Everybody Comes to Rick's: Thoughts After Another Viewing of a Cinematic Classic

Here’s some thoughts after having watched Casablanca for the millionth time.

The scene in which the Germans’ singing of Die Wacht am Rhein is overpowered by Laszlo leading everyone else in a stirring rendition of La Marseillaise is for me one of the best in cinema. It helps that some of the extras were refugees from Europe and were shedding real tears. How powerful it must have been for contemporary audiences!

It’s a small role by my goodness Peter Lorre is excellent as the slimy Ugarte. He was a brilliant actor and if anything underrated. He plays the scene with Rick beautifully as he acknowledges the American “despises” him but suggests Rick might be impressed that he has the letters of transit. Like with a lot of great actors there’s so much going on with his eyes. Also note his eyes  when he is being arrested.

It always bothers me that Ilsa Lund refers to Sam the African American piano player and singer as “boy.” It’s racist but appropriate to the time. It’s reflective of the time that Dooley Wilson — who played Sam — wasn’t featured in more films.

In the middle of the film Victor Lazlo goes to a meeting of the local underground with Carl. I’ve always wondered if someone at the meeting was in charge of refreshments. Were cookies served? Tea? Or alcohol? What topics were covered?

One thing that has made Casablanca such a great film is the supporting cast. I’m not just referring to Claude Rains, Paul Henreid, Conrad Veidt, Sydney Greentstreet and the aforementioned Lorre who were all excellent but the secondary supporting players: Leonid Kinskey, SZ Sakall, John Qualen and Marcel Dalio. The first three were regular supporting players in Hollywood for decades who appeared between them in dozens of excellent films. Dalio had been a star in France with featured roles in Grand Illusion and Rules of the Game. He had barely gotten out of Paris before the Nazi occupation. In the 1950s he played the Claude Rains character of Captain Renaud in a short-lived TV series based on the film. Charles McGraw played Rick in the kind of casting that doomed what little chance the show had.

There are a couple of scenes in which and Italian and French officer are arguing. Both are speaking in their native tongues which is, of course, nonsense. I suppose its supposed to provide a bit of comic relief but I find it overly silly, hardly enough to ruin a classic film but still…..

Ingrid Bergman may have never looked more beautiful on screen than she did in Casablanca. Indeed few actresses ever looked as radiant as she did as Ilsa.

During the Paris flashbacks Rick and Ilsa remind one another that “we said no questions.” Has that ever been a thing between couples having a fling? Seems odd. Rather hard to have conversations without any questions. Can’t be healthy for a relationship.

If they had to do a remake of Casablanca — and for the love of god I pray they never do — who the hell could you get to play Rick? Years ago I thought Kenneth Brannagh could pull it off. Later I thought maybe Leonardo DiCaprio. Now I think Jon Hamm could have a decade or so ago. Daniel Craig maybe when he was younger. Maybe Glenn Powell. Tom Hiddleston would be a good bet. Really it would be impossible though so why did I put myself through the exercise?

Conrad Veidt as Major Strasser is one of the better big screen Nazis of all time. He oozes a kind of slimy sophistication. Well-spoken, loves his caviar and pure evil. I imagine most Nazi officers were more officious but for cinematic purposes you can hardly do better than Veidt.

Many decades ago when I first saw Casablanca I wondered how they managed to film on location (I was more young than stupid, to be fair). This speaks to the magic of Golden Age Hollywood. They created worlds from the other side of the Earth on their backlots — without the benefits of CGI. Watching Casablanca it’s hard to imagine that you’re NOT transported to Morocco in 1941. Movie magic.

Among so much else, ya know what else is perfect about Casablanca? The musical score. It was never melodramatic. It never got in the way but did what it was supposed — added to the experience.

The working title for the movie was Everybody Comes to Rick's. Not bad but Casablanca worked better.

Notice that twice when we break away from Sydney Greensreet’s character Ferrari, he’s employing a flyswatter with seeming effectiveness. Interesting. 

My main impression after my zillionth viewing of Casablanca is that it is as flawless a film as was ever made. The label classic absolutely applies. I never tire of it and never will.

Pain Hurts, Take It From One Who's Had His Share Recently

I got to hang out in one of these yesterday

My regular companion for the last few months has been pain. It’s not constant. I can sit and sleep comfortably. I’m fine right now. But toweling off after a shower — excruciating. Putting on pants — terrible. Bending down to pick something up off the floor — ouch. Reaching back to scratch my back — oh the agony. Last night I sneezed and instinctively reached an arm up as one does. That hurt. Walking generally works pretty well though I’m unable to stride as easily and purposefully as is my want. Stairs are okay though the first time of the day is a chore. Getting up after sitting for long periods is no fun.

