Joan Blondell in GOOD GIRLS GO TO PARIS (1939)

 A GIRL’S GOTTA BE GOOD TO GET TO PARIS. 

GOOD AND SMART!

GOOD GIRLS GO TO PARIS (1939) is a Columbia Pictures romantic comedy directed by Alexander Hall and starring Joan Blondell, Melvyn Douglas and Walter Connolly.

Jenny Swanson (Blondell) plays a good-hearted waitress who thinks that she is not above a little harmless gold digging blackmail to fulfill her dream of going to Paris. All that changes when she meets the Aesop-quoting, English exchange professor, Prof. Ronald (‘Ronnie’) Brooke, (Douglas) who sets her conscious – and heart – aflutter.

Jenny is working at the diner near the local college as she tries to snag herself a rich student, extract a promise of marriage from him, and then collect a big payoff from his father when he objects to the marriage. When Jenny strikes up a friendship with Douglas’s professor and tells him of her plan, he advises her that "good girls go to Paris, too" and that she should go straight back home to Minnesota. When her blackmail plan seemingly blows up in her face, she heads for the train station, but in a last minute decision buys a ticket for New York City.

On the train she hooks up with the Tom Brand (Alan Curtis), brother of Brooke’s previously unmentioned fiancée, Sylvia (Joan Perry), and soon ends up as the inadvertent house guest of the wealthy Brand family.

All of the family have their secrets. Brooke’s fiancée, Sylvia, is really in love with medical student Dennis Jeffers (Henry Hunter), the son of the Brand’s butler. Mother Caroline (Isabel Jeans) has a not-so-secret paramour, Paul Kingston (Alexander D’Arcy), and Tom has a $5000 gambling debt hanging over his head. All of their problems stem from their inability to stand up to their overwrought, overbearing and continuously apoplectic patriarch, Olaf (Connolly).

Can our little Jenny untangle everyone’s problems and ensure that everyone – including her and the professor – all end up with the right partners?

The ending might not be a surprize, but the path that Jenny takes to get there, constantly guided by her inner ‘flutter’, is a continuously unfolding delight. Jenny’s every interaction adds a new complication that she has to solve by hook or by crook – happily using the latter when she gets cornered into doing a little well-meaning blackmail to save Tom’s hide from the gangster he owes money to.

By the end of the film every male has proposed marriage to Jenny at least once - all except, of course, for Prof. Brooke! 

If you wanted to call this a screwball rom-com, I would not argue with you. The cascading series of comedic crises that drag Blondell’s character into the Brand family’s orbit, and the sparks they generate, are the hallmarks of a good screwball. But every really good screwball comedy needs a solid cast of memorable (and often eccentric) supporting characters. Blondell, Douglas and Connolly all have terrific screen presence and know how to get the most out of an almost A-quality script, but the rest of the cast are so bland as to be interchangeable. While writing this review I had to consult the IMDB a dozen times to keep these characters straight. Is Isabel Jeans playing Olaf’s wife or another daughter? I had to rewind the film to confirm that she’s his wife.

Good Girls Go To Paris is the second of three films that Blondell and Douglas made together within two years, the others being There’s Always a Woman (1938) and The Amazing Mr. Williams (1939). They would not appear together again for almost thirty years until MGM’s Advance to the Rear (1964). The two actors were probably initially brought together to try to capture the Nick and Nora box office magic that William Powell and Myrna Loy had generated in The Thin Man series.

Blondell and Douglas make a great comedic team & this film is by far the best of their three 1938-39 films. Blondell exudes her natural effervescence and quick tongue without any of the underlying tinge of bitterness found in many of her best roles. Her Jenny may not have gotten any breaks, but she’s not yet cynical. She is warm and loving, and any potential larceny in her heart is totally without malice.

The director and the script give Douglas a break from his frequent aggressive misogyny that he was forced to portray in many of his comedic roles (see my previous review of Two-Faced Woman (1941) where he plays opposite Greta Garbo) and that mars both of the other two Douglas-Blondell pairings. Here his Ronnie is sympathetically good natured, but too restrained to acknowledge the deep connection that he and Jenny quickly make. We’ll soon learn that he’s engaged to be married to the rich debutante, Sylvia Brand, which will be the spark that ignites the oncoming farce. And, even though Douglas is supposed to be playing an Englishman, he never attempts an accent, which I found funny in itself.

As in any well-constructed story, when things seem to be happening too fast to follow, the film slows down to allow us some introspective one-on-one moments between the characters. Jenny and the constantly agitated Olaf bond over their shared love for their simple Minnesota upbringings. Jenny works her way into Olaf’s heart by being the only one in the house not afraid to speak her mind to him. Their scene together playing cards while Olaf is in his sick bed reminded me of the gentle interaction between Deanna Durbin and Charles Laughton in It Started With Eve (1941), where Deanna's warm charm soon lifts Laughton from his proclaimed death bed. 

