| MEMBER COMMENTS ON THIS VIDEO |
| Tom | Aug 17, 2001 @ 9:29:39 |
Not A documentary.
Two disc rental. First disc is a very good, clear copy of RKO's 1934 version of "Of Human Bondage". This was Bette Davis's first part that let her "be" Bette Davis. Jack Warner of Warner Brothers had lent her to RKO, after this movie she was on her way.
Second disc is a good clear copy of the 1931 "Mille".
| Tom | Aug 17, 2001 @ 10:2:13 |
A third movie on back side of 2nd disc
The 1931 RKO movie "Kept Husbands" is on the flip side of Mille. Look for Clare Kimball Young in a supporting role. She was a silent film star.
<[:-} a good bette
"of human bondage" is weird. the top-billed protagonist does a good job as a creepy middle-class stalker who undoubtably is supposed to come across as a sympathetic victim of genetics, public attitudes toward the deformed, and, most especially, a femme fatale in the guise of "the slut mildred." personally, i was rooting for mildred. "kept husbands" is lightweight but charming all the way down to the slamming, casual bigotry of the "boy" scene right at the end. somehow, i compltetely skipped over "millie." i may rent it again.
| Kevin Rayburn | May 19, 2005 @ 11:10:29 |
A Treasure Trove
This two-disc set contains three RKO films of the early '30s; and though billed as "Pre-Code," at least one of them ('Of Human Bondage') appears to have debuted after Code enforcement went into effect in June 1934, so it probably doesn't qualify. That film, a low-rent and highly watered-down adaptation of W. Somerset Maugham's substantially superior novel, has always been easy to find on video, and since I'd seen it a few times already I decided not to watch it. It's main claim to fame is that Bette Davis was not formally nominated for the role (she was a write-in) and proceeded to lose the Oscar to Claudette Colbert and the "It Happened One Night" juggernaut. Although many observers at the time thought Davis' performance was clearly superior, we need not harbor that illusion today. The Academy, for once, chose correctly in giving the statuette to the more naturalistic Colbert. What's great about the set are the two archival rarities on sides one and two of the second DVD, both from 1931 and both seeming to suggest that modern womanhood can be hazardous if ladies stray too far from patriarchal control. Perhaps the best of these is 'Millie,' an excellent melodramatic vehicle for the long-forgotten Helen Twelvetrees, who was a big box-office star of the early talkies. Her specialty was "women's pictures," of which this is a prime example. Although it does have pre-Code moments, they are somewhat tamer and sparser than in more risque films like 'Baby Face' or 'Employees' Entrance.' In fact, selling these films as 'pre-Code risque' obfuscates their real strengths. 'Millie' lets Twelvetrees show her full (if limited) acting arsenal as she goes from naive young innocent--but modern and fun-loving--girl to cynical middle-aged mantease, bitten once too often by two-timing men. One of her main pursuers is a wealthy lecher played by John Halliday, oddly looking just as old as he would 10 years later playing Katharine Hepburn's amiable father in 'The Philadelphia Story.' Graying-headed Halliday nicely exudes debonair sleaze, especially later in the picture when--as a way of consumating his long-unrequited lust for Millie and as a form of revenge--he nearly succeeds in seducing or raping her young teen daughter, blonde and lovely Anita Louise playing her age here, 16. Earlier in the film, Halliday tries to get Millie up to his rooms to "see his Mandarin robes." A double-take also results at one point when a fellow solicits a girl with the line: "I'd like to show you my itinerary." Also sparking things are appearance of two of pre-Code's great 'good-time gals,' Joan Blondell and Lilyan Tashman, adding plenty of slangy wisecracks and free-sex attitude. The film is well-paced, perhaps too slowly for today's mush-pulp brained hyperkinetic attention spans. The fade outs between scenes are very slow, lingering lovingly on their subjects, and the effect is strangely beautiful. It all ends, as most women's-picture star vehicles must, with a sensational courtroom scene. Millie, of course, is ready to make the ultimate sacrifice--but wait, there's the surprise witness! It's the sort of thing you don't want to watch with a real lawyer, who'll fixate on the constant breaches of legal procedure. But no matter, the unloosening of 'Millie' from the vaults is the kind of thing that makes the DVD era wonderful. Not a classic, but a very representative picture of its time, the kind of entertainment that audiences routinely went to see and promptly forgot. And it's good. Even more a cautionary tale than 'Millie,' the other film 'Kept Husbands,' seems marginally the lesser of the two. A very young Joel McCrea, who was probably never handsomer, plays an ambitious but poor engineer named 'Dick' who is rarin' to start his career creating great bridges and roads. But when the millionaire plant-owner's spoiled daughter decides she must have Dick, his career plans seem scuttled. With her money and caprices, the wife calls the shots, throughly emasculating poor Dick--in a sense, taking Dick's manhood; making him figuratively impotent. He is 'a kept husband,' nothing more than a sissy, as the movie posits. This is hammered home in a scene when the couple are on extended honeymoon in Europe and witness an old woman scolding her effeminate gigolo: "You're not a man! You're just what everybody calls you!" We can easily imagine what that might be (fruit, pansy, light in the loafers, etc.) Dick's emasculation starts from