The Musicals of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer

Category: Discussion

  • Going Hollywood

    Some Thoughts

    Going Hollywood has the potential to be a good musical, but does not quite get there. It has its moments, but fights a losing battle against the unusually lacklustre direction of Raoul Walsh, whose strengths the musical form does not play to.

    Bill Williams (Bing Crosby) is understandbly shocked to find Sterling Holloway in his living room
    Bill Williams (Bing Crosby) is understandbly shocked to find Sterling Holloway in his living room

    Star Marion Davies would go on to make half a dozen more pictures, but she was in her mid-thirties by now, and her heart never seems to be in te portraying yet another ingenue. Her appearance in blackface as the world’s most unconvincing ‘mammy’ is a low point. Davies’s singing is kept to an absolute minimum, with all the heavy lifting done by co-star Bing Crosby, on loan from Paramount at Davies’s specific request. Which is a pity, because the film has the best score of any of her musicals, with Freed and Brown in good form.

    "Why are we here?" could be the question on the lips of Jill (Patsy Kelly) and Sylvia (Marion Davies)
    “Why are we here?” could be the question on the lips of Jill (Patsy Kelly) and Sylvia (Marion Davies)

    MGM found itself in September 1933 shooting two pictures set in Hollywood. The other was Bombshell (1933), which has all the verve and insider knowledge that is lacking in Going Hollywood. The dead hand of William Randolph Hearst is probably a factor here: satire was not really his forte. And Marion Davies was no longer able to compete with twenty-two year old Jean Harlow.

    The film’s musical highlights are ‘Going Hollywood’ and ‘Temptation’. The former is the big production number set at Grand Central Station, in which dance director Albertina Rasch seems to throw everything apart from the kitchen sink into the mix. Crosby sings ‘Temptation’, one of Freed and Brown’s best songs, into the sultry eyes of Fifi D’Orsay, achieving a depth of emotion that was generally lacking from his easy-listening style of crooning.

    The comedy in Going Hollywood is left in the capable hands of Ned Sparks and Patsy Kelly, though both find slim pickings in Donald Ogden Stewart’s sub-par screenplay; it is difficult to believe he would go on to write Holiday (1938) and The Philadelphia Story (1940). On the subjects of comedy, Sterling Holloway also provides a few minutes of his always entertaining zaniness.

    Conroy (Ned Sparks) doesn't mind encouraging Sylvia, but there is no way he is returning her smile
    Conroy (Ned Sparks) doesn’t mind encouraging Sylvia, but there is no way he is returning her smile

    Going Hollywood  is not exactly a bad film; it is just not a particularly good one.

  • Dancing Lady

    Some Thoughts

    Warner Bros released 42nd Street in March 1933. MGM’s attempt to plough the same furrow came out eight months later. All the basic elements are there: a chorus girl becomes the star of the show; a hard-bitten director orders everyone about; dozens of wisecracking chorus girls perform musical numbers that transcend the physical limits of an actual stage. But Dancing Lady has the MGM sheen that Warners would never even try to emulate, with huge Merrill Pye sets that seem to go on forever.

    Janie Barlow (Joan Crawford), tracking her man in a Slavko Vorkapich montage
    Janie Barlow (Joan Crawford), tracking her man in a Slavko Vorkapich montage

    Dancing Lady is a lesser film than 42nd Street, but that does not make it a bad one. It is thoroughly entertaining, and a demonstration of the way Metro was coming into its own as the studio of sophistication and gloss. Robert Z Leonard’s direction could not be more different from his first musical, 1929’s Marianne. Aided by cinematographer Oliver T Marsh (also from Marianne), he imbues the film with smooth camera work.

    The production numbers at the end of Dancing Lady include the kind of reality-defying nonsense familiar from Warner’s 1933 musicals, and Slavo Vorkapich’s special effects in ‘Heigh Ho, the Gang’s All Here’ are as inventive as anything conceived by Busby Berkeley.

    Joan Crawford recognized and embraced the autobiographical aspects of a story about an ambitious hoofer who makes it to the top, and was able to contribute to the development of the story after expressing some initial doubts. Her dancing is as energetic as always, not dissimilar to Ruby Keeler’s buck-and-wing style.

