Chercheuses d'or de 1935

The GOLD DIGGERS OF 1935 converge on a resort hotel and get involved in staging a lavish charity stage show.

With this film, Busby Berkeley, Warner Bros.' genius choreographer, produced another tuneful, eye-popping spectacle to beguile Depression audiences out of their spare change. With some gutsy performers unhampered by anything remotely resembling an intelligent plot, Berkeley provided plenty of laughs & glitz in this follow-up to his popular GOLD DIGGERS OF 1933.

The large cast is all attuned to the nonsensical merriment. Preppy Dick Powell is in excellent good voice as the hotel employee wooing rich girl Gloria Stuart, who only has to look lovely for the cameras. Alice Brady is properly shrill & strident as a miserly millionaire insistent on getting her own way in all things. Hugh Herbert is delightful as a daffy fellow interested only in his collection of snuff boxes.

Hilarious Adolphe Menjou steals his every scene as a penniless Russian impresario who is obviously slightly crazed. Bold & brassy, the marvelous Glenda Farrell gets to play the only true gold digger in the film. Frank McHugh is Brady's son, desperate to enjoy a forbidden romance. Grant Mitchell oozes unctuous charm as the somewhat smarmy hotel manager.

Movie mavens will recognize Nora Cecil as the head hotel housekeeper & E. E. Clive as Herbert's chauffeur, both uncredited.

While the cast is all shamelessly willing to entertain, it is the two production numbers near the film's climax which have given it its place in movie history. ‘The Words Are In My Heart,' with its gorgeous girls and hypnotically undulating white pianos, showcases Berkeley's love for regimented precision & choreography, engendered years before during his stint with the military. The seminal ‘Lullaby Of Broadway' is a perfect example of Berkeley's way of telling a story through music & dance--in this instance the tale of a Big City girl's ultimately horrific night. These two completely different numbers are tied together by the skein of Berkeley's genius and counterpoint each other beautifully.

Shot in crisp B&W with some lavishly designed sets and brilliant lighting techniques, the musical numbers in this film shine because of the sheer genius of Busby Berkeley's fantastic routines.

The story is thin and silly, but from start to finish it's an entertaining show with Dick Powell and Gloria Stuart in the romantic leads supported by such stalwarts among character actors as Alice Brady, Frank McHugh, Hugh Herbert and Adolphe Menjou. Dorothy Dare and Wini Shaw are added delights.

It's the typical boy meets girl story with Powell assigned to be a protective escort (as a business proposition posed by wealthy Alice Brady) whose daughter wants some excitement in her life before promising to marry stuffy Hugh Herbert.

But once the songs start spinning and the clever camera work gets going, the viewer will appreciate all the effort that went into this undertaking. Especially striking is the final musical sequence built around "Lullaby of Broadway," first the segment with the white pianos and then the actual dance routine choreographed brilliantly by both Busby and the Warner cameras.

Striking talent on display here, worth a peek if you're a fan of the old Warner Brothers musicals. Alice Brady is a riot as the world's stingiest wealthy woman always devising ways to do things on the cheap.

Who cares if this plot has been seen before, and/or how many times? There is pure magic in this film, and the magic is the production number, "LULLABY OF Broadway". This picture deserves classic status for that number. It starts with the very affecting voice of a woman singing right to the audience. We are treated to an elderly Fred-and-Ginger type of dancing which, in spite of the ages of the dancers, is one of the smoothest, slickest, thrillingly romantic dance sequences you'll ever see. Then there is the tippy, tappy magic of ALL those dancers, tapping their way onto the screen. There is no better production number ever to appear in any movie. (I am allowed exaggeration; I am Sicilian). Do yourself a great favor and see this dance number.

Caught this one on TCM the other night.

Good music, lots of beautiful girls and an inane plot, humorously acted out by a talented cast. What more could anyone ask for? This is what the "movies" were all about when life outside the theater was in the middle of the Great Depression. You might be making 25 bucks a week and probably forked over a quarter to see this picture. For your money you were able to forget your troubles as you watched the Busby Berkeley dance numbers and listened to the tunes of Harry Warren and Al Dubin. Not a bad deal then and still enjoyable now on cable, video or DVD.

It seems to me that the actors of that era had more talent than most of those plying the craft these days. I also like the cast introductions, common to the era, showing a brief moment from the film, portraying the introduced in a flattering way. Style and class unfortunately seem to be in short supply in most films of the present era which has become much more concerned with finding new ways to shock or offend us as they happily take our money (9 bucks?).

Sure, there were better examples of the 1930s musical genre but this one really ain't all that bad. You could do worse than sit down and watch.

As in Berkeley's earlier (and weaker) 'Dames', a pretty silly one-note plot is balanced by some amazing camera work and visual story telling in the musical numbers.

At least the story we have to put up with to get to the dancing is a bit less annoying, and the acting a bit better. Adolph Monjou is fun as a con-man, Dick Powell is a bit toned down and less annoyingly 'gee-whiz' as our hero and Hugh Herbert is a bit more fun as 'the rich buffoon' than Guy Kibbie in the earlier film.

And I will admit to sitting there, mouth open, saying 'how did he get those huge old cameras to do that?!?' And the huge, complex, dance number 'Lullaby of Broadway', often considered Berkley's greatest, is oddly, wonderfully dark in its implications. A whole story told in dance unto itself.