Kid Millions

In the early 1930's Eddie Cantor was one of the biggest stars in the world, and "Kid Millions" will show you why. Cantor was energetic, wry, occasionally cutting (without heaping on the cruelty), sweet, and just plain funny, and it's a shame that most people today don't have the faintest idea of who he was. But then, that's increasingly true of Groucho, too. What to do with such a world?

"Kid Millions" has lots of incidental pleasures, including the presence of the ridiculously young Nicholas Brothers, Ann Sothern, and Ethel Merman (who once again proves why she was just too "big," even for grandly produced spectacles like this one). Perhaps most interesting, from a film-history perspective, is the elaborate "Ice Cream Factory" sequence, which was shot in still-experimental 3-strip Technicolor. The earlier (2-strip) Technicolor could only render shades of cyan and magenta (often mistaken today for fading), while the new process was explosively full-spectrum. Audiences at the time must have been astonished.

A musical comedy about a Brooklyn boy (Eddie Cantor) who inherits a fortune from his archaeologist father but must go to Egypt to claim it.

He's on a ship headed for Africa. Ethel Merman tags along for the singing parts.

So does Ann Southern who later had her own sitcom on television.

It's a big production that made a lot of money. Some Little Rascals make a surprise appearance at the beginning. Loan out from Hal Roach?

The musical numbers are good. Eddie Cantor even does his black face Minstrel Man routine. So weird. But what's weirder is that his uncle and mother are older than Eddie and no one says anything.

It may be hard to explain Eddie Cantor's appeal to today's moviegoers. In the 1930s he demonstrated a combination of ethnic relatability, physical comedy, song-and-dance dexterity, and out-and-out silliness that contemporary audiences found enormously appealing. This lavish Sam Goldwyn production may be his best shot, a nonstop parade of nonsense, where Eddie's backed by a wonderful cast. The story, about a Brooklyn boy inheriting a fortune and traveling to Egypt to claim it, reeks of all-night screenwriter conferences to wring out every possible joke. But it's so lively and silly, and there's so much besides Eddie to appreciate. Ethel Merman not only gets a lot to sing but demonstrates considerable comic chops, and she's partnered with a funny Warren Hymer. Ann Sothern is pretty and poised, and you don't mind her being partnered with a pallid George Murphy so much. A very young Nicholas Brothers get to do a specialty. Eva Sully, who didn't make a lot of movies, is an Egyptian princess with a Brooklyn twang (another silly joke), sort of Gracie Allen-esque, and she's very funny. The finale, in early three-strip Technicolor, is as fun as it is tasteless. Get past all the non-PC stuff offensive by today's standards (Eddie even dons blackface for a minstrel sequence; the other cast members fortunately don't), and you'll probably have a marvelous time.

There is no better example of Hollywood nonsense than this comedy with the bewilderingly popular Eddie Cantor. The jokes are so outrageous and politically incorrect that the film is mesmerizing as a look back at the times. The Goldwyn Girls and the brilliant dancing Nicholas Brothers stand out in this film, and the classic song "Mandy" also features Ethel Merman, Ann Sothern, George Murphy, and Cantor inexplicably wearing black-face minstrel make-up. --Musicals on the Silver Screen, American Library Association, 2013

In a recent and long overdue biography of Eddie Cantor it turns out that Cantor's daughter Marilyn was responsible for the casting of Ethel Merman in this and a subsequent film of her father's. The Cantors and the San Goldwyns saw each other socially quite a bit and young Marilyn Cantor became a fan of Merman's after seeing her on the Broadway stage. She lobbied with Goldwyn to get Merman opposite her father and the man relented.

Cantor and Merman did work well together here and in Strike Me Pink. Eddie is playing his usual bullied schnook who is living with what I guess would be considered a foster family on the New York docks. But it turns out he's the son of an archaeologist who went to Egypt and went missing, but who found a reputed treasure. All he has to do is claim the treasure over in Egypt. Of course there are some other people who think they have a claim.

Berton Churchill and daughter Ann Sothern helped finance the expedition and Ethel Merman claims a common-law relationship, a scheme cooked up by her hoodlum boy friend Warren Hymer.

All of these people perform well and I have to say that Warren Hymer who never exactly played intellectuals on the screen actually dumbs HIS usual character down for the film. But I have to say that the man who seemed to be enjoying himself most playing the villainous Arab sheik is character actor Paul Harvey. He overacts outrageously in his part and I'm sure he was grateful for the false beard and mustache he had to wear to contain the grins he must have had on his face.

Playing the Harvey's daughter and her beloved are the vaudeville team of Eva Sully and Jesse Block in their only screen appearance. I'm betting Cantor was responsible for their casting. Eva in her harem outfit and Jewish accent develops a crush on Cantor who's who'd rather be boiled in the sheik's oil than marry her. But that's part of the whole wonderfully silly plot.

A whole host of song writing talents contributed to this film, Irving Berlin, Walter Donaldson and Gus Kahn and Burton Lane and Harold Adamson. Some sharp ears might recognize a Lane tune that was revived with a different lyric by Alan Jay Lerner and danced to by Fred Astaire in Royal Wedding then called You're All the World To Me.

There is also one of the strangest minstrel numbers ever shot on screen where no one but Cantor is in blackface. During it he has to dance with the Nicholas Brothers and I'm sure in the primitive minds back then it was felt he'd better look like them. He shouldn't have tried because Fayard and Harold dance him right off the screen.

Other than the minstrel number, Kid Millions is one of the best musicals from out of the Thirties and another showcase of the talented Eddie Cantor.