderson Jr. - son of British director Michael Anderson ("Around the World In 80 Days") - holds his own with Mitchum and Kerr and is given as much screen time as them. This is taking a chance with an actual teenager, but he's both winning and believable. One thing I couldn't help but notice, especially with a meticulous director like Zinnemann, was that especially in closeups, he always looked clean, combed and pressed, despite the life his character was living, but film wasn't that concerned with absolute realism at this time. He's a lively and important addition here. Peter Ustinov has a tricky role as Rupert Venneker, a kind of well educated drifter with a mysterious past that may have included being a ship's officer and a soldier in the 17th Lancers. He speaks in grandiose ways and has some kind of charm with the ladies despite less than ideal looks. He befriends Sean as well and shares interesting observations about life with him. His character seems like pure fiction, that it's too much to imagine someone like this helping to herd sheep, but he fits right in somehow and really adds to the film's fun.

There are nice turns by Glyns Johns as the jolly innkeeper and barmaid at the Pastoral Hotel, a role for which she was nominated Best Supporting Actress. Dina Merrill is good as an upper class young woman from Sydney who is having trouble adjusting to the Outback life that came with her new husband. It could have been a more developed role, but I imagine time would not allow for that. Time as it was was two hours, thirteen minutes, and that's fairly long for a film with no big plot to deal with. "The Sundowners" is an episodic film, true to life in its way, just following the Carmodys as they go here, then there. It's true that with this structure, any number of episodes could be cut without losing any plot points, and apparently that would have pleased some people, though viewers overall rate the film highly. But I think there were some reasons for its length.

One was simply the times when it was made. Movies in the late 50's and early 60's were often "Big". Hollywood's answer to the threat of television was to go big: CinemaScope or other widescreen formats, location shooting, international stars, and long, if not even epic length. With a major director, major studio (Warner Brothers) and major stars. A film had to be of a certain length to be taken seriously, plus this was a December holiday release. Also, because it's by Zinnemann, there had to be more reason for it. After all, he could be concise, he directed "High Noon". I think that the length helps to make you feel the feeling of the long, endless wandering that Kerr's character is experiencing, and how fed up she and Sean are getting with it. Without the length, you wouldn't feel what she's feeling. I don't think Zinnemann was simply being undisciplined here.

Finally a word on the film's tone. This could have been a very serious picture. The couple could have been in much more dire straits and their underlying tension could have erupted into violence. On top of that there are dangers from living and working outdoors and possible dangers from other people. Many possible dangerous situations do occur but tend to be resolved quickly and amicably. When two truckloads of drovers almost collide the scene turns into a Donnybrook straight out of a John Ford film where the combatants all make up happily. There's another Ford-like moment when Ustinov pulls a drunk and singing Mitchum out of a local bar. This light tone may, however, have been a reason the film did not win any of its Oscar nominations in the year of "The Apartment" and "Elmer Gantry". Another tipoff that this is, at heart, a family film, is the fine score by Dimitri Tiomkin. It's not like the big, sweeping orchestral scores he was known for, but a smaller ensemble playing folk-like, dance-like music, similar to what are only the lighter moments in some of the many films he scored (like "Here's To the Ladies" from "The Alamo"). This is one of the best family films around, especially because it avoids being too maudlin and presents a fairly realistic take on family life.

EXTRA NOTE: Deborah Kerr had the dubious honor of being nominated six times for Best Actress and winning none until the Academy gave her an honorary one in 1994. Twice her seemingly certain win ended up going to another because of circumstances beyond acting. In 1957 I think she should have been a shoo-in for the award for "The King and I" but it was the year Hollywood welcomed back Ingrid Bergman from her exile in Europe, after being shunned for the Rossellini affair. She won for "Anastasia", a relatively forgotten film. In 1960, Kerr again seemed assured when suddenly it looked like Elizabeth Taylor was going to die and the word went out to vote for Liz. Though Bergman and Taylor were good in their roles I really think Kerr should have won both times.

Though they had been making moderately successful films since the late seventies, the team of producer Ismail Merchant, director James Ivory and screenwriter Ruth Prawer Jhabvala broke out into much greater public awareness in 1985 with "A Room With a View". This began their most highly creative and successful period that also included "Howards End." Lesser known films from this time, "Maurice" and "Mr. And Mrs. Bridge" are very much worth seeing and as for "Slaves of New York", well, everyone has an occasional misfire. "A Room With a View" was easy to love with it being a love story largely set in sunny Italy. "Howards End" was a plot-driven piece with numerous characters, intense drama and many sumptuous sets. "The Remains of the Day" was a much more risky proposition, a character-driven film that much of its time can only be described as chilly. Yet it proved to be an audience favorite and another smashing success for its production team.

One reason, of course, was the reteaming of Anthony Hopkins and Emma Thompson in the lead roles after they had wowed audiences in "Howards End". These two together could communicate volumes with facial expressions, tone of voice and even glances, something necessary for a film focused on personalities over plot action and development. Hopkins uses his entire body to express his repressed persona. The story is centered on the Butler and Housekeeper at the great estate of Darlington Hall in England in the 1930s. I capitalized their positions to emphasize that they were not just servants, but served essentially as the Chief Operating Officers of a great estate, the people who oversaw everything. Within the household. These positions were the peak of a career in service. The film almost divides itself in two halves with the first half focusing on Darlington Hall, its running and the politics surrounding it with the second half more about the relationship between Stevens and Miss Kenton.