Jenny and Ronnie also get a few, but not enough, scenes where they debate Jenny's plans to get to Paris. Their unacknowledged love grows as they gently spar back and forth. If Ronnie will just say the word, she’ll give up her plans to go to Paris, at least by herself;

Ronnie:  Jenny, have you lost your flutter?
Jenny:  Oh, no. I'm fluttering something awful right now.

Ronnie, just kiss the girl already!  

The chemistry between the two leads is unforced and enjoyable to bath in. Although Jenny is supposed to be younger than Blondell’s real age at the time the film was made (she was 32, Douglas was 38), there does not seem to be the usual awkward age gap between the female and males leads that was so common in films of the era, where men in their 40’s are always engaged to 17 year old girls. Such was the time.

As usual, I enjoy digging into the background of the supporting characters.

Next to Blondell and Douglas, Walter Connolly (playing Olaf Brand) is the biggest presence in the film, both physically and vocally – this big man is always shouting. You’ll recognize him as the father of Claudette Colbert’s character in It Happened One Night (1934) and as Frederic March’s hot-headed editor in the classic screwball, Nothing Sacred (1937). Connolly’s specialty was playing sweating, yelling, always outraged men who could not get the people around him to do what he wanted. Although a memorable character (your enjoyment of his screen persona may vary), his main career in Hollywood was short (1932 to 1940) after which he died at age 53.

Alan Curtis (playing Tom Brand) was a handsome actor who often got close to leading and supporting roles from the late ‘30’s until his death (following surgery) in 1953. Some of his more notable parts were as Babe Kozak, the hot-headed and inexperienced robber opposite Bogart and Ida Lupino in High Sierra (1941) and the engineer whose loyal secretary (Ella Raines) needs to find The Phantom Lady (1944) to save him from execution.

Dorothy Comingore plays an uncredited tearoom hostess. Can you pick her out in the lineup of cute waitresses that introduces us to Blondell’s character? In two years time she would be acclaimed for playing the feather-brained second wife of Charles Foster Kane in Orson Welles Citizen Kane (1941). But her star quickly fell as she felt the wrath of William Randolph Hearst who hated his inferred portrayal in the film and Comingore’s character who was modeled after his mistress, Marion Davies. Hearst used his power to destroy Dorothy’s career. Her fate was sealed when she was blacklisted for refusing to cooperate with the House Un-American Activities Committee. She spent time in an asylum, became an alcoholic and died at age 58. [I think that's her third from the right standing next to Blondell]

Although Isabel Jeans (playing Caroline Brand) did not make much of an impression for me in this film, she soon had a much better role playing  Mrs. Newsham in Alfred Hitchcock’s’ Suspicion (1941). Sauvé Alexander D'Arcy (playing Paul Kingston), went on to star in the underground cult classic, Horrors of Spider Island (1960). 

And finally, a tip of the hat to hard working actor Sam McDaniel as the confused train porter trying to figure out where to put Jenny up for the night. You’ve seen him in at least one of his over 200 roles, almost all uncredited and almost all playing porters, janitors or servants.

Good Girls Go To Paris is from a story by Oscar nominated Lenore J. Coffee (Four Daughters, 1938) and William J. Cowe (Kongo, 1932 [Director]), with a screenplay by Oscar nominated Gladys Leham (Two Girls and a Sailor, 1944) and Ken Englund (No, No, Nanette, 1940). The script is well-written and generates a lot of fun scenes for Blondell to show off her innate comedic chops. Straight man Douglas manages to get in a few zingers as well, but his character is more reactive than proactive in driving the storyline.

The direction by Alexander Hall (Here Comes Mr. Jordan, 1941) is fast-paced and keeps the 75 minute story in constant motion. One does tend to lose track of the convoluted complications that come up between Jenny and almost everyone in the Brand household, but – as in the best films of this sort – we’re having too much fun to be concerned with trying to keep the plot straight. Has anyone ever figured out who killed Sean Regan in The Big Sleep (1946)?

Is GOOD GIRLS GO TO PARIS worth my time? A definite yes. If you like 1930’s romantic comedy’s this is a probably a little gem that you’ve overlooked. A nod as well to cinematographer Henry Freulich for his assured hand on the camera and his unfussy, but well-chosen, set ups that never distract us from story. He specialized in light fare and B comedies, being Director of Photography on many of the Blondie films from the 30’s to the 50’s. The only complaint I might have is that the film is TOO short at 75 minutes. I would have enjoyed being with Blondell’s Jenny for another half hour.

Availability: As far as I can determine, the film has never had an official DVD release, which is a shame. It is available as a print-on-demand DVD from the usual grey market sources, and watchable copies are currently up on the interweb. Keep your eyes open for it to turn up on TCM.