Pain is enervating. I’m constantly physically and emotionally exhausted by it. It also compounds depression when I have it. Not being able to put on a jacket or backpack without either horrible pain or someone helping you is terrible. You have moments of feeling old and helpless.

Making the misery worse has been getting help. It’s taken five months to get a diagnose and treatment. Today I’ve started taking the meds that will erase the pain and help with what one fervently hopes is a full recovery. As for the exact nature of my ailment, well, I’m sad to say it doesn’t have a simple name that can reel off. It’s a long name with many complex medical terms sprinkled in. I know it has to do with inflation and auto immune something.

Anyway, I mentioned frustrations with appointments. I’ve dealt with my GP, an orthopedist, a rhuemotoligst, the MRI center, the blood test lab and the pharmacy.

Here’s one thing I’ve learned: if you’re having a medical emergency call 9-1-1. That’s right. Don’t call the MRI Center or an orthopedist or….well, that damn list goes on. And yes, I’m sick to death of the fact that the first thing I hear upon calling a medical office is that if this is a medical emergency I should hang up an dial 9-1-1. I’m also sick of being on hold. “Current wait time” at some offices at some times is over an hour. Is it not possible to hire more people to answer phones? Maybe I’m being unrealistic. Maybe not.

Speaking of wait times….waiting to get a referral to a specific type of doctor can go on and on and then on some more. Then getting an appointment — despite the pain you’re suffering — can also require the patience of Job. The worst was when I finally got a referral to a rheumatologist in early December and the next available appointment was on January 22. That was a figurative punch in the gut. More like being rammed in the gut with a two-by-four. Six weeks.

Another fun time was going in for a blood test and the lab had had an emergency and was shut down for the day. I needed that bloodwork done soon for an upcoming appointment and I knew that I’d have to delay that appointment if I didn’t. I further knew that it wouldn’t be possible to get the appointment a day or two or three later because those times will have been filled. But I was lucky. Someone at the lab happened to hear me and took pity on me. She called the nearest lab and they had a cancellation and squeezed me in. 

Yesterday I had my MRI. I’d had one about fifteen years ago. They gave me a valium before hand and I was still quite uncomfortable being in that machine. (The good news was that I felt tipsy afterwards and it didn’t count against my sobriety). They don’t dole out valium anymore so I had to call the doctor who ordered the MRI. He wouldn’t prescribe it because I’m already on Ativan (aka lorazepam). So after some consultation and thinking on my own part (which I’ve been known to do) I decided to take two extra Ativan and I also decided to be a big boy and not fall apart from claustrophobia. 

I walked into the room where the procedure was to be done and looked at the contraption I was about to enter. “This looks bad,” I admitted to myself. But I’m always determined to be a good patient and bravely did as I was told. They supplied head phones that played light jazz and I kept my eyes closed the entire time. I also kept my mind occupied with sports trivia. Their constant verbal check-ins and assurances I was “doing a good” job were helpful. 

I made it through like a champ and the young women who did all the work sang my praises. 

There is light at the end of the tunnel. The prednisone should start easing the pain in a day or two. Maybe the whole matter can be sorted and I’ll be right as rain before you know it.

I figure I’ve earned some good times having had so damn much pain recently. Pain hurts. Believe me.

Keep the Faith, Baby: Maintaining Hope Against All Reason

Kent State May 4, 1970

I recently read an excellent book about the Kent State Massacre (Kent State an American Tragedy by Brian VanDerMark) in which four people were killed and eleven injured by National Guardsmen during an anti-war protest on May 4, 1970. I knew the basic outline of the story and some of the details. Still I learned a lot from the book. What I found shocking was that in the aftermath of the deaths of these innocent young people their families received hate mail. Just so we’re clear, the parents of college students who were shot and killed during a protest were mailed letters expressing pleasure that their child had died, blaming them for the way their child turned out and wishing more had been killed. They continued to receive such missives in the years that followed as they pursued justice in the courts.

Polls revealed that the majority of Ohioans supported the action of the Guard and felt no remorse for the deceased. I don’t even know how to fathom such a level of …what is it? Coldness? Hate? Insensitivity? Anger? Evil? All of the above? But then this is a country in which lynchings not only went unpunished for 100 years but spectators showed up to watch a person being tortured and murdered.