These two clash a great deal at first, with Miss Keton unafraid to voice her opinion, one which Stevens frequently ignores unless, as in one case, Lord Darlington gives him the same advice. Miss Kenton is warm and friendly, but even when she picks some flowers to brighten Stevens' office, she is rebuffed as he says it would be a distraction. She later teases him that he doesn't hire pretty maids because they would be a distraction as well. This is the relationship around which much of the film revolves. Stevens totally inhabits his role as a butler but to an extent where he cannot get out of it. Even in dramatic situations or when someone offers him a chance to loosen up and act human, he simply can't. He is the perfect butler, remarkably focused, efficient and thorough and has never gone beyond that. It's clear that he is attracted to Miss Kenton and likes her, but her every attempt to break through the ice fails, as once he becomes aware of being drawn out of his role, he immediately retreats into it with politeness and formality.

It's easy to see what he likes in her, but one can wonder what she sees in him. I believe she sees through the facade and admires his steadfastness, his loyalty and dedication, his ability to do a perfect job. She sees that he is a very strong person who lives up to his highest ideals, even if some of them are a bit out of date. She must feel that if she could break through his facade and reach the real person there, he would, with all his capabilities, become a whole person with a life outside his role. But later on she tells him, "They do say that for a great many people the evening's the best part of the day. The part they look most forward to", a comment that seems to baffle him.

The film is told in flashbacks, opening in 1958 as Stevens, having received a letter from Miss Kenton, has decided to go see her, hoping to have her back as Housekeeper, as Darlington Hall has a new owner. The great house was almost slated to be torn down by heirs who found it too expensive to keep up, but was saved by a former American Congressman, Jack Lewis (Christopher Reeve), now retired and intending to live there. He was an important guest in 1935 at a big conference there with English and German aristocrats in attendance with the purpose of keeping Britain and Germany out of war with each other. Some of the English aristocrats are Nazi sympathizers while others, like Lord Darlington believe war could be avoided by allowing Germany to build itself up again. Lewis feels they are out of their depth and are being manipulated by the Germans. It's historically true that there were English fascists and some of the characters are based on historical figures while others play actual persons like Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain. The actual German intentions are very clear when during a later visit by German ambassador von Ribbentrop, he tells an assistant to list the more important works of art for later reference.

This political world in which all takes place introduces another part of Stevens' character. Throughout the thirties scenes, Stevens is very proud that his post is in a house of great importance, "I like to think great things are decided within these walls". He also works not to overhear the political discussions and to not have an opinion if he does. Of course, that's not his place, he says to Lord Darlington's godson, Reginald Cardinal, played amiably by a young Hugh Grant, who has one of the best comic scenes with Hopkins. Stevens also greatly admires Lord Darlington, a very kind but naive man, assuring critics that he has nothing but the highest goals and intentions. As we see, good intentions do not always make good policy and after the war, Lord Darlington's reputation is ruined, and Stevens realizes that much of his world then was an illusion.

The film has all of the elements that make up the Merchant/Ivory films: detailed and historically accurate sets using several of England's stately homes, excellent cinematography by Tony Pierce-Roberts who did "A Room With a View" and "Howards End" and a complex score by Richard Robbins that seems to capture all the mental and emotional processes lying beneath the surface of things. Though the sets are opulent, it's not in a show-off way and like the rest of the film are a bit understated. That serves the film, a story of illusions and lost opportunities. In a moment that highlights the unbridgeable distance between them, Miss Kenton confesses, "There are times when I think what a terrible mistake I've made with my life". To which Stevens politely replies, ""Yes, I'm sure we all have these thoughts from time to time".

It needed to happen. Fred Astaire and Eleanor Powell were the two top tap dancers in the country. They simply had to dance together in the same film. MGM had revived their "Broadway Melody" title from the original 1929 musical as Powell's personal vehicle in 1936 and 1938 and she had become an instant star. The first film was so big that it erased the possible bankruptcy that the studio had been facing. Astaire had just completed his RKO contract and was looking for something new. Fortunately MGM jumped on the opportunity to team the two, something that otherwise may have never happened. The dance greats were originally intimidated by each other and were very deferential at first to the point where it was becoming unbearable. Powell finally said, "Look, we can't go on like this. You're Fred, I'm Ellie. We're just two hoofers". The ice was broken.

MGM had always given an opulent budget to the "Broadway Melody" films and this was no exception. Cole Porter wrote most of the songs specifically for the film (with "All Ashore" by Roger Eden and "Jukebox Dance" by Walter Ruick the exceptions). He gave it two of his best, "I Concentrate On You" and "Begin the Beguine", a rare foray for him into a song with a tropical rhythm that became one of his most popular standards. MGM was known for giving Powell large and spectacular sets in which to dance, but this time they outdid themselves with the famous and absolutely gigantic, gleaming black set with its mirrored stars and floor. The set, costing $150,000, extended upward sixty feet and an orchestra behind the chorus is so far back that you can hardly see them. It's the most perfectly glamorous set for this extraordinary dance number, one of the most famous in film.

The film was planned to be shot in Technicolor, but I'm glad they didn't as this is one of the great black and white sets of all time. They also wisely chose to keep the focus on Astaire and Powell and did not overwhelm them with too many extras. The eight minute number includes singers and a dance chorus, but most of the time is spent with just the two in remarkably precise parallel tap dancing in two sections, a costumed flamenco-inspired dance followed by a change of clothing into a white tux and a flowing white dress that peaks with them dancing to no music at all, and you don't even miss it.