 

PAT O’BRIEN & CLAIRE TREVOR in “CRACK-UP” (1946)

 

Crack-Up (1946) is a film noir-ish crime drama from RKO starring Pat O'Brien, Claire Trevor and Herbert Marshall.

The film starts with a crazed George Steele (O'Brien) punching out a cop and breaking into the museum where he works as an art critic and forgery expert. Once subdued, he relates that he has just been in a train wreck – which he is told never happened!

 Is Steele cracking up or is he caught up in some elaborate plot?

 

Pat O'Brien, Claire Trevor and Herbert Marshall

Driven to figure out the truth, Steele retraces his steps to the phantom wreck only to be caught up in a web of mystery that includes murder and an art forgery cover up. Can he trust his girlfriend (Trevor) who seems to know more than she is letting on and what is her relationship with Traybin (Marshall) who is dogging his heels?

Crack-Up was directed by Irving Reis who is primarily remembered for directing many of The Falcon movies of the early 1940’s, with his highest profile film probably being The Bachelor and The Bobby-Soxer (1947) starring Cary Grant, Myrna Loy and Shirley Temple. Crack-Up is about on par with the best of The Falcon films – solidly made and reasonably enjoyable to watch, but driven by too many small implausible character choices required to keep the mystery afloat.

Although the movie moves along at a reasonable pace, many scenes in the first two acts have enough lags in them for the viewer to question what is going on rather than being swept up by the action. One can almost see the actors straining to take their scripted lines in a better direction.

The third act picks up steam when O’Brien and Trevor finally team up to uncover what art has been forged and why. At least one minor character does a classic film noir about face leading to our hero once again being taken to the edge of madness in the clutches of the finally-revealed, scene-chewing villain. In an odd choice for a movie like this, Steele is largely sidelined for the big finale, leaving the film to end on a flat note that has the various characters trying to explain why they otherwise inexplicitly acted as they did throughout the movie.

O’Brien and Trevor both deliver solid performances even while they don’t seem to be totally invested in the material that they have to put across. Herbert Marshall’s few scenes don’t require him to be anything more than aloofly mysterious in trying to keep the viewer off balance as to whether he is a foe or ally to Steele.

Claire Trevor brings a riveting presence to her role, meaning that all eyes are on her whenever she is on screen. One can almost sense her nascent film noir muscles rippling under her skin, straining for a release that would only come in her next two films - Born To Kill (1947) and Raw Deal (1948).  

Other notable actors to watch in small, but pivotal roles, are Wallace Ford as police Lt. Cochrane and Mary Ware as Mary, secretary to museum trustee, Dr. Lowell.

Ford (above) is not not required to be anything other than a disbeliever in Steele's story and all too anxious to lock him up, but he's fun to watch in the role. Ford had the lead in Tod Browning’s Freaks (1932) and continued to have lead roles in mostly B pictures throughout the 30’s and 40’s, later transitioning to memorable supporting and character roles. He ended his career with a Golden Laurel nomination for A Patch of Blue (1965).

Mary Ware is a real mystery. She only has five listings on IMDB (1945-1948) and I could find almost no other information about her anywhere. But, she is effective in her small role, with a memorable face that could have been used to good effect in other noirs.

The shadowy cinematography by Oscar-nominated (Vivacious Lady, 1937) Robert de Grasse is possibly the best reason to watch Crack-Up. Even when you’re questioning the plot, de Grasse’s moody set ups and stylish chiaroscuro shadings give the film a rain-soaked luster even when it’s not raining.

Crack Up is based on the short story ‘Madman's Holiday’ by prolific SF and mystery writer Fredric Brown, published is the pulp magazine, Detective Story (July, 1943). Brown’s SF stories are noted for their often humorous or satirical slants, although if they were present in the original story they didn't make it into the script. His short story Arena was the basis for the much loved original Star Trek episode ‘Arena’ (1967) that has Kirk face off against a Gorn. The story was also likely the basis for The Outer Limits episode, Fun and Games (1964).

IS CRACK-UP WORTH MY TIME? This is a film that you don’t need to seek out, but if it turns up on TCM you can do worse than spend 93 minutes watching it. Although Claire Trevor does not get a lot of screen time, she is the reason you’ll stay with the film. I’m not sure if I believe Pat O’Brien as an art expert, but Robert de Grasse’s cinematography makes him and film look great.

Watch for the scene early in the film where O’Brien’s character runs down the surrealistic paintings of Salvador Dali who was well known in America by this time. During 1946 Dali even worked with Walt Disney and animator John Hench on the animated film Destino that was not released until 2003.

AVAILABILITY: A very watchable copy is currently up on YouTube if you can’t find the Warner Archive DVD from 2010.

MADAM SATAN... Is Death!

