If I Had a Million

What a terrific 1932 film! Paramount's expensive depression comedy drama is one of the very best films made in the '30s and both a poignant and hilarious look at life in 1932 America. If you saw 42ND STREET and American MADNESS and perhaps THE KID FROM SPAIN all made the same year, you would have possibly the definitive early 30s films that allow as full a view of emotions and community as could be found. The cast is astonishing.. all the Paramount A- level stars, 8 of the best directors and 8 truly inspired vignettes present a balanced view of ordinary people 'winning a million dollars'... and their next move. My personal favorite was the prostitute who just wanted a good night's sleep, unmolested, and in a clean bed. The production values are huge, massive sets and elaborate scenes, especially the short one with Charles Laughton... the attention to detail and the fully realized settings are indicative of a very expensive film. All 8 scenes are terrific, not a slouch among them, and the final sequence in the old ladies home is particularly touching. George Raft's con man sequence and Gene Raymond's electric chair scenes are real eyeopeners given the irony involved. IF I HAD A MILLION is a film to find and celebrate. How amazing to have seen this in a 3000 seat cinema in 1932! imagine the cheering from the audience in the comedy scenes! What a crowd pleaser. In Australia this film ran prime time Saturday night 8.30pm on Nationwide free to air TV, such is its treasured reputation. It scored a ratings hit. True! check The TV guides here for ABC2 Saturday night Nov 1st 2009 if you do not believe me.

Seven directors contributed eight episodes to this experimental film that explores how different people react to receiving 1 million dollars as a gift. The only things linking the episodes are the fact that the donor is the same person and that it is the same lawyer who delivers the checks. The result is in part dramatic and in part funny but altogether as disparate in style and quality as it is in content. Personally, I found the longer episodes (H. Bruce Humberstone's and William Seiter's) more enjoyable than the brief ones (e.g. Ernst Lubitsch's and James Cruze's). If watching a regular movie is a bit like reading a novel, watching 'If I Had a Million' is more like reading a collection of short stories where you arrive at the conclusion that you like some while others fail to impress you.

I love this movie. I saw it once 26 years ago. Now I run a classic movie series in my community, and I'd love to find a 16mm print of the feature so I can show it. All I've been able to find is the W.C. Fields sequence, but I want the whole thing. Anyone have any ideas? Please e-mail me!

I remember finding the sequence of the prostitute receiving the money to be haunting and poignant: she goes to bed, sees she has TWO pillows on the bed, and gets rid of one. No way will she ever sleep with anyone she doesn't want to sleep with!

I love this movie, it's a special favorite of mine, and the memory of my first viewing of it thirty-some years ago is so pleasant that it's hard for me to be objective about its merits. That said, after seeing it again recently I'm more convinced than ever that If I Had a Million is one of the most underrated films of the '30s. As far as I'm concerned this is a movie that has it all: comedy, pathos, irony, melodrama, a hint of sex, several car crashes, and a cast boasting some of the greatest character actors of all time. Maybe it isn't perfect, maybe the tone is erratic and a couple of segments are a bit weak, but taken as a whole it's as entertaining as any film of its era.

The story concerns millionaire industrialist John Glidden, who is ill and believed to be dying. Sick he may be, but Glidden is nevertheless energized by the contempt he feels for the greedy relatives who have gathered to await his death -- and to collect whatever monies they might inherit, of course. Glidden is so infuriated by this hypocrisy that his anger gives him a new lease on life, and it inspires an idea that fills him with glee: he decides to leave his fortune to total strangers, one million dollars at a time. At first the plan is driven by spite, but as it unfolds Glidden becomes increasingly interested in the people who receive his bequest, in how they react to their unexpected luck and what impact the money has on their lives.

Made in 1932 in the depths of the Great Depression, If I had a Million surely must have represented a mouth-watering wish-fulfillment fantasy at the time of its release, when even a hundred dollars would have amounted to an amazing windfall for many viewers. The cast of familiar faces in cameo roles was a strong selling point in the wake of Grand Hotel and other star-studded extravaganzas, and naturally it's fun to see Gary Cooper, W.C. Fields, Charles Laughton, etc., among the players, but watching the film again today I am especially struck by the performance of Richard Bennett as millionaire John Glidden. Bennett (father of Joan and Constance) was a veteran stage actor who recognized this role for the plum assignment it was, and threw himself into it with gusto. His exuberant performance really drives the opening scenes and gives the story the strong presence needed to link the segments in a satisfying way. Bennett, wild-eyed and giddy, kicks off the show with all stops out, and this not only grabs our attention immediately but also serves to sharpen the contrast with the more subdued Glidden who returns at intervals throughout.