Oh, there is a plot. Of course it's a fairly light one, this time based on a case of mistaken identity, a plot device used before in some of the Astaire/Rogers films at RKO. In this case it's Fred's Johnny Brett and George Murphy's King Shaw whose identities are confused, leading to the usual situations. Murphy keeps up with Astaire in their opening number, "Please Don't Monkey With Broadway" and he's great with Powell in "Between You and Me", a big Hollywood waltz danced on a white set with a broad staircase. Powell's dancing here is elegant and graceful but beneath that is a considerable amount of athleticism to perform it, which you hardly notice. Murphy had been Powell's dance partner in "Broadway Melody of 1938", though other series regulars like Buddy Ebsen and Robert Taylor were not carried over. Taylor had performed the role of Powell's love interest as Murphy was not seen as romantic material. Here, Fred is the love interest, though that's played so lightly that a true romance hardly seems to exist, omitting the romantic tension that often existed in an Astaire/Rogers film. For most of the film they seem to be just good friends and the dance numbers are never romantically about them beyond a shared giggle after the "Jukebox Dance".

Assisting them are Frank Morgan as his usual befuddled self, this time as producer Bob Casey. There's a funny running joke involving dates with young gold diggers and an ermine cape. His partner Bert Matthews (Ian Hunter) is the man who really runs the business and has a yen for Powell's Claire Bennett. He's fine in such a thankless role. Florence Rice is underused as usual as Casey's secretary, Amy (she was excellent in a similar but larger role in MacDonald/Eddy's "Sweethearts"). Still, the film is let down by a rather dull script that lacks the wit and zingy one-liners that made Astaire's RKO films sparkle. There's also the issue of some really odd specialty numbers that seem to show that Vaudeville still had some influence. This is true of a number of thirties and forties musicals, not just this one. Everything's going along just fine and suddenly here's a woman (Trixie Firschke) balancing a ball on her head and juggling plates. There's also a comic soprano (Carmen D'Antonio) whose main talent seems to be making faces, as her singing is dubbed by the same soprano who sings "Begin the Beguine" (Lois Hodnott). The ultimate and untoppable example of this type of act was the three contortionist Ross Sisters who appeared in 1944's "Broadway Rhythm", a film that coincidentally starred George Murphy.

But every time Astaire and Powell are on, together or solo, it's five stars. They dance in a cute, friendly way at a restaurant with an outdoor terrace (" Juke Box Dance"). MGM regular Herman Bing makes an appearance as a silhouettist here. And once they're at the premiere of the new Broadway show they really cut loose. "I Concentrate On You" is done in masks and a set that suggests Venice with Parker in a black tutu and Astaire in a Harlequin-sleeved suit with a short jacket. Here they do balletic leaps in perfect time with each other. It's also lucky that the theater had a duplicate set of all the costumes in Fred's size, smaller and more slender than Murphy, who he is standing in for. Couldn't they have written him as Murphy's understudy to account for this? It's not important but still it's very noticeable. When "Begin the Beguine" finally arrives it's a symphony of black and white on the most dazzling of reflective floors. It makes up for any of the film's earlier lapses. I actually wish it had been even longer.

"The Barkleys of Broadway" was intended to be a quick follow up to Fred Astaire and Judy Garland's big hit, "Easter Parade". Arthur Freed planned to use mostly the same people. Charles Walters, who had worked with Judy as far back as "Presenting Lily Mars" and "Girl Crazy" and had directed "Easter Parade" would carry on with the new film. Sidney Sheldon would assist Comden and Green with the screenplay. The cinematographer would be Harry Stradling. Then it became apparent that Judy, often a no show at rehearsals, would not be able to do it due to her health problems. Freed had a brilliant idea: why not reunite Astaire with Ginger Rogers? This made it much more than just another musical. By the postwar 40s, people could look back and see that the Astaire/Rogers partnership was truly one of the wonders of the thirties and bringing them back for a new film would be a chance to see these legends together again, and this time in color. Besides, the pair's last RKO film had been "The Story of Vernon and Irene Castle", a strictly historical biography in which Fred and Ginger didn't play their usual characters and danced only in historic styles. It came off a little like an Astaire/Rogers film without Astaire or Rogers. Clearly this would be a one time opportunity to say farewell to them properly.

It's a really good film and the dancing is terrific, especially the romantic dance finale set to "They Can't Take That Away From Me", a beautiful last dance for one of the movies' greatest couples. The film was made by MGM, so the budget was large, and it was produced by the famous Freed unit, who brought the film musical to a high point at this time. Fred and Ginger play the Barkleys, a famous musical comedy duo on Broadway. They frequently bicker and argue, something some fans object to compared to the usual romantic plot. It's very clear though, that this bickering is more of a surface disturbance compared to the deep love they share, though when Astaire looks angry he seems to flash lightning bolts almost too threateningly. As Dinah Barkley, Ginger feels a need to prove she is a fine dramatic actress and not just a partner for her husband Josh, a situation that mirrored her feelings early in their partnership.. In 1933 she had a comedy role in "42nd Street", a singing spot in "Gold Diggers of 1933" and then "Flying Down to Rio" which paired her with Fred for nearly a decade. These feelings of being a mere accessory ended after she made the dramatic film, "Kitty Foyle" in 1940 and won an Oscar for her performance.

