La revue en folie

ON WITH THE SHOW (Warner Brothers, 1929), directed by Alan Crosland, is the studio's contribution to MGM's box office hit, THE Broadway MELODY. Unlike other backstage musicals from that era, this one consists of no dress rehearsals nor pre-show preparations. It skips all that in favor of what's presented on opening night at the Wallace Theater somewhere in New Jersey. The opening title card sums it up best, "For weeks, 'The Phantom Sweetheart' troupe has staggered through the rough tank towns toward distant Broadway - It's pathway strewn with unpaid bills. Tonight would tell the tale, Broadway or Bust." And Broadway or Bust it is. In fact, an odd mixture of two stories for the price of one. The first being the behind the scenes plot development revolving around the theatrical troupe and staff. Instead of the usual unrelated musical numbers most commonly found in Hollywood back-stagers, the second story titled "The Phantom Sweetheart," is set to song and dance on a Southern plantation where a young man (Arthur Lake) falls in love with a veiled goddess (Betty Compson) prior to his wedding day. Not seen in its entirety, the stage production is interrupted with inter-cuts of the backstage story.

In spite of Lake and Compson heading the cast, their scenes, along with others, are secondary. There are no characters who actually dominate the story from start to finish, but an assortment of those coming in and out whenever their scenes allow. The center of attention really belongs to the least likely pair of Jimmy (William Bakewell), the head usher, and his girlfriend, Kitty (Sally O'Neil), a coat room girl, whom Jimmy feels has the "stuff" to make it on Broadway After the rise of the curtain where the actors perform to a full house, situations occur, all involving money. Jerry (Sam Hardy), the producer, owes Sam Bloom (Purnell B. Pratt) unpaid bills and keeps him from taking back his scenery or taking what's owed him from the box office cash receipts; Willie Durant (Wheelar Oakman), the show's backer, refuses to guarantee capital income and later forces himself on Kitty; Harold Astor (Lake), the juvenile leading man in need of cash to give to his mother, constantly bickering about scene stealing with fellow comedian Joe Beaton (Joe E. Brown); and leading lady Nita French (Compson), refusing to continue her performance unless she receives the $400 due her. The very moment of her strike, the box office gets held up by a mysterious figure holding a gun. All this, and opening night, too, but the show must go on, Broadway or bust.

With score composed by Harry Akst and Grant Clarke, the musical program is as follows: "Welcome Home" (sung by Henry Fink); "Let Me Have My Dreams" (sung by Betty Compson); "Am I Blue?" (sung by Ethel Waters); "Lift the Tulips in Your Two Lips" (sung by Fink and Josephine Houston, danced by the Four Covans); "Let Me Have My Dreams" (reprise by Compson); specialty dance solo number (Joe E. Brown); "In The Land of Let's Pretend" (sung by chorus); "Don't It Mean a Thing to You" (sung by Josephine Houston and Arthur Lake); "Let Me Have My Dreams" (sung by Sally O'Neil); "Birmingham Bertha" (sung by Ethel Waters); "Wedding Day" (sung by Fink, Lake and Houston); and Finale (entire cast).

Other members of the cast consist of Louise Fazenda as Sarah Fogerty, an eccentric comedienne who supplies offstage laughter; Thomas Jefferson (not the third U.S.President) as "Dad", the stage doorman; Lee Moran and Harry Gribbon as stage hands, Pete and Ike, along with specialty acts by the Fairbanks Twins and an assortment of black entertainers highlighted by a Ethel Waters, in her movie debut, taking center stage with her fine rendition of the film's most notable song, "Am I Blue?" Her solo effort, along with "Birmingham Bertha" opposite Charlie Bubbles, both unrelated to the theatrical story, are highlights, along with a lively but unmemorable score to make up for its dull stretches at the midway point. The staging by Larry Ceballos is adequate, not spectacular, yet steps towards the right direction compared to 1929 stage musicals consisting of cart wheel dancing and acrobatics.