    Curly Howard, Moe Howard and Larry Fine, under the direction of Steve (Ted Healy), prepare to undermine Janie
    Curly Howard, Moe Howard and Larry Fine, under the direction of Steve (Ted Healy), prepare to undermine Janie

    Clark Gable was a less willing participant than Crawford, and his ill health at the time shows on the screen. His sometimes difficult behaviour was a major factor in Metro’s decision to ‘punish’ him by loaning him to Columbia to make the film that won him an Academy Award. Gable’s Patch Gallagher is never really convincing as a director of musicals, but is certainly preferable to Franchot Tone’s sleazy and manipulative Tod.

    Janie gives Fred Astaire sex appeal while he gives her style
    Janie gives Fred Astaire sex appeal while he gives her style

    The sudden outbursts of violence by Ted Healy and his three stooges, while entertaining, seem a little out of place, though not as much as Fred Astaire, in his film debut, who looks like he has wandered onto the set by mistake. He would have to wait until A Damsel in Distress (1937) and Joan Fontaine to have a less gifted dance partner.

  • Stage Mother

    Some Thoughts

    Stage Mother is a pretty good film, but a lacklustre musical. Based on the backstage novel written by Bradford Ropes immediately after 42nd Street, and with Ropes as co-author of the screenplay, it is a much darker film than the Warner Bros adaptation of the earlier novel, the improbable happy ending notwithstanding. But it lacks 42nd Street’s humour and, most essentially, Busby Berkeley’s production numbers.

    Kitty (Alice Brady), and the new-born Shirley, who is blissfully unaware of what lies ahead
    Kitty (Alice Brady), and the new-born Shirley, who is blissfully unaware of what lies ahead

    Albertina Rasch was no Busby Berkeley,and the two production numbers in Stage Mother, the first of which launches Freed-Brown’s ‘Beautiful Girl’, are mostly by-the-numbers parades of swaying chorus girls.

    What saves Stage Mother is the central performance of Alice Brady, following up her benevolent mother in Broadway to Hollywood with a convincing portrait of the fixated stage mother. In an early scene with her dead husband’s parents and forbidding sister, she is very moving, entirely credible with her nervous laughter. Later, she is a ruthless blackmailer in her daughter’s supposed interests, even acting as a procurer for the gay dance instructor.

    Ralph (Ted Healy) finally persuades Kitty to marry him
    Ralph (Ted Healy) finally persuades Kitty to marry him

    Maureen O’Sullivan was a lesser talent, and very inexperienced, but she holds her own as the manipulated, and later manipulative, daughter. The real problem with her performance is that she exhibits not one iota of the stage talent that everyone else in the picture is attributing to her.

    Director Charles Brabin was beyond his best years when he made Stage Mother; he would only make two further films, before retiring to enjoy the wealth he and his wife, Theda Bara, had accumulated. But he was always more than a Hollywood journeyman, and he and cinematographer George J Folsey achieved a better-looking film than might be expected, often using unconventional camera angles.

    Kitty has charged ,000 for her daughter's virginity. Warren (Franchot Tone) shares his thoughts with Shirley (Maureen O'Sullivan)
    Kitty has charged $10,000 for her daughter’s virginity. Warren (Franchot Tone) shares his thoughts with Shirley (Maureen O’Sullivan)

    Stage Mother has been described as a musicalized soap opera, and there is some justification in that. But it is an entertaining soap opera, let down only by a final scene in which all the blackmail and pimping is brushed to one side. It also contains an audition sequence in which Carl ‘Alfalfa’ Switzer and Mary Ann Jackson, together with an unnamed contortionist, demonstrate just how awful child performers can be.

  • Broadway to Hollywood

    Some Thoughts

    At the heart of Broadway to Hollywood are two solid performances: a very good one by Frank Morgan and an excellent one by Alice Brady, essaying the first of her two show business mothers for MGM. The film as a whole, however, is underwhelming, especially as a musical, and the reason for that lies in its status as a hybrid of backstage drama and archival footage.