How do you make sense of this? How do you make sense of our current administration? Their callousness? Their total lack of empathy? Look at what ICE has been doing in this country and how it is with the full support of the administration and for that matter many (though not a majority) of Americans.

Recently I was reading a book that detailed the massacres under Stalin in the USSR in the 1930s. This included mass starvation. That is intentional mass starvation as in: let’s allow these people to starve and in fact facilitate it. 

Under Stalin any perceived enemy was subject to summary executions. It’s staggering how many people Stalin had executed for suspicion of the merest slight.

It’s also incomprehensible how many people throughout history have found that indiscriminate killing is the solution to political problems. Nearly 40,000 demonstrators have been slaughtered in Iran during the recent demonstrations there. So we’re not talking about ancient history.

Speaking of depressing….The Epstein files. I walked by a group of high school girls the other day. They appeared to be around fifteen and sixteen, maybe sophomores. It occurred to me that they were around the age, in some cases even older, than a lot of the girls Epstein and his cronies were raping. I found it heartbreaking. Powerful rich, white people think they can get away with anything most probably because they usually do. The best example is our current president whose gotten away with everything this side of murder. Oh and if you’re a journalist and you ask him about some of his sins, he’ll call you stupid, say you’re a terrible reporter and work for a failing organization. If you’re a female he might complain that you never smile and might call you piggy. He can also label you a “loser.” I’ve never known what it means to be a “loser” aside from being the individual or team that fails to win an athletic contest and even then it’s harsh.

There is a lot of love and warmth and tenderness and kindness in this world but there is also what I’ve described above. The failure of empathy. The unwillingness and inability to understand our differences. The belief that different is wrong. It’s utterly heartbreaking. It’s also unavoidable. It’s in the news every single day. It’s throughout our history books. It goes back to the beginnings of civilization and has never stopped. 

It’s impossible to make sense of. Thankfully many of us our surrounded by love and we cherish those around us and are accepting of others even if they are of a different religion, sexual orientation, ethnicity, nationality or political stripe. We have to keep pushing against the Donald Trumps of the world. We have to fight for justice, truth and equality. Giving up is not an option. Without hope we’re dead. The death of hope is the death of morality. As we said in the Sixties, “keep the faith baby.”

"Two Hours of Melania Feels Like Pure, Endless Hell" What the critics are saying

This is a photo of Olivia Dean even though the post isn't about her because frankly who wants to look at another picture of goddamned Melania Trump

There is a new documentary in theaters called “Melania” about Trumpy’s wife. Word is that it sucks. To give you an idea of how badly it sucks, I’m here providing excerpts from reviews of the film courtesy of Rotten Tomatoes. Enjoy? 

All I can say is, no matter who made it, no matter who paid for it, no matter who it's about, "Melania" is a singularly bad movie. I really did give it a fair shake.

An obsequious, ring-kissing portrait of the current US administration, dressed in gauche, glossy reality-TV clothing.

Ratner has accidentally delivered the ultimate chronicle of 21st-century excess and greed, a world of casual yet immense cruelty covered in flop sweat and gold glitter.

It contains nothing: no ideas, no point of view, no tension beyond whether the tailors will be able to properly alter her inauguration turtleneck.

"Melania" plays like a sizzle reel for her post-political (post-spousal?) future career in which she may rouse herself to be a guest judge on a reality competition show.

Quite possibly the least revealing documentary ever made. Even her favorite recording artist seems to be a lie. Did you know she used to be a model?

By the end of “Melania,” a glossy, curiously impersonal, outwardly apolitical portrait of Melania Trump, you are no closer to knowing its famous subject than you were at the start, even after many changes of time, place, clothes and towering high heels.

Melania is shambolic, putrid, pitiful garbage: A brazen, awkward, irredeemable infomercial that ignores truth and scrutiny in favour of performative humility. It’s not just wretched – it’s offensive to the collective intelligence of the human race.

At least Leni Riefenstahl could frame a shot.

It's everything a documentary shouldn't be. Except for the music.

It’s fascinating to see so pure and naked an instrument of graft and propaganda deployed to great effect on an audience happy to lap it up.

No good impression emerges of the former Slovenian model. No bad impression emerges either. Ratner’s film achieves, rather, a sort of passive distance – as you might get by pointing a camera, for close to two hours, at a waterfall or a wheat field.

