Juventud dorada

Snappy musical of songwriter (Lawrence Gray) who falls for a society girl (Helen Johnson) much to the chagrin of his faithful secretary (Wynne Gibson). Gray sings a few songs and there are some productions numbers from Broadway shows that feature May Boley, Benny Rubin, and Gibson.

Supposedly loosely based on the life of Irving Berlin, this is an interesting early musical, one of many that Gray starred in. The songs are pretty much integrated into the plot and chart the course of love as Gray writes songs for Johnson (also known as Judith Wood) and then creates dark lyrics when he learns she's only out for a lark.

I suspect some material has been cut and long lost since the film clocks in at a little over an hour.

Gray is a pleasant leading man, Gibson a surprise in her singing number, Boley a powerhouse (despite the hideous costumes) as the "red hot mama," and Rubin always good for a laugh. Cameos by Jack Benny and Cliff Edwards don't add much. Co-stars include Kenneth Thomson, Ann Dvorak (chorus girl), Mary Carlisle, Lee Kohlmar, and Doris McMahon, the girl from Buster Keaton's FREE AND EASY who wants to sing a funny song.

Because there is nothing of tots or titillation in this film. I will give it this. For an early talkie, it managed to transition between scenes without one title card. This is probably of interest only for film historians, and particularly those interested in the early sound era. And that is because it demonstrates just about everything wrong with the early talkie musical craze that so quickly turned movie goers off the genre for two years.

The cast is obscure unless you are really into that era of film history. Probably the cast member with the biggest future was Wynne Gibson, the best of the tough blondes of Depression era film. Almost emblematically, she is a brunette here. And yet she is the performer you will remember, and fondly.

This is often and oddly compared to "Lord Byron of Broadway", and I can't imagine why other than both films are MGM movies about songwriters. Except Lord Byron's songwriter is a heel and this songwriter, Danny Regan (Lawrence. Gray) is just romantically rash. In fact the entire film is about his confusion over picking the right woman. Because Regan is a songwriter and publisher at least the plot escapes being a complete backstager by being able to move between productions and not tethered to just one. But the featured musical numbers are very odd - the first number is an operatic song with minstrel accompaniment (???) and the second number has everybody dressed in felt with a single metallic barb coming out of the top of their costumes. And you haven't lived until you've seen Wynne Gibson and Benny Rubin try to sing a duet. Unfortunately the songs are just not memorable.

To pad the plot, for some reason Benny Rubin is inserted as the piano playing employee of an overweight middle aged diva whom he obviously finds repulsive and yet she chases the poor man tenaciously. Maybe they were going for a Margaret Dumont/Groucho Marx dynamic and just got way off target?

You can't say MGM didn't give Lawrence Gray plenty of opportunities. He played the lead in five of these early sound films before they gave him the boot, because although he had a great voice he just had no screen presence.

Jack Benny shows up in a short scene at the very beginning, I think mainly to explain to the audience just who Gray's character is. Benny wasn't a radio star yet, and I think this was the period of time where Benny was under contract to MGM, Irving Thalberg liked him but couldn't figure out what to do with him next, and Benny was getting bored.

Some say that this film was based on the marriage of Irving Berlin to heiress Ellin Mackay. If so, Berlin should have sued.

"Children of Pleasure" is a 1930 curio turning up on TCM. The film is a very minor early MGM musical you can label low budget B picture. However, any MGM B looks first class compared to Poverty Row cheapies. "Children of Pleasure" arrived during the first wave of sound musicals and isn't as stodgy and crude as other musicals of the time period. In fact, there's a slight hint of how musicals would evolve in a few years hence under Busby Berkeley.

The film is pre-code but the only risqué thing is the title. Story is simple and basic. Songs are forgettable. The actors are long forgotten names never achieving any kind of notable stardom. Songwriters and choreographer don't ring a bell. Director Harry Beaumont was a prominent name in silents and directed MGM's first sound musical "The Broadway Melody" (1929) winning a Best Picture Oscar.

Danny (Lawrence Gray) is a hot shot songwriter. Partner Emma (Wynne Gibson) loves Danny who only has eyes for spoiled heiress Pat (Helen Johnson). Will Danny end up with Pat or Emma? That's a pretty thin storyline serving as framework for several production numbers, Gray at the piano singing songs and Jewish schtick by comedian Benny Rubin.

There are delights to be found in "Children of Pleasure." Yes, that's a not yet really famous Jack Benny in a cameo. Also Cliff "Ukulele Ike" Edwards. The music has the real deal syncopation bounce never successfully imitated in later films set in this era. Some nice chorus girl line tapping. The politically correct police will demand the film be destroyed for its black face line of tappers.

The pleasure in viewing even a film this obscure lies in details. The sleek women with marcelled hair wearing great fashion. Gibson wears a dress that flows with her movement during her number. Set decoration is littered with art deco design showing on chairs and piano and distinct art deco objects.

Previous reviewers have hit the high spots in summarizing this 1930s musical from MGM. Lots of criticism has been thrown at the perceived inadequacies of the music and dance aspects of the movie. Yes, when looking at it through today's eyes, it looks dated, simplistic, and fairly unpolished. But the higher standards of the coming years hadn't arrived yet, so let's give this a break! Indeed the dance numbers could have been better rehearsed. If one looks closely, the footwork in the production numbers, while lacking Astaire/Rogers-like precision, is still pretty close. Where the real problems come are in the areas of arm, hand, head, and other body motions. It looks like those aspects of performance were never discussed with the cast, so the resulting dances look sloppy. But this was a step in the process of giving us the higher-level musical that some of us love so very much! Watch this film when you get the chance and enjoy this chapter in the development of an All-American art form!

If you are possibly going to spend 75 minutes or so out of your life watching an early musical from MGM, there's a strong chance you already know what you're in for--this short quickie, compared to a creation from Busby Berkeley at Warner's a few years later, is primitive indeed, but captures a time and place in Hollywood like few other films are able to do.

The plot is simple--winsome secretary loves a songwriter who falls for a society dame. The songwriter is zippy Lawrence Gray who smiles through his tears, and composes a song when he wants to express himself in love or out of it. One of his interpreters (and comic relief) is a Sophie Tucker type, a sort of Red Hot Mama attached to her ethnic pianist (at least that's how's he's played). We get some peeks at various musical numbers, some out-of-step minstrels in a theatre and a nutty song and dance in a nightclub--and "you ain't seen nothing" until you've seen the production number for "Dust," one of the hero's hits--with several helpings of actual dust--and later, a catchy little number "The Whole Darned Things For You."

The pleasures in this film are to be found in the sense of history it represents, awkward dealings with the sound, none of it prerecorded--even an outdoor encounter with comedian Jack Benny is fascinating, and one wonders if the subway entrance was a location shot or on the MGM lot. "Jiminy Cricket" Cliff Edwards also makes a jokey cameo, and the film zips along at a good pace--but ending as if the producer decided the company had run out of resources and just called "cut" and "print." Children of Pleasure is an archivist's delight!