"The Devil searched far and long for an ally to wreak havoc amongst mortals…..then, the black corrupt soul of a beautiful woman, a victim of her own fiendish plan on Earth, left its bodily habitation to stand before the king of purgatory…..and his search was at an end….the Devil had found himself a fitting mate and called her……Madame Satan" (from the origin of Madam Satan in Pep Comics No. 16, 1941)

Madam Satan was an evil woman named Tyra who lured men to their destruction. During her first appearance she dies and is recruited by Satan who returns her to Earth to provide him with souls of good men that she would corrupt. As the ultimate Femme Fatale, she used her unearthly beauty to lure unsuspecting men into her clutches. As she prepares to kill them, her face is revealed to be an inhuman green skull.

The dark Madam Satan stories contained elements of the violent crime comics that were doing big business on the newsstands at that time, but pre-dated the macabre EC horror comics by over a decade. MJL Magazines Inc. was just one of many publishers vying for display space in the Golden Age of Comics with the hopes of taking home a share of the sales pie that was dominated by Batman, Superman and Captain Marvel. Publishers in the 1940’s where willing to try any concept to see if they could accidentally create the next comic book sensation – would Madam Satan make the cut?

Alas, Madam Satan only had a short run in Pep Comics (Nos. 16-21, 1941), plus a preview cover appearance on Pep No. 15 that would suggest that her debut had been scheduled for that issue, but was bumped to the next. When the first Madam Satan story appeared, the buying public did not know that in a mere six issues she would be remembered only for being replaced by Archie Andrews and his friends (Pep No. 22). Archie’s inauspicious debut eventually boosted MJL into one of the most successful publishing empires ever, lead in a large part by the distinctive art of Harry Lucey, Madam Satan’s co-creator. MJL was officially rechristened Archie Publications Inc. with issue Pep Comics #57 (June 1946).

Writer and co-creator Abner Sundell may have been influenced by Cecil B. DeMilles’ film, Madam Satan (1930) which is worth watching for Kay Johnson’s stunning outfit and the crazy Art Deco dance performance on a doomed zeppelin. Sundell’s only other notable Golden Age creation was Steel Sterling. Sundell only wrote Madam Satan’s first story, with all other stories being attributed to Joe Blair. Blair was a regular MJL/Archie writer who co-created The Fox with Irwin Hasen.

Artist Harry Lucey (Nov. 13, 1913 – August 28, 1984) began his comic book career in the late 1930s. In addition to Madam Satan, he drew Magno, Crime Does Not Pay, Sam Hill and Captain America. From the 1950’s until the 1970’s, he was the primary artist for Archie, drawing not only the flagship title, but also the in-house ads, covers and various other comics for the publisher. Lucey named the character Betty after his girlfriend’s sister. In 2012, Harry Lucey was inducted into the Will Eisner Awards Hall of Fame.

In the new millennia, Madam Satan has had a remarkable rebirth, appearing as a recurring character played by Michelle Gomez on The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina TV show (Netflix, 2018-2020) and in the comic book of the same name, and in her own one-shot (2020), self-titled comic. — The Atomic Surgeon, March 2022

ROSALIND RUSSELL is the HIRED WIFE (1940)

HE'S GOT DOUBLE WOMAN TROUBLE! 

And it's the sex-plosion of the season when they get together!

Cement Company CEO Stephen Dexter (Brian Aherne) is advised by his best friend and lawyer Roger Van Horn (Robert Benchley) to get a quick marriage to save his company from being bought out in a hostile takeover. Dexter wants to marry his latest yearly fling, Phyllis Walden (Virginia Bruce), but his secretary and brains behind the company, Kendal Browning (Rosalind Russell) seizes the opportunity to land the man that she has been silently pining for. Once the business need to be married is over, Dexter expects Kendal to accept an all expenses paid holiday to Hawaii by way of a Las Vegas divorce as ample compensation for her trouble. But Kendal has other ideas and enlists the help of her charming lady-killer buddy, Jose de Briganza (John Carroll) to break up the Stephen-Phyllis romance. From there the sparks fly and witty repartee flows like champagne until the film’s inevitable happy conclusion.

The sharp tongue and gleaming personality of top-billed Rosalind Russell is the reason to watch Hired Wife. The film rests squarely on the over-sized shoulders of the power outfits that she wears, and Russell carries it with ease. She had established her comedic credentials with her over the top performance in The Women (1939), and her fast talking, take charge, independent woman persona in His Girl Friday (1940), Howard Hawks' quintessential screwball comedy that she had made earlier in the year. It was a role she would return to time and again throughout the 1940’s. As she said, 

“In all those types of films I wore a tan suit, a grey suit, a beige suit and then a negligee for the seventh reel near the end when I would admit to my best friend on the telephone that what I really wanted was to become a little housewife.”

