Film Reviews by Steve

Social comedy which is lightweight but clever. Though made shortly after WWII it feels more like the fifties America of prosperity and consumerism. Even the maid has bought a new fridge, by instalments. Class divisions are obvious, but cordial. Three friends receive a letter informing them that the sender has eloped with one of their husbands.

She doesn't say which. There's the timid wallflower (Jeanne Crain), the career woman (Ann Sothern) and the beautiful devil (Linda Darnell). As they spend a day together on an island retreat they reflect on their marriages and wonder which will return to an empty house on a conventional street in their small, quiet town.

They live ultra-conservative lives of dinner parties and evenings at the country club. There is satire at the expense of radio, materialism and difficult servants. Dig deeper and there are pokes at patriotism and conformity. Kirk Douglas (husband of feisty Ann Sothern) gets the best dialogue as an intellectual school teacher with an inferiority complex.

My favourite of the leads is Linda Darnell as a pragmatic but spirited working girl who marries into money. It's a well observed commentary on ordinary middle class life. The expectations of women have been transformed but the social themes remain relevant. They all want something else, maybe someone else's husband. Nobody values their privilege.

Broad farce which exists solely to get Cary Grant into drag. It's an odd couple screwball comedy set in Germany after WWII. While working for the military, a French Captain (Grant) and US officer (Ann Sheridan) fight like wildcats and then decide to get married. But government bureaucracy means he is only able to go to America as a war bride.

The most interesting aspect of the film is the subversion of gender roles. Sheridan is always in charge. She drives the motor bike, he sits in the side car. She solves the perfunctory MacGuffin. And he ultimately puts on a woman's uniform in an attempt to board a ship sailing to his wife's country.

It's not a typical Howard Hawks comedy. The pace is slower. There is far more slapstick. Like when sleeping Cary speeds into a haystack on the motorbike. Sheridan is no fast talking dame, though there is a nice moment when she does an impression of one of Hawks' former leads, Lauren Bacall. The support cast is unfamiliar and lacklustre.

The location work in war ravaged Germany adds interest. The script was co-written by Charles Lederer who adapted His Girl Friday for Hawks and Grant, but this is not in that class. The dialogue lacks wit. The humour comes from the crazy scenarios and the quarrelling leads. The film leans on their star chemistry, and they make the film fun, if unexceptional.

A candidate for the saddest comedy the Hollywood studios ever made. There's a classic romcom premise of a pair of quarrelling work colleagues falling in love through unwittingly being pen pals... But the whole film is immersed in a heavy melancholy. Not so much because of the attempted suicide of the pair's employer, but the sombre mood of sorrow.

The speech of the actors is slowed right down. James Stewart talks the whole film in a hushed monotone like he is hypnotised. The workers are poor and controlled by an often inconsiderate boss (he does redeem himself). Their employment in a Budapest luxury goods store doesn't bring them satisfaction, but indignity. They toil only to provide and survive.

The simple solace the workers have is the support of each other, which cannot be relied on. And the possibility that they may marry one day. It's a film about the tension between appearances and reality, which leads to misunderstanding. Stewart and Margaret Sullavan hate each other, but when they exchange their deepest thoughts by letter, they fall in love.

It's not a typical Ernst Lubitsch film. We are back in Europe, but there's no carefree innuendo or high society glamour. Its influence on Billy Wilder's The Apartment is unmissable. Without the element of comedy the feeling of despair would be unbearable. It's one of the great American films; heartfelt, captivating and unorthodox. But thank goodness for the happy ending.

The best of the many satires about tv and radio to emerge after WWII, as Hollywood struck back against the competition. This sends up the vogue for television quiz shows (which were eventually found to be widely fixed). Ronald Colman is the charming, well spoken Beauregard Bottomley, one of those names that only ever occur in golden age comedies.

He is an intellectual and a polymath who despairs at the idiocy of American popular culture and in particular, advertising. He aims to destroy soap boss Vincent Price by winning week after week on the quiz programme he sponsors. Each time the questions get harder. Eventually Bottomley is answering interrogation on Einstein's Theory of Relativity. Correctly.

It turns out Albert Einstein is a regular watcher. In order to destabilise the infallible contestant, Price sends Celeste Holm, a sort of cerebral double agent, to distract him with emotion. The film is extremely entertaining to this point thanks to Colman's ultra-likeable performance, but the possibility that he might be trumped is actually too maddening to be amusing...

