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writer-20292's rating
Once considered a Lost Film, Alfred Santell's "Show Girl" (First National, 1928) was discovered in an Italian film vault in 2015 and given a fast-track restoration. I heard that when the restored print had its world premiere in Italy, the Vitaphone sound discs (previously thought to be all that remained of the movie) were somehow not part of the showing. What a loss! Fortunately, they were incorporated into the film by the time the George Eastman Museum (Rochester, NY) gave "Show Girl" its U.S. premiere on October 18, 2016.
When the film was originally released in late September, 1928, the movie industry was in a nervous state of transition from silent to sound movies. "Lights of New York," the first all-talking feature film had opened two months earlier, but most films showcasing the new technology were still not true talkies, possessing only a musical score, selected sound effects, and sometimes even a song or two. This interim period gave studios the chance to learn how to use sound effectively. "Show Girl" is a fine example of the fun which sound initially brought to the movies for a very short period before the new sound technology temporarily crushed the late silent era's fluid camera movement. As such, "Show Girl" is invaluably instructive and hugely entertaining, plus the jaunty music score is an absolute delight.
The film's success gave Alice White's career a big boost, having broken into pictures just a bit over a year (and a dozen films) before. She was adorable to 1928 audiences and her allure is still evident today. (That Miss White repeated her character two years later in "Show Girl in Hollywood" is one proof of the film's impact.) Beautiful, self-assured, and wise in the ways of Broadway producers, her Dixie Dugan character (based on J.P. McEvoy's novel, which later became a long-running comic strip) holds your attention throughout the well-paced film's running time (barely over an hour).
The real revelation of the film for me (and perhaps for other viewers) were the characters of Dixie's parents, expertly played by James Finlayson (of Laurel & Hardy fame)and Kate Price (an Irish-born actress, little-remembered today, with over 300 film credits extending back to 1910). Mrs. Dugan's overbearing personality matches her towering physical presence causing Mr. Dugan to frequently cower in terror whenever she questions anything he says or does. Their scenes are cleverly accented by the film's musical score as wailing musical instruments perfectly mesh with their on-screen words -- a great example of how the new sound possibilities could add to rather than detract from the silent tradition. (Of course a skilled piano player or organist could attempt something like this, but how many theaters had such a musician? And besides, their sounds were never as funny as what we hear on the soundtrack).
The writer of the screenplay (or perhaps it's the titles writer) unleashes wonderful lines and delightfully mangles the English language several times as when one character talks about hiding her light under a bustle. The titles are so endearing that I almost feel bad for faulting one obvious defect in the screenplay: Romano (Donald Reed), a jealous tango dancer who provides a key plot point (and a little over-the-top amusement) before suddenly dropping out of the picture. But why carp?
Silent fans, you're in for a real treat when you see this film. Hey, Warner Brothers, could you also fast-track the DVD release? I'd love to find this one under my Christmas tree this year.
When the film was originally released in late September, 1928, the movie industry was in a nervous state of transition from silent to sound movies. "Lights of New York," the first all-talking feature film had opened two months earlier, but most films showcasing the new technology were still not true talkies, possessing only a musical score, selected sound effects, and sometimes even a song or two. This interim period gave studios the chance to learn how to use sound effectively. "Show Girl" is a fine example of the fun which sound initially brought to the movies for a very short period before the new sound technology temporarily crushed the late silent era's fluid camera movement. As such, "Show Girl" is invaluably instructive and hugely entertaining, plus the jaunty music score is an absolute delight.
The film's success gave Alice White's career a big boost, having broken into pictures just a bit over a year (and a dozen films) before. She was adorable to 1928 audiences and her allure is still evident today. (That Miss White repeated her character two years later in "Show Girl in Hollywood" is one proof of the film's impact.) Beautiful, self-assured, and wise in the ways of Broadway producers, her Dixie Dugan character (based on J.P. McEvoy's novel, which later became a long-running comic strip) holds your attention throughout the well-paced film's running time (barely over an hour).