Benchley, Aherne & Russell

In Hired Wife, Russell is paired with Richard Aherne in their first of four films together, with the three from the 40’s all being variations on the same rom-com theme. For me, Aherne was always forgettable in his pairings with Russell, perhaps because she so dominates any scene she has with him. As hard as Russell tries (and she’s great at it) to convince us that Aherne is the only man for her, it comes across as just what it is – the plot device to drive the story forward. However, I will grant that Aherne could deliver an excellent performance, such as he gave in Merrily We Live (1938) where he held his own matching wits against the star power of Constance Bennett.

 Russell, Benchley & Bruce

Much more engaging are the two secondary male actors, Robert Benchley and John Carroll. The film jumps into gear when either is on the screen. Algonquin Round Table regular Benchley plays his patented best friend sidekick role to perfection, his mere presence buoying up the screen if the comedy is flagging. There’s frankly more energy between Benchley and Aherne in any one scene than Russell and Aherne have together in the entire movie.

 Russell & Carroll

Next to Russell, the film’s real delight is John Carroll (Marx Bros Go West, Flying Tigers, Only Angels Have Wings) using a hilariously false accent to play Kendal’s ace in the hole for breaking up the Stephen-Phyllis dalliance. One deftly acted scene in the back of a cab quickly establishes the Kendal-Jose dynamic. He’s a charming, perpetually broke, Clark Gable-ish lover of life and all women, who once tried to romance her, got turned down, and is now is her loyal friend. She returns that loyalty with a sibling-like love for his magnetic joie de vie. As actors, Carroll and Russell have a comedic and romantic allure that is rarely seen in films, and I’m sure that more than one audience member was rooting for them to end up with each other. Every scene between them is a delight, especially their near telepathic interplay whenever she is slipping him money to help maintain his pretence as a wealthy Spanish playboy as he attempts to woo Phyllis away from Stephen.

The script gives underused Virginia Bruce very little to work with in the other woman role as Stephen’s girlfriend, Phyllis. Initially established as a quasi-gold digger, the mechanics of the plot require her to also supposedly be seriously romantically interested in Stephen. All her scenes are reactive – outraged at being tricked into not marrying Stephen and then getting huffy when he’s placed in a situation where he can’t get a quick divorce. As a pretty blonde we can see Stephen’s physical attraction to Phyllis, but she’s clearly outclassed in every category by Kendal – it’s baffling why Stephen does not recognize this as well.

With better material, Bruce was an extremely capable actress with a wide range. She’s exceptional as the broken woman brutalized by Walter Houston in Kongo (1932), the talkie remake of Lon Chaney Sr.'s West of Zanzibar (1928), or in her comedic role as The Invisible Woman (1940) next to John Barrymore in the underrated third entry in Universal’s Invisible Man franchise. The part of Phyllis needed an actress as charismatic as Jean Harlow who could have breathed her full-bodied life into this underwritten role and given Kendal a worthy adversary in her pursuit of Stephen. As it is, the film fails to generate any real concern over Kendal not getting her man in the end.

This bright, but by the numbers, film is greatly enhanced by the people behind the camera. It was directed by William Seiter from a screenplay by Richard Connell and Gladys Lehman, based on an original story by George Beck. Journeyman director Seiter made a number of well respected films such as Laurel and Hardy’s Sons of the Desert (1933) and Your Were Never Lovelier (1942) with Fred Astaire and Rita Hayworth. Connell was a two-time Oscar nominee for Meet John Doe (1941) and Two Girls and A Sailor (1944; shared with Lehman), but I remember him best for the screenplay for The Most Dangerous Game (1932). The engaging, but unfussy cinematography was by seven-time Oscar nominee (and winner for Three Coins in the Fountain,1954), Milton Krasner.

Bit players to look out for include Suzanne Ridgeway who would go on to be dropped into quicksand by Baranga, the tree monster (stump?) in From Hell It Came (1957), and Robert Lane who played Chester Morris’ not-too-bright foil, Inspector Farraday, in the Boston Blackie film series.

Pretty blonde Janet Shaw had small parts in two Universal monster flicks; a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it appearance in The Mummy’s Tomb (1942) and as the first victim of the Night Monster (1942). Shaw’s role in Hired Wife is tiny. She’s the blushing young bride getting married at the Justice of the Peace ahead of Kendal and Stephen. But, how Kendal looks at her during the ceremony is crucial to our understanding of what marriage, and marriage to Stephen, means to Kendal, and why she later refuses to give him up - she knows in her heart of hearts that it’s the best thing for both of them.

IS HIRED WIFE WORTH MY TIME? Definitely, especially if you enjoy a romantic comedy with well-written dialogue, if not a very original script. Rosalind Russell is always wonderful and the film is supercharged by Robert Benchley and John Carroll. At 96 minutes it would have benefited from trimming away 10 minutes in the middle, and expanding the too quick, “Oh no, we ran out of time” ending.

AVAILABILITY: It appears to be available as a grey market DVD and it turns up on TCM from time to time. Several nice copies are also up on YouTube, which is where I watched it.