Reviewers commenting on this film tend to single out the comedy segments featuring Laughton, Fields, and Charles Ruggles, and they're all terrific -- although Laughton's scene is best recalled for its extreme brevity and resounding punchline -- but some of the dramatic vignettes of If I had a Million are equally notable. Wynne Gibson is poignant as the waterfront prostitute who can't believe Glidden is on the level, while George Raft, never the most nuanced of actors, is surprisingly effective as the small-time crook who comes to realize that his ostensible good fortune is not a blessing but a curse. The maudlin Death Row sequence featuring Gene Raymond has never been anyone's favorite, but at least it's brief. Two older actresses, Alison Skipworth and May Robson, each make a strong impression in separate segments. Skipworth is a joy as an aging vaudevillian settling into retirement, and she more than holds her own alongside W.C. Fields in the crowd-pleasing "road hog" sequence. Robson is gallant and deeply sympathetic in the final vignette, set in a home for old ladies, where she serves as a fierce advocate for the women against the home's repressive, tyrannical director. This last sequence is the longest in the film and teeters on the brink of sentimentality, but ultimately leaves us with the most satisfying denouement of them all.

As I noted up top my first viewing of this movie was a very pleasant one. In the summer of 1970 I rented a 16mm print of If I had a Million to show at a party, and it scored a big hit. The kids loved the car crashes, Charlie Ruggles' plate-smashing spree, and Laughton's Bronx cheer, while the grown-ups appreciated the clothing, slang, automobiles and general trappings of the early '30s, a period they remembered first-hand. In later years I found that broadcasts of the film on TV usually lacked the sequences featuring Wynne Gibson and Gene Raymond, and still later I found that the movie itself had become scarce, rarely shown anywhere and never officially offered in a home-viewable format. This limbo is apparently due to legal issues involving copyrights, but I do hope the matter will be resolved eventually. If I had a Million is a delightful film that richly deserves rediscovery by a new generation!

This is surely among Hollywood's first and most celebrated all-star compendiums, which also involved a plethora of equally notable writers and directors, but is best-remembered now for Ernst Lubitsch's contribution (it's actually the briefest episode of the lot!) and the hilarious W.C. Fields segment. The narrative revolves around wealthy but eccentric dying industrialist Richard Bennett (who's wonderful here, though his only other notable role was a brief dramatic turn in Orson Welles' THE MAGNIFICENT AMBERSONS [1942]) who, rather than leave his fortune to his "vulture" relatives and collaborators, decides to donate it indiscriminately by randomly choosing the names of eight strangers from the telephone book! Though it's stylishly handled all the way through, the episodes alternate jarringly between comedy, irony, melodrama and sentimentality – making the whole somewhat patchy.

Besides, a few of them are insubstantial (the Lubitsch/Charles Laughton and Stephen Roberts/Wynne Gibson segments, the latter as a prostitute who celebrates her freedom by sleeping in luxury and alone – making no secret of the girl's profession, who's later seen in her underwear and even removing her stockings, was only possible due to the relaxed censorship of the Pre-Code era) as well as repetitive (the immediate reaction of both Laughton and Charlie Ruggles, in a Norman Z. McLeod-directed episode where the star is typically flanked by the overbearing Mary Boland and which even incorporates a surreal nightmare sequence, on receiving the inheritance is to avenge themselves on their respective bosses). For that matter, Fields' segment (also helmed by McLeod) deals likewise with the sweet taste of revenge – as he and frequent sparring partner Alison Skipworth buy a number of cars simultaneously, after their brand-new vehicle has been destroyed by road-hogs, and spend the rest of the day giving irresponsible drivers they meet along the way a dose of their own medicine – but it's easily the highlight of the film.

The other episodes include: a prisoner on Death Row, Gene Raymond (directed by James Cruze), whose fortune arrives too late to change his fate; in a somewhat similar situation, the H. Bruce Humberstone-helmed segment has George Raft as a forger who, wanted by the Police, is understandably not given credit by any of his shady associates, even when he presents them with the $1 million figure – it does gain him lodging at a flop-house except that the owner, recognizing the forger from his photo in the papers, instantly turns Raft over to the proper authorities and obliviously uses the cheque to light his cigar! Again, a variation on this misuse of the money is the basis of the Gary Cooper episode (directed by William A. Seiter): he's one of three marines thrown in the stockade for unruly behavior – receiving Bennett's cheque on an April Fool's Day, he believes it all to be a mere prank, and uses it to buy himself and his pals a meal at a hamburger stand; after they all go out with the waitress there to a carnival and end up in another brawl, they're astonished the next day to see the girl and her employer living it up!

The concluding May Robson/Stephen Roberts segment – residing at a home for old ladies run by a female disciplinarian, she eventually utilizes the money to buy off the property and turn it into a recreation center (to which, ultimately, Bennett himself apparently retires!) – is among the longer episodes but also, obviously, the most sentimental. Norman Taurog, then, presumably directed the millionaire's scenes in his home and offices i.e. whenever he's not interacting with the other stars; it's unclear, however, what exactly constitutes Mendes' uncredited contribution. Unfortunately, the copy I acquired of this was rather fuzzy (after having longed for years to watch it); for what it's worth, the film is only currently available on R2 DVD, as part of a W.C. Fields collection: I didn't spring for the 10-Disc set for the simple reason that I already owned many of the titles included therein – though I'm still missing a few at this point