Cavadoras de Ouro

There is a pattern to 1930's Hollywood musicals; struggle to put on show proceeds alongside struggle for love to conquer all. And in the end both struggles are successfully concluded. It is a pattern that is broken by "Gold Diggers Of 1933". Sure, all of the usual elements are in place, including the Hungry, Penniless Showgirl Depression setting. But where this movie differs is in the fact that after the various plot strands are neatly tied up, it doesn't end. Instead, we are treated to the last big production number,"My Forgotten Man", as downbeat as it was possible to get in 30's Hollywood. All the Busby Berkeley musicals paid lip service to the Great Depression, but this one goes much further, as "My Forgotten Man" was the last, most enduring image of the film, and the one that audiences left the theatre with. It's placement was a brave decision on the part of whoever made it, and it would be interesting to learn of the public reaction at the time. Because while it is undoubtedly true that in an era of deprivation, you can't blithely make movies that are totally divorced from reality, it's equally true that people want to be reassured there is a better life, and they won't be scratching around in the dirt forever. Personally, I love the number, and it's placement. It's something that has fascinated me since my very first viewing 7 years ago, but it seems to be a point that not a lot of critics have picked up on. Perhaps it wasn't so unusual after all!

I've heard of this movie for years, but didn't actually see it until last week when Turner Classic Movies ran it. And it is positively stunning!! On the surface, it moves almost like a carbon copy of 42ND STREET- right up to the last-minute switch in players before the curtain goes up (although in this film, it's Dick Powell instead of Ruby Keeler). But its astringent look at trying to play Tin Pan Alley smack in the middle of the Depression gives it a very adult and tragic significance. It still has the Berkley dazzle- from the "Shadow Waltz" chorus girls (and electric violins) to the now-legendary "We're In The Money" dress rehearsal fronted by a pre-Astaire Ginger Rogers. (I was a teenager when my mother mentioned that one verse of this song was actually sung in Pig Latin- and I swore for twenty-five years that she was pulling my chain. It is one of the cleverest vocal interludes I've ever seen and heard.) But the three girls implied in the film's title- Ruby Keeler, Aline McMahon, and especially the sharp, smart, and gorgeous Joan Blondell- are the best things in the movie. And Blondell fronts the sublime finale number "Forgotten Man-" which pays tribute to the men (and women) of WWI and the ironies which followed. The staging of it- the marching which goes from triumphant to tragic, the torchy, gospel-like vocal of Etta Moten (the black woman sitting in the window), and the pullback shot of everyone coming downstage at the fadeout- is truly spectacular.

With the success of "42nd Street," Warner Brothers wasted no time adding Busby Berkeley musical numbers to "Gold Diggers of 1933."

Starring Dick Powell and Ruby Keeler, this musical also has some of the same Depression darkness that permeated "42nd Street." "It's the Depression, dearie," Ginger Rogers says as the show she and her fellow chorines are laboring in closes in rehearsal due to lack of funding.

However, Brad (Powell), a composer in a nearby apartment who's sweet on Polly (Keeler), offers to give Ned Sparks the money he needs to produce his new show. His only condition is that Polly be featured.

Everyone wonders where he got the money, and a news item plus the fact that he refuses to appear in the show make the girls suspicious that he's a bank robber. In fact, he's the scion of a wealthy man (Warren William), who soon appears on the scene with his attorney (Guy Kibbee) when Brad steps in for the lumbago-ridden juvenile lead.

Polly's roommates Trixie and Carol (Joan Blondell and Aline MacMahon) go to work on the two immediately.

Though the film has some fantastic numbers - "We're in the Money," "The Shadow Waltz," "Pettin' in the Park," and great Busby Berkeley choreography, the middle section has no music and drags on as the gals meet the men, get them to pay for expensive hats, etc. This is probably because the film was completed when the musical numbers were added.

But the final number is worth the whole film. "Remember Your Forgotten Man" is a tribute to the World War I soldiers now out of work in the Depression, and not only are the production effects and choreography fantastic, but the singing as well, particularly the solo work by Etta Morton. Blondell, who from the sound of it in Dames was completely tone deaf, is beautifully dubbed here.

Ginger Rogers shines in a supporting role especially with her pig Latin lyrics to "We're in the Money" which were added after she was heard fooling around in a rehearsal. Powell is in gorgeous voice in all the numbers, but "I've Got to Sing a Torch Song" is a high point.

It's easy to watch the dancing, the beautiful women in their costumes, and listen to the singing and forget what in fact was going on in the '30s - after all, that's why these films were made.

But the "Forgotten Man" number serves as a reminder then and today that for the people sitting in the theaters, their troubles were right outside the door.

This is the most perfect example of "history on the silver screen" that I can think of. When Ginger Rogers says, "It's the Depression, dearie" at the beginning to explain the chorus girls' bad luck, it's the key to the whole film. While the "Shadow Waltz" number was being filmed during an actual 1933 earthquake in L.A. a number of the girls toppled off the Art Deco "overpass" where they were swaying with their filmy hoop skirts and their neon violins short-circuited. The electrical hook-ups were also rather dangerous, especially if the neon bows came in contact with the girls' metallic wigs in that number. The culminating production number, "Remember My Forgotten Man," is the most significant historically and illustrates Warner Bros.' "New Deal" sensibilities. Warner Bros. was the only studio that "bought" the whole Roosevelt approach to economic recovery. The year before, under Hoover, WWI vets were not only neglected in terms of benefits but were run out of their shanty town near the Capitol building. Starving guys were camping on the edges of most communities who'd served in the Great War fifteen years before. Of course, why or how this number fits into such a '30s girlie-type musical revue is anyone's guess. Berkeley never looked for reality, just eye-popping surrealistic effects.

About ten years ago I found myself sitting next to Etta Moten Barnett at a Chicago NAACP banquet. I was flabbergasted. She was in her 90s yet still looked lovely. She's the singer who sang "Forgotten Man" in the window. She also sang "The Carioca" in Astaire and Rogers' first pairing, "Flying Down to Rio." She was quite gracious, though she did not have wonderful things to say about Hollywood of that era. The African Americans in both pictures were fed in a tent away from the general commissary area.

Ruby Keeler has a certain odd-ball appeal, like a homely puppy. She can't sing, she watches her leaden feet while she dances, and almost all her lines are read badly. Yes, she was married to Al Jolson, but that may have HURT her career more than anything. He was not exactly always likable. He was much older than Ruby and so full of himself.

This film is also a classic example of the PRE-CODE stuff that was slipping by---the leering "midget baby" (Billy Barty), the naked girls in silhouette changing into their "armor," the non-stop flashing of underwear or lack of underwear, Ginger Rogers having her large coin torn off by the sheriff's office mug so she's essentially standing there in panties, and so forth.

A good comparison of before and after the code would be to examine this picture and "Gold Diggers of 1935." The latter is so much more chaste, discreet, and less fascinating except for the numbers. There's not the lurid, horny aura of the Pre-Code pictures. And it's not quite as much naughty fun, either.

This, the first in the series of Gold Diggers films still in existence, is the best, the sparkiest, the funniest, and the strongest. Ruby Keeler, Joan Blondell, Aline MacMahon, Dick Powell, Guy Kibbee, Warren William, Ginger Rogers, and then some ... what a great cast! Wonderful musical numbers with that distinctive Berkeley choreography. A crackling script which still packs a punch now. And, best of all, that wonderful finale 'Forgotten Man', where Great War veterans shuffle through a world that doesn't care while the women left behind remember their happier days ...