JANE WYMAN TURNS INVISIBLE in THE BODY DISAPPEARS (1941)

 

Imagine a movie where Willie Best plays Igor to Edward Everett Horton’s Dr. Frankenstein who is trying to reanimate dead bodies. Instead he creates an Invisible Man who falls in love with Jane Wyman who then ecstatically sheds her undergarments to become The Invisible Woman. Well, imagine no more as The Body Disappears (1941) is that film.

With all those horror tropes mixed together in one story you’d think that this fluffy Warner Bros. romantic comedy would be better known, or at least better referenced by fans of the Universal Monsters whom this film is gently riffing on. I suspect that if this film had of been made two years later, Willie Best would have turned into a werewolf as well!

Alas, despite checking many of the iconic horror touchstones (including a homage to the famous ‘It’s Alive!’ scene), its suburban university town setting keeps it several steps removed from that genre. With no crackling laboratory machinery or megalomaniacal rants due to the effects of monocane, most audiences at the time would have probably completely missed the multiple hat tips to the classic monster films.

The story is only slightly more complicated than it needs to be. Jane Shotesbury’s (Wyman) absent-minded professor father (EE Horton) is working on a formula to bring the dead back to life. When he and his manservant Willie (Best) borrow a corpse from the med school’s cadaver bank, it turns out to be the ‘only wishes he was dead’, severely hungover Peter Dehaven (Jeffery Lynn), placed there as a gag by his buddies after his stag party. Horton’s resuscitating formula not only wakes Peter up, but turns him invisible which in turn complicates the police search for him when Pete fails to turn up for his wedding. Jane and Peter fall in love, of course, but they still have to deal with Pete's gold digging fiancé, Jane's father being suspected of murdering the disappeared Peter, and Jane becoming invisible. All this leads to a lot of cross-purpose chaos that propels the otherwise standard 1940’s ‘B’ movie romcom plot. The Body Disappears tries hard to reach screwball intensity, but it never quite ignites. Despite that, it still makes for a pleasant, although unsophisticated, diversion thanks to its modest 72 minute running time. 

The most interesting parts of this film are those you don’t see (not a necessarily a bad thing) as the naked (but invisible) Jane and Pete scramble to free her father. An invisible Jane flaunts her lingerie and then doffs it while driving the rescue car, throwing it over the head and around the neck of poor Willie Best in the back seat of the seemingly driverless vehicle. Despite the fast pace of the film’s third act, it’s hard to understand how the censors could have let an unmarried, naked couple sit literally (butt) cheek to cheek and in the presence of a black man. 

Where the movie does succeed is thanks to the services of Wyman, Horton and Willie Best.

Wyman has little to do here but look gorgeous, which she succeeds at with gusto. Her introduction is in a ‘designed-to-be-noticed’, cut to the waist, backless dress that once seen makes one forget that her character is as light and thin as a soap bubble. In the early 1940’s, Wyman was still trading on her effervescing, scatter-brained, ray of sunshine persona that had originally gotten her noticed. She used it to give Glenda Farrell a run for her money as Torchy Blaine in the last official film in that series (….Plays With Dynamite, 1940). For those of you who enjoyed her performance in that film (I did!), I suggest that you check out Private Detective (1941). When that last Torchy film failed to be a blockbuster, Warner Bros simply changed the character’s name to ‘Jinx’ Winslow and filmed the next Torchy script with Wyman playing essentially the same character.

Most of the comedy in The Body Disappears is left to Horton and Best, either separately or together. No one played flustered, absent-minded, self-important boobs like EEH. There is an entire scene towards the end of the film where EEH’s character has to defend himself from insanity charges brought against him by his university colleagues that feels tacked on in an attempt to pad out the film's running time with extra ‘screwballiness’. As much fun as is it to watch EEH in these situations, the script by Scott (The Ghost of Frankenstein, 1942) Darling and Erna Lazarus does not give him much to work with (or against). It does, however, accomplish the plot point of getting him into a sanatorium so Jane can use his invisibility formula to break him out.

The real star of the film is perennial ‘Stepin Fetchit’ character actor/comedian, Willie Best (above). Despite having as much, or more, screen time than any of the other actors in the film, he is only 8th billed. Mercifully, his stereotypical, dim-witted black comic relief is significantly dialed back and he gets all the best lines in the film as he reacts (not inappropriately) to the nonsense going on around him. I laughed out loud when he first comes upon Pete’s ‘corpse’ and mutters, “This one's got a lily in his hands. He may be dead, but he's neat about it.”

For Willie Best and most black actors of the day, serious roles were mostly non-existent, with women being relegated to, at best, servants or nursemaids, and the men (e.g., Mantan Moorland) being confined to the stereotype ‘scared & sputtering’ comic relief role. Although the characters they played might now be repugnant, that doesn’t take away those actors considerable skills in carrying them off. Best play this role to better effect in the previous year's Bob Hope/Paulette Goddard film, The Ghost Breakers (1940) where he ends up being the inadvertent hero of the story.

