Artisten

A vaudeville couple find that his meteoric rise begins to strain their relationship. The ill-fated Hal Skelly relies on an abundance of personality to overcome his lack of acting skills, but he and Nancy Carroll make a likable couple in this absorbing, bittersweet tale. Skelly's laidback rendition of True Blue Lou is a highlight not to be missed.

Other than APPLAUSE, I can't think of any 1929 films I'd class as 'good.' The advent of sound seemed to imbue most directors with creative impotence and turn even great actors into talking statues. This one however is actually a genuinely watchable piece of entertainment.

If you're a weird masochists like me who like to torture yourself by watching early talkies, this will be a pleasant surprise for you. It feels like a big budget, high quality Paramount spectacular - a typical 1930s Hollywood movie - even though it's not actually a Hollywood movie. Paramount's new state of the art studio had just burned down so they had to relocate to their old New York studio for this.

Besides APPLAUSE and to a lesser extent THE LADY LIES and BROADWAY MELODY, most 1929 productions can only be viewed as interesting (or in most cases, boring) curios. This one however lets you sit back and, kick off your shoes and enjoy it as a proper picture. It's got proper modern style acting delivered with dialogue which sounds natural and authentic. The actors do what actors are meant to do: make you think they're real people.

One reason for this must attributed to David O'Selznick's decision to use two directors: one with a movie background and one with a theatre background - it works well. (David O'Selznick at Paramount? Working for MGM and RKO was clearly not enough for him!) The photography is as fluid and imaginative as it was before the restrictions of sound recording came in and the sound recording itself is superb. Also, another big plus is that although it's to some extent a romance, it is refreshingly not one of those nauseating, mushy, sickly sweet pictures which polluted our screens in the late twenties.

It's a bit longer than a typical early talkie but lovely Nancy Carroll thoroughly keeps your attention for the whole two hours. Like a lot of actors and actresses who became massively famous in early talkies, she virtually vanished after the mid thirties. You can understand that with many of those stars like Helen Twelvetrees for example who just didn't fit in with the style of filmmaking which the early talkies evolved into. With Nancy Carroll however it doesn't make sense because, certainly in this picture, she was so believable and engaging. She's not just beautiful and super-sexy like say Alice White, she's a real, normal person whom you think you might have gone to school with.

Here's one of the early talkies that has been readily available to home video, but one I've avoided. An early musical, and yet another "backstage" plotline, this was something I've seen done so poorly elsewhere I suspected I'd wind up throwing things at my TV. [Have any of you anguished your way through the musical numbers of The Great Gabbo?] Happily, such was not the case. Here is a film totally accessible to contemporary audiences.

A big film in its time, Paramount popped for Technicolor and assigned it's two top directors, Cromwell and Sutherland. [The directors appear in cameos as doorman and theatre attendant, respectively.] Musical sequences are well done and entertain. Cringe factor on a one to five scale, one. The wonder of seeing the tall, lanky Skelly and diminutive Carroll dancing in perfect unison is still with me. They're the most unlikely team this side of Laurel and Hardy.

Many other splendid differences between this film and its contemporaries are worth noting. Released August, 1929, Paramount's superimposed credits seem so much more modern than the silent card graphics MGM still used. Not everyone cares to know who the associated producer is, we want entertained. Behind The Dance Of Life, silhouetted stage hands scurry about, pulling backdrops and riggings. You're treated to seeing behind the scenes while the obligatory texts play out. The ensemble cast has antagonists which prove to be red herrings. It's loaded with interesting camera compositions. A train is gained and quit at night in a pouring rainstorm. A sandwich is used as a romantic device. And what I enjoyed the most was the personal and up close feeling the directors give scenes. Skelly, after pratfalling from wing to wing, sings "True Blue Lou" so personally it would seem he was oblivious to the camera which closed in three times during the song.

A snapshot of a lost form of American entertainment, The Dance Of Life stands apart from its roots as a great film. See it!