She is talked into doing a dramatic turn as the lead in a play about the young Sarah Bernhardt by French playwright Jacques Barredout, ably played by Jacques Francois in his only American film. The Barkleys' work with playwright Ezra Miller, a sardonic fellow with numerous female acquaintances (who seem to get along surprisingly well together). Ezra's role replaces that of the secondary couple but here he has to do the whole thing himself. To fill the role is the larger than life Oscar Levant, a noted classical concert pianist, composer, acerbic wit and author. Levant appeared in a number of films, notably "The Band Wagon" and "Rhapsody in Blue" where as a noted friend of George Gershwin, he played himself. He's a bit let down by the script, which is not as witty as he was naturally. But he does get a chance to show off his pianism with a fast "Sabre Dance" and an abridged first movement of the Piano Concerto No. 1 by Tchaikovsky.

Billie Burke is her usual balmy self as society woman Mrs. Livingston Belney, but isn't on screen nearly enough to make much of the role. Redhead Gale Robbins has a comic role as an actress from the South who Ginger detests after she becomes her understudy. She was well known then from Broadway, radio and a few film appearances. She got to sing a number in Astaire's "Three Little Words" a year later. Also note Hans Conreid as the artist who paints a portrait of the Barkleys. He was more of a stage and radio personality at this time but would become well known for his many television appearances.

MGM wisely set it in the current day and did not try to emulate the thirties. The film was shot in widescreen format and in beautiful color (the war against television was beginning). The first surprise is Ginger's red hair, which seems to go through several shades in this film, though that may be the lighting. Though Ginger was a natural redhead she usually was a blonde in her films, so we're actually seeing her closer to her natural look. She looks really great throughout in many elaborate forties outfits. Fred was nearly fifty by now and his appearance has aged but you wouldn't guess it from his dancing which is as perfect as ever. He has a big solo dance as usual and in this case it's "Shoes With Wings On", one of his best-known numbers with special effects that were amazing for their day and which still look impressive now.

The film begins with a real blunder. Fred and Ginger are dancing the "Swing Trot" but they are behind the large opening credits. You can hardly see them. This is what the audience came for, and it's obscured by the production credits. Was this supposed to tantalize us? The error was finally made up for in "That's Entertainment III" where it was shown without the text. There's a funny Scottish number with both Fred and Ginger affecting an exaggerated brogue. "Manhattan Downbeat" is the biggest number with a medium sized chorus and a moving beltway on the stage. It's nice though not truly memorable.

The music is the weakest part of the film. Though there were forgettable tunes in every one of their films (think "The Yam"), for the most part the Astaire/Rogers films were known for their fine music by the likes of Kern, Berlin, Porter and Gershwin. Many of the greatest songs of the American Songbook were debuted in their films, songs like "Cheek to Cheek", "The Way You Look Tonight" and "Let's Face the Music and Dance". Every show has its serviceable songs, songs that are fine when watching the show but which are never heard outside of it, and not intended to become hits. But that's what all the songs are here. Composer Harry Warren wrote "I Only Have Eyes for You" but otherwise his songs tended to be cute tunes like "Jeepers Creepers", "Chattanooga Choo Choo" and "You Must Have Been a Beautiful Baby". Even with Ira Gershwin writing the lyrics the inspiration just isn't there to create a new standard.

The movie needed a notable song. You couldn't bring Astaire and Rogers back and not have a major song in the picture. Knowing what they had wasn't on that level, they did the next best thing. Fred had sung Gershwin's "They Can't Take That Away From Me" to Ginger on the ferry from New Jersey to Manhattan in "Shall We Dance", but they never got to dance to it. The finale, where it would have been the romantic number, was instead a rather bizarre ballet. Here they finally get to do that dance. Alone on stage, just them, before a subdued purple curtain with Ginger all in white like she was in the "Swing Time" finale, they sum up everything they could do in a ballroom dance in perfect step. It's a beautiful dance that makes up for every minor shortcoming of the film and gives them the farewell they deserved.

"Carefree" is the penultimate Astaire/Rogers film at RKO and the last in which they appear as the characters they had developed in their films together, as the next film would be based on historical figures, Vernon and Irene Castle. It's one of their shortest films and also one of their slightest, with only four musical sequences. Written by the team who wrote "Bringing Up Baby" for MGM, It has a plot based on a silly, screwball comedy-like notion, though it lacks the intensity and rapid-fire dialogue of those films as well as their wit. It's funny, but in a different way. It had been sixteen months since "Shall We Dance" and I can only imagine that the film was somewhat shortchanged because "The Story of Vernon and Irene Castle was already in preparation.

Amanda Cooper (Ginger) is supposed to marry Stephen Arden (Ralph Bellamy) but doesn't seem to love him. Bellamy gets her to see his psychiatrist friend, Dr. Tony Flagg (Astaire), who is supposed to help her realize she loves Stephen. We already know she won't marry Bellamy as his role is always as the guy the female lead shouldn't marry, but just to be sure, the film introduces him almost blindly drunk and in the middle of a bender over being rejected again by her.. This appears to be something everyone is used to, but it's not followed up, as for the rest of the film he's always sober. In an almost surreal scene, Fred humorously plays "Jingle Bells" on the harmonica while his assistant, Cooper (Jack Carson) walks Arden in circles to sober him up. Fred, who actually played piano and drums was actually playing the harmonica here and in the golf scene.

