User reviews

THE SHOW OF SHOWS (Warner Brothers, 1929), directed by John G. Adolfi, originally presented in early two-strip Technicolor, became Warner Brothers' answer to MGM's earlier all-star musical, "The Hollywood Revue of 1929," which brings almost all of its contract players, former stars of the silent screen, and recent recruits from Broadway, to show off their musical talents, or their lack of. The master of ceremonies in this vaudeville-type production is Frank Fay, who spends the first half of this revue trying to have the spotlight all to himself and to sing a song or two, even a few times trying to sing "Dear Little Pup" to his dogie, but is always interrupted by comedy acts or singers who feel they could do better, and they usually can. For a musical revue that goes on for almost two hours, one can only say that this is a mixed bag of production numbers that either entertains or doesn't. What can be said about "The Show of Shows" when seeing it today is that it plays to 1929 audiences, in other words, there are many performers in this revue who appear without any introduction, such as the legendary John Barrymore (who still needs no introduction in my book), Monte Blue leading a West Point military march, or the then popular French prizefighter, Georges Carpentier, singing "If I Could Learn to Love" in front of a curtain backdrop of the Eiffel Tower, accompanied by Patsy Ruth Miller and Alice White, among others, assuming that viewers of 1929 watching this review automatically know who these people are, but for the first-time viewer, this individual will start asking himself, "Who is that?" Nostalgic buffs and star searchers can otherwise sit back and enjoy spotting some of their favorite movie stars then just starting out in the business, including the better-known faces of Myrna Loy, Loretta Young, Harriette Lake (who became Ann Sothern) and/or Douglas Fairbanks Jr.

In brief, THE SHOW OF SHOWS musical program features: PROLOGUE UNIQUE: Hobart Bosworth as an executioner and HB Warner as the victim in a brief skit set during the French Revolution; THE MILITARY PARADE: lead by Monte Blue and marching and drum playing West Point cadets; FLORADORA GIRLS: Myrna Loy, Marian Nixon, Ben Turpin, Lupino Lane, and many others in 1890s costumes; THE PIRATE NUMBER: featuring Ted Lewis with motion picture pirates including Noah Beery, Tully Marshall, etc.; EIFFEL TOWER: Georges Carpentier; RECITATIONS: Beatrice Lillie, Louise Fazenda, Lloyd Hamilton and Frank Fay, later going into their song, "Your Mother and Mine"; EIGHT SISTER ACT: Hosted by Richard Barthelmess, followed by sisters including Dolores and Helene Costello singing "Meet My Sister," along with Loretta Young and Sally Blane, Sally O'Neil and Molly O'Day, Alice and Marceline Day; Marion Byron and Harriett Lake; and others. Following this number comes a title card that reads INTERMISSION: TEN MINUTES (which is usually eliminated from most TV prints); SINGING IN THE BATHTUB: Winnie Lightner, which concludes with Lightner and Bull Montana singing "You Were Meant for Me"; IRENE BORDONI HERSELF: Bordoni singing "Just an Hour of Love"; Chinese FANTASY: Introduced by Rin-Tin Tin; with Nick Lucas singing "Li-Po-Li" and Myrna Loy dancing (this number now can be seen in its restored two-strip Technicolor); FAY AND SILVERS: Amusing skit with Sid Silvers stepping in and auditioning for a solo spot, showing Frank Fay his own imitation of Al Jolson by singing "Rock-a-Bye Your Baby With a Dixie Melody"; BICYCLE BUILT FOR TWO: Chester Conklin, Douglas Fairbanks Jr., Chester Morris; Gertrude Olmstead, Sally Eilers, among others; BLACK AND WHITE: Introduced by Sid Silvers, danced by chorus girls dressed up in black and white dresses; YOUR LOVE IS ALL THAT I CRAVE: Sung by Frank Fay (he finally got to do his solo); KING RICHARD III: Introduced and recited by John Barrymore; Mexican MOONSHINE: Comedy sketch with Monte Blue as a condemned man, and Frank Fay as his executioner, accompanied by Lloyd Hamilton, Albert Gran and others as soldiers; LADY LUCK FINALE: Sung by Alexander Gray with Betty Compson briefly seen as Lady Luck; and STARS: with the entire cast appearing with their heads poked through holes in canvas singing "Lady Luck", especially John Barrymore making facial gestures while he pretends to be singing along with the others.