the very moment that SHE proposes marriage to him. An underlying theme of the movie, very common in both pre-Codes and later screwball comedies, is that money doesn't buy happiness. Class consciousness also is strong in the film, partly evinced in the bullhorn monotone malapropisms of character actor Ned Sparks, another pre-Code regular, here playing the Greek chorus of the working class. "We are known by the company we do NOT keep!" he intones. Dick's frustration grows through the picture, complaining of losing his "self-respect" with each p-whipping. The film would be a great one for a drinking game (just take a swig everytime someone says "Dick' in this film and see if you survive). One funny alliterative name in the film is "Mister Bates," delivered with funny emphasis at one point by McCrea. The interesting thing about the spoiled wife her is that she's not portrayed as malicious or simplistically evil; she's clearly a product of acculturation and honestly doesn't understand her husband's POV. After the expected complications and misunderstandings, she finally learns her lesson: "Every woman's mission in life is keeping her husband." There's only one way to keep a man, with love, not strings. It'll make every feminist barf, but so be it. It was the expected message of the time,and thus sociologically interesting. It's a typical way the pre-Codes could get away with innuendo as long as they embraced the moralistic status quo by the final reel. All in all, this set is a gem.
*** Pre-Code Hollywood Risque ('Millie' (1931); "Kept Husbands' (1931); 'Of Human Bondage' (1934)- ) - reviewed 2005, Kevin Rayburn
<[:-} thoroughly modern millie?
FULL OF SPOILERS! "millie" (1931) is the only "pre-code" movie with helen twelvetrees that i've had the chance to watch. i think i'm as smitten with her as kevin. she's not only a buxom beauty, but also a distinguished actress. as "millie blake," her sweet innocence at the beginning of the film, as an unconventional but virtuous co-ed and later a virtuous newlywed, was annoying until her absorbing transformation throughout the film puts it into context. at the age of 26, she easily creates the suspension of disbelief necessary to really get into a film. "millie" plays as a self-standing film, not an artifact. the uniquely loveable joan blondell plays her home girl "angie." the rest of the cast is lesser known, but they get the job done. angie has a "girlfriend" named "helen" (lilyan tashman). we first see them in bed together, with the landlady standing by, watching angie make a phone call to millie, trying to hustle up the rent. angie and helen provide a lot of the film's "pre-code" spice, repeatedly making it very clear what they do for a living. they invite millie to meet them at a speakeasy / ho depot for lunch. naive millie remarks "i never knew they had cabarets running in the daytime." angie replies "its a place for tired businessmen to relax in." she blushes when the waiter comes over and asks her if she wants her "usual." she abashedly admits "i come here pretty often." the viewer understands that she "works" there. married to upper-middle class "jack maitland," millie is unfulfilled. the governess won't let her do anything for the baby. jack won't touch her, pleading of being tired [!] and too busy. angie spots him dancing with a sweetly drunk ho, a poor man's angie. helen calls angie a moron for bringing millie there, saying "he's in here all the time...we have that blonde dame in here five days a week." they try to get millie to leave, but she wants to hear stay a moment. she's always liked the song the orchestra is playing. the tune becomes her theme song. admiring the couples dancing, she sees jack and his ho head for the v.i.p. rooms, and walks in to see them in a long passionate kiss. we soon cut to the newly divorced millie, who has given up custody of the baby, not wanting to deprive her of the life of luxury in the care of her mother in law, who is a good person throughout the film. millie has also refused alimony or any settlement. angie and helen have come to visit for the first time, and are shocked when millie declines going out on the town, saying she has to get up early to look for work. angie: "WORK?!?" however, they find a "flapper" dress in millie's closet, indicating that she's not exactly going monastic. she finds work at the "amster[dam?] cigar stand," constantly fending off fervid propositions. "mark," an older man who produces "shows," can't get her to perform, and she refuses his whispered offer to set her up with a "rich broker." friendly to but rejecting the elderly, rich brokers and bankers, she goes for "tommy rock[!]," a hard drinking reporter. during the depression, bankers and brokers were held in contempt by their victims, the ordinary public. in contrast, reporters held a heroic woodward / bernstein type prestige. official corruption and the depression fueled a mainstream discontent with authority, as official corruption and the vietnam war did 40 years later. when helen and angie, just back from "saratoga" and flaunting new jewelry, chide millie for picking tommy over a rich suitor, millie explains: "he doesn't try to paw me." in a classic blondell close-up, angie says "she goes out with men for the darndest reasons." "two years later," a newspaper column, "up and down broadway," makes the first of many mentions of millie being a "red-head" and announces her promotion to "manager of all concessions." proudly, she tells helen and angie that she even has a "private secretary." she invites them to a celebration hosted by jimmy dammier, the sleazy banker. his name is pronounced "dame-ier," and its said