Lady of the Night directed by Monta Bell (starring Norma Shearer)

Lady of the Night (1925). Screenplay by Alice D.G. Miller from a story by Adela Rogers St. Johns.

I first became aware of Lady of the Night while reading Complicated Women, where author Mick LaSalle refers to it as the breakthrough of star Norma Shearer: "After the film's release, MGM stopped lending her to other studios. She was too valuable." He also praises Shearer's collaborations with Monta Bell (the director of this film and several others with the actress) as "delicate, poem-like films with a bite to them."

I'm not a huge fan of silent films in general, as much as I would like to be, but when I saw that it was going to be broadcast on Turner Classic Movies, I set my recorder. I'm so glad I did. First off, in reference to my previous comment, once Lady of the Night began, I never once remembered that I was watching a silent film. Not only is the brand new score by Jon Mirsalis wonderfully apt to the point of invisibility, but the story is immensely involving because the characters are so engaging. Monta Bell's direction tops everything off with further storytelling touches using only visuals.

The plot involves two women from the proverbial opposite sides of the tracks: Florence Banning (Shearer) is the daughter of a rich judge/businessman, and Molly Helmer (also Shearer) is the daughter of a man sent to jail for 20 years on the day of her birth. Years later, they both graduate from school, Florence from the "Girls' Select School" and Molly from the "Girls' Reform School." Watch as Bell instantly sets up the different worlds: Florence leaves to much pomp and affection from her classmates, and Molly is kind of pushed out the front gate (of what looks like a prison) with her two friends, who immediately go their own separate ways. On the way home, Molly checks her reflection in a passing vehicle: a hearse.

Some time later, Molly has set herself up with "Chunky" Dunn (George K. Arthur), a milquetoasty "prince of fashion" who introduces her to ambitious inventor Dave Page (Malcolm McGregor), whom she instantly falls for, much to Chunky's chagrin. In fact, Molly is attempting to advise (and romance) him when he meets Florence while selling her father his new invention. (One could assume that the similar appearance of Florence and Molly is a consideration, but this is never mentioned in the film.)

One could say that the usual love-triangle conflict occurs, but the characters (especially Molly, one of Shearer's best performances, a true tour de force) are much too complex to be rules by cliches. Though both are played by Shearer, I never imagined Florence and Molly as anything other than two people who look alike. Though both around 19 years old, Shearer plays Molly as more worldly and "older," while Florence is giddy and much "younger." This speaks volumes about Shearer's work in Lady of the Night and suggests why she was so famous and respected in her heyday — in addition to bringing a sharp focus on the sad fact that so few of her early roles are available on video in any form.

The special effect of having both women sit together looks impressive even today (I couldn't see the line!). The only flaw is that, when they embrace, we do catch a glimpse of the double in profile. Interestingly enough, this is another famous face: that of a young Lucille LeSueur, still trying to break into the movies. Not long after, MGM would have a contest to rename Miss LeSueur (due to her surname resembling "le sewer"), and she would eventually be crowned "Joan Crawford."

At just over an hour, the story is tight and succinct, with no wasted film -- ideal for an evening's entertainment with time left over for discussion because the writing, acting, and direction are all top notch. It's only unfortunate that the Academy Awards would not begin for a few more years, or perhaps Lady of the Night would be better remembered as the terrific little film that it is.

Flying Down to Rio directed by Thornton Freeland (starring Dolores del Rio, Gene Raymond, Ginger Rogers, Fred Astaire)

Flying Down to Rio (1933). Screenplay by Cyril Hume, H.W. Hanemann, and Erwin Gelsey from the play by Anne Caldwell based on a story by Lou Brock.

Most viewers are probably going to come to Flying Down to Rio to see the first pairing of one of filmdom's great couple: Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. But Astaire and Rogers are actually only supporting players to stars Dolores del Rio and Gene Raymond in this lighthearted little pre-Code romantic comedy musical. (If you never thought Ginger Rogers was sexy, you have to see her as Honey Hale in this film.)

Raymond plays Roger Bond, a bandleader with a reputation for getting his orchestra barred from gigs due to his dalliances with the paying customers. His accordion player and best friend, Fred Ayres (Astaire), tries to keep him in line, but because of a bet with her girlfriends, Brazilian girl Belinha de Rezende (del Rio, actually born in Mexico) seduces him first. (As one of the friends, Lucile Browne has the best line in the movie. In a wonderful, typically pre-Code jab, she queries the others, "What has that South American got below the equator that we don't?")