There are satirical takedowns of capitalism.... This is quite a clever film. Caesar is Beauregard's parrot who just repeats what he hears, surely a parody of learning without understanding. The film tells us that television is an agent of cultural atrophy, a message that fifties Hollywood was to circulate with enthusiasm.

A prisoner of war comedy which was made before there was a tradition of POW films in Hollywood. Consequently there's a voice over at the start, explaining what a Stalag was and how the camps were run. It was written by a pair of former POWs. The plot now is familiar; one of the American captives is a spy giving information to the Germans.

Billy Wilder was a great blender of genres and as well as a comedy and a war film this works as a thriller. Who is the stoolie? Most of the captured flyers think it's the aloof JJ Sefton (William Holden) who trades goods with the enemy and finagles a few luxuries for himself. To protect himself from brutal reprisal, he must find the mole.

It's a very black comedy. Some of the men die because of the leak. Wilder implies these Americans are no better than any other men would be in these circumstances, and may have something to hide. There is humour but also a degree of realism; the camp is dirty, the prisoners are half crazy.

Holden is perfect as the supercilious Sefton. Though his Oscar was a bit of a push in an ensemble part. Sefton is an antihero and nearly all the characters are morally ambiguous. The most memorable performance is by Robert Strauss as 'Animal' who gives the film comic energy. WWII was still a recent trauma, but the public bought Wilder's comic cynicism.

A sex comedy about infidelity was always likely to be a heroic failure in the era of Hollywood censorship, and so it proved. Now, the only aspect likely to offend is the sexism. When the wives and kids leave Manhattan every summer, the eyes of the men turn to available women. Nervy publisher Tom Ewell is distracted by the kooky blonde who takes the upstairs apartment.

Marilyn Monroe is ideal casting. She perfected the personality of the sexy, obliging innocent. In a film that survives mainly as a period piece, she is still as fresh as iced cucumber. There is that iconic moment when her dress flies up as the subway train passes beneath an air vent... and Ewell is excellent too!

Plenty of humour survives. Billy Wilder follows the method of his mentor Ernst Lubitsch in crediting the audience with the wit to complete the cryptic innuendo. In 1955, this film was audacious, and it was modern. And that zeitgeist has modified into a fifties time capsule of New York City with the brownstone flats and executive tower blocks.

This is not Wilder's best work, and he dismissed it, thinking the censorship restrictions were insurmountable. But it is a glossy, superficial, entertaining film, with one of Monroe's definitive performances. Tom Ewell's fantasy soliloquies were innovative and surely influenced Woody Allen. And there is still residual excitement in its once forbidden themes.

Frenzied political satire with social themes unusual for Hollywood during WWII. The film questions the uninhibited patriotism which engulfed America, and it empathised with the guilt of those who were unable to serve. And rather provocatively hinted that returning soldiers would expect a new politics.

Preston Sturges combined the cynicism of Billy Wilder with the sentimentality of Frank Capra, his great comedy contemporaries. But his humour is  less subtle. This is his darkest film. A patriotic kid (Eddie Bracken) is refused entry into the Marines with hayfever and feels too ashamed to go home. He is taken in by a group of genuine Marines on leave who march him home to mom.

But once back in small town America, the people adopt him as a much needed hero. Soon he is running for mayor. Ironically, many of the male Hollywood stars were away in action, so this film is led by the rather lightweight Bracken when really it needed James Stewart. Ella Raines is attractive and sympathetic but not as formidable in farce as film noir.

As is typical with Sturges, the cast is led by its eccentric support ensemble. William Demarest has a larger role than usual as a tough but interfering Sergeant. The film has real momentum considering it reflects on the state of the nation in such depth. But for all the wisecracks and insane plot twists, it's a bit short on laughs.

WC Fields' last classic is a return to the format of his best comedies of the early thirties; a series of sketches loosely tied to a single theme. Here Fields is Egbert Sousé (pronounced Sous-ay) a docile underdog who is an outcast in his own family. He keeps getting offered jobs, initially as the director of a film, and then as a bank detective.

Naturally Fields plays his famous persona, an old fashioned man traumatised by domesticity and the cynicism of contemporary life. He wrote the script which is fertile with his wild, Fieldsian flights of language: 'Don't be a luddy-duddy! Don't be a mooncalf! Don't be a jabbernowl!'

It's among the eight comedies which Fields made as a writer-actor which are the core of his appeal as an auteur. This isn't quite the equal of the great man's early talkies. And there is a brief, insulting role for a black actor. Arguably everyone is a distorted caricature in this world, but, it's still deplorable.