The real revelation of the film for me (and perhaps for other viewers) were the characters of Dixie's parents, expertly played by James Finlayson (of Laurel & Hardy fame)and Kate Price (an Irish-born actress, little-remembered today, with over 300 film credits extending back to 1910). Mrs. Dugan's overbearing personality matches her towering physical presence causing Mr. Dugan to frequently cower in terror whenever she questions anything he says or does. Their scenes are cleverly accented by the film's musical score as wailing musical instruments perfectly mesh with their on-screen words -- a great example of how the new sound possibilities could add to rather than detract from the silent tradition. (Of course a skilled piano player or organist could attempt something like this, but how many theaters had such a musician? And besides, their sounds were never as funny as what we hear on the soundtrack).
The writer of the screenplay (or perhaps it's the titles writer) unleashes wonderful lines and delightfully mangles the English language several times as when one character talks about hiding her light under a bustle. The titles are so endearing that I almost feel bad for faulting one obvious defect in the screenplay: Romano (Donald Reed), a jealous tango dancer who provides a key plot point (and a little over-the-top amusement) before suddenly dropping out of the picture. But why carp?
Silent fans, you're in for a real treat when you see this film. Hey, Warner Brothers, could you also fast-track the DVD release? I'd love to find this one under my Christmas tree this year.
Joan (Billie Dove), a novice aviatrix from a sheltered upbringing in the Nebraska heartland and Michael (Rod La Rocque), a feckless millionaire trying to escape the clutches of designing harpy, Viola (Gwen Lee), "meet cute" when she crashes her seaplane into his boat -- that's one plot point that didn't get repeated too often by Hollywood! Nor did the wild, opening scene of this film: soused, rich young people in speeding motor boats hitting a huge ball with sticks that look more like jousting lances back from when knighthood was in flower playing a very dangerous water polo game (though none of the participants seem to notice -- or care). Prohibition may be the law of the land but liquor is an ever-present lubricant of inhibitions for this circle of friends. At one point a party invitation advises the guests that the festivities will be held "from 8pm until blotto." All this may sound like the set-up for a serious moral drama - and you couldn't be more wrong. Although the film's director, George Fitzmaurice, is known for his many romantic dramas, this one is a comedy with a swift-running sense of merriment popping underneath the more serious aspects of the basic plot: a marriage of convenience between Michael and Joan to keep scheming Viola and her sponging brother, Skippy (Robert Schable), away from Michael's fortune. Of course love has a way of spoiling the best laid plans . . . and making the film lots of fun in the process.
Billie Dove, a former Ziegfeld Follies showgirl, well-known for her beauty in silent films, gets to show that off here plus a bit of acting range: first as the "good girl" who makes a bad bargain and then as a "bad girl", a flapper whose broken heart seeks revenge - or love - or maybe a bit of both; she keeps you guessing. In her second part-talkie (though I do not know if she was in any talking sequences in that previous film), Miss Dove's speaking voice is clear and natural-sounding, subtly emitting emotion that conveys her inner feelings. Rod La Rocque gives a good physical performance, brimming with exuberance but still seems to be finding his way when it comes to speaking. (It's his second talkie.) He enunciates well but at times his voice is devoid of the emotion the scene demands. It's not fatal; you still root for him to recognize the error he's made with Joan.
Long thought to be a lost film, the restoration of, "The Man and the Moment" (1929; directed by George Fitzmaurice, a part-talkie) was given its U.S. premiere at the George Eastman Museum's Dryden Theatre on January 5, 2016. A 35mm dupe negative nitrate print, without sound discs, was recently discovered at the Cineteca Italiana di Milano. After the Vitaphone discs with music, sound effects (a huge number as the movie unreels), and talking sequences were located at UCLA, the film was restored and first shown in Milan last year. The restoration process used resulted in something unusual: dialogue spoken as the inter-titles appeared on screen. As a gracious member of the Eastman Museum's Moving Image Department explained to me, this happened because the print used was intended for foreign distributors who would replace the English titles with the appropriate foreign language titles at the right point in the film. Had the restorers removed the titles, the sound discs would not have meshed up perfectly in sync with the images unless other footage - likely a black screen -- had been added which audiences would not have enjoyed. The restorers made the right call, in my opinion, even if it does seem initially strange. Actually it soon becomes intriguing as the written words and the spoken dialogue converge and diverge, often within seconds. Since the talking scenes are not too long, this doesn't prove a fatal distraction. Overall, it's a small price to pay to have this film back in the land of the living.
