Robert Young

  • They Won’t Believe Me (1947)

    They Won’t Believe Me (1947)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, May 2021) There’s a fascinating backstory to the way They Won’t Believe Me will be seen from 2021 onward — originally released in 1947, the film made it to theatres missing fifteen minutes of crucial material, and that’s the version that was in circulation for more than sixty years before it was restored to its pristine state with missing footage added in 2021. What’s more remarkable is that the film is actually pretty good — cleverly playing and the strengths of film noir, it shows a tale of romance gone wrong, of passionate crime and tragic ironies. Our protagonist tries to juggle a not-so-nice wife and a far-more-pleasant girlfriend, but just as he seems to be making headway with his life, tragedy strikes and motivates a far less noble crime to get everything he ever wanted, all the way to the courtroom framing device. Robert Young does well as an increasingly evil protagonist, even if viewers may be more compelled by Susan Hayward and Jane Greer in strong supporting roles. It’s an easy, fun watch and while the added material is not always essential, it does flesh out the story in interesting ways. At 95 minutes, has a strong propulsive forward rhythm, and makes for a perfectly satisfying bit of second-tier noir. It’s films like They Won’t Believe Me that make a strong case for film restoration, unearthing hidden gems and polishing them until they remain shiny even for twenty-first century audiences.

  • H. M. Pulham, Esq. (1941)

    H. M. Pulham, Esq. (1941)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2021) I have now seen just enough of King Vidor’s movies to expect more than the usual Hollywood formula from him, and in this regard H. M. Pulham, Esq. does not disappoint: The story of a middle-aged businessman trying to reconnect with a former flame, it’s a film that defies the usual conventions of romance, settling for wistful drama instead. While Robert Young is a rock in the lead role, there’s perhaps more to appreciate in the performance of Van Heflin as a friend, and especially Hedy Lamarr as the former flame of the protagonist, a free-spirited woman who offers an alluring distraction from his conservative lifestyle. Lamarr has more to do here than in many of her other movies, and she delivers an interesting character in the middle of an unusual story. As with other romances in which the characters recognize that they cannot have a happy ending together, it’s a film that plays in minor chords — interesting but not spectacular, quiet rather than bombastic. Even the ending, giving some solace to the main character, is a small victory rather than an outright triumph. It makes sense that H. M. Pulham, Esq. may be fondly remembered among the connoisseurs but a bit too esoteric to be a crowd favourite — it’s in this area that Vidor excelled, rather than trying to make outright crowd-pleasers.

  • Lady Be Good (1941)

    Lady Be Good (1941)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, November 2020) Mashing together the comedy of remarriage with the Broadway retrospective, Lady Be Good may feel familiar, but it does have its share of good moments. From the framing device (as a woman recounts events to the divorce judge) on to Eleanor Powell’s anthology-worthy final dance number (as spectacular to film as it was to see, as shown in That’s Entertainment III), it’s a typical musical of the period, blending gentle romance with musical numbers often blatantly presented as part of a show. While Powell is billed as the lead, her presence here is closer to a supporting role, as much of the screentime goes to a couple of writers/composers with a complicated relationship, slipping in and out of marriage with an ease only seen in show business movies. Still, don’t feel too bad for Powell, as her two numbers are by far the standout of Lady Be Good: In the first, she tap-dances alongside a trained dog taking part in the routine—by the time it ends with the dog jumping on her and them falling onto a bed giggling, we feel much of the same exhilaration at the success of the routine. Her other big number goes to the tune of “Fascinating Rhythm,” and first includes tap-dancing alongside a deep succession of pianos, followed by a more freewheeling number that ends with her being flipped over head over heels eight times before making as many spins on herself and her grinning at the camera—it’s absolutely flawless. Other good numbers include a great dance routine by the Berry Brothers, and a cute short deadpan number from Virginia O’Brien taking on “Your Words and My Music” as only she could. (MGM was still figuring out what to do with her in 1940-41—her best numbers would come later.) The story itself is fine, the leads (Robert Young and Ann Sothern) are adequate despite being blander than they should, and Red Skelton pops up in a supporting role. There’s also a cute montage in which the song climbs the charts and spins off many versions, giving us a glimpse into the nature of pop music at the beginning of the 1940s.