MOVIE OF THE DAY: "THE TALK OF HOLLYWOOD" (1929)

Make that 5% laughing.

As the introduction of sound upends the movie industry, the head of a studio spends a fortune on his first talkie, the making of which hasn't gone smoothly. His leading lady is running up the production costs with her obnoxious behavior, while a crew unfamiliar with the new equipment further delays the shoot. Due to a disastrous screening, where all the failings of talkies are on full display, the movie executive needs a miracle to keep from going bankrupt.

Sound like Gene Kelly's Singin' in the Rain? Well, yes, I suppose so. But this is a description of The Talk of Hollywood, made 23 years earlier -- which, in Hollywood, might as well be 230 years. There's another difference. One of them is the greatest musical ever made, while other isn't. Really isn't. But nor is it the worst. More or less.

But what makes The Talk of Hollywood interesting is that it was filmed right in the middle of the talkie upheaval, with plenty of authentic in-jokes and background information that Singin' in the Rain could only recreate from memory and research. It's as if D.W. Griffith made The Birth of a Nation in 1865 rather than 50 years later. 

"Oy! Why don't you say 'oy!' once in a while?"

The main in-joke is that the malaprop-spouting, budget-obsessed movie producer, J. Pierpont Ginsburg, is a parody of Sam Goldwyn. Oh, and of Jews in general, because Ginsburg's Yiddish accent is played for laughs every time he opens his mouth. But never explained is why his daughter Ruth speaks as if she spent the first 18 years of her life in a school for diction.

We're supposed to think it's funny that the Jewish guy exercises to a recording of Irish music, pronounces "v" words with a "w", and greets a couple of reporters at his home with "Make yourself to wingin'. Well, boys, what's giving out?" I have no idea what either of those statements mean, but in context of the movie, it is kind of funny.

You know what else is a knee-slapper? The Jewish moviemaker is obsessed with money. He even refrains from giving the reporters cigars until he's convinced that the "free publicity" they're promising really is free. When speaking of his movie's scenarist, he tells the director, "He's a great writer. Every day he writes for more money." Although I have a feeling that movie producers of all religions likely say the same thing.

And, of course, he's the best-groomed guy in the movie.

But why stop with making fun of Jews? When Ginsburg shows up at the studio to check on the progress of his talkie, he's taken aback by the outrageously camp, lisping gay actor offering swishy script advice. "This is a drama," Ginsburg admonishes him, "not a fairytale." I get it!

Just to make sure there's more offensive comments to go around, Ginsburg then turns to a black actor playing a plantation worker. Not impressed by the guy's lowkey delivery, Ginsburg asks, "Is this the way a darkie talks?" before offering his own over-the-top stereotyped black line reading -- with a Yiddish accent, of course. 

When comedic highlights insult Jews, gays and blacks, you know you're watching a movie nearly a century old. And yet they're funnier than anything else in The Talk of Hollywood. I'm not sure if that says more about me or the picture. 

It wouldn't be a musical without music, which is the reason for 15 straight minutes of song and dance routines involving Ginsburg's high-strung star Adore Renee (a parody of then-popular French actress Renee Adore. Funny, hunh?) 

I'm not even knocked for a bowl of couscous.

Ginsburg, impressed with his star, tells the director, "She'll knock 'em for a goulash!" 

Goulash or no, Renee's routine consists of little more than twerking 1929-style and shaking her dress around as if it were on fire. Still, the actress playing her must have been hot stuff at the time, because her opening credit reads Presenting The International Star MISS FAY MARBE in her Talking Picture Debut. This rivals anything else for laughs in The Talk of Hollywood since it was also her only talking picture.

Had this happened a few months later, after the
Crash of '29, the son-in-law would have dumped the
old man's daughter for someone with real money.

After a quick cash infusion from his lawyer (and future son-in-law), Ginsburg is ready to screen his first talkie to potential investors. And here's where The Talk of Hollywood one-ups Singin' in the Rain on realism. Sound on film hadn't yet become the standard in 1929, so the drunken projectionist ruins the screening by putting the 16-rpm soundtrack discs in the wrong order, making a total hash out of the movie. 

The sound of barking dogs come out of people's mouths, doors knock when doorbells are pushed, the plantation worker seems to be coming on to a little girl -- it's stupid to be sure, and goes on a little long, but it's also undeniably funny, especially when this kind of thing actually happened more frequently than you might think.

One of the many songs in The Talk
of Hollywood you won't remember.

But you know what didn't happen in real life? An investor forking over $60,000 because he thought it was the funniest comedy he ever saw, as happens here with Ginsburg. That's show biz, or at least show biz's perception of show biz.

The Talk of Hollywood, then, not only parodies the talkie revolution but unintentionally showcases its hurdles as well. Long, static takes; actors pausing between lines for presumed audience laughter; characters and dialogue that were par for the course in 1929 yet are unacceptable today. I kind of liked it, but, y'know, I would.

To a freak like me, the making of The Talk of Hollywood is as interesting as the movie itself (which, to everybody else, means not at all). It takes place in Hollywood but, other than a few brief establishing shots, was filmed at the RCA Photophone Studios on East 24th Street in New York. And while it was released by the low-budget Sono Art-World Wide studio, it appears to be the only production by something called Prudence Pictures. In fact, I've never seen another movie that was the sole credit for so many people, including scriptwriter Darby Aaronson (thank God). 

What, nothing about Ginsberg or
Ginsburg?

Only Nat Carr, as J. Pierpont Ginsburg, had a real career, working in 110 movies. The names of his other characters -- Moses Ginsburg, Moe Ginsberg, Moisha Ginsburg, J. Arthur Ginsberg, Two Gun Ginsberg, Gunboat Ginsberg, Max Ginsberg, Trader Ginsberg, to name a few -- demonstrate how much work a guy could get with just the right talent. The Talk of Hollywood proves that.

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