Millie

This creaky antique reworking of Madame X is of interest mainly for its pre-code ingredients, blatant lesbianism, unpunished sex outside marriage etc., than any real value as a film. A lot of the film techniques are reminiscent of silents showing the growing pains of films continued into the early thirties. Part of the problem with the film is that all the men talk about how the heroine gets under a man's skin and they can't get over her but Helen Twelvetrees exudes none of the magnetism that makes that believable. The supporting players add more to the picture than the leads with Lilyan Tashman having the most fun as a party girl with Joan Blondell and Frank McHugh both starting out but already stealing scenes with their patented personas firmly in place. Except for the three of them the acting is extremely florid, especially towards the end. An almost unrecognizable Anita Louise, still beautiful but so young, is cast as Millie's daughter.

Poor Millie! She marries for love - not money - and still ends up unlucky in love. There's something intriguingly contemporary about her consistently entering into bad relationships. Also contemporary is her decision to live with her boyfriend instead of marrying him - even though he does offer to marry her.

Helen Twelvetrees has the ability to make the heroine's story somewhat compelling despite the film's plodding structure. John Halliday is very appealing as Twelvetrees' suitor until his character turns surprisingly into a cad.

So what's the moral of this "woman's picture?" Millie is so hurt by her broken marriage that perhaps she errs in writing off her unfaithful husband so quickly. In him she may have found the only decent male character in the story.

It seems there was a curse on "Millie." Its four co-stars, Helen Twelvetrees, Lylian Tashman, Robert Ames and James Hall all died before they turned 50. As for the movie itself, its pre-code message is that all men are beasts who crave only one thing. The point is made through the saga of Millie Blake whom we first meet as a bashful bride on her wedding night (though even bucket loads of make-up can't hide the fact that Helen Twelvetrees is no teen-ager.) Nor is her paunchy husband an Adonis. Three years and a child later, she catches hubby canoodling with his mistress at a night club, files for divorce and valiantly (if stupidly) relinquishes the alimony she was entitled to. Plucky lass! From there on in, Millie fends off -- or gives in, depending on how you interpret the cutaways -- to a succession of over-age lotharios. But when one of them makes a play for her 16-year-old daughter, she has no choice. She has to shoot the dastard. By today's standards, Millie's sudsy exploits would be almost laughable. But by the standards of 1930/31, as movies were just learning to talk, it qualifies as an interesting (and sometimes downright entertaining) museum piece.

"Work?!? You won't have any time for opportunity!"

This forgotten RKO drama has been rediscovered since Roan Group released their beautiful,spotless DVD of it. While not much more than a "B" programmer, it's still fascinating, especially in its depiction of the sexes.

Mille's character, as played by Helen Twelvetrees, is a neurotic and pouty plain jane, so it's hard to imagine why these three men relentlessly go after her. Maybe because the men are neurotic losers themselves (no one in this film is a glamorous beauty by any means). We barely even get to know them, so the suffering she endures from their infidelity does not convince. Still, Twelvetrees gets points for trying.

But Millie's tribulations aren't the real star of this film.

While it's easy to project gay subtexts onto older films, here it's pretty indisputable that Millie's pals Helen and Angie are more than just friends. Watch Helen gussy herself up when she sees Angie across the room in the club. And their relations with men are based solely on financial gain--they clearly turn to each other for their other needs. Both Lilyan Tashman and Joan Blondell are quite funny in the roles, the former a world-wise goldigger and the latter a young, mercenary bubblehead. In their world, men are mere objects to be used with total detachment--the opposite of Millie, who allows herself to be exploited by men and then wallows in self-pity for the next 3 reels.

While not quite the best of pre-Code, MILLIE is still an important footnote for early 30s movie-making, and worth a look for those (like me) who can't get enough of pre-Catholic League Hollywood.

Fun to see a young Joan Blondell. She and Frank Mc hugh would make TONS of great films over the next 20 years. The sound and picture quality are surprisingly good for such a seldom seen film. Sure, it ain't no Gone with the Wind, but they packed a lot of story into this early love triangle, or quadrilateral, as the case may be.

Gal (Helen Twelvetrees is "Millie") falls in love, and keeps getting shafted by the men in her life. She is determined to be strong and independent, and protect herself and her daughter, Connie, played by Anita Louise. We see the daughter at the beginning, and again near the end, but she kind of disappears for most of the story. She and her two best friends get together and "help" each other whenever there is a crisis. Help is a relative term here... her two friends take a little too much delight in giving her bad news about her husbands and the guys who "done her wrong".

Good fast moving script for the most part. Granted, there are a couple scenes that don't really need to be there (the "drunk" scene, where the two gal pals console each other, and a couple others.) Takes on some bigger issues, way ahead of its time, but watch it for yourself to see what I mean. I think they are showing all kinds of true life "things", if one reads between the lines, that weren't normally talked about in films. I'm really surprised at the lower rating of "6" as of today, but with only 211 votes, I guess it hasn't been seen much. Directed by John Dillon, who had started EARLY on in the silents. You can tell this was a relatively new talkie, since they use title cards here and there. Novel written by Donald Clarke, who also wrote "Female", another story of an early, independent woman, made into film.