MILLION DOLLAR LEGS
This anarchic comedy was scripted (mainly by Joe Mankiewicz) for the Marx Brothers, who turned it down. And every scene is obviously intended for them, which already makes this an eccentric film. And also exposes just how crucial gag writers are to the public’s favourite comic acts.
Paramount instead cast an assortment of ex-silent comedians (like crosseyed Ben Turpin), led by Broadway star Jack Oakie. Though, of these, only WC Fields is a farceur on the level of the Marx Brothers, and shares their gift for the surreal. There always was some crossover between he and Groucho. Consider their lists of character names.
This is Fields’ first sound film at the studio and he plays the President of the middle European state of Klopstokia who wants to squeeze more money out of the peasants. A visiting US salesperson (Okie) convinces him instead to enter the Los Angeles Olympics of 1932, because their citizens all have an exaggerated sporting talent.
The President is their strongman. There are some crazy laughs in the early scenes, though the screen is burdened with too much Okie (and low-watt glamour from Susan Fleming, Harpo’s wife…) and not enough Fields. Eventually, it gets tiresome but may be of interest to fans of the absurdist comedy which survives in the margins of studio era Hollywood.
INTERNATIONAL HOUSE
Crazy, precode Paramount revue which is an irreverent run out for the studio’s vaudeville talent, linked by a loose plot about them travelling to China to invest in… television! Most film fans will watch this for the early sound appearance by WC Fields, who is the best on show.
And there is some delightful comedy from George Burns and Gracie Allen. Rudy Vallee croons a romantic ballad. Of course, some of the acts are forgotten now. Most baffling is Baby Rose Marie, a pre-teen moppet with a Louise Brooks haircut who belts it out while standing on a piano.
Top billed is Peggy Hopkins Joyce, who was a celebrity for marrying millionaires and a model for Lorelei Lee in Anita Loos’ novel Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. She is disappointingly frumpy, but in a platinum blonde wig. Certainly no Marilyn Monroe. Some topical gags are lost in the winds of time.
There’s fun to be had with the precode innuendo, and the sexy showgirl glamour of a Busby Berkeley pastiche. We may pinch ourselves as Cab Callaway sings Reefer Man! And look… there’s Bela Lugosi. It’s just a showcase for Paramount contract curiosities, but better than usual for this sort of thing.