There are plenty of decent gags and an enjoyable silent film style car chase. Fields was getting old and heavier. This doesn't enhance the poignancy of the role like it does with many of the great comedians. Fields' character always was tragicomic; a little man in a small town who suffers a life of injustice and humiliation on behalf of us all.

This comedy drama was an adaptation of Philip Barry's Broadway hit which also starred Katherine Hepburn. She plays Tracy Lord, the entitled, shrewish daughter of a wealthy New England family, who has divorced CK Dexter Haven (Cary Grant) so she can marry an entrepreneur.  Instead, she learns important life lessons... and re-hitches to CK Dexter Haven.

The film was a star vehicle for Hepburn. The story covers the events of a society wedding, so it's an opportunity for audiences to glimpse the lavish lifestyle of the super-rich. But Barry does effectively examine the condition of inherited wealth, principally through the observations of a pair of sardonic news reporters (James Stewart and Ruth Hussey).

Stewart got the Oscar for Best Actor. And as usual he brings authenticity and heart. He and Hussey are a likeable team. Cary Grant is wasted in a support role. Hepburn is very convincing as the indulged heir to old money but lacks the charisma or sex appeal to suggest why such a cold, moralistic woman is so irresistible. And she is less persuasive as the humbled, more sympathetic Tracy.

It's a conservative social comedy about the class system, which is a home draw for director George Cukor. There are bountiful MGM production values. Some aspects don't play so well today, especially the easy ride given to Tracy's toxic dad. It offers insight into the psychology of privilege, but as a comedy it lacks wit and for a romance it wants for charm.

This is a shaggy dog story about the rise of a dishonest lunk who becomes State Governor solely because his shameless lawbreaking is a perfect match for American politics. This façade is managed by wealthy syndicates who run candidates on either side so they always win. The film is a comedy, perhaps because it was the only way of getting this cynicism past the censors.

By being receptive to corruption, McGinty (Brian Donlevy) goes from panhandling for dimes in the street to signing off public money to graft, getting rich in the process. Even his marriage to his secretary (Muriel Angelus) is a sham. Only once does McGinty behave with integrity, and it finishes him completely.

Which is a nice ironic sleight of hand from Preston Sturges on his debut as writer-director. It's a pretty dark comedy. With the expressionist shadows it even looks like a gangster film. The leads are acceptable, but as often with Sturges, the memorable performances come further down the cast list; among the gallery of Runyonesque reprobates, Akim Tamiroff excels as head of operations.

So, politics is a front for powerful interest groups, usually illegal. Sadly, it is all too believable. The film is fast moving and sharp with plenty of arresting dialogue. Full of irony but rarely actually funny. The slapstick is perfunctory. It's more of an interestingly satire about the US political system than a lot of laughs. But it is a clever, entertaining and even subversive film.

Breathless farce which is completely unlike any other Frank Capra comedy. There is no inspiring underdog here, it's pure comic mayhem. Mortimer Brewster (Cary Grant) gets married. So it was a bad day to discover his two dotty aunts are serial killers who bury their victims in the cellar of their spacious New York guest house.

There are slamming doors, hidden bodies, unexpected guests and a vicar. So it's a proper farce. The best moments are a bit more subtle and reference Brewster's job as a famous theatre critic. The key gag is that Brewster's entire family suffers from hereditary insanity, implying drama critics are also nuts.

It all gets exponentially more frantic until in the last act...  when Cary Grant, the greatest ever comedy actor, is reduced one basic function; the double take. It's overkill. Grant performs with complete abandon. He deserves credit for being a sport, but he's too classy for this. The support comes off better, especially Josephine Hull and Jean Adair as the batty spinsters.

On Broadway, Boris Karloff played Brewster's sinister brother who has cosmetic surgery which leaves him looking like... Boris Karloff. Sadly he wasn't cast and Raymond Massey stood in. The film is fun and there are a lot of uncomplicated laughs. It's rated a classic Hollywood comedy but rarely gets mentioned among Capra's best films. Which is fair enough.

The universality suggested by the title is misleading. These are fashionable trophy wives of the Park Avenue wealthy elite who spend their lives shopping and being pampered and gossiping about each others' infidelities. And living in unspoken fear that as they sink into their thirties they will be replaced by a younger model.

