BROKEN LULLABY (1932): Paul Renard, a French veteran of World War I, is haunted by killing German soldier Walter Holderlin during combat. In an attempt to ease his guilt, Renard he visits the victim's bereaved family -- and Walter's former fiancée Elsa -- intending to admit he was responsible. Unable to bring himself to tell the truth, Paul tells them instead that he and Walter were friends in pre-war Paris. Herr Holderlin's hatred toward France gradually melts, while his wife finally finds joy in life once and more. And as Paul is accepted as part of the family -- and falls in love with Elsa -- he finds himself more tortured than ever by withholding his secret.
A 180-degree change from the usual frothy comedies directed by Ernst Lubitsch, Broken Lullaby is an anti-war drama forcing the audience to understand the pain suffered by both sides of war. (One shot of a veteran's parade has the camera placed under the amputated leg of a soldier -- one of the most startling moments in a 1930s picture.) And as Herr Holderin (Lionel Barrymore in a sterling performance) gradually recognizes his generation's responsibility for sending its sons to their deaths, his own guilt-ridden outburst to his French-hating friends could have been written today. No doubt Broken Lullaby was one of the more mature, insightful dramas of 1932, with a message that still resonates over time.
Unfortunately, the movie is nearly derailed by Phillips Holmes as the tortured Paul Renard. Haunted -- perhaps going mad -- by killing the German soldier, Holmes' performance is out of a 1910 silent melodrama, when over-emoting was considered high drama. Contemporary audiences who might otherwise take to Broken Lullaby's message likely will find Holmes off-putting at best, laughable at worst. Why Ernst Lubitsch -- an expert at subtlety and sophistication -- encouraged Holmes' scenery-chewing is a mystery. Nevertheless, just for its unusual story (and poignant finale), Broken Lullaby is deserving of one go-round. Just try not to be distracted by Phillips Holmes' histrionics -- or occasional resemblance to Timothee Chalamet.
BONUS POINTS: The flashback to the scene in a foxhole where Renard finishes signing Walter's final letter home by holding the dead soldier's bloody hand. Unforgettable, tragic, and gruesome all at once.
THE WOMEN IN HIS LIFE (1933): Otto Kruger does his best Warren
William/Ricardo Cortez mash-up as the brilliant, womanizing, day-drinking lawyer Kent Berringer, who's never seen a criminal he didn't defend or a dame he couldn't deflower. His debauchery hits a wall when pure-at-heart Doris Worthing tries hiring him to defend her father for murdering her stepmother -- who happens to be Kent's ex-wife. The shock sends him on an alcoholic spree leading to his disbarment. Kent makes it his mission to find Tony Perez, the malefactor he believes really offed his ex.
The Women in His Life has everything one wants in a pre-code picture: a fast-pace; racy dialogue; pre-marital sex; and a general disdain for morality. There's also plenty for the eye, like beautiful art deco sets, and Kruger's fabulous tailored suits, provided by MGM's wardrobe department. I've seen plenty of these lush early '30s movies, and nobody looks as good as Kruger does here. I would kill for this stuff. And he'd defend me in court!
But Kruger is just one actor that makes The Women in His Life so entertaining for early talkie fanatics. From the very beginning, when the camera tracks down a row of busy telephone operators to the usual friends, lovers and suspects, there are faces more welcome than those of your own family. You know instantly upon seeing their names in the credits the characters they're going to play and how they're going to do it. In addition to Otto Kruger (far left), there's Roscoe Karnes as Kent's wisecracking assistant Lester (far right), C. Henry Gordon as oily criminal Tony Perez (in the chair), and Una Merkel as Kent's smartass secretary Simmy Simmons (not seen in the still). In a world spinning out of control, The Women in His Life makes for a comforting respite.
BONUS POINTS: In what appears to be a real copy of Variety, the front-page headline reads NUDIES EYE STAGE COIN. This could mean strippers wanting better pay, or low-budget, adult-only independent movies hoping to charge Broadway ticket prices. Feel free to come up with your own translation.
I give credit to director John Ford for making Hannah thoroughly detestable for most of Pilgrimage. She admits to Jimmy that she'd rather see him dead than wed Mary (or any woman), barely sheds a tear when getting word of his death, and refuses to acknowledge her bastard grandson. Actress Henrietta Crosman (born in 1861!) overshadows the other actors in the picture to the point where there's no need to mention them, yet she's never for a moment hammy. You just hate her, and continue doing so until the last reel when she finally admits to herself -- and eventually Mary -- what a terrible person she's been all these years. Frankly, I wouldn't have forgiven her, but I hold a grudge like you wouldn't believe.
There's some humor in the Paris scenes, such as Hannah and another farmer/mother successfully taking aim at every target in a shooting gallery. But that's enough fun and games; after the ceremony, she tells the other mothers that unlike their sons, hers was "no good" -- meaning he wanted to leave the farm and get married. There are precious few moments where Hannah's haranguing isn't heard, making Pilgrimage difficult but definitely fascinating to watch. I just kind of wish she fell off the ship returning home.
BONUS POINTS: During the scene when the grandson is teased by his classmates for being illegitimate, I recognized Marilyn Harris, best known as the little girl tossed in the pond in Frankenstein. Norman Foster, who played Jimmy, later became a director; his output includes a bunch of Mr. Moto and Charlie Chan pictures, the Orson Welles-produced Journey into Fear, and the noir classic Kiss the Blood Off My Hands. Glad he wasn't really sent to his death by his mother.
IF YOU COULD ONLY COOK (1935): Gentle, post-Code screwball comedy? A merry mix-up based on deception? Another one of those Depression era millionaire-goes-slumming farces? Sorta, kinda, and for sure.
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