The Show of Shows

But not just any movie fans, I'm talking to hard core movie fans, movie historians, movie archaeologists and those who want to understand early Hollywood. If you are one of these, this Hollywood antique is for you. It is somewhat entertaining and most of the stars and specialty acts are long gone and mostly forgotten. Comedy has evolved and what's here is old and stale, but nevertheless "The Show Of Shows" is a fascinating 2-plus hours of the way things used to be, entertainment-wise, in the early part of the 20th Century. Ever heard of Frank Fay, Irene Bordoni or Lupino Lane? Thought not. Maybe your parents have and surely your grandparents did. This picture is like a Who's Who of oldtime entertainers, and if you fall into one of the categories mentioned at the beginning of this review, this one is a must.

Although dismal as cinema (static wide-angle camera records acts performed on a large theatre stage) it is great notstalgia to see (in a few rare close-ups) stars of the 20's, many of whom were yet to become famous. Particularly, as Master of Ceremonies, Frank Fay, who, 15 years later in 1944, would be cast on Broadway in a role which had already been offered to (and turned down by) 4 famous stars: Harold Lloyd, Edward Everett Horton, Robert Benchley, and Jack Haley. Frank Fay then originated in his greatest role the character Elwood P. Dowd in the Mary Chase play "Harvey" (the name of his imaginary 6-foot-tall rabbit friend). When the producers later sent Fay to take the National Touring Company cast on the road, the play then continued on Broadway with the remaining cast, but with role of Elwood P. Dowd played by James Stewart, who had just finished his movie characterization of George Bailey (It's Wonderful Life). Another road show cast I saw in 1947 at San Francisco's Geary Theatre starred Joe E. Brown, who would recommend Stewart for the movie version.

A really big show from Warner Bros. "The Show of Shows" was the studio's version of rival MGM's highly successful musical variety series (which are, presently, restored by Warner Bros.). Unfortunately, only the "Oriental" number introduced by Rin Tin Tin is currently availably in color; originally, only a small part of this film was presented in black and white. Audiences likely enjoyed the extravagant opportunity to see some of their favorite stars in an "All-talking, all-singing!" motion picture...

Contributing also as a writer, host Frank Fay does a good job. The studio's biggest star at the time was Richard Barthelmess (rising from #8 in 1928 to #7 in 1929 according to the annual Quigley Poll of Box Office stars); he does not sing or dance, preferring to briefly appear as a dignified presenter. The legendary Al Jolson does not appear at all, but Sid Silvers imitates him well. John Barrymore contributes a fine excerpt as "Richard III" from "Henry VI" - rare celluloid from the Shakespearian maestro...

Another highlight is the biggest hit song from the show, "Lady Luck" performed memorably by band-leader Ted Lewis (who took it to #3 on the record charts) and singer-guitarist Nick Lucas (who helped keep Lewis from rising higher by locking down #1 for ten weeks with his "Tip Toe Through the Tulips"). Of the many cover versions, "Singin' in the Bathtub" (a good-natured poke at MGM's "Singin' in the Rain") rose to #10 in a version by Guy and Carmen Lombardo; here, Winnie Lightner contributes a vibrant version.

***** The Show of Shows (11/21/29) John G. Adolfi ~ Frank Fay, Nick Lucas, Winnie Lightner, John Barrymore

An amazing Moulin Rouge style film, with great songs and cameos from Myrna Loy and Beatrice Lillie. Amazing songs, including "Singing in the Bathtub", A good old-fashioned film, vaudeville at its best. It is well produced, and if they had added a storyline, it would have detracted from the entertainment. However, this film is impossible to find on video

It is difficult to evaluate this or any other comparable film of the early sound era in terms that one might use for ordinary film commentary. At times there is almost a desperation, as many film personalities of the silent era try their wings at sound, surely fearing that they will be left by the wayside (as did happen to some), Rin-Tin-Tin. however, was pertfectly natural. In such a vaudeville of unrelated sequences, some were sure to stand out John Barrymore's soliloquy from Richard II is a moment certainly worth preserving. By and large, only those with earlier stage training exuded confidence. However, this is over all reasonably entertaining, and a must for "film buffs" especially interested in the silent to sound transition