I have no idea why she was okay with this movie being released, because Brett Ratner couldn’t find the humanity in a funeral. Literally.

I'd rather rewatch January 6th.

Look, Leni Riefenstahl was a terrible person, but at least she had some style. Accused sex pest/confirmed hack Brett Ratner, meanwhile, captures the proceedings with all the flair of an HGTV show.

To say that Melania is a hagiography would be an insult to hagiographies. This is a film that fawns so lavishly over its subject that you feel downright unpatriotic not gushing over it.

I don’t want to blow anyone’s minds here or throw you off your balance when I inform you that the Melania documentary, now in theaters, is terrible.

A documentary that never comes to life. It’s a “portrait” of the First Lady of the United States, but it’s so orchestrated and airbrushed and stage-managed that it barely rises to the level of a shameless infomercial.

The fun’s not infectious and the guests are a nightmare, and two hours of Melania feels like pure, endless hell.

To call "Melania" vapid would do a disservice to the plumes of florid vape smoke that linger around British teenagers.

Not Another One! There World Reels as a Comedic Genius Leaves Us, RIP Catherine O'Hara

We’ve been hit pretty hard lately. The awful news resulting from having an idiot in the White House has been relentless. Two murders of innocent citizens by law enforcement is enough but there’s so much more. Adding to this has been a slate of celebrity deaths. True, famous people are always dying but Robert Redford, Diane Keaton and Rob Reiner (particularly owing to the nature of his death — patricide) were much beloved. Add to that today’s announcement of the passing of Catherine O’Hara and it’s clear just how badly we’re getting slapped around by the universe.

Catherine O’Hara was a real favorite of mine. Judging from social media I am not alone in having revered her brilliant comic talents. Schitt’s Creek was one of the greatest sitcoms of all time and she was, as Moira Rose, a good fifty per cent of it’s appeal. Surely Moira ranks among the very best TV characters of all time.

She also featured in Christopher Guests’s best comedies such as Waiting for Guffman, A Mighty Wind and Best in Show. Add to that her turn as the mother in the first two Home Alone films and you’ve got two or three great careers wrapped into one. But there was so much more starting with Second City Television where she starred beginning in 1976 aside the likes of John Candy, Martin Short, Harold Ramis, Andrea Martin and her erstwhile acting partner Eugene Levy. O’Hara and Levy appeared together for nearly fifty years culminating with Schitt’s Creek.

Most recently Mr. O’Hara appeared on Seth Rogen’s excellent comedy, The Studio. Every time she was on the show it was that much better. She made life that much better. As Rogen said we’re lucky to have lived in a world with Mr. O’Hara in it. This planet won’t be the same without her.

A Streams Classic From 2017 Explores My Love of Films -- Lovingly

I've been working furiously on a novel lately and so haven't had much time to post on ye olde blog. I know many of legion of readers are desperate for something so I'm presenting a Streams of Unconsciousness classic. This one from May 2017. I had hoped to write something but it would have been political and I think we can all use a break right now (though there's no hiding from what's going on in this country and I'll address it eventually). Anyway, this is pretty far from political. It's a tribute to film. I hope you like it.

I Love Films and Here's Why

Ingmar Bergman  Woody Allen  Mr. Smith Goes to Washington  Humphrey Bogart  Jules quoting bible verse in Pulp Fiction  The way John Ford frames shots  Barbara Stanwyck seducing Henry Fonda in Lady Eve falling for Gary Cooper in Meet John Doe making a monkey out of Fred MacMurray in Double Indemnity  Europa switching from black and white to color and back Chaplin's Little Tramp  Jake Giddes being told it’s Chinatown  Redford and Hoffman as Woodward and Bernstein  Psycho  Joel Grey MC in Cabaret  William Holden  Denzel  Fellini  The Bicycle Thieves  The exquisite beauty of Barry Lyndon  The exquisite mystery of 2001  Happy couple in the city in Murnau’s Sunrise  Brando and Leigh in Streetcar  The tracking shots in Goodfellas