THE SHOW OF SHOWS is fortunate to have survived almost intact after all these years, considering how many movies of 1929 are no longer available for viewing. The most memorable performer besides John Barrymore (whom I wished could have been the master of ceremonies instead of Fay), is Winnie Lightner, whose energetic and unique comedic style, in the persona of of future vibrant singers as Martha Raye or Betty Hutton combined, who not only sings in the bathtub, but lightens up the rough spots by singing "Ping Pongo," And then there's Nick Lucas singing "Lady Luck" and "That's the Only Song I Know" with his guitar.

A predecessor to the once popular fad of TV variety shows of the 1950s and '60s, THE SHOW OF SHOWS which is one from the time capsule, is worthy entertainment that should be viewed at least once, and to get the feel of the bygone days of vaudeville, here captured on film Hollywood style. WPHL, Channel 17, in Philadelphia, was one of the very few known commercial television stations to frequently play THE SHOW OF SHOWS in the early 1970s (final air date: December 31, 1974). In later years when brought over on cable, it was shown on Turner Network Television (TNT) from 1988 to 1993, and later on Turner Classic Movies (more frequently prior to 1997). (***)

It is difficult to evaluate this or any other comparable film of the early sound era in terms that one might use for ordinary film commentary. At times there is almost a desperation, as many film personalities of the silent era try their wings at sound, surely fearing that they will be left by the wayside (as did happen to some), Rin-Tin-Tin. however, was pertfectly natural. In such a vaudeville of unrelated sequences, some were sure to stand out John Barrymore's soliloquy from Richard II is a moment certainly worth preserving. By and large, only those with earlier stage training exuded confidence. However, this is over all reasonably entertaining, and a must for "film buffs" especially interested in the silent to sound transition

One of a handful of "revue" films from the early sound era, this film mixes musical numbers and comedy routines, a la vaudeville. Some items don't really work, in particular Frank Fay's role as emcee, and the finale, which is rather loosely structured. On the other hand, Winnie Lightner does two terrific turns, especially with "Singin' in the Bathtub," which is put over with punch. Some versions have the "Li-Po-Li" segment in 2-strip Technicolor, which gives the routine unusual sheen and polish, playing off the strengths of the system, especially in the use of turquoises and reds.

Generally superior, I think, to MGM's "Hollywood Revue of 1929," and worth watching if you can

This is a deliriously colossal vulgar silly all star extravaganza revue of all the early talkie stars that Warner Bros could afford. ...and like most other rarely seen films actually made during the late 20s, an unforgettable opportunity to see and hear the genuine roaring twenties' exuberance and youthfulness put to song and dance. THE SHOW OF SHOWS is pretty gigantic. Vaudeville act after soliloquy after tap dance after acrobat after comedian after fan-dance after ukulele lunacy after Rin Tin Tin who introduces 'an oriental number'...(!)... and on and on it lumbers, grinning and squeaking away in fabulous gramophone quality Vitaphone sound. It is far too long, but among it's delirious delights are the awesome "Singin in the Bathtub" number created on a scale of which The QE2 architects would be proud...Beatrice Lillie lounging by a grand piano with some happiness boys amusingly warbling a witty ditty, Nick Lucas, and the never-ending grand finale in two color color...which is all set to the song LADY LUCK. . So keen are the tubby chorus line and leaping teenagers to en-ter-tain us that they almost kick themselves repeatedly in their own faces with glee and effort. Row after row of "Doll" characters hop past and some even emerge from the floor. I kid you not, there are even girls strapped to the crystal chandeliers, mummified with shiny gauze and chained up with pearl ropes, unable to move (for days, I imagine, during production) whilst this katzenjammer of toy-box athleticism twitch and spasm below to the Ukulele orchestra. Of course I loved it and had to watch this color finale over and over and then invite friends and family to the screen for weeks on end just to horrify and terrify them each separately and to roll about on the lounge in shrieking in delight at each and every exclamation of their startled reactions. And so should you...and rejoice that there was an era when this was created simply to entertain and thrill. It is all so demented.

A really big show from Warner Bros. "The Show of Shows" was the studio's version of rival MGM's highly successful musical variety series (which are, presently, restored by Warner Bros.). Unfortunately, only the "Oriental" number introduced by Rin Tin Tin is currently availably in color; originally, only a small part of this film was presented in black and white. Audiences likely enjoyed the extravagant opportunity to see some of their favorite stars in an "All-talking, all-singing!" motion picture...