he always goes where the dames are. her theme song has been fitted with lyrics: "she's millie the red-head with dangerous curves." wearing a dress with near see-through breast panels, she listens with a smile as the orchestra plays it and three men sing it through al jolson type megaphones. angie announces she's decided to look for a profitable marriage, that she given up the idea of marrying for love, and clarifies "i mean acute love." she snags a old, rich fool that heard her say it, and they marry! in the lady's room, she overhears a jealous drunk say "there's a dame ought'a have her brains taken out and renovated," who then tips millie off that tommy's cheating on her, and she abandons her temperate, monogamous ways, chugging bourbon like gatorade. she uses her key to tommy's apartment (a big code no-no, she refused to marry) to trash her photo and the things she has made or bought for him. he comes home and sobs convulsively. boasting "i'm a red-headed woman," she goes through men like a bear going through a camper's cooler. "two years later," on christmas day, with a married man sitting in her lap, she asks "will somebody answer that phone?" helen says "answer it yourself, its probably another division of your love parade." we see that the married angie has turned snooty. she drags her fool husband out when she's offended by a risque story. "eight years pass" and we her theme song again, with altered lyrics, a slowed tempo, and a sad delivery "she wasted her heart on hopeless affairs. she's millie the red-head but nobody cares." make-up and a great performance by twelvetrees transform millie into a spent, bitter woman, shockingly older and with dissipated eyes that suggest disease, perhaps syphilis or cirrhosis. she arrives at a swanky speakeasy and mark remarks that she still insists on going to the best places, that jimmy has spoiled her. jimmy says "well, you know how millie always used to be. insisted on working and doing as she pleased. i could never be with her unless she wanted me to. finally, it got on my nerves." mark uses the phrase "get a life," but when he tells jimmy about millie's nubile "17 year old daughter [this is a discontinuity. from here on she's referred to as being 16 years old.]," he decides to go after her. he stalks her by attending her church, and arranging business deals with jack. the daughter, nameless through most of the movie, is finally revealed to be "connie," short for "constance." the daughter, nameless through most of the movie, is finally revealed to be "connie," short for "constance." on the pretext of taking her to school, "uncle jimmy" lures her to his "lodge," where he has his infamous "mandarin" collection. he is promising her stardom as an actress. he pushes hard cider on her: "it can't possibly hurt you." a cross between shirley temple and marilyn monroe, she makes a production out of simpering that "it tickles my nose." getting her into a god-awful rhinestone "mandarin" robe, he throws a lip-lock on her. millie has been tipped off by "mike" the driver, and has bribed a cabbie to go "60" on the dangerous, snowy mountain road. she shoots jimmy with the revolver she's retrieved from her drawer and concealed in her muff. tommy arranges a perry mason type grandstand play at her trial that gets her acquitted. tommy's roommate "johnny" say's "juror #9 said that he'd have shot anyone that tried to make an actress out of his daughter." this is an instructive bit of "pre-code" code. it was forbidden to even suggest prostitution. in the common perception at the time, being an actress was nearly synonymous with being a prostitute, as was being a stripper until recently. more "pre-code" censor provocation was embedded in the "johnny" character. homosexuality was habitually referred to as "sex perversion" in the language of the code, and even the suggestion of its existence was forbidden. johnny has a campy, fey manner of speaking and body language. he sings that he wants "to be a geranium, not a daffodil." he leaves a note for the passed out tommy that he intends to party on at "the turkish baths." tommy's third reporter sidekick, who has a "comic" stutter, see's where millie has cleaned their apartment and says "we must have a little fairy in our home." the much more conciliatory "millie" (1931) contrasts very sharply with the championship level, censor provoking, "pre-code" movie "red headed woman" (1932), with the latter apparently a rebuttal to the former. in the later, jean harlow plays a predatory golddigger, but millie (echoed by others) stresses repeatedly "i still pay my own way." at the end, millie is brought to near ruin, redeemed only by being saved from imprisonment by a man and then going "home" with "mrs. maitland," her ex-mother-in-law, with her tail between her legs. "red headed woman" ends on a uniquely unrepentant note, with harlow smirking at her chauffeur / lover while sitting next to her doddering, wealthy, clueless husband. otherwise, my one quibble with "millie" is the sound. too much dialogue is either lost or an ordeal to decipher, especially in the "coney [island]" scene. millie, like all the great "pre-code" movies," is so compressed and tautly paced that every line is essential to the full appreciation of the film. ps. kevin, imdb shows "of human bondage" being released before the 01 july 1934 pca clamp-down, and then having an undoubtedly butchered re-release almost immediately afterward, on 20 july 1934. i have no idea how much, if any, of this release is the latter. i think i remember reading that it was a hard film to get done even before the pca. they had to change mildred's syphilis to tuberculosis, etc.