There's a good comic supporting cast with Broadway's Luella Gear in her first film as Amanda's Aunt Cora in a Helen Broderick type role as a plain looking woman with a droll sense of humor. She's funny every time she's on. She has great fun putting down mutual friend Judge Travers, sternly played by Clarence Kolb, whose face and voice will be familiar to fans of classic films and television. She and Carson get a very funny scene together after she eats a bizarre combination of food to encourage dreaming. Franklin Pangborn even has a nice bit as a skeet shooting judge at the Medwick Country Club, where much of the film takes place. The country club is a great set, a Colonial style half-flagstone building with stone walls and terrace and white woodwork. It's far from the Art Deco sets of the earlier films with their polished floors and gives the film a more casual air. In fact, for the first time, Fred never dons top hat, white tie, and tails and appears nattily dressed in more casual clothes, reflecting his actual tastes, Fred and Ginger get along quite well after a brief misunderstanding and the plot eventually revolves around Fred trying to undo the suggestion he gave her under hypnosis that she doesn't love him and in fact, hates him. Also, as a psychiatrist, there is no explanation why he can dance so well, something always covered by his usual role as a professional dancer in the earlier films.

The music is by Irving Berlin, but it is a bit of a let down after "Top Hat" and "Follow the Fleet". Fred's famous dance while driving golf balls is set to music with a hint of Scotland, memorable for Fred's golf skill more than the music itself. As usual, Fred came up with the unique idea. "The Yam" was such an inane song that Fred refused to sing it, letting Ginger do it solo. It was saved by making it a big number with everyone at the country club dance joining in. "I Used To Be Colorblind" is rendered somewhat underwhelming, being shot in black and white instead of the color sequence they had planned. It renders lyrics like "I never knew there were such lovely colors" rather pointless. Would it have been that expensive? The dance, of course, is excellent and ends with them frozen at a 45 degree angle. The romantic dance is set to "Change Partners" the only song to gain popularity, and this dance with its Svengali overtones is the highlight of the film. "Change Partners" is a good song but it's still no "Cheek To Cheek".

This film actually has drawn some criticism from people who seem overly serious about an Astaire and Rogers film. Some say the film misrepresents psychoanalysis and the profession in general. I'm certain it does! No real psychiatrist would act like Tony Flagg, falling in love with patients and acting like a stage hypnotist. No one seeing this film would think it was accurate about psychology. At the time it was made, people knew hardly anything about psychology because the Depression was still on and no one but the wealthy could afford it. Then there is another problem. At a critical moment, Ginger has to be accidentally knocked unconscious so Fred can reverse the hypnotic suggestion almost like breaking a spell in a fairy tale. This is not a representation of domestic violence as some claim but an old plot device. Could I say, "Lighten up?" A comedy this fluffy doesn't merit being taken that seriously. In some ways it may be a little too light and silly and the music too unmemorable for a series of films that included some of the greatest classics of the Great American Songbook. That's about the harshest criticism you can give it. But though it's not "Swing Time", it's still a delightful Astaire/Rogers film worth seeing.

"Shall We Dance" is a bit of an outlier among the Astaire-Rogers RKO films. It only did half the business of "Swing Time", and though it grossed over two million worldwide, by their standards that was not a big hit. The film, which is generally quite good, was. I believe, a letdown for the audience in its final act. Still, it has some great tunes by Gershwin including the Academy Award winning, "They Can't Take That Away From Me". It also was experimental in trying to mix ballet and popular dance.

Neither Astaire nor Gershwin liked the idea of mixing the two disparate worlds of dance, but went along with it in the end. Director Mark Sandrich had directed some of their most successful films ("The Gay Divorcee ", "Top Hat", "Follow the Fleet ") and knew the style and tone so well that in all other ways it's a normal Astaire-Rogers film. It was their producer, Pandro S. Berman's idea to mix jazz and ballet. Hollywood, then considered mere popular entertainment, would occasionally attempt something that might raise the bar of critical opinion, though Hollywood ideas of art were often middlebrow and often consisted of fancier sets or more violins. The year before, Rodgers and Hart had done that very thing successfully on Broadway with "On Your Toes ", whose jazz ballet, "Slaughter On Tenth Avenue", heavily influenced by Gershwin, had been rapturously received by the New York audience and critics. Berman would have known this. It may have seemed like a new era was dawning on Broadway, but "On Your Toes" was a one-shot hit by Rodgers, who went back to more standard Broadway fare, though he kept the idea of a big modern dance number in "Oklahoma!". Ironically. "On Your Toes" had been written not for Broadway but for the next Astaire-Rogers film, which Fred turned down as being too outside his usual image and too artsy for his audience. Astaire and Gershwin were old friends from their New York days when together they had big successes with "Lady, Be Good" and "Funny Face" in the 1920s and Fred was happy to work again with him.

Most of the film is a delight. Of course the plot is silly and Fred finds love at first sight for Ginger (as he always does), only this time he's only seen pictures of her. In a clever segue, a flipbook of Ginger dancing with a partner becomes the real thing. He is "Petrov," the great Russian ballet dancer in Paris, though actually he's Peter P. Peters, an American. Ginger, as usual, spurns his advances, and though we know how it all will end, we're just here to see them dance anyway. She's Linda Keene, a popular American tap dancer, also in Paris. Fred is being pursued by a former member of his dance troupe who left to marry an English Lord ( Ketty Gallien as Lady Tarrington). To throw her off, Fred and the owner of the ballet troupe, Jeffrey Baird (Edward Everett Horton) claim he is secretly married to another dancer, who everyone takes to be Ginger.