Contributing also as a writer, host Frank Fay does a good job. The studio's biggest star at the time was Richard Barthelmess (rising from #8 in 1928 to #7 in 1929 according to the annual Quigley Poll of Box Office stars); he does not sing or dance, preferring to briefly appear as a dignified presenter. The legendary Al Jolson does not appear at all, but Sid Silvers imitates him well. John Barrymore contributes a fine excerpt as "Richard III" from "Henry VI" - rare celluloid from the Shakespearian maestro...

Another highlight is the biggest hit song from the show, "Lady Luck" performed memorably by band-leader Ted Lewis (who took it to #3 on the record charts) and singer-guitarist Nick Lucas (who helped keep Lewis from rising higher by locking down #1 for ten weeks with his "Tip Toe Through the Tulips"). Of the many cover versions, "Singin' in the Bathtub" (a good-natured poke at MGM's "Singin' in the Rain") rose to #10 in a version by Guy and Carmen Lombardo; here, Winnie Lightner contributes a vibrant version.

***** The Show of Shows (11/21/29) John G. Adolfi ~ Frank Fay, Nick Lucas, Winnie Lightner, John Barrymore

An amazing Moulin Rouge style film, with great songs and cameos from Myrna Loy and Beatrice Lillie. Amazing songs, including "Singing in the Bathtub", A good old-fashioned film, vaudeville at its best. It is well produced, and if they had added a storyline, it would have detracted from the entertainment. However, this film is impossible to find on video

It is very hard to rate this film. As entertainment value for 21st century viewers, it fails miserably. However, for the student of early sound films and history, it is a jewel. "Show of Shows" was a revue filmed to compete with MGM's successful "Hollywood Revue of 1929", which still survives intact complete with its Technicolor scenes.

The purpose of the all-star revue was to showcase a particular studio's silent stars in speaking roles, and show that they could make the transition. However, Warner Bros. seems to have forgotten this and employs many acts and stars that they didn't even have under long-term contract such as Ben Turpin, Lloyd Hamilton, Beatrice Lillie, and even a marching band. Meanwhile, their biggest talent - Al Jolson - is noticeably absent. Even at a high salary he could not be compelled to join in. Almost every act is overly long and the film plays like a dozen or so Vitaphone shorts strung together with no continuity. The finale is also overly long, but it is really enjoyable with all of its dance numbers.

The highlights of the film are two numbers from Winnie Lightner - "Pingo Pongo" and "Singin in the Bathtub", a couple of numbers with Nick Lucas, John Barrymore performing Shakespeare, and the Chinese Fantasy "Li Po Li" with Nick Lucas and Myrna Loy. This last number is the only part of the film that survives in Technicolor, and it really is quite attractive. Reasonably enough, the players in these good acts were long-term Warner Bros. stars so perhaps the director knew how to play to their strengths since he was familiar with them.

This film acts as a snapshot at an odd point in film history - the year 1929, which was the bridge year between two eras - the silent and sound eras, and the roaring 20's and the Great Depression. Just two years later this same film would have had an entirely different cast, as Warner Bros. would abandon its silent era stars and the stars they hired just to produce the early musicals in favor of those stars that gave Warner Bros. its distinctive urban look and feel - James Cagney, Joan Blondell, Edward G. Robinson, and others.

This is a terrible mish mash of vaudeville acts, most of them extremely mediocre with almost all the performances worse than the level of high school students. This goes on for two and a quarter hours. Had the Technicolor survived intact, a certain charm may have been retained. As is, it's almost unendurable.

Frank Fay is a lighter version of bumbling Frank Morgan and is thoroughly obnoxious. The Pirate number is stupidity beyond belief. There are many geometric dance patterns, primarily of ladies on stairs or ladders. I wonder if Busby Berkeley got his inspiration from these.

For those who are interested, what follows is a list of the acts, 99% musical, in order of appearance:

OVERTURE; FRENCH REVOLUTION PROLOGUE; MILITARY MARCH, SEMPER FIDELIS; WHAT'S BECOME OF THE FLORADORA BOYS?; PIRATE BAND, LADY LUCK; IF I COULD LEARN TO LOVE; DEAR LITTLE PUP; PING PONGO; LADY LUCK; THE ONLY SONG I KNOW; YOUR MOTHER AND MINE, RECITATIONS; INTERMISSION MUSIC; SINGIN IN THE BATHTUB; YOU WERE MEANT FOR ME; MY SISTER; JUST AN HOUR OF LOVE; LI-PO-LI; ROCKABYE YOUR BABY; DAISY BELL, A HOT TIME IN THE OLD TOWN; IF YOUR BEST FRIEND WON'T TELL YOU; JUMPING JACK; YOUR LOVE IS ALL I CRAVE; RICHARD III SCENE FROM HENRY VI; EXECUTION SCENE; GRAND FINALE: LADY LUCK

The only Technicolor act which survives is the lovely LI-PO-LI, a lilting Chinese fantasy danced by Myrna Loy. There are lovely tones of red, green and blue present.

