The Show of Shows

THE SHOW OF SHOWS (Warner Brothers, 1929), directed by John G. Adolfi, originally presented in early two-strip Technicolor, became Warner Brothers' answer to MGM's earlier all-star musical, "The Hollywood Revue of 1929," which brings almost all of its contract players, former stars of the silent screen, and recent recruits from Broadway, to show off their musical talents, or their lack of. The master of ceremonies in this vaudeville-type production is Frank Fay, who spends the first half of this revue trying to have the spotlight all to himself and to sing a song or two, even a few times trying to sing "Dear Little Pup" to his dogie, but is always interrupted by comedy acts or singers who feel they could do better, and they usually can. For a musical revue that goes on for almost two hours, one can only say that this is a mixed bag of production numbers that either entertains or doesn't. What can be said about "The Show of Shows" when seeing it today is that it plays to 1929 audiences, in other words, there are many performers in this revue who appear without any introduction, such as the legendary John Barrymore (who still needs no introduction in my book), Monte Blue leading a West Point military march, or the then popular French prizefighter, Georges Carpentier, singing "If I Could Learn to Love" in front of a curtain backdrop of the Eiffel Tower, accompanied by Patsy Ruth Miller and Alice White, among others, assuming that viewers of 1929 watching this review automatically know who these people are, but for the first-time viewer, this individual will start asking himself, "Who is that?" Nostalgic buffs and star searchers can otherwise sit back and enjoy spotting some of their favorite movie stars then just starting out in the business, including the better-known faces of Myrna Loy, Loretta Young, Harriette Lake (who became Ann Sothern) and/or Douglas Fairbanks Jr.

In brief, THE SHOW OF SHOWS musical program features: PROLOGUE UNIQUE: Hobart Bosworth as an executioner and HB Warner as the victim in a brief skit set during the French Revolution; THE MILITARY PARADE: lead by Monte Blue and marching and drum playing West Point cadets; FLORADORA GIRLS: Myrna Loy, Marian Nixon, Ben Turpin, Lupino Lane, and many others in 1890s costumes; THE PIRATE NUMBER: featuring Ted Lewis with motion picture pirates including Noah Beery, Tully Marshall, etc.; EIFFEL TOWER: Georges Carpentier; RECITATIONS: Beatrice Lillie, Louise Fazenda, Lloyd Hamilton and Frank Fay, later going into their song, "Your Mother and Mine"; EIGHT SISTER ACT: Hosted by Richard Barthelmess, followed by sisters including Dolores and Helene Costello singing "Meet My Sister," along with Loretta Young and Sally Blane, Sally O'Neil and Molly O'Day, Alice and Marceline Day; Marion Byron and Harriett Lake; and others. Following this number comes a title card that reads INTERMISSION: TEN MINUTES (which is usually eliminated from most TV prints); SINGING IN THE BATHTUB: Winnie Lightner, which concludes with Lightner and Bull Montana singing "You Were Meant for Me"; IRENE BORDONI HERSELF: Bordoni singing "Just an Hour of Love"; Chinese FANTASY: Introduced by Rin-Tin Tin; with Nick Lucas singing "Li-Po-Li" and Myrna Loy dancing (this number now can be seen in its restored two-strip Technicolor); FAY AND SILVERS: Amusing skit with Sid Silvers stepping in and auditioning for a solo spot, showing Frank Fay his own imitation of Al Jolson by singing "Rock-a-Bye Your Baby With a Dixie Melody"; BICYCLE BUILT FOR TWO: Chester Conklin, Douglas Fairbanks Jr., Chester Morris; Gertrude Olmstead, Sally Eilers, among others; BLACK AND WHITE: Introduced by Sid Silvers, danced by chorus girls dressed up in black and white dresses; YOUR LOVE IS ALL THAT I CRAVE: Sung by Frank Fay (he finally got to do his solo); KING RICHARD III: Introduced and recited by John Barrymore; Mexican MOONSHINE: Comedy sketch with Monte Blue as a condemned man, and Frank Fay as his executioner, accompanied by Lloyd Hamilton, Albert Gran and others as soldiers; LADY LUCK FINALE: Sung by Alexander Gray with Betty Compson briefly seen as Lady Luck; and STARS: with the entire cast appearing with their heads poked through holes in canvas singing "Lady Luck", especially John Barrymore making facial gestures while he pretends to be singing along with the others.

THE SHOW OF SHOWS is fortunate to have survived almost intact after all these years, considering how many movies of 1929 are no longer available for viewing. The most memorable performer besides John Barrymore (whom I wished could have been the master of ceremonies instead of Fay), is Winnie Lightner, whose energetic and unique comedic style, in the persona of of future vibrant singers as Martha Raye or Betty Hutton combined, who not only sings in the bathtub, but lightens up the rough spots by singing "Ping Pongo," And then there's Nick Lucas singing "Lady Luck" and "That's the Only Song I Know" with his guitar.

A predecessor to the once popular fad of TV variety shows of the 1950s and '60s, THE SHOW OF SHOWS which is one from the time capsule, is worthy entertainment that should be viewed at least once, and to get the feel of the bygone days of vaudeville, here captured on film Hollywood style. WPHL, Channel 17, in Philadelphia, was one of the very few known commercial television stations to frequently play THE SHOW OF SHOWS in the early 1970s (final air date: December 31, 1974). In later years when brought over on cable, it was shown on Turner Network Television (TNT) from 1988 to 1993, and later on Turner Classic Movies (more frequently prior to 1997). (***)

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

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

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.

This is a deliriously colossal vulgar silly all star extravaganza revue of all the early talkie stars that Warner Bros could afford. ...and like most other rarely seen films actually made during the late 20s, an unforgettable opportunity to see and hear the genuine roaring twenties' exuberance and youthfulness put to song and dance. THE SHOW OF SHOWS is pretty gigantic. Vaudeville act after soliloquy after tap dance after acrobat after comedian after fan-dance after ukulele lunacy after Rin Tin Tin who introduces 'an oriental number'...(!)... and on and on it lumbers, grinning and squeaking away in fabulous gramophone quality Vitaphone sound. It is far too long, but among it's delirious delights are the awesome "Singin in the Bathtub" number created on a scale of which The QE2 architects would be proud...Beatrice Lillie lounging by a grand piano with some happiness boys amusingly warbling a witty ditty, Nick Lucas, and the never-ending grand finale in two color color...which is all set to the song LADY LUCK. . So keen are the tubby chorus line and leaping teenagers to en-ter-tain us that they almost kick themselves repeatedly in their own faces with glee and effort. Row after row of "Doll" characters hop past and some even emerge from the floor. I kid you not, there are even girls strapped to the crystal chandeliers, mummified with shiny gauze and chained up with pearl ropes, unable to move (for days, I imagine, during production) whilst this katzenjammer of toy-box athleticism twitch and spasm below to the Ukulele orchestra. Of course I loved it and had to watch this color finale over and over and then invite friends and family to the screen for weeks on end just to horrify and terrify them each separately and to roll about on the lounge in shrieking in delight at each and every exclamation of their startled reactions. And so should you...and rejoice that there was an era when this was created simply to entertain and thrill. It is all so demented.