Review of The Ice Follies of 1939

For a movie that takes place mostly in Hollywood and deals in show business, "Ice Follies" seems to know nothing about the film world, nor very much about the business-end of being show people. James Stewart and Joan Crawford are a semi-professional ice-skating twosome on and off the ice--but when she walks herself into a contract as an actress with a movie studio, it puts a chill on their romance. Crawford gets one of her all-time lousiest roles, the nadir of her years with MGM. Being the dutiful, nodding wifey doesn't suit her, and when Joan dramatically renounces Hollywood over the airwaves to win her husband back, one watches in a state of disbelief. Her (unintended) comeuppance for being so soft arrives in the Technicolor finale, in which Crawford plays Cinderella in a poofy ballgown; with about two-hundred feet of cumbersome train, Joan is alley-ooped unceremoniously into a pumpkin-carriage, whisked off to a Mother Goose-On-Ice shindig, and is forced to sit on her throne and watch while everyone else hogs the spotlight. It's an unintended riot, made even more hilarious by the studied reactions of Joan and Jimmy in character, watching the finished product with an enraptured audience (Crawford looks ready to kill). Obviously it's a fantasy from beginning to end (judging from the cursory way in which Joan is handed a movie career), but even on that level it's a fraudulent piece of goods, with no backstage detail nor personalities for the talent on display. One longs to see Joanie on the ice, doing figure-eights; alas, she's kept busy changing outfits, with an extravagant white number so ridiculous, it dissolves into a shot of the Statue of Liberty and one is barely inclined to notice a difference. *1/2 from ****