Lord Byron of Broadway

This is a movie musical from 1930 so expect very static scenes as the sound equipment in those days greatly limited the actors and director. Second, let me caution that the actor in the lead male role and the two actresses in the top female roles are often blushingly amateurish. The director didn't seem to be much help and in a few years he would be at Monogram doing routine programmers.

So what's worthwhile here? First there is the performance of Cliff Edwards, who gets a chance at a full-bodied role and does well. He shows he could be more than a Disney footnote.

But the biggest surprise to me was the fine, natural performance of Benny Rubin. I was so accustomed to him as an aging ethnic comedian that I almost didn't recognize him. The role was flash-flash "Jewish" as he played an employee of a song publisher and he joked about charging the hero interest for a loan. But he was the most natural presence on the screen and he shined as a real human being. The camera loved him at the same time it gave scant grace to the leads in this film.

Rubin is often mentioned as a talented comedian who was limited in Hollywood by the ethnic prejudice. Here we see the very real evidence of what was lost because of that prejudice.

If the name of Ukulele Ike makes you smile with informed warmth, you may want to give a quick flip past "Lord Byron of Broadway" when TCM replays it in thirty years or so. If you're obsessive-compulsive enough to wait out scene after scene of tepid love talk for two-strip Technicolor Albertina Rasch dance routines, or lesser-known Nacio Herb Brown songs trilled by operetta-singing stiffs, you may even sit thru a good portion of it. But whatever you bring to it, be warned that you cannot possibly like this picture.

Even to the 1929 audience, "Lord Byron" must have been a bland plate of turkey indeed. The color dance numbers aren't too bad to look at - Mme. Rasch owed a debt to Busby The Great, or maybe vice versa - but listening to the draggy, chirpy musical settings is painful even if you love the music of the 20s. And if the name of lead actor and grade-B recording star Charles Kaley means anything at all to you, you've watched entirely too much Joe Franklin. Or perhaps you ARE Joe Franklin.

Strictly for nostalgia nerds, this, and even for them, it's not all that rewarding.

I watched this film expecting it to be quite bad, so I was pleasantly surprised at its quality. The film is about Roy Erskine (Charles Kaley), by night a singer and piano player at a café, and by day a songwriter. He uses women and then discards them, using the experience of breaking their hearts as material for songs. He gets a break after vaudeville singer Joe Lundeen (Cliff Edwards) sings one of his songs in his show and invites Roy to be part of the act. This is followed by some records, and pretty soon Roy has hit the big time. Through it all Roy is loved secretly by the girl who transcribed his first hit song, Nancy Clover, who is also part of the vaudeville act. However, Roy does eventually fall hard for a woman who turns out be more than his match in the user department.

There is some good music in this one including two attractive Technicolor numbers - "Blue Daughter of Heaven" and "The Old Woman in the Shoe". "Should I", featured in "Singin in the Rain" is performed a couple of times including once by Charles Kaley. "The Japanese Sandman" is not sung in its entirety, but it's a quite catchy jazz tune as performed by Cliff Edwards. There are several other good tunes, mainly written by songwriting team Herb Nacio Brown and Arthur Freed. With good direction, a compelling plot, good music, and competent acting what went wrong? Why did this film flop at the box office?

The main problem with this film, and probably the reason that it flopped, is that the biggest star in it is Cliff Edwards (Ukelele Ike), and he is just a supporting player. William Haines was originally slated as the lead, but he thought playing such a despicable character as Roy Erskine would hurt his film career, so he declined. So, instead, MGM cast a tuneful Haines look-alike, Charles Kaley. Unfortunately, the resemblance ends there. Haines' characters could behave obnoxiously in his films and still get the audience to root for him because you felt that, beneath the facade, there was a good man just waiting to get out, and by the end of the picture that good man never failed to appear. However, in Kaley's depiction of harmonious heel Roy Erskine you feel that what you see is what you get, and never expect him to redeem himself. This was Kaley's only film at MGM. He was only in three other films, all of those at poverty row studios, and as far as I know all three of those films are lost.

If you like the early talking films and musicals, I highly recommend this one. It's been well preserved and both the video and audio are clear on the copy I've seen.

This backstage musical a la THE Broadway MELODY about love and angst behind the footlights was based on a famously nasty novel by Nell Martin. Haines and Love balked at the idea of playing in such a nasty plot so MGM had it re-written (watered down) and brought in stage stars Charles Kaley and Ethelind Terry, and ingenue Marion Shilling. Creaky and a little slow in places but very interesting for the music and the 2-strip Technicolor.

Kaley (who slightly resembles Haines) plays a user. He latches on to anyone or anything that will get him ahead. He uses women (Shilling and Gwen Lee) as well as his partner (Cliff Edwards). But while he meets his match in the grasping Ethelind Terry (the original star of RIO RITA on Broadway), he's not the one who pays.

One good song: "Should I" which one used in SINGIN'IN THE RAIN decades later. Co-stars included Benny Rubin, Drew Demorest, Eddie Kane, Rita Flynn, and the voice of Jack Benny. Ann Dvorak is in the chorus.

Shilling and Edwards, perhaps, come off best.

I've seen this film twice and I think it's really one of the most underrated early musicals. Yes, it has its flaws: there's some typical early-talkie clunkiness in the direction, and Charles Kaley as the leading man is good-looking and a competent actor but hardly the irresistibly charismatic woman-magnet and energetic go-getter the script tells us Roy Erskine is. (Imagine this script as an early-1930's Warners product with James Cagney in the lead and you've got a good idea of what this story could have been.) But the story has real bite and pathos, its picture of the music business as exploitative and cutthroat rings as true now as it did then, and next to Rouben Mamoulian's masterpiece "Applause" this is probably the darkest backstage musical ever made. Even the ending, which in other hands could have been unbearably sentimental and sappy, is handled with the same realistic toughness as the rest of the film. Worthy of note is the appearance of a Columbia record label on screen (the label Charles Kaley actually recorded for; I have a 78 of him singing "Hello, Bluebird," a song Judy Garland revived in her last film, "I Could Go On Singing") instead of a made-up record company, and the two beautifully preserved two-strip Technicolor dance numbers (including an Albertina Rasch ballet that features Busby Berkeley-style overhead shots a year before Berkeley himself ever made a film) that show off what a gorgeous process two-strip Technicolor really was, with a harmonious, painterly color scheme that often is more pleasing than the often overripe colors of the early three-strip process which replaced it.