Millie

It seems there was a curse on "Millie." Its four co-stars, Helen Twelvetrees, Lylian Tashman, Robert Ames and James Hall all died before they turned 50. As for the movie itself, its pre-code message is that all men are beasts who crave only one thing. The point is made through the saga of Millie Blake whom we first meet as a bashful bride on her wedding night (though even bucket loads of make-up can't hide the fact that Helen Twelvetrees is no teen-ager.) Nor is her paunchy husband an Adonis. Three years and a child later, she catches hubby canoodling with his mistress at a night club, files for divorce and valiantly (if stupidly) relinquishes the alimony she was entitled to. Plucky lass! From there on in, Millie fends off -- or gives in, depending on how you interpret the cutaways -- to a succession of over-age lotharios. But when one of them makes a play for her 16-year-old daughter, she has no choice. She has to shoot the dastard. By today's standards, Millie's sudsy exploits would be almost laughable. But by the standards of 1930/31, as movies were just learning to talk, it qualifies as an interesting (and sometimes downright entertaining) museum piece.

Poor Millie! She marries for love - not money - and still ends up unlucky in love. There's something intriguingly contemporary about her consistently entering into bad relationships. Also contemporary is her decision to live with her boyfriend instead of marrying him - even though he does offer to marry her.

Helen Twelvetrees has the ability to make the heroine's story somewhat compelling despite the film's plodding structure. John Halliday is very appealing as Twelvetrees' suitor until his character turns surprisingly into a cad.

So what's the moral of this "woman's picture?" Millie is so hurt by her broken marriage that perhaps she errs in writing off her unfaithful husband so quickly. In him she may have found the only decent male character in the story.

Helen Twelvetrees (Millie) stars as the title character in a soap opera story of her life. We follow her as she gets married to wealthy James Hall (Jack) as an innocent girl and we end up almost 20 years later. How does she change during this period? Pretty drastically.

The supporting cast are good despite every character being portrayed as deceitful - the men are cheaters and the women are gold-diggers. Lilyan Tashman (Helen) and Joan Blondell (Angie) have the most entertainng parts and they are funny with their dialogue. They also provide some glamour with their outfits and the sets are interesting. We also get creepy John Halliday (Jimmy) who keeps trying his luck with Twelvetrees over the course of the film. Well, if the girl doesn't wanna play what's a man to do?

It's a woman's film from the early 1930s and is of historical interest as that.

This creaky antique reworking of Madame X is of interest mainly for its pre-code ingredients, blatant lesbianism, unpunished sex outside marriage etc., than any real value as a film. A lot of the film techniques are reminiscent of silents showing the growing pains of films continued into the early thirties. Part of the problem with the film is that all the men talk about how the heroine gets under a man's skin and they can't get over her but Helen Twelvetrees exudes none of the magnetism that makes that believable. The supporting players add more to the picture than the leads with Lilyan Tashman having the most fun as a party girl with Joan Blondell and Frank McHugh both starting out but already stealing scenes with their patented personas firmly in place. Except for the three of them the acting is extremely florid, especially towards the end. An almost unrecognizable Anita Louise, still beautiful but so young, is cast as Millie's daughter.

Prolific director John Francis Dillon's 1931 "Millie" is a curiosity piece, a pastiche of poor editing and some sprightly acting vignettes.

Millie, Helen Twelvetrees, starts off as a swept-off-her-feet kid eloping with handsome and ambitious Jack Maitland, James Hall. Her shaking virgin-wedding night-do we have to go to bed?- scene is very funny, one of the best of its kind on old film.

Ensconced in Westchester County outside NYC, Jack makes big bucks and Millie, now three years on and with a little girl, is neglected, bored and angry at her absent husband. A reunion with two girlfriends at a cabaret brings an encounter with an errant Jack and his foul-mouthed paramour who gets a sock in the jaw from Millie.

Divorced and working in New York City, Millie leads a socially active life with fast-track friends and wild parties. Reflecting the hesitancy of many directors and script writers at the time it's never really clear if Millie goes beyond gay partying to hop into the sack with rabidly panting, pursuing men, some already married.

Millie has one true male admirer, a reporter named Tommy, played by Robert Ames. A drunken twit tells Millie he's fooling around with another woman and she believes her, ending the best relationship she's had. Tommy's a sad case.

The story turns melodramatic when an older man-about-Manhattan, long obsessed with Millie, shows an unhealthy interest in her now gorgeous teenage daughter, Connie. The denouement is predictable but there's a nice trial scene to wrap things up.

"Millie" skirts on the border of dealing openly with adultery and promiscuousness. What is unusual is that the film has a clear sapphic subtext depicting Millie's two girlfriends as sexually involved - the first scene they're in shows them in bed in nightclothes. THAT was very unusual for the times. I wonder how many 1930s moviegoers picked up on that.

Most of the cast isn't well known other than to aficionados of pre-war films. Joan Blondell, whose career was in the ascendancy, is young Angie, a flighty friend of Millie and probable lover of her other girlfriend.

Better direction and editing would have improved a basically interesting story. It's a museum piece worth seeing if you care about how Hollywood portrayed extramarital flings, lechery, boozing and partying in the grand old Pre-Code Days.

5/10.