Most of the film takes place aboard the British ocean liner, Queen Anne, and then in New York once it lands there. This is a perfect milieu for Fred and Ginger who have the biggest staterooms imaginable and get to wear the fashionable clothes one would find among first class on the Normandie or the new Queen Mary. There are plenty of opportunities here for humor and the continued spread of the rumor of their marriage. (Though exactly why is Ginger knitting baby clothes?). It's in this film that Jerome Cowan shows why he became such a well known and dependable character actor. He works really well in comic bits with Horton. Later he creates an early version of a deep fake which causes Ginger great consternation. Add Astaire regular Eric Blore as a proper hotel floor manager and you have a cast that really knows how to handle this kind of light fare and make the film so enjoyable.

The dance numbers before the finale are as excellent as one would expect. Fred's big solo tap number takes place in the ship's engine room where he dances to the rhythm of the pistons accompanied by an impromptu group of black workers singing and playing instruments in "Stop That Bass ". In an "impromptu" dance number (in their films most of Astaire and Rogers dances are presented as if made up on the spot), Fred and Ginger entertain at a party in a rooftop nightclub with "They All Laughed". 'Beginner's Luck " is heard twice aboard the ship, at first as a comic tap number by Fred and later as a love song to Ginger with a romantic moonlit ocean behind them. The most popular song, "They Can't Take That Away from Me" is sung by Fred to Ginger on a ferry to Manhattan on a foggy night and is absolutely lovely. It's a beautiful example of the mystery of Fred Astaire's singing. By all 1930s standards Astaire hardly had a voice at all. This was an era of either powerful operatic singers or mellifluous radio crooners and Astaire's light tenor was neither. Yet his versions of his great movie songs are so effective, so perfect, that despite many other versions, you always want to go back to him. He could convey through his voice a feeling of absolute conviction and sincerity that few could match.

There is always a comedy number and a romantic number in these films and the comedy number here is the great "Let's Call the Whole Thing Off" and it leads into their famous duet on roller skates, a feat that must have required much rehearsal time, since Astaire always insisted that the dances be filmed whole and complete and not snippets edited together. This should be followed by their romantic dance, the high point of most of their films. Not always at the end, it's where everything comes together and the two, dancing in perfect harmony, see they are meant for each other. This dance is usually danced apart from everyone else, just them in some extraordinary Art Deco set being absolutely exquisite together.

That's what the audience came to see but it's not what they got. Copying "On Your Toes", everything leads to the big jazz-ballet at the end and Ginger is barely in it. Instead the film opts for a clever, sometimes humorous number with loads of ballerinas in tutus and chorus girls wearing masks of Ginger's face. It might have been fun near the beginning but is both too much and too little here, going on too long and with too little of the real Ginger. Gershwin's introductory music is Stravinskian with a nod to Khachaturian and goes back and forth afterward between the swing of"Shall We Dance" and softer connecting segments. Only when "You Can't Take That Away From Me" comes in is the music truly memorable. It would have made a perfect romantic dance number for Fred and Ginger, but he dances it briefly with Harriet Hoctor and that's it.. Fortunately they made up for this oversight in 1949's "The Barkleys of Broadway".

Fred dances in a somewhat balletic style and does a pas de deux with Broadway dancer Harriet Hoctor. Hoctor had danced a ballet version of "An American in Paris" in 1929 and had appeared in numerous shows including the Ziegfeld Follies where George Balanchine created "Night Flight" for her. She was going to be the lead in the film when Ginger at first didn't want to do it, and this was a consolation. Without intending any reflection on her, she's simply not Ginger. Her specialty was performing a deep backbend en pointe which looks elegant when filmed from the side, but positively weird when shot straight on. Later Ginger joins in and she and Fred take a few turns to "Shall We Dance", but it's a weak gesture compared to what they could do. The whole number, to me, is a bit of a mess. This is likely why the fans gave it bad word of mouth.. It's for everyone to decide for themselves. For me, the finale may be off, but the movie is still a winner.

"Follow the Fleet", the fifth teaming of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers has a reputation for being overly long and a bit dull and that's true, but Fred and Ginger triumph over the film's shortcomings and perform some of their best dance numbers yet. Being released between "Top Hat" and "Swing Time", the pinnacles of the Astaire-Rogers films doesn't help either. RKO seems to have often underestimated Fred and Ginger, placing them in supporting or co-starring roles to other actors, despite the success of "The Gay Divorcee " and "Top Hat", which they carried themselves. This goes back to their debut in "Flying Down to Rio" and may represent institutional laziness and not wanting to deviate too much from what worked before.

At least here they are the central couple of the film as Bake Baker and Sherry Martin but are stuck with an involved subplot of a troubled romance between Randolph Scott and Harriet Hilliard (as Connie Martin, Sherry's sister). Scott is much better in a more comic role as Fred's sailor pal than he was as the inheritor of a high fashion house in "Roberta". Hilliard may have been a good singer in her husband Ozzie's band, but her two songs here aren't very memorable. She's also not well served by a script that makes her look delusional and grasping. She meets a sailor (Scott as Bilge Smith) at a dance hall and they go to her place for coffee and talk a while and suddenly she's assuming matrimony and hurt when he doesn't seem to go along with her plans. This subplot is rather heavy and serious for the film and takes too much time to resolve. Even Fred and Ginger are hindered by a script that makes most of their usually witty conversation into bland exchanges like "Glad to see you" and "Gee."

