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By
NICK ZEGARAC
The Carole Lombard
Collection effectively brings together six fairly
good reasons why this madcap beauty was bar none
the most spirited diva of 30s cinema. The films
featured in Universal's rather lackluster two disc
digipack may not be main staples of the American
film scene, but they are distracting and
delightful diversions nonetheless.
Man of the World (1934) is actually a film vehicle
for William Powell, cast as the spurious reprobate
Michael Trevor. Trevor is a worldly novelist who
is blackmailing Harry Taylor (Guy Kibbee) the
uncle of Mary Kendall (Carole Lombard) the woman
Trevor is professing divine love to. As one might
suspect, this is a comedy of errors played more
for camp than for thrills and winningly pulled off
by the natural chemistry and sparks coming off of
both Powell and Lombard. Together the two would
later make film history with the ultimate
screwball -- My Man Godfrey (not included in this
collection). Man of the World may not be up to
Godfrey's pedigree, but it's more than passable
for a night's pleasant entertainment and so right
for Lombard's strengths as a comedic actress.
We're Not Dressing (1934) is a weak bit of fluff
immeasurably aided by its two headlining stars;
Carole Lombard (this time cast as elegant society
gadabout, Doris Worthington) and Bing Crosby (cast
Stephen Jones -- as a singing sailor). While
entertaining guests on her yacht in the Pacific,
Doris' ship hits a reef and is sunk. Her life and
that of her guests is salvaged by Stephen and
together they make it safely to an island where
survival is the order of the day. Not that friends
Edith (Ethel Merman), Uncle Hubert (Leon Errol),
Prince Michael (Ray Milland) and Prince Alexander
(Jay Henry) would agree. They're positively
useless! As is the case with a conflict of social
caste -- Stephen's resourcefulness is not an
immediate hit with those who think him
grandstanding for Doris' benefit. True -- he has
designs on Doris, but will she reciprocate
…perhaps after a clambake. The film is a
meandering mess of plot entanglements best
explored on an episode of the old Gilligan's
Island television serial and readily just as
riddled with hokum.
In Hands Across the Table (1935), Lombard is cast
as Reggie Allen, a beautiful manicurist/gold
digger. One of her regular clients is the
sympathetic paraplegic ex-aviator Allen Macklyn
(Ralph Bellamy, who made a career out of playing
good guys who always finish last). Macklyn is
quite wealthy. He also has a yen for Reggie, only
she's not exactly up to playing Mother Theresa in
trade for the wealth he could provide. Enter
Theodore Drew III (Fred MacMurray) a free and easy
playboy more attune to Reggie's own desires --
only his family fortune has been lost in the stock
market crash. To keep things status quo, Ted
contemplates marriage to Vivien Snowden (Astrid
Allwyn) the rather uppity daughter of a pineapple
baron. While Reggie is determined to avoid Ted at
all costs, both she and lover boy #2 eventually
discover that a life of wealth and privilege may
be meaningless without any genuine affections to
go along. This is a delightful film, full of rich
comedy and poignant turns that showcase Lombard's
flair for playing polar opposites in temperament.
MacMurray is an adequate fop and Bellamy is at his
generic best. All in all, then -- a winner.
The same cannot be said for Lombard's next vehicle
-- Love Before Breakfast (1936) a quickly made and
quickly forgotten trifle that has Lombard cast as
madcap Kay Colby whose frequent dalliances with
obnoxious Scott Miller (Preston Foster) are
getting the better of her. Featherweight and
virtually plotless, no explanation is ever given
for Kay's eventual cave-in to Scott. A shoddy
tack-on of sorts involves Scott being exiled to
Japan no less and a rather epic (though
misguidedly wrong for this picture) storm at sea
in which Kay discovers her own sincere romantic
thoughts. At best, Love Before Breakfast was a
film made to capitalize on Lombard's success in
Hands Across The Table. It did respectable
business at the box office but has little to
recommend its inclusion in this set besides.
The Princess Comes Across (1936) is a foppish tale
of a Swedish prude, Olga (Lombard) who boards an
ocean liner in Europe en route to an acting gig on
Broadway. Shipboard romance takes over between
Olga and band leader King Mantell (Fred
MacMurray). So far -- so good. But then a
mysterious blackmailer begins to send even more
mysterious notes, claiming that the princess is
not all she claims to be. From hereon in, the plot
becomes a mess of entanglements including a turgid
ditty about a stowaway killer pursued by
international police. Eventually, both King and
Olga become suspects -- a
never-to-be-taken-seriously snafu that sets both
lovers on a quest to uncover the real killer's
identity. Problematic in its narrative, and
hopelessly slap happy -- the film is not much
better than the aforementioned Love Before
Breakfast -- though herein we do get to see much
of the Lombard/MacMurray chemistry back in play.
One would hope that the lesson of casting Lombard
in a blackmail scenario might have been learned in
the prior failed excursion. But then there comes
True Confessions (1937) the last film featured in
this collection; a discombobulated madcap
comedy/adventure yarn regarding kooky married
couple, Helen (Lombard) and Ken Bartlett (Fred
MacMurray). She's a pathological liar; he, her
scrupulous alter ego. Ken's failed attempt at the
law is offset by Helen starting a new job -- that
is, until her employer is found dead. Put on trial
for murder, Helen contemplates life in prison
while Ken mounts her defense. Successfully
acquitting his wife, all is not serene when a
disreputable court room straggler Charley (John
Barrymore) attempts to blackmail Helen by claiming
to have evidence that could convict her of a crime
she clearly did not commit. Lighthearted and
empty-headed, True Confession's major selling
feature is Lombard -- unattainably nutty and
decidedly witty -- she elevates this rather thin
material to palpable fodder.
The transfers for all the films are fairly average
in quality. Of all -- True Confessions looks the
best with a B&W image readily free of age-related
artifacts and with a minimal amount of film grain.
Contrast levels are ideal. Whites are clean for
the most part. Blacks are deep and solid. The
poorest transfers in this set are Hands Across the
Table and Man of the World. In the former, there
seems to be more than an adequate amount of
age-related artifacts and a slight wobble in the
image that is distracting. In the latter, the
image appears rather thick -- with low levels of
contrast and a decidedly softly focused look that
distracts one from the performances.
The rest of the transfers fall somewhere in
between these polarities in image quality. None is
particularly up to the standards of the best
classics presented on DVD -- then again, none of
these films are particularly up to the standards
of being labeled as genuine classics. Still,
Lombard is a treat to behold. She is the
embodiment of fresh-faced vitality and untapped
charm cut tragically short by her death in a plane
crash. Though she made better films during her
brief tenure -- this collection is recommended for
anyone who admires a great actress giving limited
material her all -- and more often than not --
rising above it with great gusto. |
