Judge — February 1937 — page 4: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE CALENDAR THEATRE George Jean Nathan Aged 26, by Anne Crawford Flexner. Still another biographical exhibit, this one about the poet Keats, and quite as depressingly dull as most of them. Robert Harris’ per- formance of the leading réle called for a good notice. Brother Rat, by Jobn Monks, Jr., and P. P. Finkleboffe. Another military school dish, this one in the comedy vein. It seems feeble and not particularly amusing to this de- partment. Boy Meets Girl, sy B. and S. Spewak. A farce about Hollywood imbeciles guaranteed to wipe the frown off anybody's face, even Carl Schurz’s statue's, Dead End, by Sidney Kingsley. Drama of the slums with some forceful moments and some weak ones, but in the aggregate worthy of your attention. Othello, by William Shakespeare. Walter Huston was not up ¢o it, although he didn’t impress me as being quite as sour as he did some others. Promise, by Henry Bernstem. Tedious Bernsteinerei. which ‘first-rate acting could not enliven. Red, Hot and Blue, by MM. Crouse, Li say and Porter. Jimmy Durante, the darlin’, and Ethel Merman help to make it a very amusing evening in a season that has need of very amusing evenings. Stage Door, by George S. Kaujman and Edna Ferber. The banana about the girl who battles bravely against adversity in order to achieve her single ambition, in this case stage success, and with more old hoke in it than you can shake a finger at. The Country Wife, by william Wycherley. A rich and racy evening with Restoration humors, retailed by a generally first-rate company and with delightful décor by Oliver Messel, a talented youngster. Go! The Show Is On, 5) MM. Freedman, Hart, Duke, et al. Beatrice Lillie (Heil!) and Bert Lahr (Hoch!) in a show that is bright, comical and surely worth the admission fee. The Wingless Victory, by Maxwell Ander- som. Katharine Cornell as a Malay princess who lands among New England bluenoses. Some of the writing is touched with beauty, some of the playwriting isn't. More anon. The Women, ty Clare Boothe. An in- teresting inquiry into female skunkery partly invalidated by periodic doses of tender hokum. Three Men on a Horse, by J. C. Holm and George Abbott. That universal loud laughter you hear is probably partly at me for not considering it as funny as all that. Maybe I'm wrong. I leave it up to you. Tobacco Road, by J. Kirkland and Erskine Caldwell. The Dixie beyond the magnolia and mint julep belt. A true and torturing picture of the dregs of humanity in the bac reaches of Georgia. Now in its third year. Tonight At 8:30, by Noe! Coward. The admirable Gertrude Lawrence helps the au- thor to make a number of the short plays constituting the program the stuff of very amiable diversion. The attemptedly serious plays. however, are another story, though {iss Lawrence is equally proficient in them. Tovarich, by Jacques Deval and Robert Sherwood, Marta Abba and John Halliday excellent in a light and not particularly origi- nal comedy about a couple of Russian nobles that has been artfully hocused into com- mendable pastime. Victoria Regina, by Laurence Housman. Helen Hayes and an unusually expert sup- porting troupe in last season's merited suc- cess picturing various episodes in the life of the grandma of our remaining morals, if any. White Horse Inn, by MM. Muller, Ben- atzky and Freedman. As a spectacle it gets this department's endorsement, but what goes on in the spectacle loses the departmental ballot. William Gaxton and Kitty Carlisle head the cast. You Can't Take It With You, sy Moss Hart and George S. Kaufman. A balmy household provides much looney amusement and, incidentally, some good sense in one of the season's recommendable theatrical eve- nings. The cast is generally first-rate. MOVIES Pare Lorentz As You Like It. A really decent version of Massa Will's poetry with Elizabeth Bergner as a very elfin, very charming Rosalind. After the Thin Man. Not as good as the original, but then what would you expect? Plenty of swell dialogue plus Bill Powell and Myrna Loy. Born to Dance. Lavish but lightweight musical with the typical backstage plot. Eleanor Powell, though, is very nice. Banjo On My Knee. An intimate and amusing river tale with no river in it and with Barbara Stanwyck out of place as the heroine, but with a superb performance by Walter Brennan, with some good music, and some good homespun prose. Beloved Enemy. Briane Aherne and Merle Oberon in a tender, long, but excellently produced story of the legend of Michael Collins, the Irish revolutionary. Big Broadcast of 1937. ‘This is what Hollywood terms a “laugh riot.” We term it a phoney. Everyone in radio is in it up to their necks. Can This Be Dixie. Some very swell kid- ding of the Old South, suh, with Jane With- ers and Slim Summerville. Charge of the Light Brigade. A tenth- rate militaristic outburst by a Victorian minor Poet rates a super-colossal production. The cavalry charges are much superior to the acting of Errol Flynn and Olivia de Haviland. Come and Get It. Edna Ferber's saga of the Wisconsin forests, done to a fare-thee- well by Edward Arnold and United Artists, but with the story failing to keep up with the power of the acting and the outdoor photog- raphy. College Holiday. chariot race with Burns and Allen: Eleanore Whitney's dancing, and one or two fair tunes fight a dull story con- cerning a love college in a bankrupt hotel. Gold-Diggers of 1937. The worst pic- ture of the year. Great Guy. The usua: Cagney picture; this time, he's a tough but honest weight inspector, Wham! ‘Bowie! Janosik. Czechoslovakia hangs a black eye on Hollywood with this brilliant, socially. conscious story of a Slavic Robin Hood. This is the first must movie since “The Informer.” Love on the Run. Faintly amusing hokum with Joan Crawford, Clark Gable and Fran- chot Tone. Murder With Pictures. Fairly slick mys- tery meller with Lew Ayres, Gail Patrick, Paul Kelley and Benny Bruker. Our Relations. Messrs. Laurel and Hardy doubling as twins and putting on some swell pratt fall comedy. Rainbow on the River. Bobby Breen bleats his way through what may well be the stupid- est movie of all time. Rose Bowl. The usual sophomoric football flicker, but with some excellent football shots for a change. Tom Brown, Eleanore Whitney and Benny Baker do the rab-rah act. Swing Time. Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers plus some grand tunes. Need we say more? Sing Me a Love Song. That rarity, an amusing musical comedy, with Walter Cat- lett and Hugh Herbert for comedians, and with James Melton, who can really sing, for music. Three Men on a Horse. Frank McHugh and Joan Blondell dish up the movie version of the story of Irwin, the psychic horse- player. Very funny it is, too. Theodora Goes Wild. The shopworn honey about the nice little homebody who Fecame a hellion, With Irene Dunne ‘and Melvyn Douglas. Not so good. To Mary With Love. A tear jerking recital of the rise and fall of boobus americanus. comicbooks.com