The biggest change is that Astaire is a sailor in this film, not simply a Broadway star and well-to-do man about town as he has been thus far in his films. This was producer Pandro S. Berman's idea, lest the old guise wear thin on Depression Era audiences; give them someone they can identify with. Fred does okay as Seaman Bake Baker only because the script makes him the former successful dance partner of Sherry Martin (Rogers) who only joined the navy because she turned down his proposal. This also conveniently takes care of why a sailor can dance so well and allows him to be mostly his usual suave self. Onboard his ship he conducts his own swing band, gives dance lessons, performs tap routines and seems to have plenty of free time; but hey, this is an Astaire-Rogers film, so of course he does. Their films seem to take place in the real world but are so filled with improbabilities that it's really a kind of semi-magical world that you simply don't question.

The light tone of their most successful films is lacking here. The plot is not only drawn out but also leaden in its seriousness and lack of fun. It's missing the humorous characters created by the likes of Edward Everett Horton, Eric Blore, Erik Rhodes or Helen Broderick. Astrid Alwyn's role as a flirtatious society woman could have been made more comic, but at least there's one good comic scene with her and Fred. Lucille Ball is back after non-speaking appearances in "Roberta" and "Top Hat" and has a small supporting role with a name (Kitty Collins) and dialogue. She gets a truly funny line here putting down a wolfish sailor, though it would have worked better if the sailor had been a young, fresh-faced actor.

But then there's Fred and Ginger. That's who we came here to see, and thankfully they get lots of screen time and get to provide all of the light and humorous parts of the film themselves. Every time they are together the film brightens. They do some of their best dances here. They also get some great Irving Berlin songs. It was wise to retain Berlin after "Top Hat" and in later years he said that Astaire inspired him to do some of his best work. If not adapting a Broadway hit, studios had staff songwriters who wrote songs that they would assign to films at some future date. But from "Top Hat" on, all the music in these films was written specifically for Astaire and Rogers by the best in the business including Kern and Gershwin.

The first number is, "We Saw the Sea", one of those humorous songs that Berlin was so good at, like "Oh How I Hate To Get Up In the Morning". This is Fred's first of two solo tap numbers, both aboard ship. The jazzy "Let Yourself Go" is the first dance with Ginger and features them in a dance contest, which they naturally win. Ginger's dancing here is wonderfully athletic and fluid, more so than anything thus far in their films. She also gets her only solo tap dance in any of their films in a tryout scene reprising "Let Yourself Go " which occurs as a theme a number of times, as Berlin knew a hit when he wrote one. "I'm Putting All My Eggs in One Basket" is one of the best Astaire-Rogers comic dances, having them getting increasingly out of step with each other as the dance progresses. It illustrates their increasing misunderstandings within the plot and also gently contrasts with their usual perfection as a dancing pair.

Sailor or not, at some point Fred has to don his natural screen apparel of white tie and tails. This, of course is the romantic dance number between Ginger and Fred, the one in which he usually wins her affections through grace and style. Its power is ever so slightly diluted here, being added as in a show-within-a-show, rather than happening organically within the plot. Fred has already won Ginger and they are putting on a show to raise money for a cause. Still, it's one of their greatest dances to one of Berlin's most sophisticated songs, "Let's Face the Music and Dance". The romantic dance number was always elegant and sublime and is the high point of any Astaire-Rogers film. It had a special appeal for Depression audiences who witnessed little of either in daily life.

It's danced on a magnificent Art Deco rooftop set designed by two of the best, Carroll Clark working under Van Nest Polglase, multiple Oscar nominees for such disparate films as "Top Hat", "The Gay Divorcee", "Citizen Kane" and "Mary Poppins". The dance is part of an entire scenario of two people meeting at a moment of shared desperation and begins with a few sways, progressing into a series of stylized parallel moves before turning into one of the most intricate dances of the team's many. It was filmed, as usual, in one, full figured take, an Astaire hallmark that allows the audience to see the entire dance as it might be on stage. With Astaire and Rogers you always got a real performance. Also, by not having many cuts and camera angles, it creates a still and hushed atmosphere that accentuates the exalted nature of the dance. (Though filmed in one take, twenty takes were filmed so Astaire could choose the best; they never edited together the best parts of different takes). It's more than worth sitting through the rather humdrum plot to see Fred and Ginger in some of their best numbers ever on screen.

"Swing Time" is often cited by critics and fans as the best of the Astaire-Rogers films and it's worthy of the esteem in which it's held. It's the film where everything fell into place, where everything worked. A group of the most talented people were involved, from Jerome Kern and Dorothy Fields, Howard Lindsay and Alan Scott, Hermes Pan, George Stevens and many others. RKO had had a bad habit of making Fred and Ginger into members of the supporting cast while giving the audience some boring couple's romantic problems as the main focus of the plot. Perhaps it was because as dancers, RKO saw them as more of a specialty act. It seemed to afflict every other film for a while. But here, as in "The Gay Divorcee" and "Top Hat", they realized that people came to see Fred and Ginger, not anyone else.

The plot is like most Astaire and Rogers plots, something that doesn't stand up to close scrutiny. Though their films seem to be set in the real world, they're so full of contrivances, coincidences and things that just don't seem possible that they exist as a semi-magical world of their own and you don't question anything that happens. One example here is the incredible wardrobes that both Rogers and her pal Helen Broderick sport, even though they are a dance instructor and a receptionist. This plot isn't quite as silly as some of their earlier films and doesn't rely on the old trope of mistaken identity. It does, however, introduce Fred's character as overly fashion conscious, vain and such a compulsive gambler that he forgets it's his wedding day. Howard Lindsay, one of Broadway's biggest talents from "Anything Goes" to "The Sound of Music", provided an adequate script that keeps things light and doesn't get bogged down in plot developments. In fact, all problems resolve themselves very quickly in the end, though it's very bleak before then, setting the scene for perhaps their greatest number. Lindsay was assisted by Alan Scott, who having worked on "Top Hat" and "Roberta" (and later on "Shall We Dance: and "Carefree"), knew just the right tone and dialogue that was right for these films.