Since Bond is also conveniently a pilot, he and Belinha go off to get some alone time and end up stranded on an island. Interestingly both his and hers "devils on the shoulder" appear to make sure they take full advantage of the situation though each originally had nixed the idea. They end up falling for each other, but unfortunately she's already part of an arranged marriage to Julio (Raul Roulien) who also happens to be a friend of Roger's. (Roulien's best scene is during his reaction to Roger's story of his new girl; as it quickly dawns on him that their girls are the same one.)

Fans of character actors will appreciate Flying Down to Rio's fantastic opening scene involving Franklin Pangborn, one of the great pompous asses of cinema, and Eric Blore, best known for his portrayal of elitist butlers. Both are wonderfully cruel, as the hotel manager and his assistant, in their treatment of the band while they wait for the terminally tardy Bond and Ayres to arrive.

Astaire and Rogers first show off their chemistry together during a funny and charming dance to "The Carioca" (which some of my generation may recognize from a comedic version played over the opening and closing credits of The Kentucky Fried Movie). What follows is a lengthy, 15-minute dance of the multitudes, something that would become a feature of some of the couple's early films. For example, "The Continental" runs around 17 minutes in The Gay Divorcee (their first starring vehicle and still my favorite).

(A lot of Astaire and Rogers fans pick Top Hat as their favorite. But I've never understood this since it's simply a retread of the plot — and cast! — of The Gay Divorcee. Perhaps it's simply because it contains a lot of songs that are now standards. In any case, fans wanting all three, and more, need only look as far as the Astaire & Rogers Ultimate Collector's Edition.)

On the whole, Flying Down to Rio is a forgettable trifle, though "The Carioca" is a real earworm — I had it in my head for two weeks after watching — and it's easy to see why Astaire and Rogers became the great screen couple and not del Rio and Raymond. It's all about chemistry, and director Thornton Freeland capitalizes on the fact that one couple has it in spades while the other is merely going through the motions (though each certainly has charms of his and her own, as they would show in other films).

Heaven Can Wait (1943) directed by Ernst Lubitsch (starring Don Ameche, Gene Tierney, Eugene Pallette, Allyn Joslyn, Marjorie Main)

Heaven Can Wait (1943). Screenplay by Samson Raphaelson based on the play Birthday by Lazlo Bus-Fekete.

Don Ameche arrives at the gates of Hell ready to turn himself in for being so ruthless with women. "His Excellency," however, chooses first to hear his story. He finds that Ameche has not been any worse than anyone else (in fact most of his "crimes" were done in the name of love), and so sends him on his way up.

This is the story of Heaven Can Wait, yet another confection from director Ernst Lubitsch and screenwriter Samson Raphaelson (the duo responsible for the fantastic Trouble in Paradise).

Ameche and Gene Tierney give fine lead performances. However, the film is stolen out from under them by the supporting cast. Allyn Joslyn (The Horn Blows at Midnight) is perfectly pompous as cousin Albert, and Charles Coburn is a delight as always playing Ameche's lovable grandfather, charming and good for a laugh.

But the pair who rule this film are Tierney's parents, played by Eugene Pallette (My Man Godfrey) and Marjorie Main (best known as "Ma Kettle"). Their powerful voices fill the air with intimidating presence when they are together; and their dueling breakfast scene is the highlight of the picture.

Yes, the acting is terrific all around, but somehow it doesn't all fit together right. The ending is obvious from the start and so isn't at all satisfying. I was left thinking, "so what?" But at the same time, the performances were so good, I didn't want Heaven Can Wait to end, so it felt cut short.

The Horn Blows at Midnight directed by Raoul Walsh (starring Jack Benny, Alexis Smith, Dolores Moran)

This review originally appeared in somewhat different form on Video Vista. Copyright 2002.

The Horn Blows at Midnight (1945). Screenplay by Sam Hellman and James V. Kern from a story by Aubrey Wisberg.

The Horn Blows at Midnight is the infamous film about which Jack Benny constantly expressed shame on his radio show (the movie was a flop on release and became his last lead role). And while it's by no means a classic (in fact, it's probably only as well known as it is because he made so much fun of it), it's not that bad.

Yes, some of the jokes are obvious. Yes, Benny is pretty much playing himself. But not only are there several character actors worth seeing, but the storyline is also innovative (Doomsday is presented in a light, cheery manner), the performances are top-rate, the fallen-angel duo are a terrific comic team, and Dolores Moran steals every scene she's in.