    In 1929, producer Harry Rapf had an idea for a follow-up to his The Hollywood Revue of 1929. It was to be a lavish, three-part history of vaudeville. One section, the Old Timers, would showcase veteran vaudevillians, with the other parts presenting more contemporary performers. To that end, a range of great names from the past were filmed recreating past glories: Weber and Fields, Fay Templeton, Louis Mann, DeWolf Hopper, William Collier Sr, Josephine Sabel, Barney Fagan and Marie Dressler (the only one still in the public eye).

    Filming proceeded well into 1930 but, having spent $750,000, the picture was summarily abandoned without having achieved even a rough-cut. MGM, like the other studios, had become aware that the American public was falling out of love with musicals, especially revues, and decided not to throw good money after bad.

    Ted Jr (Jackie Cooper) and his mom, Lulu (Alice Brady)
    Ted Jr (Jackie Cooper) and his mom, Lulu (Alice Brady)

    There was a desire, however, to mitigate the loss by utilizing the March of Time footage elsewhere; which is where Broadway to Hollywood came in. MGM devised a multi-generational story about a vaudeville family, with a view to incorporating film shot for the abandoned project. This was not a bad idea in theory, but was badly let down by the execution.

    For a start, the onstage sequences do not match the style and look of the dramatic scenes. It is almost entirely lacking in even medium shots, so most of the time the performers are unidentifiable. Weber and Fields are understood to be inside a stage horse costume during one sequence, but it could have been anybody. Fleeting is a generous way to describe the appearances of others.

    Drunk Ted Jr is about to receive the 'help' of Fritz (Curly Howard) and Otto (Moe Howard)
    Drunk Ted Jr is about to receive the ‘help’ of Fritz (Curly Howard) and Otto (Moe Howard)

    Further dissonance is caused by the filmmakers decision to use shots of unnamed dancers as body doubles for the musical performances of actors like Russell Hardie and Madge Evans. Few MGM musicals, even from these early years, are so lacking in intimacy. Add in Moe and Curly Howard, almost unrecognizable as a disturbing pair of clowns, and you have the mess that is Broadway to Hollywood. And, if anyone was in doubt about where MGM stood on the matter, the people working in management in Hollywood are much kinder than those on Broadway.

  • The Devil’s Brother

    Some Thoughts

    Ever since Laurel and Hardy’s last-minute insertion into The Rogue Song, Hal Roach had wanted to put them into a feature-length operetta. He chose Fra Diavolo, a one-hundred-year old work by Daniel Auber; the film was known by that title outside the United States.

    Stanlio (Stan Laurel) listens as Ollio (Oliver Hardy) explains why they have nothing to fear from Fra Diavolo
    Stanlio (Stan Laurel) listens as Ollio (Oliver Hardy) explains why they have nothing to fear from Fra Diavolo

    The Devil’s Brother (a meaningless title) is essentially an editing together of two separate films. Hal Roach directed the musical and dramatic sequences, using Hap Depew as cinematographer, while Charley Rogers (and Stan Laurel) directed the comedy sequences, photographed by Art Lloyd. This ended up proving that Roach was a better producer than he was director: the parts attributed to Rogers were highly praised, while those for which Roach was responsible were not. In fact, previews led to the excision of a significant amount of the non-comedic footage.

    This was an untypical Laurel and Hardy picture (historical setting, no bowler hats) and the pair were hesitant about making it. But it turned out to be one of their favourites amongst their films, as well as the most commercially successful. It features some classic Laurel and Hardy routines, including the introduction of ‘Kneesy-Earsy-Nosy’, the frustratingly difficult coordination game that Stan made look so easy.

    Lady Pamela (Thelma Todd) is pleased that the Marquis de San Marco has arrived at the inn
    Lady Pamela (Thelma Todd) is pleased that the Marquis de San Marco has arrived at the inn

    There is a third excellent performance in The Devil’s Brother, with Thelma Todd being given a rare opportunity to show her range. She plays Lady Pamela, an English aristocrat, and actually sounds more convincing than British-born James Finlayson, playing her husband. Todd is almost unrecognizable as the fast-talking working girl she played in most of her films.