Some of the other actors in the film to call out here include Herbert (Dennis the Menace’s father) Anderson as Peter’s medical student-best friend who puts Pete in the morgue after he carries out one too many practical jokes at his stage party; Craig (Peter Gunn) Stevens as Peter’s fiancé’s secret boyfriend; David (The Mad Ghoul, 1943) Bruce; Todd (From Hell It Came, 1957) Andrews; and William (20 Million Miles To Earth, 1957) Hopper. Also watch for Natalie (Gillian’s Island’s Mrs. Howell) Schafer in her first full length feature film role, and blink-and-you’ll-miss-her Leslie Brooks from one of my favourite poverty row noir’s, Blonde Ice (1948), as a bridesmaid.

Is The Body Disappears Worth My Time? It’s a nice Sunday afternoon timewaster, especially for those who love the old Universal Monster films. Willie Best steals the show, but Jane Wyman looks stunning and Edward Everett Horton does his best to keep the comedy going. Top billed Jeffery Lynn is so bland and boring that I forgot to mention him in this review. Since he’s invisible for most of the film he’s easy to overlook. The invisibility special effects are substandard, but they don't distract from the story where their believability is largely irrelevant. The direction by D. Ross Lederman and the cinematography by Allen G. Siegler are both competent and completely in keeping with their extensive, mostly B-picture work.

Availability: I can’t confirm an official DVD release. Occasionally a nice copy will be posted (and taken down) on YouTube, so keep a look out for it.

JOAN BLONDELL is BLONDIE JOHNSON (1933)

 

LOVE made her beautiful… WANT made her daring… MEN made her ruthless!

Joan Blondell steps into her first big lead role for this Warner Bros Pre-Code gangster film with a twist. For the first time, it’s the rags to riches story of a female criminal, but she gets there by using her brains and not her body – and without any machismo strong arm tactics.

Victoria ‘Blondie’ Johnson’s backstory is told in a quick secession of powerful opening scenes that lets Blondell show off her considerable, although frequently underused, dramatic acting chops. At the end of her rope like so many others during the Depression, a disheveled Blondie is denied government assistance after she loses her job for not giving in to the advances of her boss. Her sick mother dies, following on the heels of the death of Blondie’s younger sister (from an implied, but unstated illegal abortion) who had ‘got into trouble'. Lectured not to lose hope by a well meaning, but clueless priest, Blondie now knows how to take on the world;

 “I know what it's all about. I found out the only thing worthwhile is dough! And I'm gonna get it, see!

Scraping together enough money to buy a snappy looking dress, but otherwise broke, Blondie has one thing going for her – brains. She’s quick enough to figure out the best angle for whatever it’ll take to move her ahead. Hitting town, she teams up with her taxi driver (Sterling Holloway, above) to run a small scale sob story scam fleecing dough out of men dopey enough to give her taxi fare, plus a bit extra for the sake of her big puppy dog eyes. His leads to her meeting Danny Doyle (Chester Morris), the not-too-bright, but handsome, right hand man to mob boss, Max (Arthur Vinton), who is running this part of town.

Blondie sees Danny as her next step up the ladder and so enters into a business partnership with him to advance his career – with her pulling the strings. Blondie and Danny are also clearly hot for each other, but Blondie won’t give in to sentiment until she’s acquired her goal of being on top.

 “I got plans. Big plans! And the one thing that don't fit in with 'em is pants.”

 Danny also wants a success, but he’s not smart enough to see Blondie’s end goal – all he can see is a gorgeous blonde. His inability to think with his head and not his dick will be the wedge that ultimately splits the partnership apart, with potentially deadly consequences.

Blondie starts by engineering a courtroom stunt to free Danny’s immediate boss, Louie (Allen Jenkins, above right), from an iron clade case against him. She pretends to be Louise’s pregnant bride-to-be, and swings the jury to a Not Guilty decision with a funny, over the top performance. Everyone is happy except Max, who had intended for Louie to take a fall to get the heat off his back. When Max plans to retaliate against Danny, Blondie steps in to smoothly take control of his gang and engineers to have Max rubbed out.

Blondie then starts up a large front operation with Danny as titular head, but with her running the operation behind the scenes. The office is massive, employing more staff than most large newspapers. What the business is supposed to be is never clarified, but it’s related to the ‘insurance’ scam that Max had been previously running.

Danny continually pushes Blondie to give in to his advances. Even her girlfriends wonder why she’s holding out when she clearly loves the big palooka. When she refuses, Danny’s man-child reaction is to be a jerk. He takes up with Max’s ex-main squeeze (Claire Dodd) and neglects the business. Things come to a head when the gang rallies behind Blondie as she pushes Danny out of the gang and the head office, and into the gutter. 