As sound became increasingly a part of the movies, filmmakers realized they had to develop additional film grammar so that the audience would understand what was going on. When Michael and Joan are at sea on his ship's deck enjoying a moonlight dinner, a song is heard on the soundtrack. No big deal now, but for viewers in 1929, not so. To help the audience accept the scene - my take on it at least -- the director fades in and out a couple of times with shots on land of a quartet playing instruments with someone singing. Needless to say the technique was soon deemed unnecessary but it's fascinating to see the transition from silent film to talkie evolving as we watch, even if this technique proved to be a dead end.
Not a missing masterpiece, this is a consistently entertaining little film with quirks for the film buff, smiles for fans of the stars, and fun for viewers who enjoy romantic comedies regardless of when it was made.
Billie Dove, a former Ziegfeld Follies showgirl, well-known for her beauty in silent films, gets to show that off here plus a bit of acting range: first as the "good girl" who makes a bad bargain and then as a "bad girl", a flapper whose broken heart seeks revenge - or love - or maybe a bit of both; she keeps you guessing. In her second part-talkie (though I do not know if she was in any talking sequences in that previous film), Miss Dove's speaking voice is clear and natural-sounding, subtly emitting emotion that conveys her inner feelings. Rod La Rocque gives a good physical performance, brimming with exuberance but still seems to be finding his way when it comes to speaking. (It's his second talkie.) He enunciates well but at times his voice is devoid of the emotion the scene demands. It's not fatal; you still root for him to recognize the error he's made with Joan.
Long thought to be a lost film, the restoration of, "The Man and the Moment" (1929; directed by George Fitzmaurice, a part-talkie) was given its U.S. premiere at the George Eastman Museum's Dryden Theatre on January 5, 2016. A 35mm dupe negative nitrate print, without sound discs, was recently discovered at the Cineteca Italiana di Milano. After the Vitaphone discs with music, sound effects (a huge number as the movie unreels), and talking sequences were located at UCLA, the film was restored and first shown in Milan last year. The restoration process used resulted in something unusual: dialogue spoken as the inter-titles appeared on screen. As a gracious member of the Eastman Museum's Moving Image Department explained to me, this happened because the print used was intended for foreign distributors who would replace the English titles with the appropriate foreign language titles at the right point in the film. Had the restorers removed the titles, the sound discs would not have meshed up perfectly in sync with the images unless other footage - likely a black screen -- had been added which audiences would not have enjoyed. The restorers made the right call, in my opinion, even if it does seem initially strange. Actually it soon becomes intriguing as the written words and the spoken dialogue converge and diverge, often within seconds. Since the talking scenes are not too long, this doesn't prove a fatal distraction. Overall, it's a small price to pay to have this film back in the land of the living.
As sound became increasingly a part of the movies, filmmakers realized they had to develop additional film grammar so that the audience would understand what was going on. When Michael and Joan are at sea on his ship's deck enjoying a moonlight dinner, a song is heard on the soundtrack. No big deal now, but for viewers in 1929, not so. To help the audience accept the scene - my take on it at least -- the director fades in and out a couple of times with shots on land of a quartet playing instruments with someone singing. Needless to say the technique was soon deemed unnecessary but it's fascinating to see the transition from silent film to talkie evolving as we watch, even if this technique proved to be a dead end.
Not a missing masterpiece, this is a consistently entertaining little film with quirks for the film buff, smiles for fans of the stars, and fun for viewers who enjoy romantic comedies regardless of when it was made.