Stand Up and Cheer!

A musical with a short running time and the original concept of a Broadway producer being appointed as the secretary of amusement by the U.S president . This becomes an excuse for a series of song and dance and cabaret skits with a loose plot which includes a cursory love story and some political skullduggery. Most of the song and dance numbers are tedious but it is interesting to see an early appearance from Shirley Temple. The comedy skits are rather better with Mitchell and Durant doing some wonderful acrobatics and Nigel Bruce, 14th billed as Dinwiddie, being droll, though his appearances are disappointingly fleeting (apparently there are 12 minutes lost from the original cut). Stepin Fetchit's antics will divide modern audiences in this P.C age!

As a whole, "Stand Up and Cheer" is quite a mess. The story that frames the musical numbers is silly and poorly executed, the musical numbers are rather drab and rife with racial stereotyping. But, most people who've sought out this film are watching it for one reason-Shirley Temple.

Temple and James Dunn are really the only bright spots in this production. Their on screen rapport is magic, and contrary to what others have stated, they BOTH hold their own during their crowd pleasing number "Baby, Take a Bow," in my opinion.

Truly a product of it's day. It's widely reported that this film brought smiles to the faces of many, and try as I may to ignore it's racial stereotypes, and bland dialogue, somehow the whole thing doesn't work.

But, as I have already mentioned, Jimmy and Shirley are pure magic.

With the country in the throes of the Great Depression, the President calls upon a celebrated Broadway impresario to become the first Secretary of Amusement, in the hopes that Americans can beat hard times by learning to smile, laugh, and, eventually, STAND UP AND CHEER!

It is always vital when examining old films to try to be sensitive to their context within their own time frames. Important movies of 70 years ago may look terribly trite now through absolutely no fault of their own. Judging by today's standards can often lead to pitfalls.

That having been stated, however, it is difficult to appreciate this film without seeing it for what it is: undeniably silly. And racist. And even a bit bizarre at times. But it contains one great jewel...

Earnest Warner Baxter & lovely Madge Evans certainly give the plot a try, but the script is dead set against them all the way, making him encourage hillbilly singers as the remedy for the nation's economic woes and having her mope about lovelorn & lonely.

As Aunt Jemima, blackfaced singer Tess Gardella (very popular at the time on Broadway's Show Boat) and especially Stepin Fetchit are embarrassingly stereotyped. It should be noted, however, that this sort of racial belittlement was not unusual in the Hollywood of the 1930's.

The physical, knockdown humor of Frank Mitchell & Jack Durant, playing a couple of zany U. S. Senators, is very odd & no longer funny. Odder still is the penguin that thinks he's Jimmy Durante.

Familiar faces show up from time to time - Nigel Bruce, Ralph Morgan, little Our Gang kid Scotty Beckett, warbling John Boles - but they are quickly submerged by the plot.

In the midst of all this clutter of mismatched parts, when all might be given up for lost, comes five-year-old Shirley Temple and she is an utter joy.

Shirley had already appeared in a series of features & shorts. But it was here, singing & dancing - and completely obliterating poor James Dunn who played her father - that the situation was ripe for her to march straight into the nation's heart. In 1935 Shirley would begin to star in her string of classic family films, and, with the death of Marie Dressler in July of 1934, the mighty moppet was to begin her reign as Hollywood's number one box office attraction.

So, with the arrival of Shirley Temple, we do indeed have much for which to STAND UP AND CHEER!

The portrayals of African American characters in this movie are, as has been pointed out, stereotypical, but I would like to suggest that where the actors themselves are allowed to show their talents, they transcend the stereotypes in ways even the filmmakers themselves recognized.

Take, for example, the show-stopping finale to "I'm Laughing," performed by Tess Gardella. There are a series of tableaux in this number, of various individuals all representing different marginalized groups: Immigrants, sweatshop workers, laborers of all kinds, all leading up to Tess Gardella herself busting out with the biggest, cheeriest performance of all, surrounded by a rousing, dancing chorus. It was clearly meant to recap the song's theme--if I can laugh, as downtrodden as I am, so can you--and to embody those who persevere and triumph over circumstance. With a swish of her ample hips and a gleam in her eye, Ms. Gardella triumphs.

The standard Stepin Fetchit routine has been analyzed everywhere, but let me just add that in this picture, the actor personifies African American resistance. In 1934 Black men were still not free from the vicious system of racial etiquette known as Jim Crow, and were therefore limited in the number of personae they were allowed to display. The genius of Stepin Fetchit is that he acts out the prescribed social role while frustrating those who prescribe it by withholding his intelligence and personality from the social interaction altogether. He slyly gives white people exactly what they demand,nothing more, forcing them to realize that perhaps that's not what they want after all. The resistance is his and the joke is on them.

This starts off quite promisingly, with a bumbling 'Dinwiddle" (Nigel Bruce) explaining to awaiting reporters just what his job as chief scout for Broadway impresario "Cromwell" (Warner Baxter) actually is. Then, right on cue, his boss arrives by gyro-copter on the White House lawn for a meeting at which the President offers him a $100m budget and one year as "Secretary of Amusement". His task? Cheer up the American populace after the misery of the 1920s. He quickly assembles his own cabinet - including "Mary" (Madge Evans) as his minister for children and sets about making us all smile. Sadly, Baxter and Evans - and their predictably evolving affection - feature but sparingly in what is essentially a compendium of just about every style entertainment act around at the time. An early outing for the smiling Shirley Temple is probably most notable, but even she struggles to breath much life into this almost documentary style film that could serve well as an history of what made Americans laugh in the early thirties. Some of the artistes work better than others, but a weak, occasionally politically driven, narrative and an off-form effort from what we do see of Baxter just doesn't really work. It watchable as a nostalgia exercise, but as little else I'm afraid.