The business is running smoothing with Blondie now the official public face until Louie gets fingered for Max’s murderer. Who sold him out? The gang is convinced that Danny squealed and demands that Blondie give the order to have him silenced. In a tense scene, we watch Blondell’s face display her conflicted emotions at giving that order. But can she go through with it?

Without giving too much away, the film ends two minutes too late on a quasi-happy note, not dissimilar to Barbara’s Stanwyck’s exit in Remember the Night (1940). The very long leash given to Blondie’s criminal activities and her refusal to defer to a man throughout the film is suddenly snapped back in what feels like a studio mandated ending designed to send the audience away in an upbeat mood. The penultimate scene between Blondie and Danny would have made for a very satisfying finale without betraying the arc of the film or its characters. Alas, such ‘happy’ endings were de rigueur for many films of the day and would certainly be the norm starting a year later when the Code began enforcing its own rules.

Blondie Johnson gives Joan Blondell what might well be her best sustained performance in any of her many films (she made an amazing 38 movies between 1930 and 1934). She gets to run the gamut of emotions while still maintaining her high quotient of quotable quips that she was noted for. Joan is believable both as both a beaten down waif and as the glamorous Queenpin of a powerful criminal organization.

Chester Morris is Blondell’s perfect match in the film. Most noted for his long run playing the title character of the Boston Blackie films in the 40’s, he is convincing as the semi-ambitious, handsome, but slightly dumb lump of clay that Blondie can mold to get what she wants. Morris isn’t required to show a very wide range of reactions, but that’s what you would expect from a guy like Danny.

The film is stuffed full of great character actors, lead by The Falcon’s (Tim Conway) sometimes right hand man, Allen Jenkins. Jerkins specialized in playing sidekicks to detectives, cops and gangsters. Even though he arranges to have his old boss rubbed out, you get the feeling that Jenkins could never do you any real harm (watch him opposite Lee Tracy in The Blessed Event, 1932, as an amusingly nonthreatening thug). Jenkins’s was born to play the comedic foil and he will always have a special place in my heart for voicing Officer Dibble on Top Cat (1962).

Also keep an eye open for Tom Kennedy, who played the poetry-reciting cop in the Torchy Blaine series and for Mae Busch who was Oliver Hardy’s long suffering wife in several Laurel and Hardy films. I recently watched her give a great performance as Lon Chaney’s girlfriend in The Unholy Three (1925). Also spotted was the quintessential pencil-necked sourpuss, Charles Lane, making a brief appearance as a cashier.

Although technically a drama, the actors deft handling of the script gives Blondie Johnson the feeling of an edgy romantic comedy, a feeling greatly enhanced by Blondell’s sharp, acerbic dialogue. Minus the gangster angle, the plot of the film parallels Baby Face (1933) that would open just four months after Blondie Johnson. Barbara Stanwyck’s character in Baby Face also maneuvers to the top of the world, but unlike Blondie, she’s explicitly gets there on her back. The much darker and richer Baby Face would be one of the last straws for the industry before the Code clamped down on ‘amoral’ female leads, shutting them up and putting them back in the kitchen where it believe they belonged.

Blondie Johnson is perhaps the definitive feminist gangster film, showing the world what a criminal organization run by a woman would be like. Although Blondie is no less ruthlessness than her male counterparts, her decisions are not ruled by testosterone. She gains the complete loyalty of her gang not through fear and intimidation, but through the good management techniques of treating them with respect and not welshing on their share of the take.

Blondie’s inner circle of confidants are two women who were with her from the beginning – Mae Busch and Toshia Mori (The Bitter Tea of General Yen, 1932)(both above). Pay attention to how they are framed whenever they appear on screen. In their almost every scene, they are interacting only with Blondie and without the presence of men, or at least putting them in the positions of on-lookers. It’s never made clear as to what their role in organization is, but they whatever they do, they clearly have clout.

Blondie Johnson was directed by Ray Enright and Lucien Hubbard from a screenplay by Earl Bladwin (Doctor X, 1932; Wild Boys of The Road, 1933). Tony Gaudio, prolific cinematographer and frequent cameraman for Bette Davis, knew his way around a gangster story, having helped to establish the Warner Bros look in the 1930’s. He won an Oscar for his work on Anthony Adverse (1936), with his best-loved work probably being for the breathtaking Technicolor cinematography of The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938).

Is Blondie Johnson Worth My Time? A two-thumbs up, yes. Almost everything works in this 67 minute film that is a showcase for Joan Blondell's huge talent. It’s relatively light touch also makes it the perfect 1930’s Warner Bros gangster film for people who don’t like 1930’s gangster films.

Availability: Warner Archive released Blondie Johnson a few years ago on DVD. It’s also currently playing on a variety of streaming services.