Winnie Lightner in her two numbers: Ping Pongo and Singin in the Bathtub provides the only talent and pizazz in the entire show - she's all personality. The high point is the John Barrymore speech as Richard III from Shakespeare's Henry VI - when you realize one of the handful of non musical acts is the best in the show, you wonder why they bothered.

This is purely an artifact, just as bad as MGM's vaudeville outing THE Hollywood REVIEW, Paramount's PARAMOUNT ON PARADE and Universal's KING OF JAZZ (the latter surviving intact in red/blue Technicolor). See it not for entertainment, but to realize how shaky the days of early sound were in old Hollywood.

Thanks to Warner Archive, I can once again see this mammoth variety show which throws in everything but the kitchen sink. (The bathtub, however is present.) This film gives screen time to every person who was under contract to Warners at the time. If some of the artists seem unfamiliar to some, it is because they were big in the silent days, and most faded with the popularity of the talkies. There are some truly remarkable artists from the vaudeville era as well. You will be most impressed with Winnie Lightner, who performs two numbers. Also there is that French star, Irene Bordoni who croons a love song in a sexy manner. Perhaps one of the biggest highlights is the two-strip Technicolor "Chinese Fantasy," which has been restored for this version. It is truly beautiful and it stars Myrna Loy and Nick Lucas. Finally, there is the massive "Lady Luck" finale which goes on for nearly a quarter of an hour. If you have seen Ken Russell's 1971 cult-musical The Boy Friend, you will see that Mr. Russell must have been influenced by some of the numbers in The Show of Shows. The costumes as well as some of the choreography reflect this. The Technicolor segment has been perfectly edited into the black-and-white print in a way that is superior to the similarly restored color footage in films like Sally or Mammy. Opening and closing with a red curtain, the number looks like it always belonged there, even in the black-and-white print. In addition, the color is extremely vibrant, and gives one an idea of the tremendous impact the color must have had on 1929 audiences. The Lady Luck finale, featuring pretty young things attached to chandeliers and curtain pulls, certainly gets my vote for the most outrageously lavish production number of 1929. The Warner Brothers wanted something really big to close out the year, and they actually beat MGM here. It would come in the years that followed that MGM would snatch the lavishness crown away from every other studio and retain it until Hollywood's golden age came to a close.

As other posters have noted, this is really a difficult film to rate. Judging it by modern standards it's awful--overblown, creaky, flat and primitive--but judging it by 1929 standards I can see where audiences must have bowled over by it. They could see their favorite stars--mostly from the silent days--like they had never seen them before, playing themselves and, in many cases, doing things they had never done, such as singing, dancing and comedy routines. Overall, though, it's poorly staged by director John G. Adolfi, who was not one of Warners' top-rank directors and was known for making "serious" melodramas; why Warners picked him to direct this big, splashy, musical comedy revue is incomprehensible. Whatever the reason, he seems to have functioned more as a traffic cop than a director.

Some of the musical numbers are fair to middling, but others are just flat-out embarrassing. Probably the worst routine in the picture is the "Rifle Execution" skit. It's supposed to be funny, but it doesn't even rise to the level of a bad Benny Hill routine. It's utterly, completely and totally unfunny, with nary a laugh, chuckle, smirk or even a titter and is further hampered by the irritating Frank Fay trying to upstage everybody, and failing miserably. It's also in incredibly bad taste; there's nothing funny about a man placed in front of a wall with his hands tied behind his back about to be executed by a firing squad--and at the end of the "skit" he actually is! Unbelievable.

The opening number, with 100 or so showgirls doing precision dancing on a huge staircase a la Busby Berkeley, is actually impressive, however; the very intricate routine is shot in one long take and comes off without a hitch. It's pretty much downhill after that, though, except for Winnie Lightner's two musical numbers, which are infectious and enjoyable. Most of the "comedy" routines performed by stars not known for comedy--and even some who are--come across as forced, flat and, even worse, unfunny. Probably the worst "performance", however, is by emcee Frank Fay, a Broadway star of the era. He comes across as an obnoxious ham, his feeble attempts at singing and comic patter are annoying, and his introductions to each of the featured numbers are clumsy, inept and overlong. As an emcee, he is an abysmal flop. Why he was considered a star isn't readily apparent at all.

