Belle of the Nineties

Mae West throws all the curves in this one as a singer (?) in the 1890s who dumps her boxer boyfriend in a mix-up and runs off to New Orleans to perform and live there. She's featured in a stunning musical number where she models a shimmering gown against which numerous costumes are superimposed by a projector! One pose has her as lady liberty. Unfortunately, this is a less liberated, somewhat cleaned-up Mae West. She still likes to have fun, and enough gags remain to make this one worth a few solid laughs. Good production by Paramount.

It is the 1890's St. Louis. Vaudeville star Ruby Carter (Mae West) becomes involved with boxer Tiger Kid. His manager breaks them up and she leaves for New Orleans. Ace Lamont falls for her which drives Molly Brant jealous.

As Mae West transitions into the Code era, she seems to have a couple of different moves. Certainly, the jokes are a little tamer and this one has her singing more songs. I'm not a big fan of her singing. Her uniqueness derives from her bodied sexualized humor. I find myself fading during her singing. I'm not saying that it's bad in any sense. It's just not what I want from her.

The enforcement of the Hollywood production code in 1934 was abrupt, and for many in-production movies it meant hasty rewrites and reshoots. Belle of the Nineties, Mae West's follow-up to the phenomenally successful (not to mention outrageously code-flaunting) I'm No Angel and She Done Him Wrong, was just such a victim of the post-code cull.

Sources vary regarding this picture, but most agree it had to be adapted quite extensively to fit the more stringent regulations. The story is typical Mae West (she wrote her own material) but the jokes are a little lukewarm, suggestive of nothing more than a nice cuddle and the prospect of marriage. It's odd though because there is as always suggestion of much more in West's body language. Her opening scene is as good an example as any. A musical number, but West doesn't sing or dance; she merely flicks her eyes and sashays her hips as a number of backdrops appear behind her, a performance existing solely to convey her sexual allure.

As well as toning down the dialogue, the story seems to have been truncated, possibly to save time after the rewrites. A large chunk of plot is skimmed over with a few newspaper headlines. When West's character arrives in New Orleans she flirts with a young man who picks up her glove, and it looks as if he is going to become an important character, but he doesn't. The director is slapstick master Leo McCarey, who seems to be using the opportunity to fine-tune his cinematic technique, handling movement on different levels and keeping the camera chugging smoothly around. His biggest contribution is probably to show West's musical numbers from the point-of-view of a face in the crowd, with the camera often at her feet or peeping out between other silhouettes. All in all though it seems a little plodding for a McCarey job, and one wonders if the hassle of reshoots had drained his enthusiasm for the project somewhat.

Belle of the Nineties is perhaps the weakest of all the Mae West pictures, because it is like some strange hybrid. By leaving in West's promiscuous character and sassy mannerisms but taking out all the witty smut, Paramount has left us with something far more disturbing and questionable than the easygoing innuendo of her previous efforts. Things like the oddness of West's walk start to stand out as verging on ridiculous. Of course, the choice of leading man doesn't help either. Roger Pryor's childish grin as he gazes appreciatively at the blonde beauty is decidedly creepy in itself. A few years later, with Klondike Annie, West would work out a suitable post-code persona for herself, which without her trademark sexuality was mediocre though certainly watchable. But Belle of the Nineties, lacking the sex but having the set-up, is awkwardly bad.

Mae West's first vehicle following the enforcement of the Production Code emerges as a lesser comedy, despite the involvement of the renowned McCarey (who directed many a star comedian around this time, including various Laurel & Hardy shorts, Eddie Cantor, The Marx Bros., W.C. Fields and Harold Lloyd).

As ever, West wrote the script herself: having gone through the titles included in the R1 DVD collection not too long ago, this film can be seen to have adhered strictly to formula – so that, in spite of offering nothing new (all the men, be they naïve or unscrupulous, invariably throw themselves at the star's feet who, of course, plays a notorious chanteuse), the undercasting of the chief supporting players and the severely reduced trademark double entendres, it still gets by on the consummate professionalism on display (conveyed in Paramount's recognizable in-house style). Among the highlights here are a marathon boxing match, a typically soulful number by the underprivileged black community and the fiery climax.

The film's brief 70-minute running-time (in PAL mode) and unassuming plot line makes this ideal for late-night viewing; however, such rampant streamlining also leads to an overly abrupt denouement in which events are neatly tied up via a montage of newspaper clippings!

... Paramount Pictures, and director Leo McCarey. West stars as Ruby Carter, an infamous stage performer known as much for her headline-grabbing social life as for her sex-drenched song numbers. She gets mixed up in love with hot-headed boxer Tiger Kid (Roger Pryor) and New Orleans nightclub owner Ace Lamont (John Miljan). Also featuring Mike Mazurki in his debut.

The always-boundary-pushing West ran up hard against the censors and the newly tightening Production Code here, and much of the film had to be reshot to appease them. Even so, many scenes were cut depending on the market it was playing in, and the film proved to be West's first box office disappointment. There's not much to the story, but there rarely is in her films. They serve as a showcase for her unique charms and one-liners. The supporting cast is okay. I wasn't familiar with Pryor, who seems to have peaked with this movie before moving to radio (he does have a good voice), and while his attitude is right, he doesn't look like a boxer. Katherine DeMille, the adopted daughter of Cecil B. DeMille and the future wife of Anthony Quinn, is good (and sexy) as the former love of Miljan, and West's chief rival.