Franklin Pangborn perennial bit player in '30s and '40s  Vivre Sa Vie  Battleship Potemkin  Indiana Jones outrunning a boulder  Alec Baldwin’s pep talk in Glengarry  Michael Keaton and Edward Norton in Birdman  The shadows in The Third Man  Llewyn Davis gamely trying to become a star Faye Dunaway more than holding her own opposite Nicholson McQueen Hoffman Beatty Some Like it Hot  Finding out who Tyler Durden really is  Tarkovsky  The cinema photography in Raging Bull  The soundtrack to Midnight in Paris  The helicopter and The Doors in the opening scene of Apocalypse Now  Myna Loy and William Powell on screen banter  The ending of Melancholia  The ensemble cast of Down by Law  Anton Chigurh played by Javier Bardem Harold Lloyd  The dialogue, the humor, the story in His Girl Friday  Cary Grant opposite Irene Dunne Ann Sheridan Jean Arthur Constance Bennett Rosalind Russell Katherine Hepburn Ingrid Bergman  The Great Escape  The climactic dance scene in Footloose  Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind  Antonious Block vs. The Devil in Seventh Seal  It’s party time in Animal House Jimmy Stewart transforming Kim Novak in Vertigo  Marlene Dietrich  Hearts and Minds  Wes Anderson  Au Revoir Les Enfants Chimes at Midnight  Persona Joel McCrea and Randolph Scott in Ride the High Country  The Bride of Frankenstein  The Rug and White Russians in The Big Lebowski  The flawless career of Finland's Aki Kaurismaki  Ping ping ping in Das Boot  Taking your date to see the Sorrow and the Pity in Annie Hall  Monica Vitti   I'm funny how? in Goodfellas Umberto D  Once Upon a Time in Anatolia  Gena Rowlands in A Woman Under the Influence Polanski's gorgeous Tess starring the gorgeous Natasha Kinski   You're going to need a bigger boat   The Passion of Joan of Arc Roma: Open Citti  Rufus T Firefly Wolf T Flywheel J Cheever Loophole Otis B Driftwood Quincy Adams Wagstaff  Dr. Hackenbush S Quentin Quale Taking Omaha Beach in Saving Private Ryan  Christmas Eve in Fanny and Alexander  Angels watching over Berlin in Wings of Desire Two men drinking milk and talking in Inglourious Basterds  Ossie Davis saying 'you've got to do the right thing'  The shrinking jury room in 12 Angry Men   Jennifer Lawrence and Bradley Cooper tearing it 

up in Silver Linings Playbook   Sunset Blvd. Claudette Colbert  The brave pacifism of All Quiet on the Western Front  Bull Durham  Jules et Jim  It's A Wonderful Life a Christmas staple  The road trip in Y Tu Mama Tambien The long shots in Grapes of Wrath  A Sea of umbrellas in Foreign Correspondent  Investigation of a Citizen Beyond Suspicion The transformation of Bill Murray in Groundhog Day Cinemaphotographers: Haskell Werner Gordon Willis Gregg Toland Sven Nykvist Vittora Storaro Robert Richardson Vilmos Zsigmond Jack Cardiff Robert Burks Kazuo Miyagawa The key in NotoriousDuck Soup Isaac Davis railing about intellectuals in Manhattan Red Desert  I am Spartacus!  The car chase (of course) in Bullitt  Rosebud A woman saying goodbye to her lover going off to battle in The Big Parade The ExorcistEvery second of Heaven's Gate The Emigrants and The New Land La HaineOlivier as Hamlet and as Richard III  The dance scene in Band of OutsidersAkira Kurosawa  Holden says 'let's go' in the Wild Bunch Melville's brilliant debut Silence De Lar Mer  Bonnie & Clyde reimagines cinema  The Stunning Stefania Sandrelli in I Knew Her Well  Bogie goes mad in Treasure of the Sierra Madre Joan Blondell Rushmore The starkness of The Last Picture ShowThe best of pre code from William Wellman: Wild Boys of the Road and Heroes for Sale  The ultimate musical A Hard Day's Night Buster Keaton's The General Sullivan's Travels Jeanne Moreau walking in the rain in Elevator to the Gallows  Attica! Attica! Cate Blanchett Ice Storm Fred & Ginger dancing cheek to cheek Intertwining stories by Altman in Nashville Gosford Park and Short Cuts  Diane Keaton The doubting pastor in Winter Light  Matti Pellonpaa and Kati Outinen sharing screen time Paths of Glory Jean Harlow Max von Sydow  Zodiac: the soundtrack, the re-creation of 70s SF, the cast  Anna Magnani in anything but especially Mamma Roma Germano Maccioni a directing star on the rise Early 1900s New York in Godfather Part 2  Match Point  Wes Anderson's casts Elizabeth Taylor  The storms of Take Shelter The ending and all of Personal Shopper La Dolce Vita 

Back by Popular Demand: Films I've Watched Lately Some of Which I've Loved Greatly