Benny stars as a bad trumpet player who falls asleep during a radio commercial and dreams that he is Athanael, an angel chosen to go to Earth and blow the Doomsday trumpet, heralding its end. All he has to do is blow the horn precisely at the stroke of midnight and the world will end, getting him promoted to Angel Senior Grade. But of course things keep getting in his way, including two fallen angels who are living it up on Earth.

Benny's escapades on Earth comprise the bulk of the film, making room for several fish-out-of-water scenes (eating at a restaurant and not knowing to pay) and references to famous dead people (upon seeing a dollar bill, Benny recognizes George Washington and makes a note to tell George about it on his return).

Director Raoul Walsh has assembled a stellar cast of character actors — many with whom classic film fans will be familiar — that give Benny fabulous support. Alexis Smith is Elizabeth, Athanael's girlfriend; Guy Kibbee plays "the Chief," who assigns Benny his task; and Reginald Gardiner is suavity at its utmost as Archie Dexter, thief and aspiring conductor.

Preston Sturges stock player Franklin Pangborn is in fine pomposity as Sloan; Mike Mazurki has perfected the role of lovable goon by this point, but this is by far the largest role I've seen him in; and Allyn Joslyn and John Alexander are Osidro and Doremus, the fallen angels who don't want to go back. They are the American "Caldicott and Charters."

Former Marx brothers' foil Margaret Dumont also has a small role, and Bobby Blake, fresh from his Our Gang days, plays bratty-punk personified.

Lots of gags and quick pacing keep The Horn Blows at Midnight interesting. The climax is funny and suspenseful, involving all the main characters hanging off the side of a building. Good actors doing their best to entertain us is always fun to watch, as are all of the set pieces, especially one involving an oversized cup of coffee. On the downside, I wish they had stretched the ending out, giving viewers time to realize the story is ending, instead of compressing it into an unfunny punchline.

The Bachelor and the Bobby-Soxer directed by Irving Reis (starring Cary Grant, Myrna Loy, Shirley Temple, Rudy Vallee)

This review originally appeared in somewhat different form on Video Vista. Copyright 2002.

The Bachelor and the Bobby-Soxer (1948). Screenplay by Sidney Sheldon.

Cary Grant and Myrna Loy star with a teenaged Shirley Temple in The Bachelor and the Bobby-Soxer, a light-hearted comedy from the pen of Sidney Sheldon. Painter Richard Nugent (Grant, supposedly portraying a troublemaking womanizer but remaining lovable Cary) comes before Judge Margaret Turner (Loy) due to a nightclub scuffle in which he was a participant.

He later speaks on art at the school of Margaret's younger sister Susan (Temple), where she develops a crush on him (going so far as to envision him in shining armor). Upon her discovery of this disturbing crush, Margaret decides her only recourse is to have "Dickie" (as Susan has taken to calling Nugent) actually court Susan so she will lose her crush.

Grant decides that she is attracted to the "older man" side of him, so he plays at being a teenage type to turn her off. He dresses with his pant cuffs rolled up and pulls off some current slang (this was 1948), barging into the Turner home with a hearty "Mellow greetings, yookie dookie." Then he plays a funny word game:

Dickie: "You remind me of a man."
Susan: "What man?"
Dickie: "The man with the power."
Susan: "What power?"
Dickie: "The power of hoodoo."
Susan: "Hoodoo?"
Dickie: "You do."
Susan: "Do what?"
Dickie: "Remind me of a man..."

...and prepares to leave with a "Ready, boot? Let's scoot." Grant is surprisingly effective at this charade, probably because he looks so unassuming, completely dropping the suave screen personality viewers expect. (The wordplay is so seemingly original and clever, I've been quoting it since I first saw the movie back in the 1990s.)

The Bachelor and the Bobby-Soxer also allows Grant to use his gift at physical humor (as a youth he was trained in acrobatics, dancing, and pantomime) in a series of contests at a local school picnic against family friend Tommy (Rudy Vallee) at Susan's request.

It's all wonderfully fluffy and plays at no pretense of attaining classic status, even though Sheldon's screenplay won an Oscar (and yes, that's the same Sidney Sheldon who wrote all those potboiler novels that were made into TV movies in the 1980s). But Grant, Loy, and Temple are at their comedic best (although Loy is used to greater effect in the Thin Man movies), and the whole thing is a feel-good movie squared, so The Bachelor and the Bobby-Soxer has become one of my favorites over the years.