    Dennis King, as might be expected, carries off the musical sequences with aplomb, though it cannot be said he is totally convincing as a ruthless cutthroat. He holds his own in his scenes with Stan and Ollie, though he later admitted to finding their improvisations very challenging. Lucile Brown is an effective ingenue and handles her one song capably (and fetchingly, since she is in lingerie). But Arthur Pierson’s Lorenzo demonstrates why he gave up acting to move behind the camera.

    Stanlio demonstrates Kneesy-Earsy-Nosey
    Stanlio demonstrates Kneesy-Earsy-Nosey

    A feature musical with the MGM imprimatur, The Devil’s Brother clearly has a larger budget than was normal for Hal Roach productions. This is demonstrated by the number of actors and extras on screen, and by Dolly Tree’s costumes. 

  • The Cuban Love Song

    Some Thoughts

    The Cuban Love Song is the story of a selfish man who manages to both have his cake and eat it, yet manages to be enjoyable in spite of this.

    Is Nenita (Lupe Velez) going to be amenable to the sweet talking of Terry (Lawrence Tibbett)? Of course she is.
    Is Nenita (Lupe Velez) going to be amenable to the sweet talking of Terry (Lawrence Tibbett)? Of course she is.

    This was, as well as being MGM’s last musical for a couple of years, the final film under Lawrence Tibbet’s contract with the studio. He handles himself very well in what is essentially a romance with music. Contemporaries may have smiled at well-known sex pot Lupe Velez playing a virginal peanut vendor, but she pulls it off, and her scenes with Tibbett are very believable, as is her faked bravura when she knows Tibbett has to leave her.

    This is a pre-code musical with some pretty blatant out-of-wedlock sex, though the fact that Velez dies might have made Will Hays feel slightly better about it. The man, of course, ends up with a son and in a clinch with Karen Morley, who has little to do in the picture other than be a good egg, but she does it very well.

    Crystal (Karen Morley) is told about Nenita, but she tells Terry she already knows
    Crystal (Karen Morley) is told about Nenita, but she tells Terry she already knows

    The optical printer had been in widespread use since 1927, and enabled The Cuban Love Song to achieve its most memorable sequence, when Lawrence Tibbett duets with himself, performing both baritone and tenor vocals. It was his last song in a film for four years, and it is a worthy one.

    There are a couple of good Fields-McHugh numbers in the film, but these are augmented by two genuine Cuban songs, one of which is reprised by Cuban artist Ernesto Lecuono, triggering a Proustian moment for our hero. The other is well-performed by Velez and nicely staged by W S Van Dyke, directing the first of the eleven musicals he worked on. Overall, his direction is fluid, with camera movement working in support of the narrative.

    Lawrence Tibbett performs with himelf years before Gene Kelly thought of it
    Lawrence Tibbett performs with himelf years before Gene Kelly thought of it

    Mention must be made, finally, of Jimmy Durante, energetic as always in his supporting  role, and playing the most unlikely-looking member of the US Marine Corps.

  • Flying High

    Some Thoughts

    Bert Lahr secured screen immortality by playing the Cowardly Lion in The Wizard of Oz. But his first film, Flying High, demonstrates why he otherwise never achieved major success in Hollywood: he was simply too big for the screen, like Jimmy Durante turned up to 11. Lahr’s gurning, his exaggerated physical movements, and his insistence on saying most of his lines twice, may have come across well in the stalls of a Broadway theatre, but are just too much in medium-closeup.

    Pat O'Brien (as Sport Wardell) holds on, to avoid being blown off the screen by Bert Lahr (as Rusty Krause)
    Pat O’Brien (as Sport Wardell) holds on, to avoid being blown off the screen by Bert Lahr (as Rusty Krause)

    When Lahr is on screen with co-star Pat O’Brien, it would be an understatement to say it is as though they were in two different films: it is more as if they were two different species. This is not to suggest that Lahr is not entertaining, because he is, but it is also a relief when he is off screen for a while.

