Bachelor Bait

This is a moderately interesting time-passer and nut much else. Now it started pretty well with hard working Stu Erwin opening a matrimonial agency and helping many lonely bachelors find mates--so far so good. But later, when a pushy gold digger appears and insinuates herself into the life of a lonely millionaire (who Erwin is trying to find a partner for), the film loses steam. It's really a shame, as up until then, Erwin was a likable character and the plot was moderately engaging. But with the introduction of the woman, the film became a bit annoying--after all, she is so pushy and unlikable that you soon tire of her. Fortunately, the film ends pretty well and is generally very inoffensive and typifies the word "mediocre".

Stu Erwin is fired from his job as clerk at the marriage license bureau. Based on his years of observing people in love, he goes into the matrimonial agency business. He is a roaring success andsoon acquires a partner in shyster Skeets Gallagher, but never realizes he loves his adoring secretary, Rochelle Hudson.

I rarely enjoy Erwin as a lead in his comedies; his slow-witted hick does not amuse me. Here, however, under George Stevens (directing his first feature at RKO), he's enjoyable amidst a cast that includes good roles for Pert Kelton, Grady Sutton, Berton Churchill, and Clarence Wilson. Stevens even sneaks in a brief, uncredited talking role for his father, Landers Stevens.

According to studio records, this movie was not a success. It booked a loss of $6,000. Stevens would do better by his backers.

"Bachelor Bait" is a fun and well executed little picture, kind of a gentle B+ level movie. It has good dialogue, well thought-out direction, sharp set decoration and lighting, and a fun cast of characters delivering their lines nicely. With all that, however, it somehow doesn't have anything really great going for it. But it is generally enjoyable and I am glad to have seen it. If you are a film buff of the era, you probably will be glad, too.

Stu Erwin usually played in supporting roles, but here he's given a lead in a comedy with a promising storyline. Unfortunately, his comic shoulders are just not broad enough to carry the load alone. He plays Bill Watts, an ex-employee of the Marriage License Bureau who decides to go into business as a matchmaker. Bill may have a bland exterior, but he has the soul of a romantic and it turns out that he is very good at what he does, thus his business booms. His problems begin when a millionaire shows up at his office (Grady Sutton) looking for a mate. Bill picks out his own secretary (Rochelle Hudson) as a potential wife, but an obnoxious and loud golddigger (Pert Kelton) inserts herself into the situation. From this point forward the story bogs down, not just because of the plot itself, but the gold digger gets tiresome in a hurry. This is the kind of role that could have been handled with skill by someone like Patsy Kelly, but Ms. Kelton's voice and presence soon becomes as irksome as fingernails on a blackboard.

This movie was made shortly after the production code came in, and I think that went a long way in sinking it. Movies were so completely sterilized in 1934 and 1935 that comedies that ventured anywhere near the topics of sex and romance often come across like the musical comedies of 1931 and 1932 that had all of their songs stripped out of them due to the hostility of the public toward movie musicals. Something is just missing.

The dialog is much sharper than you'd think; it's genuinely funny. Of course, some of it may be funny only in context: when one character asks what another would say, the Stuart Erwin character replies, "Peanuts, almonds, walnuts. . . "--getting around the prohibition about saying "Nuts!" while letting the audience in on the joke. Stuart Erwin is all right as the Average Joe, and although something's clearly lost for modern audiences in watching Rochelle Hudson's facial expressions (like Botox before Botox existed), the secondary characters are good. Pert Kelton ramps up her tough-talking sidekick schtick to become a tough-talking antagonist who'd be a perfect candidate for the matrimonial bureau except that one of the qualifications is that the ideal girl hasn't been touched by human hands. "You've got me there," she cracks. Watch for Berton Churchill's posing for a picture as a crime-fighting (all right, bumbling) district attorney; his expressions are priceless.