While the film dallies with the trivial competitiveness of these mannequins in their natural habitat of fashion shows, lunch dates and beauty parlours, it's hilarious. When the film gets darker it loses its lustre. There are some long, tearful scenes between the divorcing Norma Shearer and her daughter which are hard, unpleasant work.

When the girls are pulling each other apart, it's thrilling. The film has no male actors. Every part (130+) is a woman on an MGM contract. My favourite is Rosalind Russell as the ultimate queen bitch who finds sport in wrecking Norma's marriage. Though there is a letdown when the promised superbabe who has her talons in the husband turns out to be a frumpy Joan Crawford...

George Cukor directs the abundance of dialogue with a light touch and a lot of style. There are fabulous, grandiose sets. It's great to see this amazing cast working together, with astute performances all the way down the credits. The Women satirises some pretty shallow people. With the world marching to war, Hollywood would change. These stories never stopped getting made; but not with all this glamour

This is a screwball murder-mystery like the earlier Thin Man series, but funnier. Miss Manton (Barbara Stanwyck) is a dizzy Park Avenue heiress who finds a body while walking her pedigree dogs. The police don't believe her because she's always pulling some madcap publicity scam which has the Lieutenant (Sam Levene) pulling his hair out.

So she investigates the crime herself with her gang of scatterbrained high society it-girls and a cynical crime editor played by a very well groomed Henry Fonda in a top hat. Manton's girlfriends roam the set like a herd of cats. Watching these forgotten Hollywood starlets bouncing around the faux-naif dialogue is a joy.

And Hattie McDaniel is typically polished as (yes) the sassy maid. The first half is pure comic whirlwind. The latter part focuses more on the mystery, which is less fun. Director Leigh Jason has no reputation, but it's a fast moving story and looks great, with an atmospheric, pre-noir look (Nicholas Musuraca).

Stanwyck and Fonda would go on to star together more famously in The Lady Eve. And they share some chemistry here too. There's a hilarious, frothy script (Philip Epstein) and the stars don't waste a line, including many sardonic remarks about class differences. It's an archetypal thirties mystery-comedy with plenty of Manhattan glamour and just a glimpse of the New York underworld.

The title of this oddity from Universal Studios  gave a name to a sub-genre of the horror film. It's a reflection on the state of England after the great war, crossed with a monster film.  On a stormy night, five contrasting characters stumble on a remote residence occupied by inbred grotesques. 

Which has a lot in common with Deliverance and many other fish-out-of-water horror-thrillers. The visitors must survive these human monsters, and their own, personal demons. They have to make it through the night, much as England had to survive its own existential darkness after WWI.

It's is a faithful adaptation of JB Priestley's novel, which is set in Wales, but here recreated on a Hollywood soundstage. James Whale directs with a really eccentric sense of the absurd, casting a mixture of oddball English expats like Boris Karloff and Ernest Thesiger, who are transformed by the legendary Universal effects team.  

Sadly, the film runs out of credibility on the hour and often soft pedals on its social themes. What remains is ultimately a fright film. Whale's peculiar sensibilities won't appeal to everyone. But there's pleasure to be had from watching this cast work together. Apart from the crazies, Charles Laughton brings the energy, Lilian Bond provides the heart and Gloria Stuart, the sex appeal.

In the same year as 42nd Street and Gold Diggers of 1933, Warner Brothers followed up with another musical comedy with many of the same cast, notably Dick Powell and Ruby Keeler. Busby Berkeley again arranged three extraordinary set pieces at the climax of the film to the songs of Dubin and Warren. Many critics consider this the best of the three.

Instead of Broadway, this one is set in a small film studio which makes live action 'prologues' for cinemas. James Cagney is the director/producer who is struggling because his shareholders are pocketing the profits and some heel is leaking ideas to a rival. Jimmy puts on his dancing shoes for the climactic Shanghai Lil. 

The story is familiar, but still functions. There's a brilliant gag when the censor gets caught in a clinch with a girl and exclaims: 'I was just showing her what you're not allowed to show in Kalamazoo!' Maybe there's an impression that Harry Warren is having to recycle tunes and the dialogue isn't as sharp as before. We miss Ginger Rogers and the sassy chorus line gals.

But Footlight Parade still triumphs, mainly because of Berkeley's amazing final trilogy: Honeymoon Hotel, By a Waterfall and Shanghai Lil . He's operating at the top of his range. The aquatic ballet, By a Waterfall, is one of the outstanding musical numbers in thirties cinema. Which means, in film history.