    It is interesting to contrast Lahr with his co-star, Charlotte Greenwood. She, too, was a stage performer with an eccentric bent, but she was actor enough to be able to modify (or moderate) her stage persona to the greater intimacy of the screen.

    Rusty was Pansy Potts to keep her distance
    Rusty wants Pansy Potts to keep her distance

    Flying High is an enjoyable romp but, as one of MGM’s three 1931 musicals, prior to the 1932 moratorium, it is rather light on music. Twelve of the thirteen DeSylva-Brown-Henderson songs from the Broadway show are missing, replaced by three from the bottom drawer of Dorothy Fields and Jimmy McHugh. There are a couple of production numbers directed by Busby Berkeley and featuring Kathryn Crawford. These show Berkeley refining the techniques he had developed on Eddie Cantor vehicles at Goldwyn, but still lacking the precision that would be on display a couple of years later in 42nd Street. 

    A bit of early chorus girl regimentation by Busby Berkeley
    A bit of early chorus girl regimentation by Busby Berkeley

    Berkeley’s numbers are the liveliest parts of the picture, with Charles Reisner clearly happy to point his camera at Bert Lahr and let him get on with it.  

  • The Prodigal

    Some Thoughts

    Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer released fifteen musicals in 1930, but by the end of the year, musicals were falling out of favour with the general public. The studio had already abandoned one major production, The March of Time, and only put out three musicals in the whole of 1931.

    Stepin Fetchit doing his thing as Hokey, in conversation with the returning Jeff (Lawrence Tibbett)
    Stepin Fetchit doing his thing as Hokey, in conversation with the returning Jeff (Lawrence Tibbett)

    All three suffered as a result of the public’s growing aversion to singing actors, but none more so than The Prodigal. MGM was still keeping faith with opera star Lawrence Tibbett, and his singing in this latest picture was outstanding, especially in ‘Without a Song’, performed to Vincent Youmans’s beautiful melody and with only slightly racist lyrics. But two other numbers–Jacques Wolfe’s ‘De Glory Road’ and ‘Life is a Dream’, written by Oscar Straus and Arthur Freed–were filmed but then deleted from the final cut. Studios thought they could make musicals more palatable to the public by having less music in them, which made little sense when your star was one of the world’s greatest singers.

    Hobo Jeff is given a bath by his mother (Emma Dunn), in a scene some commentators find slightly disturbing
    Hobo Jeff is given a bath by his mother (Emma Dunn), in a scene some commentators find slightly disturbing

    At the same time, The Prodigal was an attempt at presenting Tibbett in a non-operetta, and he does quite well in the more low-key dramatic scenes. Comic relief is provided by Roland Young (in the last of his three MGM musicals–he even gets to sing a few notes in this one) and Cliff Edwards.

    Esther Ralston, as Toni, is a fetching female lead in the typically pre-code story, with its easy-going, non-judgemental attitude to divorce. Her mother-in-law, Cynthia, swoops in as a deus ex machina, blithely instructing one son to get a divorce and the other to come back and claim Toni when it is all over, in one of the most hastily-arranged climaxes in 30s’ cinema. 

    Jeff explains the nature of chitlins to Doc (Roland Young) and Snipe (Cliff Edwards)
    Jeff explains the nature of chitlins to Doc (Roland Young) and Snipe (Cliff Edwards)

    Harry Pollard was obscure enough not even to rate a mention in Quinlan’s Film Directors, but he does not do a bad job on The Prodigal. He keeps it simple, with the only busy sequence being the barbeque with its mass of singers. Sadly, the sequence is painful in its racial stereotyping and Tibbett’s condescending serenade to the ever-smiling crowd of unnamed Black performers.

  • New Moon (1930)

    Some Thoughts

    The 1930 version of New Moon is unmistakably a pre-code picture, the two lovers having sex within the first fifteen minutes but remaining unmarried until almost the end. Even more strikingly, the sexual relationship is engineered, not by the philandering Lawrence Tibbett, but by Grace Moore, knowingly having fun with no intention of taking it seriously. 