This film is much more valuable as an historical document than as entertainment, which it barely achieves. Many of the stars--70+ of them--I had heard of before but had never seen them in anything (e.g., Lloyd Hamilton, Winnie Lightner, Bea Lillie and Alice Day), so it was at least interesting to finally see them in action, as it were. A young but recognizable Loretta Young and her sister Sally Blane perform in a very strange number that features teams of well-known sisters dressed as "Dutch maids" singing and dancing in a "Ziegfeld Girls" type of big splashy routine. The number also features a young and unrecognizable Ann Sothern, when she was using her real name of Harriet Lake, with her sister Bonnie Lake.

The film is a very mixed bag--everybody from John Barrymore to Rin-Tin-Tin puts in an appearance--and difficult to slog through at times, only occasionally rising above mediocrity. Worth a look once for its historical significance, but that's about it.

Two years after the success of THE JAZZ SINGER (1927), Warner Bros. released this all-talking, all-singing, all-star revue to capitalize on the popularity of sound pictures. THE SHOW OF SHOWS (1929) features a wide variety of acts from a roster of famous stars of stage and screen. There are lots of songs and lots of mass choreography, but also comedic bits and a dramatic scene.

The movie is quite a spectacle, though nowadays its value is mostly as a curiosity for hardcore film buffs. The songs generally aren't that great and the performances aren't always polished, though everybody seems to be having fun. Much of the cast is made up of largely forgotten stars of the late silent/early sound era that most modern viewers wouldn't recognize. But it's a real treat for film historians.

I'm a big fan of old movies and classic Hollywood, and many of the featured stars are obscure even to me. Most of the stars are identified at some point in the film, though countless others are mixed into scenes with little fanfare. Without identification I was able to spot Myrna Loy, Ben Turpin, Chester Morris, Richard Barthelmess, Douglas Fairbanks Jr., John Barrymore, and Monte Blue. And I'm familiar, to varying degrees, with people like Frank Fay, Winnie Lightner, Louise Fazenda, Dolores Costello, Noah Beery, and Tully Marshall.

Frank Fay emcees the proceedings, tying the various acts together and introducing the stars. His verbal comedy shtick is a good fit for talkies and he does a pretty good job.

An early highlight is Winnie Lightner's upbeat comedy song "Ping Pongo". Louise Fazenda, Fay, Lloyd Hamilton, and Beatrice Lillie do a recitation sketch that's pretty funny, though it stretches a little too long. There's a number featuring notable screen villains as pirate versions of themselves (singing pirates, naturally). Another features several pairs of movie star sisters, including Loretta Young and Sally Blane, who look freakishly alike. Lightner also sings "Singin' in the Bathtub", a tune I know from old Looney Tunes cartoons. John Barrymore hams it up with a Shakespeare soliloquy as Richard III.

I was surprised and delighted halfway through to see an exotic number in two-strip Technicolor. Apparently most of the film was shot in color, but the surviving print is in black & white with the exception of this segment.

It's great seeing so many Hollywood personalities doing fun little acts and musical numbers. Everybody seems to be having a good time, putting on a big show. Some names and faces are more recognizable than others, but the film is a fascinating glimpse at the stable of Warner Bros. talent at this transitional point in cinema history.

A musical spectacular from the infancy of the sound era, THE SHOW OF SHOWS is literally presented as a stage production, with fairly static cameras and sometimes clunky framing. Sometimes the closed stage curtain fills the top three-quarters of the frame while a chorus line dances along the bottom edge. In one song voices drop out of range of the microphone as the singers move across the stage. Some of the extended crowd choreography gets tiresome, but the comedy is good for a few laughs. And it's always fun trying to identify the stars in the ensemble scenes.

6/10 for entertainment value, but 7/10 as a historical curiosity.

In the early days of sound, some Hollywood studios made giant song and dance spectaculars to showcase all their actors in this new medium. The most famous was MGM's "Hollywood Review of 1929". "The Show of Shows" is Warner Brothers entry into this very short-lived genre...and thankfully this sort of film was soon out of style. I say thankfully because these films were pretty awful. Now they ARE of great interest to film historians, but seeing and hearing actors doing bizarre acts of dubious quality is hard to endure at times-- especially because a lot of non-singers were inexplicably forced to sing. In the case of "The Show of Shows" it's made worse because the folks arranging the songs and directing the pieces were apparently insane--and often choruses were was out of sync and sounded very amateurish. And imagine starting this program with a precision drill team dancing up and down a huge flight of steps. What's THAT all about?!