Jerome Kern and Dorothy Fields wrote the songs with Astaire and Rogers in mind and came up with a number of great tunes, the best of which was "The Way You Look Tonight". The great love song is surprisingly introduced in a humorous context but is effective nonetheless and a perfect example of one of Kern's sublime melodies. The other great comic number, "A Fine Romance": is set in a forest full of snow, illustrating the current state of affairs between the two. "Pick Yourself Up" develops from a polka into a tap number with athletic dexterity. As with Irving Berlin's scores for their films, Astaire and Rogers inspired Kern and Fields to some of their best work. "Waltz In Swing Time" was arranged using Kern's themes by orchestrator Robert Russell Bennett. Kern, who had begun in operetta, wasn't able to write swing music and had Bennett do it.

Astaire and Rogers are assisted by an able cast of players. Helen Broderick is best as Ginger's friend Mabel, and brings the same droll sense of humor to "Swing Time" as she did to "Follow the Fleet. Victor Moore is Astaire's comic tagalong pal Pop, but I thought Mabel deserved other than this gnomish fellow as an implied romantic interest. Fortunately the plot doesn't require her to marry him. George Metaxa is often criticized for his portrayal of orchestra leader Ricky Romero. He's such an awful, superficial European with no redeeming qualities that it was impossible for me to think that Ginger could see anything in him. But really, that's the writing which makes him so awful and doesn't give him a chance to be anything else. Betty Furness (more famous as the spokesperson for Westinghouse in the 1950s and 60s) is appealing in her role of Margaret, Fred's fiancee back home. Her father is played by director Stevens' real father, Landers Stevens.

There were two perfectionists involved in this film. Astaire himself, of course, spent eight weeks preparing and rehearsing the dances in his films, an ordeal that brought some of his partners to tears, though as he noted in an interview, "Ginger never cried." The reason the dances look spontaneous and effortless is because they were rehearsed so many times until every move and nuance was absorbed. Astaire was always given de facto directorial power over the dance sequences and it was he who made them special by having them filmed full body with no cuts if possible and no fancy editing. With Fred and Ginger the audience got a real performance, not some movie trickery. This was especially true of the big romantic dance in each film, which always took place in some exalted space with Fred and Ginger alone.

The second perfectionist was director George Stevens. The usual director for these films, Mark Sandrich, did a good job every time, even with some of the weaker scripts. But Stevens, one of the great directors of the classic era, got the most out of every scene and kept things moving. He did this by insisting on a large number of takes to choose from, even in relatively unimportant scenes. This was true here in the romantic dance finale, "Never Gonna Dance", which had over 40 takes. It is danced in one of the most impressive of the grand Art Deco sets of all their films, a huge nightclub with shiny floor, mirrored curtains and an enormous, black split staircase. After singing the title song, the pair seem to be simply walking away but slip into a synchronized rhythm that begins with "The Way You Look Tonight" and slips into the "Waltz in Swing Time" before they twirl up the staircase for an exuberant series of twists and spins to the blue notes of the title song again. Fred, of course, is in white tie and tails and Ginger is beautiful in a slender white gown and together they show that they are meant for each other, a couple in perfect step.

The film, and especially the last dance are frequently cited as the highest achievement of Astaire and Rogers at RKO. That's a pretty heavy competition and it's difficult to choose when there are numbers like "Night and Day", "Cheek to Cheek" and "Let's Face the Music and Dance", but I won't disagree either. They seem to express every emotion in a dazzling variety of styles within this single number. It's certainly my favorite.

EXTRA NOTE: "Bojangles of Harlem". This number is problematic nowadays. It is Fred's tribute to Bill "Bojangles" Robinson". John Bubbles, and the tradition of black tap dancers. In it he dresses like Bubbles' Sportin' Life character in "Porgy and Bess", a character which Gershwin personally chose Bubbles to play. Fred's face is darkened and it's usually described as "Blackface", something that certainly makes audiences squirm today. But blackface was a grotesque, clownish horror with big white painted lips and eyes and coal black makeup. This is not that. Fred wanted to honor black tap dancers and surely thought to emphasize what he was doing by appearing a little like them. When Fred was twenty, John Bubbles took him on as a student. The dance is filmed the usual way, from a distance, and nothing about the presentation emphasizes the makeup. He really looks just like he always does, just darker. He looks like Fred Astaire, not an insulting caricature. The real question is the style of dancing, which isn't really like Robinson's at all. Robinson was famous for his "Stair Dance" and tended to dance from the waist down, back upright. He waved his arms a bit, but basically danced with his feet. Fred isn't dancing like that. He's dancing more like Bubbles, who used his full body while dancing. Hopping and skipping, and even did a version of the Moonwalk (he was acknowledged as an inspiration by Michael Jackson). The fact was that Robinson was practically a superstar in the thirties, known by everyone for his numerous appearances with Shirley Temple in her films. Bubbles was known to fans of tap dance but did not have the wide recognition of Bojangles. Bojangles was chosen as the dedicatee because audiences knew who he was. As a result, the number becomes a tribute to the whole tradition of black tap dancers. Clips of both men are viewable online. Check them out. You'll be glad you did.