Cabaret -- old chum

Cabaret (1972) Fosse. I’ve been enjoying this picture for about fifty-three years, that is since it first appeared in theaters. I saw it three times during its initial theatrical run. I’ve no idea how many times I’ve seen it since but suffice to say my DVD is well worn. It sits at number twenty-two on my all-time top 100 films list which come to think of it seems a tad low. Cabaret features Oscar winning performances from Liza Minelli and Joel Grey and Grey’s turn as the master of ceremonies is one of the greatest supporting player performances of all time in any film of any genre. But one thing I noted during my latest viewing was how good Michael York was. He was evidently one of many candidates for the role of Brian Roberts. It is difficult to imagine anyway being better in the role. He had to play opposite the vivacious, the eccentric, the emotional, the erratic, the delightful Sally Bowles (Minelli) and let her do her thing. This he did with aplomb. Cabaret delights on so many levels. The music, the characters, the setting, the stories. I’ll never tire of it.

Lacombe, Lucien (1974) Malle. Talk about the banality of evil….A young Frenchman in war torn France seeks to join the resistance but stumbles into a group of French collaborators who work for the German police. What the heck, he joins them instead. The title character is not a lad with great intellectual gifts and he wants to be part of something, he wants to belong, he wants action and excitement, never mind with whom and for what. Lucien kills easily as we see early in the film when he needlessly kills a small bird with a slingshot. He falls in love with a young woman named France (the stunning Aurore Clément) and tears her life asunder. This is a story of how easily and thoughtlessly we can slip into various roles even ones that require us to kill.The horrors committed in the film are not presented so as to shock us, rather they are matter of fact, carried out by regular people who fancy themselves doing regular work.  The great Louis Malle directed. 

More Than a Secretary (1936) Green. What an awful movie and particularly a terrible waste of the great Jean Arthur. I’ve remarked before how Ms. Arthur had chemistry with every leading man she played opposite of. That was before I saw this clunker where her love interest is George Brent. Maybe they would have worked well together with a decent script or under a better director but this is one of those movies that doesn’t work on any level. Screwball romcoms are supposed to make us root for the couple to get together. In this picture I soon gave up any interest in the two and and whether they lived happily ever after or not. I just wanted it over.

A Matter of Life and Death (1946) Powell and Pressburger. David Niven is a World War II British pilot who was supposed to die but the conductor from heaven missed him in the fog. Every effort will be made to bring him back. It’s a bizarre premise but it’s still a very good film. Kim Hunter is the radio operator who the flyer falls in love with in the minutes before he was supposed to die. Roger Livesey plays a doctor friend of Hunter’s who is naturally skeptical that this downed flyer is being told he must ascend to the afterlife. But when he’s forced by personal circumstance to believe him, the doctor defends him in afterlife court. None of it is as silly as it seems and it all makes for an intriguing tale and moving love story. It’s got elements of Here Comes Mr. Jordan and The Devil and Daniel Webster. This is one of four excellent films in a row that Powell and Pressburger made between 1944 and 1947 (the others being A Canterbury Tale, I Know Where I’m Going and Black Narcissus). 

Love Affair (1939) McCarey. Sappy, cloying ultimately dull. Not a total waste of time; after all, you get the charms of Charles Boyer and Irene Dunne as your leads but it's bit too melodramatic for my taste. I didn’t care for the remake, An Affair to Remember, either despite it starring Deborah Kerr and Cary Grant and the newest version, also called Love Affair with Warren Beatty and Annette Bening was a stinker. The passion in this version (the best of the three for whatever that's worth) is more told than shown. I never believed it. The side story with the grandmother seemed particularly contrived and lacking emotional heft. If you told me you liked or even loved this film I’d think not a whit less of you. Simply not my thing. Leo McCarey was a fine director but his films were often more technically astute than emotional impactful.

Ever Since Eve (1937). Silly movies can be good movies and of course great fun. Such is the case with this delight which was Marion Davies’ last film role. She was in her late thirties and still easy on the eyes though she looked puffy, doubtless from the heavy drinking that she was indulging in. Nonetheless she and co-star Robert Montgomery worked well together in the story of a woman (Davies) who makes herself look plain so that she can land a job as secretary to a novelist (Montgomery). Patsy Kelly and Allen Jenkins, two of the better supporting players of their era, are in top form here and add to the zaniness. Davies and Montgomery were two of the better comic actors of the their time and together they took a very silly premise and made a perfectly charming movie out of it.