So is this worth seeing? Well, no...unless you are either very drunk, have very low standards or simply are curious. But at over two hours, the curiosity wears very, very thin. Among the notables you will recognize (and most you won't) are John Barrymore, Mary Astor, Myrna Loy and Douglas Fairbanks Jr.--but a huge number of these stars are folks whose careers were about to turn very sour. With the advent of sound, popular comics like Lloyd Hamilton, Lupino Land and Ben Turpin would soon have trouble finding work and the film is filled with has-beens. I am very familiar with the stars of this era, but would STILL love it if someone could add captions to this film so you realize who you are watching! Overall, I'd say that this film is tough to endure, long-winded and terrible. And those are only the good qualities.

The copy of show of SHOWS that plays occasionally on Turner Classic Movies is a mess. With almost all the Technicolor footage lost, and what remains distorted by being clumsily reformatted for sound-on-film instead of full frame, not to mention the rather blurry nature of almost all of it, it does not present well. Frank Fay as the master of ceremonies seems mumbly and ill at ease, the performers try too had at swinging their plywood cutlasses, and the constant big production numbers of mediocre songs in long distance are wearisome in their sameness.

And then, after half an hour, there are some signs of life; Winnie Lightner sings a nonsense song, and you can see how she wowed them on Broadway. Nick Lucas plays the guitar and sings in close-up, and it's intimate. Then it's back to the canned gags and overlarge production numbers in blurry focus, until John Barrymore gives a riveting excerpt as Richard III, and Nick Lucas and Myrna Loy appear in "A Chinese Fantasy". That's where you get to see a clean and crisp version of what the original movie must have looked like. True, the monotonous (duotonous?) salmons and cyans pall before the number is over, but it's good looking for a while.

And there are the many performers, almost everyone on the Warners' lot except for Al Jolson and George Arliss, many of them speaking on the screen for the first time. You can see why it's a hit, even as you are puzzled by Bull Montana's almost incomprehensible muttering, or ted Lewis showing up in top hat for a production number about pirates. These are the stars of an era and venue that were about to vanish from public consciousness, even as they continued to work profitably for decades. As for this movie, it made money, then went into the vault for decades. Except for those of us who are interested in the freaks and sports that get thrown up at these moments of transition, that's were it belongs.

During World War II, the big Hollywood studios made pictures that featured their non-musical stars doing song and dance numbers. They weren't great movies, but they were usually well done, and it was fun to see that at least some of the "dramatic actors" could actually do a decent job with a song or a dance number. Warner Brothers' entry into that group was called *Thank Your Lucky Stars*. In it Errol Flynn, Ida Lupino, Olivia de Havilland, and others showed that they could actually do a good job with a song and/or a dance number. No one really embarrassed themselves.

That's not true here.

With the exception of some of the big dance numbers, it looks as if a lot of these routines were filmed without a single rehearsal. Often, they feature performers who had no musical or dance talent whatsoever. It's as if Jack Warner had invited all his players over to his house for a big party, and then, after everyone had had a few drinks, told them they all had to perform something. Even the big dance routines don't look as if they had more than one or two rehearsals.

One of the strangest things about this often aggravating movie is the "Master of Ceremonies," Frank Fay. He was evidently a big hit in vaudeville, though that's hard to believe, because he is downright terrible here. He has no stage presence whatsoever, and seems to be adlibbing, but very nervously. He is also, sometimes, very fay, and I wonder why. (He was married four times, including to Barbara Stanwyck, but that doesn't tell us anything.) In general, he's an annoyance whenever he's on. Why did Warner think that would appeal to movie goers outside New York?

It is interesting to see John Barrymore play a scene from Shakespeare. It was a role he had played in the theater, so the scene comes off as professional and rehearsed. Even then, however, it was not well filmed. The lighting is bad, so it doesn't make a great effect.

Other than that, however, most of this movie is just embarrassing. Vaudeville, at least first-rate vaudeville, was not like this.

This is hardly a movie at all, but rather a real vaudeville show, filmed for the most part "in proscenium", and starring some of the greatest stage stars of the day. "Singing in the Bathtub" is an absolutely amazing production number that must be seen-- be sure to wear your shower cap!

