Here Comes Cookie

The plot is thin but the casting is stuffed with major faces from the heydey of Vaudeville. For most of these performers, uncredited as they were, this is the only recording of parts of their act. Enjoy the silliness and pretend you're at Minsky's.

In this sort of sequel to MANY HAPPY RETURNS, retired millionaire George Barbier finds his daughter Betty Furness, is engaged to a gold-digger Rafael Alcayde. To stop this, he gives all his money to his other daughter, Gracie Allen, and goes down to the small rural town he was born in, to wrestle Harry Holman. Completely misunderstanding -- surprise! -- Miss Allentakes in every broken-down vaudevillian and his trained seal. Plus when Alcayde learns of what Barbier has done, he tells Gracie he loves her and she him. So she decides to put on a show using all this lack of talent.

It's a particularly crazy comedy in which Miss Allen is in charge, and is visually inventive. While Burns nd butler Andrew Tombes are discussing how to find an unused bathroom, a spoons player or troupe of acrobats might pass in foreground or background. Credit director Norman Z. McLeod not only for his experience in silent comedy, but his time directing the Marx Brothers.

Burns and Allen who usually were in support of other stars got to carry this one by themselves. It is a laugh riot from start to finish. Trying to keep his normal daughter, Betty Furness from marrying a gigolo, George Barbier turns over his fortune to his other dimwitted daughter, Gracie Allen. What follows is one madcap situation after another as Gracie turns their home into a hotel for unemployed actors and then decided to produce her own show.

As good as Gracie is, mention must be made of George Barbier. A fine character actor who played fathers, his blustering reactions to Gracie's schemes are worth seeing the movie in and of themselves.

Here Gracie Allen excels. Her mind is delightfully mixed up and what she comes out with is completely wacky. She is an absolute scream and poor old George Burns is on the receiving end as per usual trying to make whatever sense he can out of it all.

Gracie is one of George Barbier's daughters. The other is Phyllis (Betty Furness) and she is engaged to a Hispanic - Ramon (Rafael Storm) - who is only interested really in getting his hands on Daddy's loot. (He is a millionaire). George (Burns) is Barbier's secretary. Barbier is at his usual blustery best and as a way of defeating Ramon's purpose - gives over his fortune to Gracie for 60 days so he can go to some remote place for a rest. Meanwhile Gracie has become interested in things theatrical and has turned the mansion into a flop house for out of work thespians. And, from there she is going to put on a show!

This is one of those madcap comedies where any sense of realism has to be chucked out of the window. All one has to sit back and enjoy, having many a laugh along the way.

Also in the cast is Andrew Tombes as "Botts" the butler, Jack Powell - a drummer who bangs his drumsticks on anything, not necessarily drums and a whole host of other variety acts.

Although billed as a Burns and Allen vehicle, it's actually George Barbier who has the main role and carries the weight of the comedy in this enjoyable, well-produced "B" movie. Not that I'm complaining. Barbier is not only more than equal to the task, he carries off more laughs than the dithery Miss Allen—who is delightfully partnered here not only by Barbier but by Andrew Tombes who makes the most of one of his largest and most ingratiating roles ever. George Burns has only a small role and seems to have been included in the cast simply to serve as an occasional butt for why-don't-you-marry-Gracie jokes.

Other players who register more strongly than Mr Burns include Betty Furness (as the daughter who comes to her senses), Rafael Storm (as the money hound), James Burke (as the fake swami), Syd Saylor (a credulous taxi-driver), and Harry Holman (a disillusioned crony).

As for the twelve (count them) vaudeville headline acts announced in the credit titles, we see only two (three if you count the fact that drummer Jack Powell is handed two bites), although five or six others flit by in the background.