After watching Platinum Blonde, I, like most other viewers, had to look up Robert Williams, wondering whatever happened to him while fearing the worst, the worst being true: he died shortly after he made this film. Tragic! One can wonder endlessly over what might have been. What is clear is that he was a natural for the camera, was highly skilled (years of stage experience behind him), and fit perfectly into the Capra-Riskind universe of tough-but- articulate Everyman up against monied mediocrities. He might well have ended up playing the Clark Gable role in It Happened One Night if he had been around at the time. In fact, the reporter he plays here seems like a first draft for that character. (The plot involves Williams as a reporter falling in love impulsively with the daughter of a wealthy Social Register family only to encounter the usual boobytraps built into such a union.)
The movie itself, though hard to separate from Williams's domination of it, stands up fairly well on its own. There are some imaginative camera movements and setups and intelligent, witty dialogue laced with fizzy Depression-era argot. The story is not very convincing but you suspend disbelief because of the way the actors, dialogue and cinematography bring it to life. The pace is leisurely, sometimes a bit too much so, with many minutes taken up in gentle, playful, ultra-naturalistic banter between Williams and his co-stars. I can't think of another film from that period that detoured so often into that type of throwaway conversational interlude.
Jean Harlow as the heiress and Loretta Young as a newspaper columnist are not ideally cast. Their roles should have been reversed, but it doesn't really matter because both actresses do well. Harlow, who by this time had had relatively little experience in front of a camera, seems right at home about 90% of the time. And it's hard to believe that Loretta Young was only 18 when she made this! But she had already been a veteran of several years standing as a film actress.
The movie itself, though hard to separate from Williams's domination of it, stands up fairly well on its own. There are some imaginative camera movements and setups and intelligent, witty dialogue laced with fizzy Depression-era argot. The story is not very convincing but you suspend disbelief because of the way the actors, dialogue and cinematography bring it to life. The pace is leisurely, sometimes a bit too much so, with many minutes taken up in gentle, playful, ultra-naturalistic banter between Williams and his co-stars. I can't think of another film from that period that detoured so often into that type of throwaway conversational interlude.
Jean Harlow as the heiress and Loretta Young as a newspaper columnist are not ideally cast. Their roles should have been reversed, but it doesn't really matter because both actresses do well. Harlow, who by this time had had relatively little experience in front of a camera, seems right at home about 90% of the time. And it's hard to believe that Loretta Young was only 18 when she made this! But she had already been a veteran of several years standing as a film actress.