I am a notorious hater of musicals. In fact, the only musical I ever liked was Pure Country ( I am a big George Strait fan), so I may not be the best critic of Show of Shows. That said, the things I liked about the movie are. 1: John Barrymore doing Shakespeare. Without this movie I would have had no opportunity to see someone considered one of the greatest Shakespearean actors in history, actually doing Shakespeare. 2: Myrna Loy in color. As a Loy fan, I know that seeing any movie of hers from the Warner period is a treat, because most films from that era, are either lost or unavailable. 3:,Because it is a revue, I was able to record the movie and skip what I did not want to see ( which was everything except Barrymore and Loy). I am giving Show of Shows 5/10 stars. 3 for Barrymore and 2 for Loy.

But not just any movie fans, I'm talking to hard core movie fans, movie historians, movie archaeologists and those who want to understand early Hollywood. If you are one of these, this Hollywood antique is for you. It is somewhat entertaining and most of the stars and specialty acts are long gone and mostly forgotten. Comedy has evolved and what's here is old and stale, but nevertheless "The Show Of Shows" is a fascinating 2-plus hours of the way things used to be, entertainment-wise, in the early part of the 20th Century. Ever heard of Frank Fay, Irene Bordoni or Lupino Lane? Thought not. Maybe your parents have and surely your grandparents did. This picture is like a Who's Who of oldtime entertainers, and if you fall into one of the categories mentioned at the beginning of this review, this one is a must.

THE SHOW OF SHOWS (1929) is Warner Brothers (WB) entry into Studio self promotion through a Vaudeville 'Revue' in the early sound era. M.G.M. the same year would contribute THE Hollywood REVUE OF 1929 and Paramount would respond with PARAMOUNT ON PARADE (1930). Both are better efforts and rate them IMDB******Six(6), why can be easily discerned with one viewing of this film.

THE SHOW OF SHOWS featured about 70+ 'Stars' of the W.B. of the time, most who would evaporate within the next five (5) years. It was filmed in the two-strip TechniColor process in which only one sequence survives, more about that later. The rest is gone as well as the quality of the surviving footage in B&W, nor is it enhanced by the soundtrack which is of poor quality, sometimes barely audible. Which may be a saving grace particularly when emcee FRANK FAY is on hand, BARBARA STANWYCK's first Husband.

Like its rivals, THE SHOW OF SHOWS features a series of skits mostly featuring Dancing and Singing. The Dancing is some of the most poorly choreographed ever recorded for the Silver Screen, with unfit and out of time chorus girls. As for the songs most are forgettable except for the dimly remembered 'Lady Luck'. Which is pummeled into the audience through 1/2 dozen permutations from the first reel too the last. When the entire cast pretends to sing it, except JOHN BARRYMORE who hams it up. BARRYMORE's main contribution is a extract from HENRY VI/RICHARD III. BARRYMORE at the time being considered the finest interpreter of Shakespeare and the best American stage actor since EDWIN BOOTH. The other hi-lites are WINNIE LIGHTNER who is featured in several skits and a underused BEATRICE LILLE. Who completely upstages her three (3) co-stars.

The surviving TechniColor sequence features jazz guitarist NICK LUCAS singing Li-Po-Li (?) and the alleged dancing talents of MYRNA LOY. Ms. Loy trying to do her 'best' interpretation of ISADORA DUNCAN and failing. Actually coming across like the Hippopotomus in FANTASIA (1940) and about as graceful, with the same thick ankles and the flat chested appearance of the two-dimensional cartoon. Fortunetly when She moved on to M.G.M. designer ADRIAN was able to disguise her physical shortcomings with a 'chic' wardrobe. Her acting ability made up for the rest.

Despite our low rating the film should be seen, once, along with its competitors efforts. Contrast these efforts with those just made three (3) years later. It is just not a leap in technological accomplishment, but a advancement in every phase of film making.

Athletes are Required to Endure Grueling Exercises to Stay in Shape and Film Archeologists are Required to Sit Through Things Like This to Attain Well Earned Knowledge of Movies in an Historical Context.

After Experiencing 2+ Hours of this Vaudevillian Venture the Head Aches (just like the athlete's muscles) and Many a Film Buffs will Breathe Easier when the Final Curtain is Dropped. Calling this Dated is to be Polite. It is Not Only Dated but Dismal.

There are a Few Productions that are Mildly Entertaining but the Constant Parade of "Entertainers" is at Best a Mixed Bag and at Worst a Delusional Drudgery that Only the Most Die Hard of Movie Maniacs could Enjoy.