Alan Crosland, who made history directing THE JAZZ SINGER (1927), the "first talkie," improves with techniques revolving around camera movement with angles taken from different parts of the stage, above and beyond spiral staircases as chorus girls rush down to meet their curtain call, and silhouette image of musical conductor in orchestra pit waving his stick in front of the rising curtain or stage performance. What's lacking is further use of close-ups of principal players and dancers, something that would be common place in future musicals to come. It's also fun going back in time watching antiques like this and listening to catch phrases of the day like "Go sit on a tack," or corny dialog recited by Sam Hardy, "There are only a few of you sweet kids left," or "Go out and give them everything you got."

Upon release, ON WITH THE SHOW made cinema history for being the first musical filmed entirely in color. Current prints that have circulated either in revival theaters back in the 1970s and 80s, a rare 1973 television broadcast on WPHL, Channel 17, Philadelphia, along with cable (TNT in February 1991 as part of a tribute to Black History Month) and Turner Classic Movies showings, have been shown in black and white format only. Fortunately the movie survives intact, considering how many early talkies have been lost due to neglect or decay.

Its length of 103 minutes might be a bit long, but one cannot help but feel its initial theatrical showing might have been a bit longer considering its slight jump cut during its underscoring following the opening cast credits. And now, on with the show. (***)

A true backstage musical (like MURDER AT THE VANITIES) that weaves the onstage and backstage action into one plot. ON WITH THE SHOW is a tad creaky but bad sound and hammy performances aside it was a total pleasure.

A fascinating look at what 20s musicals were really like: the stage crammed with performers, long numbers, reprises of the main tunes, etc. The show within a show, THE PHANTOM SWEETHEART is a loony plantation musical that looks like a cheap rip-off of SHOW BOAT but that's of little consequence since the "real story" occurs backstage. It's a plot we've seen before and seemingly borrows from every contemporary musical you ever saw.

But several of the performers are total standouts. Betty Compson plays the temperamental star but has little to do until the last section of the film. She has a great face, a good voice, and for some reason is a fave of mine. She's a good old "broad" with a heart of gold and is excellent in her final scenes. Joe E. Brown is also very good, although I think his eccentric dance was repeated in BRIGHT LIGHTS a few years later. Both have star quality.

Louise Fazenda has an odd role (she laughs) but is always likable. Ethel Waters is terrific singing "Am I Blue?" and "Birmingham Bertha" but is not involved in the backstage plot.

The rest of the cast doesn't come off so well. Arthur Lake is the juvenile lead, William Bakewell and Sally O'Neil are the "innocents," Sam Hardy is the producer, Wheeler Oakman is the nefarious Mr. Wallace, Lee Moran (related to Ray Bolger?) is the stage manager, and the Fairbanks Twins dance and cause trouble.

Compson has a great entrance line when heading onstage someone says something like "there's Nita French!" She turns and says, "In the flesh, baby, in the flesh!" while clutching her shear robe around her......

OK, so it's the old story about what goes on backstage in the production of a Broadway musical----even to the cliché of the star getting sick and the understudy taking her place and becoming a big star. Many critics see this as the inspiration for 42nd STREET, but this film has the period charm that only the transitional talkie musicals could have. Part of it is quite stagebound-----including musical numbers as you probably would have seen them on the Broadway stage in the 1920's, so if you don't care for very early musicals, you'd better pass on this one.

This was the film that introduced the song "Am I Blue" sung by a very young Ethel Waters, and followed by the even better "Birmingham Bertha" with black dancer John Bubbles. You should be warned that there are black dancers in the cast who wear some outrageous politically incorrect costumes---including one number where their costumes have watermelon stripes on them! And seeing Joe E. Brown as a mean comedian who constantly argues with Arthur Lake (better known as Dagwood Bumstead in the BLONDIE Series) will be something of a revelation to his fans. The film was made in the early two-strip Technicolor process, which unfortunately has yet to be found, but is still quite enjoyable in B & W. Remember, although this is a very charming transitional talkie musical, modern audiences will only see it as a horribly dated antique.