The famous play, BURLESQUE, came to Hollywood following a successful Broadway run (372 performances at the Plymouth Theatre from Sept. 1, 1927 through July of the following year made it one of the biggest hits of the year) just at the cusp of when burlesque - which George Jessel had described as "the most family friendly" theatre form as straight vaudeville declined - was itself declining from the fine mix of sketch comedy and music into the girlie shows that would be banned by Mayor LaGuardia in the 1940's. Paramount apparently felt that decline as well as the universal quality of the story merited the name change to THE DANCE OF LIFE for their August 16, 1929 film release, but they also knew well how famous the original play had become as it toured around the nation, so the original name was prominently featured in all the advertising.

Protecting their investment further, four members of the original Broadway cast were recruited for the film version (the lead, Hal Skelly as "Skid", Ralph Theodore as Harvey, Charles D. Brown as Lefty and the great Oscar Levant in his first film role as Jerry the composer/pianist). Only the Broadway leading lady, Barbara Stanwyck as Bonny, Skid's lady love, was passed over for look-alike Nancy Carroll (rumor hath that Stanwyck's real life leading man declined to let her take the role unless he was hired too). Carroll was entirely fine in the role and Stanwyck followed to Hollywood shortly after.

The result for THE DANCE OF LIFE was one of the year's best films and the script, direction and cinematography hold up remarkably well after a little over 80 years, much better than some of the early full fledged "musicals" filmed at the time. This was not a traditional "musical" by Broadway or Hollywood standards, but a play in which a lot of music was intrinsic to the plot, and the musical numbers are as good a snapshot of what real live touring musical theatre looked like in 1929 as many an actual filmed musical show (like the Marx Brothers' COCOANUTS which was filmed at the end of its "subway circuit" tour out at the Astoria Studios in Astoria, Queens, New York). The borderline "beef trust" chorus girls marching in unison are a far cry from modern "choreography," but they breathe with the life of the world portrayed.

As good as the film is - and it is very good indeed, despite the often copied plot, remarkably faithful to the Broadway original, of the loyal girl protecting her talented but weak partner - no small credit is due to the superior cast. An Oscar Levant younger than most people today know him from his film roles of ten to twenty years later (THE BAND WAGON, opposite Nanette Fabray passing for a composer/lyricist team patterned after Betty Comden and Adolph Green is a classic), gives every indication of the indelible comic curmudgeon he would become, and Hal Skelly's Skid is a leading character actor for the ages. "Skid" would be a great performance in any age.

I haven't seen a naturalistic performance jump out of the more declamatory style performances around it with this much vivacity since Helen Hayes opposite Gary Cooper (three years later) in A FAREWELL TO ARMS. Hayes, of course, would go on to a brilliant career on stage and screen for another 50 years. Skelly might have, but after only a few more films and Broadway shows, while back East producing and starring in one of them (the ironically titled COME WHAT MAY) he lost his life when a car he was riding in was hit by a freight train in Connecticut. It was a greater loss to the stage and screen than those who have never seen his performance in this film (BURLESQUE was, with good reason, his greatest hit) can ever fathom.

I've never been able to find a copy of the brief VHS release noted elsewhere of the Paramount Picture, but until some wise soul finds a way to pry a pristine copy from the Paramount archives (one suspects the film may now be in the public domain if ANY copy could be found) to make it available to a new generation of film and theatre students who need to see the craft and passion involved, at least a decent copy can be viewed at Archive.org. It is essential viewing for any true student of the theatre or film. I'll be first in line to buy a copy when a DVD is available. Let's hope it's soon.

This was certainly not what I expected. I was delightfully surprised in just about every way. This film shows clearer than any I've seen the Vaudeville life and the acts in the last years. The sound was handled beautifully and the ending quite touching. Since I caught this where I could find it on You Tube, there were no sequences in color, alas, but everything else was precious, particularly the leads. It paved the way for so many subsequent "show must go on" movies and the phrase itself finally became cliché but this is pristine, sensitive and ultimately quite moving. I was also thankful that so many of the acts were filmed in their entirety, for historical as well as artistic reasons. The balance was perfect!

Curtis Stotlar