The Transition to Sound was a Work in Progress for Hollywood in 1929 and the Work was Not Always Pretty and Mostly Painfully Embarrassing. This Film Suffers from a Static Camera and the Musical Numbers Featuring a Bevy of "Beauties" Photographed 90% of the Time in Extreme Long Shots and the Result is Eye Strain.

The Amount of Effort it Took to Stage these Things is Lost on the Audience Most of the Time with Everyone Appearing Like Kaleidoscopic Ants. The Songs are Novelty at Best but Mostly God-Awful.

Much of the Movie was Shot in Color but Only B&W Prints Exist, with Only One Color Production Remaining and it Manages to Provide One of the Film's Few Highlights. There are a Couple of Other Segments that are Interesting. But this Clunker is Only of Interest to Film Fanatics and Vaudeville Aficionados. Only a Sadist would Recommend this to Anyone Else.

Wouldn't it be nice to be able to peep through the (heavy) curtains of Time and physically drop into any previous year to properly sample the air, the people, the entertainment, the booze - or the lack of it. I'm afraid that's what we need to be able to do to fully understand this now, because watching often blurry incomprehensible 2D images through gauze requires some patience.

It's 1929, Warner Brothers wanted to produce a revue talking picture starring most of its contracted players, a collection of comedy items, singing and dancing numbers linked by Frank Fay, who for the most part was rather Fey. The hodge-podge he introduced ranged from the sublime to the ridiculous, however all worthy of watching now to us archaeologists – when his turn eventually came to sing he was unsurprisingly cringeworthy too. There's almost endless impenetrable comic patter to get through but many good songs lie within, and for the most part with excellent orchestrations from Louis Silvers conducting the always sharp Vitaphone Orchestra. Winnie Lightner, fresh from Goldiggers Of Broadway belted out Ping Pongo and Singing In The Bathtub and these are definitely the highlights – she was allowed to be a highlight, sadly everyone else is shadowy and now of the shadows. The Technicolor section for Li-Po-Li sung by Nick Lucas and danced to by the not so inscrutable Myrna Loy was lost, found, restored – it's completely charming for the supposedly Oriental set as well as for the idiotic song lyrics. The big finale goes on for too long, but as with everything else in here is absolutely fascinating, even in the surviving black & white prints. John Barrymore played Richard III from a scene from Shakespeare's Henry VI, apparently this was well received in 1929…

The film itself was not so well received in 1929 in that it only recovered less than twice its cost – it was expected to do better. It has me glued to the TV every time I put it on, but do you enjoy time travel as much as I do?

Throughout this seemingly never-ending extravaganza of long-forgotten faces and bodies, I tried to imagine myself, sitting in one of those fabulous movie palaces in 1929 and experiencing this avalanche of marquee names.

It wasn't easy and it begins like a military army drill with dozens of female dancers all dolled up in uniform, tapping and revolving and moving in formation. This went on and on and although I was impressed with the number of performers on the screen, I've never cared for watching military parades.

And then began the tsunami of film personalities engaged in everything from pirates at sea sketches, singing duos, comedy routines, a ukulele playing expert, a longggg sequence involving sister acts, vaudeville entertainers.

The glaring obstacle to really enjoying this type of star cavalcade is that we have no way of knowing whose who. John Barrymore is easily identified, as is comedian Ben Turpin. But nearly all are just moving, anonymous figures. Also, my copy of this movie suffered from a serious sound weakness. It was impossible to understand most of the dialogue.

After watching this mish-mash, one realizes that almost no one appearing here were around just a year or two later. None were really suited for "talkies." And yet, we see them all, many desperately, working their hearts out to prove themselves ready for the microphone.

One really misses the original color prints that 1929 audiences saw, which may have enhanced their enjoyment. Frank Fay performed as master-of-ceremonies and he's not bad. What's interesting is that Fay was married to an unknown actress at that time, Barbara Stanwyck. When she agreed to make a screen test that year and to eventually star in a movie drama, her star began to rise, while Fay's career took a nose-dive and he was forgotten by the mid-1930s.

One familiar face that stood out was that of silent screen star, Richard Barthelmess who looked amazingly modern and whose voice sounded very good for "sound." Also of interest was the parade of "sister acts". A real stand-out were Natalie and Delores Costello--the latter stunning with her natural beauty.

If you can stick it out until the end, you may feel a touch of sadness. This was the last time the majority of these performers were ever seen, except for minor movie roles. But here, at least, we have them permanently enshrine forever on celluloid where they can continue to bore or excite future generations of film buffs..