Nine O'Clock Folks

Never saw such trick tap dancing - amazing! Too bad the performer is uncredited. The rest, I could skip

A group of rustic old-timers and countrified acts perform in a theater before the town's curfew forces everyone home under the supervision of Master of Ceremonies Roy Fant.

These are some old-fashioned acts, including a fellow who dances in shoes with long, ski-like projections, like Little Tich, a washboard-and-mandolin band (including Eddie Lang!) performing 'Saint Louis Blues' and the inevitable dog act. The performances are good, but it looks like director Roy Mack, who directed most of Warner Brothers' Vitaphone shorts in this period doesn't really think much of this show. Cameraman Edwin DuPar attempts to jazz up the proceedings with the occasional Dutch angle, but this is largely one for the audience to laugh at, rather than laugh along with.

Well, well well. What do we have here? A stupid hillbilly short. So we get to see a bunch of hick acts including a dancing man with big shoes (who's okay), a horrific female vocal trio, and an idiotic emcee. Oh. And the dog. Apparently hillbillies can't tell the difference between a drunkard and a dog. (It's a mystery how they ever got that dog into that little suit and hat!)

But amidst all the silliness and stupidity, a light shines out in the darkness...The Mound City Blue Blowers! Yes! Everybody's favorite comb-and-paper soloist, Red McKenzie, is there with his band. Jack Bland and a young Eddie Condon are on strings, and the three of them really heat things up. Unfortunately, the experience is marred by an awful man on whisk brooms and suitcase. Frank "Josh" Billings, with his blacked-out teeth and hillbilly haircut completely undercuts the greatness of the band, and, even more unfortunately, the camera remains on Billings and his suitcase most of the time, and not on the real musicians.

If you can get past the idiot hillbillies, then it's a good short. I suggest skipping the rest of the short and watching only the part with the Blue Blowers. And I suggest watching that part with your eyes shut.

I've seen this film. To say that it contains "pet cruelty" is absolutely ridiculous. A man (presumably a dog trainer) is guiding his dog through a routine of tricks. For the most part, the man is relatively gentle with the dog. At other times, he is simply being playful, but definitely not cruel. The segment is actually pretty funny. Overall, the film is very important as a document of the legendary Mound City Blue Blowers. Aside from their unique instrumentation, one of the band's founders, Red McKenzie, played a pivotal role in the promotion of Chicago jazz musicians, particularly those associated with the Austin High School Gang.

When talking pictures came in, a lot of vaudeville performers were able to preserve their acts on film ... notably in the Vitaphone shorts filmed in Brooklyn (NY), which typically ran for ten minutes. Unfortunately, some vaudeville acts didn't deserve ten minutes on their tod, so several of them would be lumped together in a compilation film. 'Nine O'Clock Folks' is one such godawfulness, which has so little talent on offer that it even manages to bung in a vague attempt at a plot line.

We're in some hick village in the Ozarks where the folks need a new steeple, so they put on a show to raise the money. The best turn on the bill here is Wilbur Hall, unbilled in the credits but playing some guy named 'Bert'. He does his eccentric dance on a pair of plank shoes, which he performed previously (and better) in 'King of Jazz' and would later repeat on Spike Jones's TV show. For an even better and funnier dance on similar shoes, look for the film 'Little Tich and His Big Boots' which was made way back in 1900 but has recently been spotted on YouTube.

Three young ladies billed as Faith, Hope and Charity are quite pretty (well, two of them are) but insist on performing a song in that horrible twangy harmony which renders so many country-western songs unbearable for me.

We also get an act cried the Toonerville Trio ... all four of them, and that's the most entertaining part of their act. They perform 'Saint Louis Blues' on some sort of skiffle instruments. A previous IMDb reviewer has called them the 'legendary' Mound City Blue Blowers, but I don't see (or hear) what's so 'legendary' about them. There seems to be some rule about blues musicians: the more obscure and unimportant any bluesman was, the more important some writer will make him out to be.

The closing turn, with a dog dressed in human clothes, is genuinely painful to watch: not because it's allegedly cruel to the dog, but because it's just so stupid and unfunny. It's made even worse because this act is ostensibly being performed for all those hillbillies in the room, but it's staged in a manner so that it would be impossible for most of them to see. Which makes them luckier than me, sitting through this rubbish. My rating for "Nine O'Clock Folks": one point out of ten. If I have to spend ten minutes with hillbillies, I'd rather be with Daisy Mae and a jug of moonshine.