This one will probably be of interest only to fans of the early talkies. Because it is made so early in the talking picture era, it suffers from dialogue overload, which results in an over-long run time of 103 minutes that could have easily shed 30 minutes without anyone objecting or even noticing. The main thing that harms this film is that it was originally shot completely in two-strip Technicolor, but only the black and white prints made for television remain. As a result you have lots of chorus girls parading around in elaborate gowns, pausing for the audience to get an eyeful, and then moving on. In black and white these scenes are just dull and stagnant, but if you've ever seen the same thing in the remaining color reels of "Gold Diggers of Broadway" from the same year, you realize how truly spectacular this must have looked to 1929 audiences. Also, Alan Crosland's sharp visual style includes lots of cross-cutting so that you don't have the claustrophobic static effect that you normally get from Vitaphoned films whose camera booths could not move an inch.

It is a show within a show, the film being the story of one make-or-break night in the life of "The Phantom Sweetheart" and its cast, as it lumbers towards Broadway. You get to see "The Phantom Sweetheart" play out in its long-winded entirety, which actually contains the high-points of the film. These include two numbers by Ethel Waters as herself performing "Birmingham Bertha" and "Am I Blue" as well as the eccentric dancing and acrobatics of Joe E. Brown. Ms. Waters has no dialogue in the film, and for that matter her excellent numbers have absolutely nothing to do with the plot of "The Phantom Sweetheart", which is an inane tale of a young man who comes home from a long trip to marry his girl, but falls for a mysterious nymph of the woods and has to decide whether to go with this surreal and beckoning creature, or stay with the girl to whom he is betrothed. Harold (Arthur Lake), the double-minded young star of the Phantom Sweetheart, is as annoying and whiny on stage as he is backstage.

Backstage, the center of attention is Kitty (Sally O'Neill), an usher with the show who is in love with the other usher and whose father has invested everything he has in the world with the show. Betty Compson, the most overworked actress of 1929, is the "phantom sweetheart" and star of the show who threatens not to go on if she isn't paid her back wages. This film is full of performers who are either the victims of the transition to sound or the product of failed Warner Brothers experiments with stage performers. Thus, you'll likely not recognize 80% of the cast. For example, Sally O'Neill had been making a good career in films in the late silent era. Unfortunately, in reality she was saddled with a heavy New Jersey accent that is compensated for in this film by making her overly-sweet. A little bit of cute sweetness would be a good thing, but since she is basically the female lead here, I was ready to shoot an arrow through her forehead at the film's half-way point just to put an end to her bubbly babble.

So watch it for the wonderful Ethel Waters as herself, for Joe E. Brown and his well delivered smart comments and acrobatics, and for the infancy of the urban working-class banter that will become Warner Brothers stock and trade during the early 30's.

When I saw "On With the Show" on Turner Classic Movies, I was very disappointed in the poor quality of the picture and the sound, but was very pleased by some clever dialog, although realizing some of it was not so clever, and I was absolutely in awe of the performance of Betty Compson.

She was not only lovely just to look at, in her big scene near the end, she stole the show.

She was more than charming -- she was adorable.

Joe E. Brown's presence in a movie is usually enough to make me skip it but here he is toned down considerably, is not so silly, and he performs an eccentric dance with a surprising athleticism. I actually liked him in "On With the Show."

Sally O'Neil was surprising. She sounded at first like some precocious child, with little-girlish voice, but when this caterpillar bursts out of her cocoon, she is a star.

One other aspect of this film is almost unique for its time: The cast is integrated. Right there on stage are black dancers with white dancers, although to be accurate there is not interaction between white and black. Still, it was a start.

Ethel Waters made what was apparently her film debut, and surely was an immediate hit since she was already a star in other media.

A 21st century viewer of "On With the Show" must consider context, remember the times in which it was made, during the changeover from silents to talkies, to be able to appreciate it fully.

There were lots of great individual talents involved, and a viewer should try to ignore the poor framing of the scenes and the poor quality of the sound, at least some of which might be because of the age or even generation of the print.

But appreciate the historicity as well as the talent, and you will enjoy "On With the Show" as much as I did.