Pauvre petite fille

Little Shirley Temple stars as Barbara Barry, a pampered only-child growing tired her lonely, friendless life in her big empty mansion. She craves attention from her loving but absentee dad, the owner of a major soap brand, and even devotes an entire song sequence to how much she misses him, but the clueless man still thinks it is better to buy his daughter riches than to spend time with her.

When her nanny is struck in a hit-and-run at the train station, little Barbara strikes on her own to meet friends. After spending a day with an Italian organ grinder and his colorful family, Barbara joins up with Jack Haley and Alice Faye as down-on-their-luck married singers Dolan and Dolan. Adopting the identity of her favorite book character, Barbara tells the Dolans that she is runaway orphan Betsy Weer. Soon she is given another alias: Pretending to be the Dolan daughter, Bonny Dolan, Barbara turns their failing act around, and the trio is hired to advertise for the Peck Soap Company, the arch rival of Barbara's father's soap brand.

As Bonny, Barbara wins the hearts of all her audiences, until her father hears her voice singing on the radio. Mr. Barry finds his daughter just in time to save her from a mysterious stalker who has been following the young girl around throughout the entire movie, always accompanied by eerie orchestral music. In one scene, he peers through a window and watches Barbara sleeping, and in another, he tries to lure her away with the promise to buy her candy. What's even more disturbing is that the movie never says exactly what this creep wants with Barbara. The fate of Barbara's nanny is never revealed either; she is simply whisked away to a hospital after the car collision and is not seen or mentioned again.

Despite these two loose ends, Poor Little Rich Girl is a perfect example of the standard Temple story. All ingredients for a Shirley smash are here: long tap-dance numbers (Shirley's dance-off with Jack Haley will knock your socks off), lots of cute songs (particularly enjoyable are "Oh My Goodness" and "You've Gotta Eat Your Spinach, Baby"), a cranky curmudgeon who warms his heart to Shirley (in "Poor Little Rich Girl," it's Mr. Peck, but see Ned Smith in "Bright Eyes," Colonel Lloyd in "The Little Colonel," or Lord Wickham in "The Little Princess," for other examples), and a happy ending. Her story lines may seem trite and repetitive now, but they were what the nation wanted to see in the 1930s, when Shirley Temple was one of the biggest stars in the world and a guaranteed box office smash. Shirley was obviously enjoying the height of fame at the time of this movie, as one song, "But Definitely," makes a reference to two of her most famous songs, "The Good Ship Lollipop" and "Animal Crackers in My Soup."

This definitely is one of Shirley's three or four best, mostly because she is not required to perform a tearful treacly scene as in some other films, those which tug at your heart but later seem somewhat embarrassing. This is one in which she comes across as a young actress, and not simply as a personality. The musical numbers are unusually effective; probably because they are shared with Alice Faye and Jack Haley and not strictly solo. (You have to smile over the final number, when the military band number, well done though it is, is done with full costumes and choreography, even though the performance is taking place over a radio hookup.) Shirley conveys an innocence and trustfulness and joy in life which is a universe removed from portrayals of children in contemporary film and TV. One more remark: I was truly surprised to see the appearance of a pedophile in a film of that era, and to see Jack Haley confronting and fighting him as he is about to lead Shirley away from the apartment house.

...it's still vastly entertaining. It was common practice for 20th Century Fox to buy film rights to a classic novel, and turn it into a Shirley Temple vehicle that has not even a passing resemblance to the original. The book "The Poor Little Rich Girl" is far more tragic than this cute-fest, but as an entertainment film, it certainly succeeds.

The performances are right up there. One of my favourite screen stars Alice Faye is so brilliant, she never gets lost in Temple's glare as do so many of her costars. Jack Haley is hilarious, and the songs are amazing. Alas, Gloria Stuart isn't given much to do but she looks wonderful.

Favourite moments include the spaghetti-eating scene, Shirley's conversation with the curb-side porter and of course "You Gotta Eat Your Spinach Baby." Fine film for parents to watch with their kids.

Try to get the original black and white version if you can, the colorized version looks a little weird.

Not only does SHIRLEY TEMPLE have the opportunity to co-star with ALICE FAYE and JACK HALEY (just slightly before both of them hit it big), but she gets a chance to shine in a made to order Temple vehicle that closes with a memorable 'Military Man' tap routine, easily keeping up with the talented adult troupers.

Of all the show biz stories associated with Temple's films, this is one of the best. The story has Temple as the neglected daughter of MICHAEL WHALEN, skipping off after her nanny is involved in an auto accident and attracting the attention of entertainers Faye and Haley. A sub-plot has her father winning the love of the lovely GLORIA STUART--and, of course, the outcome is a predictable one when he is reunited with his missing daughter after hearing her perform on a radio show.

The slender plot serves mainly as a vehicle for Temple to be adored by her legion of fans. She doesn't disappoint, her winning ways fully exploited in either song or dance. In fact, this is probably one of her most charming song-and-dance performances.

Alice Faye, Jack Haley, Michael Whalen, Gloria Stuart, Billy Gilbert and Henry Armetta add to the enjoyment. All of it is directed in fine style by Irving Cummings (who also served as host on the Lux Radio Theater shows) so popular on radio.

Henry Armetta has a funny bit as an organ grinder with a monkey who has Shirley enjoy an Italian spaghetti dinner with his family. The only serious moments in the film involve, surprisingly, a stalker who seems to be lurking in doorways waiting for an opportunity to snatch Shirley off the streets. Fortunately, she survives for a happy ending and the stalking incident, while sinister enough, is given minor treatment in the story.

Summing up: Good family entertainment.

The second of four films Shirley Temple made in 1936 is a solid star vehicle tailored for her unique talents but, apart from her winning charm, proves to be hard tack as entertainment for this admitted non-fan of musicals! The thing is that the plot is so incredibly contrived that it's impossible to take any of it seriously: Shirley is the pampered daughter of a millionaire soap manufacturer who is eventually sent to an exclusive college so that she can be with children her own age instead of her prissy butler-nanny-guardian combo. However, she is stranded at the train station and never gets to the college but instead follows an Italian immigrant (Henry Armetta, who else?) who is an accordion-playing busker and has a pet chimp for companion. Before long, however, she is 'adopted' by the penniless husband-and-wife performing team of Jack Haley and (a constantly grouchy) Alice Faye who, thanks to Temple's addition to their act, become radio stars publicizing through song the products of a rival (and predictably cantankerous) soap manufacturer! All this while, Temple's dad is blissfully unaware of her absence from school and subsequent radio success because he's perpetually swooning over his rival's ad campaign manager (the lovely Gloria Stuart). Eech! Another decidedly irritating recurrence in the film is the mystifying appearance of a stranger (John Wray) who seems to follow Temple everywhere and is always on the point of molesting or kidnapping her but for Jack Haley's timely and heroic interventions! Having said that, the film satisfactorily climaxes with the "Military Man" production number which is a tour-de-force of virtuoso tap dancing performed by Temple, Faye and Haley in remarkable unison.