Piccadilly

London "Piccadilly Club" proprietor Jameson Thomas (as Valentine Wilmot) is having an affair with the female half of his star dancing duo "Mabel and Vic", shimmying Gilda Gray (as Mabel "Mab" Greenfield). When Ms. Gray's dancing partner gets too amorous with his lady love, Mr. Thomas fires the man. Alas, the departing Cyril Ritchard (as Victor "Vic" Smiles) was the nightclub duo's main attraction, and business tanks. But, Thomas has discovered a new dancer in his kitchen, sexy scullery maid Anna May Wong (as Shosho). Ms. Wong becomes an immediate sensation. Older Gray feels put out, especially when Thomas slips easily into the younger Wong's arms. Eventually, passion leads to murder.

Director E.A. Dupont and photographer Werner Brandes are superb, in their final collaboration; they give "Piccadilly" a great, artful style. Wong's performance, the last of her "silent" career, is almost revelatory; and, it's at least "Supporting Actress" award-worthy. Higher-billed Gray handles her less flattering role well, too. And, Thomas meets Wong's subtlety in wonderful ways; catch him admiring Wong's torn stockings. Small bits of business, like Mr. Ritchard slitting a deeper crease into his hat, suggest additional eroticism.

Charles Laughton has a delicious cameo as a "Piccadilly Club" patron more interested in his food than the dancers.

The film is not without its sour notes, however; for example, some characterizations/relationships are poorly defined; and, the ending could have been better. However, any attempt to improve "Piccadilly" might have encouraged the producers to fix things that weren't broken. Even the fly crawling up Wong's left arm as she reclines, during a seduction scene, seems magically planned.

The nominal star of "Piccadilly" is Gilda Gray, but the real star of the film is Anna May Wong. She has the major part and shows her superior acting ability. In most of her film appearances she is cast as a villainess, a sinister two-dimensional oriental woman, but here she is given full rein and shows that she can carry a picture. She was given only one starring role with her name above the title, in "Daughter Of The Dragon" two years later. She, of course, played a two-dimensional oriental villainess.

She is beautiful as a British cabaret dancer who captivates the club's owner (Jameson Thomas). In one scene she lets her shoulder-length hair down, and she is gorgeous. He throws off his Caucasian girlfriend, which doesn't sit well with her. Strife and bitterness take hold as the story descends into melodrama. This is your best chance to see Anna May Wong at her best, and imagine what her career might have been.

As a way of telling a story, Piccadilly is an eye-opener. E.A. Dupont's camera, lighting, and tracking shots seem brand new for their time. Every scene thoughtfully composed, using foreground furniture or beaded curtains or half-shadow light to discreetly dramatize the "naughtiness" of its theme. The film is silent (with a haunting, jazzy score) made in 1929, 2 years after the birth of sound, but the restoration of this film is beautifully and carefully rendered. The acting, by "silent" standards, is subtly displayed and truthfully acted. Anna Mae Wong is certainly sexy. There is a kissing scene which occurs underneath a newspaper that leaves much to the imagination.

For me it was a wonderful discovery (on TCM).

Valentine Wilmot (Jameson Thomas) owns Club Piccadilly in England. He's in love with its leading dancer Mabel (Gilda Gray). However she's not pulling in the crowds and he hires unknown Shosho (Anna May Wong) to perform. She's a huge success and romances Valentine. Mabel gets jealous and leaves Piccadilly...but still wants Wilmot but he's falling for Shosho...

This movie is a showcase for Anna May Wong. Virtually unknown today she was the first Chinese-American star (and for a long time the only one). She's just great in this--beautiful, talented and can really dance. Thomas and Gray are also good in their roles. I'm really surprised they got this out--its made quite clear that Wilmot and Shosho have sex--interracial couplings like that must have been shocking at the time. This is beautifully directed by Arnold Bennett--there are many stunning sequences and most of the story is told by images--there are very few title cards. The only complaint I have is that it moves a little slow by today's standards. Still it's well worth seeing. I give it an 8.

Tracking through a bustling nightclub kitchen, back into the scullery, amidst steaming washtubs, the camera finds a woman in torn stockings dancing a slow shimmy on a tabletop: a slow upward pan reveals the alluring Anna May Wong in a Pabstian moment of erotic revelation. In the course of this drama, director E.A. DuPont devises several more such clock-stopping moments as the star poses behind an etched glass screen or stretches her body in a geometrically beaded gown.

When Wong makes her debut before the nightclub audience-- sporting an ersatz Thai get-up and fluttering her fingers this way and that---it is clear that she really can't dance at all, ironically making DuPont's contribution seem even more impressive . When this performance causes an unlikely sensation, rival dancer Gilda Gray gets so jealous that she faints in a heap of feathers. [Famed as the actual creator of the shimmy, Gray demonstrates it here with lots of vigorous jiggling.]

Paralleling her rise to dance stardom, Wong's wardrobe gets increasingly elegant, while the conflicts mount: quarreling over nightclub impresario Jameson Thomas [a nicely subtle performance], Gray argues "He's too old for you!" and Wong ripostes "You're too old for him." Both have a point. Eventually, with the help of some Limehouse ruffians, a gun, and a dagger, it all ends in a courtoom.

Apart from a brief appearance by Charles Laughton as a fastidious diner, DuPont pays no attention to the café society patrons of the Piccadilly Club. His interest lies with the performers---including skinny Cyril Ritchard as a hoofer---and in his own adventurous style: the camera seldom stops moving, once even circling 360 degrees, yet the end impression is not of indulgent artiness. DuPont points the camera down through the whirring blades of overhead fans, or into distorted mirrors---virtuoso effects but somehow serving vitality, a sense of events happening in the moment.

The distributor, World Wide Pictures, uses the end titles to trumpet its memorable motto: "Photoplays made where the story's laid".