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Show Girl in Hollywood tells the story of a young girl, Dixie Dugan (Alice White), who is lured to Hollywood by the empty promises of a pompous film director (John Miljan). Her boyfriend (Jack Mulhall) is not too keen on the idea. Once there, she soon realizes who empty the director's promises were. She meets and becomes friends with Donny Harris (Blanche Sweet), a once popular film star. Dixie does get her break but ruins things by getting temperamental. In the process, she also ruins Donny's chances for a comeback, who then attempts suicide. She is saved and Dixie realizes her selfishness and convinces the studio bosses to "go on with the picture", for Donny's sake.

Oh what a treat! This movie was one of the first to attempt to show Hollywood as it really was--and it ended up being pretty true to life. Dashed hopes, lecherous directors, ex-stars brushed aside. The "behind-the-scenes" look of portions of the film gives the viewer a glimpse of film-making in the early talkie days. The "I've Got My Eye on You" production number has a catchy tune and even made me want to sing and dance myself! Alice White is good as the young, hopeful show girl of the title. Most notable is Blanche Sweet's excellent performance as the washed-up silent star. Her near-death scene is extremely moving and recalls some of Miss Sweet's own past glories. Mervyn LeRoy's direction keeps things moving along and it all comes together beautifully. Do yourself a favor and don't miss this one!

Some years ago, I bought the novel for 25 cents in a library book sale. It was obviously published as a movie tie-in since it contained tantalizing stills from the film. Since I could not find a listing in any of the popular film guides, I presumed it was another "lost film" until I caught it on cable earlier this month. In this context, the quality of the film was irrelevant and I agree it was slow-going. The exception was Blanche Sweet-- a name entirely unknown to me until this film. Her performance was both understated and devastating, delineating the soul-rending panic that aging Hollywood actresses must still feel today. It's an odd feeling to be moved by performance that was filmed 70 years ago: I'm glad I wasn't alone in appreciating its underlying desperation.

"Show Girl in Hollywood," from a novel by satirist J.P. McEvoy, follows the titular showgirl, Dixie Dugan (Alice White), from understudy in a Broadway flop ("Rainbow Girl") to lead in the Hollywood movie version. John Miljan is effective as the unscrupulous film director who has seen the flop several times (in order to steal its plot) and invites Dugan to his studio where he tries but fails to put the make on her. Blanche Sweet makes a memorable appearance as an older star, forgotten by age 32, who befriends Dixie. In the middle of a conversation about the fleeting nature of fame, she breaks – or, more accurately, segues – into song ("For Every Smile There's a Tear in Hollywood"). There is something brazen and bizarre about this moment when the film suddenly switches gears and Sweet half sings and half speaks the mournful lyric.

Later, we get to see a full scale production number ("I've Got My Eye on You") not only from the usual angles but also from the perspective of the camera operators (behind glass screens to drown the whirring camera motors), the sound recordists, the live orchestra and even the performers themselves, with the arc lights and footlights glaring into their/our faces. Before the finale, we are treated to the arrival of top Hollywood stars to the premiere of the fictional film within a film: Al Jolson and Ruby Keeler and a 17-year-old Loretta Young among them. The finale itself, the rousing and catchy "Hang on to a Rainbow," was shot in Technicolor, to judge by the unusually fuzzy quality of the surviving black-and-white version of the scene. It must have been quite something, with rows of chorus members in elaborate feathery costumes which must have been multicolored and the star appearing at the last moments in a sensational spiked headdress festooned with five-pointed stars.

Alice White is saucy and photogenic and moves very well (according to IMDb her singing is dubbed) but has a tongue-in-cheek way of speaking which occasionally works but is just as often inappropriate to the situation. The witlessness of much of the dialogue also hampers her, as she is called upon to deliver too many thudding lines. In almost every scene she wears a cloche hat from the front of which a curlicue of her blonde hair protrudes. A bit much!

If you're fascinated by early "talkie" musicals, this should be considered a must-see. There's a lot to like about it, most especially, its three lead performers (Alice White, Jack Mulhall and Blanche Sweet). Alice White is adorable as 'Dixie Dugan'--and is ably assisted by Mulhall as her steadfast beau. Mulhall is largely forgotten today, though he shows a fresh naturalness in an era when many actors seemed strait-jacketed by the new technology of sound (the fact that Mulhall had already been acting in films for over 20 years when this one was made may have helped!). Blanche Sweet has some touching moments as the premature 'has-been' actress, 'Donnie Harris'. The film moves along fairly briskly, under the direction of Mervyn LeRoy (in one of his earliest feature film directing assignments). I was struck by the scoring of the film, too. It effectively uses the featured tunes in different variations that are unusually subtle for that era (presumably, scored by Leo Forbstein). The 'big finale' is fairly typical of early talkie musicals--and one can imagine how much more effective it must have been when it was originally released in early Technicolor (no color copy of the final reel is known to exist). All-in-all, a pleasant and appealing little film that's surely worth a peek.

Although this 1930 film is clunky and fraught with (what we now know to be) film cliches, it is worth seeing -- if only for the outstanding performance of one-time silent-film great Blanche Sweet. Without realizing who it was, I kept marveling at her poignant, true portrayal of a washed up silent screen star (clearly, almost autobiographical). What a brilliant choice to cast her. Imagine my surprise after the film when we rewound to the credits!

A fine, unjustly overlooked gem of early filmmaking (that has songs, to boot).