    Tanya (Grace Moore) reveals to Michael (Lawrence Tibbett) that she knows a dirty song when she hears one

    Moore was, by her own admission, no great shakes as an actor (she described herself as “like a singing Mae West with long hair”), but she is much more effective here than in A Lady’s Morals, where the virginal Jenny Lind gave her little scope to do anything but sing. Her Princess Tanya is bold, promiscuous and, at least in the first half, a cold-hearted opportunist, conspiring with her uncle and aunt to marry wealth. Moore’s performance is playful; notice the subtle  reaction when Adolphe Menjou’s wandering hand finds her outstanding derrière.

    Tanya reacts as Boris (Adolphe Menjou) cops a feel

    Lawrence Tibbett gives a solid performance, the highlight being his fully-integrated rendition of the beautiful ‘Lover Come Back to Me’. He is also suitably vituperative when singing ‘What is Your Price Madam?’, a number by Stothart and Grey which holds its own with the songs retained from the original Romberg-Hammerstein score.

    New Moon benefits from having two outstanding supporting players in Roland Young and Adolphe Menjou. Young, as the easygoing uncle, seems much more comfortable here than in the frenzy of Madam Satan and steals all his scenes. Menjou, as always, personifies debonair sophistication as ‘Bedroom Boris’. Gus Shy, the only member of the original stage cast to feature in the film version, was always an acquired taste, but he does, at least, get to die a noble death.

    Tanya has driven an unfeasibly long distance, into dangerous country, for the pleasure of horse-whipping Michael

    Jack Conway’s direction is above-average for Metro’s earliest musicals, especially in the first, boudoir comedy section.  The second half, set in the fortress, is less interesting, though it features some excellent photography by Oliver T Marsh and impressive process shots. There is also a well-staged battle sequence that is quite unexpected in a musical. Apparently the effort of wrangling two Metropolitan Opera stars wore out Conway and Sam Wood completed the picture, which may explain some dropping off in the quality of the staging.

    Nonetheless, while New Moon creaks like the ship the characters sail on, it remains eminently watchable.

  • A Lady’s Morals

    Some ThoughtsNo thesaurus is needed to find the best word to describe A Lady’s Morals. ‘Dull’ is the obvious choice. 

    Jenny Lind (Grace Moore) is affronted by the ardour of stalker Paul Brandt (Reginald Denny)

    Grace Moore was the second star of the Metropolitan Opera signed up by MGM but, unlike Lawrence Tibbett, she has no onscreen charisma. In real life–and judging from her enjoyable autobiography–Moore was lively and vivacious, but none of that comes across in her film debut. Her performance is far too weak to carry the picture, and no one knew that better than Moore herself, who wrote scathingly about it. 

    She is not helped by the fact that the film’s subject, Jenny Lind, lived a stainless and uneventful life, reflected in the fact that the only moment of drama in A Lady’s Morals is a bout of stage fright.

    Reginald Denny’s mannered performance aonly adequate support. In his first scenes he seems to be continuing his irritating performance as Bob in Madam Satan; later, he is self-sacrificing. Wallace Beery makes nothing of his brief appearance as P T Barnum, because he is given nothing to do. He was given another, and better, stab at the role in The Mighty Barnum (1934).

    Jenny Lind is about to be overwhelmed by stage fright

    Sidney Franklin’s direction and George Barnes’s cinematography are workmanlike, but it is the screenplay that really disappoints. Dorothy Farnum was forced to fictionalize Jenny Lind’s unexciting life, but produces only a hackneyed tale involving blindness brought on by being hit on the head with a bottle. 

    MGM scored something of a coup by persuading the venerable Carrie Jacobs-Bond to contribute the song ostensibly written by Denny’s character, but otherwise the newly-written score is workaday. This is in contrast to the songs by Donizetti and Bellini. The studio had put a toe in the water of Grand Opera in Call of the Flesh, and continues the experiment here. Further steps were curtailed, however, by the 1932 moratorium. 

    Jenny and Paul are reunited in a happy ending that would have surprised the real Jenny Lind’s husband

    By all accounts, Jenny Lind (1931), the French remake of A Lady’s Morals, was a better film. Running slightly longer, it was directed by the talented Arthur Robison and playwright Jacques Deval worked on the screenplay.

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