Una povera bimba milionaria

Here is another very nice Shirley Temple film, one of the above-average ones for her (and most of hers were above-average to start with!). This one featured really nice characters, downplayed the villain, and had a lot of songs.

It didn't have as much tap dancing as I would like to have seen, but it did feature a prolonged dance at the end with Shirley, Jack Haley and Alice Faye.

The villain was some mysterious dude who was either a child molester or a kidnapper. It was never really explained. Thankfully, he had a small role. Otherwise, it was all good people and fun ones to watch. I like seeing Gloria Stuart in her early days, too.

The story is predictable, but most of them are and everyone winds up happy in the end. I find nothing wrong with that! It's all the better that Shirley winds up with vaudeville performers, guaranteeing we get a lot of musical entertainment in this movie. And.....where else but a Shirley Temple movie, would you have a song called "You've Got To Eat Your Spinach, Baby?"

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.

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.

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.

Shirley Temple is our Poor Little Rich Girl who gets pampered by her widower father Michael Whalen a soap manufacturer with a radio program and rival to Claude Gillingwater. When a lot of the servants tell Whalen he's spoiling the child by treating her like a hothouse plant and school might be good for, he entrusts Temple with Sara Haden to take her to a boarding school.

But on the way there, Haden meets up with an accident when she's hit by a car. Temple left to her own devices decides to go on 'vacation' first with organ grinder Henry Armetta and his family and later with former vaudevillians Alice Faye and Jack Haley who are trying to get a break in radio.

Wouldn't you know it, Faye and Haley decide that Shirley is just what they need for their act and no one else has a claim on her since Shirley said she ran away from an orphanage. And of course who does our little moppet charm into giving them a radio program? None other than her father's rival soap magnate, cantankerous old Claude Gillingwater.

Since this is a Shirley Temple movie I think you know where this is all going. Shirley's little white lie about an orphanage nearly lands the innocent Haley and Faye and Armetta for that matter in some trouble. And she does almost run afoul of a real kidnapper in John Wray. If it had been me, my backside surely would have been blistered for all the trouble I caused, but this is a Temple movie not real life.

What the film does do is provide some good musical numbers by the song writing team of Mack Gordon and Harry Revel who were Alice Faye's composing team at 20th Century Fox in the late Thirties. Faye's two ballads of When I'm With You and But Definitely are not overshadowed by Shirley's obbligato. And the first one is actually first sung in the film by a young baritone named Tony Martin who wound up marrying the star.

This must have been a trying part for Claude Gillingwater. He suffered from a crippling arthritis and the scene where he gives Temple a piggy back ride must have been unbearable. Gillingwater committed suicide a few years later because he couldn't stand the intense pain in his life.

Best number in the film is You've Got To Eat Your Spinach Baby sung by Jack, Alice and Shirley, it's a charming piece. The finale they did dressed up in Ruritanian soldier uniforms called Military Man. It's a nice visual number, but after all gang they're performing on the RADIO.

After over 70 years, Shirley Temple still has the capacity to charm anyone.