Laurel and Hardy

  • Babes in Toyland (1934)

    Babes in Toyland (1934)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, January 2020) This is not going to be a long review, because I’m not big on Christmas movies and I’m not big on Laurel and Hardy. Sure, I like both, but not to the point of obsessiveness, and watching Laurel-and-Hardy-meets-Christmas film Babes in Toyland as a January leftover is a few weeks too late to get into the spirit of things. It’s perhaps more interesting as a proto-fantasy film in which the comedy duo doesn’t quite know what to do with animated toys. If you’re here for the comedy duo, prepare to be disappointed, as the demands of a big-budget family fantasy overwhelm their usual brand of comedy—and then wonder why Laurel and Hardy had to be the anchor of a film (adapted from a decidedly non-Laurel-and-Hardy stage musical) that could have been just fine without them. Mickey Mouse shows up in what’s bound to be a surprise to most viewers. As a family film, though, it’s a bit rougher than more contemporary fare—they didn’t coddle kids back then, and it shows through some unpleasant imagery even deep in the fantasy. There are many versions of the film (monochrome or colourized), but I believe that the one I watched from TCM is the original one. Anyway—Babes in Toyland is intriguing, but I didn’t hate it and I didn’t love it either. A rewatch may improve things—and you know it’s bound to play at least once a year.

  • Hollywood Party (1934)

    Hollywood Party (1934)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, October 2019) I have an increasing fondness for some movies of the early 1930s, a time when sight and sound were available, the repressive Production Code wasn’t yet in effect and Hollywood hadn’t yet ossified in its traditional forms. Anything and everything was possible, and narrative cohesion wasn’t yet the all-ruling norm. That’s when you ended with films such as Hollywood Party, which weren’t much more than theatre variety shows put on film, taking advantage of available celebrities, the power of multiple takes to present fully polished material, and going quickly from one number to another. Hollywood Party does have a framing device as sorts, as a forty-something Jimmy Durante plays a movie star best known for Tarzan parody “Schnarzan the Conqueror.” Throwing a lavish party in the hope of securing a new gimmick for his film series, he ends up hosting comedians and singers in a series of numbers. Some of them are more amazing than others: Laurel and Hardy both drop by to engage in an egg-cellent battle of wits with the luscious Lupe Velez (it’s actually kind of gross). The Three Stooges are hit on the head musically. Mickey Mouse is there to introduce a colour animated musical number about a war between sweets that would be horrifying if it weren’t so oddly charming. The title song is a standout dance number featuring a fantasy version of glitzy telephone operators in form-fitting metallic outfits. Polly Moran and Charles Butterworth play an older couple hilariously eager to have extramarital affairs. Musical number “I’ve had my moments” is slyly suggestive of two promiscuous people coming together. (Pre-Code Hollywood is so cool.)  Durante has visions of his nose on various characters and animals (there’s a lot of phallic imagery even in the cartoon). Lions eventually wreak havoc on set. Hollywood Party is not what I’d call a terrific musical, even by the era’s standards—it’s a collage of various segments from various directors and it’s suitably inconsistent. (The ending is the only logical one that fits.)  But even as a loose collection of musical and comedy sketches (which are invariably more interesting than the rare musical moments), it brings together a bunch of then-known stars, and still offers an intriguing glimpse in early Hollywood. I enjoyed it quite a bit even despite its issues.

  • The Hollywood Revue of 1929 (1929)

    The Hollywood Revue of 1929 (1929)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, September 2019) Now this is a curio on several levels. Keep in mind that The Hollywood Revue of 1929 was made at a time when sound cinema was just getting started: It was still considered a novelty, and it’s fair to say that Hollywood didn’t quite know what to do with it exactly. A natural idea was to transpose a Broadway revue on-screen: let’s just have the stars walk in, do a bit of music, dance or comedy, record everything and string them along in a plotless experience. Why not? Such a thing would be strikingly inappropriate for the theatrical experience today now that televised variety shows and streaming options can bring the best of the world to our screens at any time, but back in 1929 it wasn’t just a good idea—the result was seriously considered for the first Academy Awards. Of course, there’s quite a cliff from concept to execution: what survives of The Hollywood Revue of 1929 ninety years later is very rough on a technical level: the top of the image seems cut off, the special effects are laughable, the muddy image is of low quality, low contrast and poor sound quality. The dance choreography has little of the polish that we’d see from Busby Berkeley even a few years later. But that it has survived at all is amazing—many movies of that time never made it to this day. It’s quite an experience to see what were, at the time, the studio’s biggest stars—while we still remember Joan Crawford, Buster Keaton (very funny in a small part), and the Laurel and Hardy duo, many of the other people on-screen have faded away in obscurity, known only to early-cinema aficionados. There are a few highlights: Jack Benny’s emceeing routines have their moments. There are a few funny comic routines (including one featuring Lon Chaney). Of the good musical numbers, one number featuring Queen’s Guards dancers is rather good. There’s an early version of “Singin’ in the Rain” (later quoted in the That’s Entertainment! series). Perhaps more strikingly, three very primitive colour sequences mark, I think, the first use of colour I’ve seen in a Hollywood film and it does add an extra dimension in the film. There’s something to be said about the value of such a document travelling through the ages, now available for endless digital copies. In many ways, The Hollywood Revue of 1929 is a primitive form of time travel—what if you were sitting in the middle of the front row at the time’s hottest theatrical entertainment show?