God's Gift to Women

In this painfully drawn out bedroom farce, set in Paris, Frank Fay is miscast as the titular love object, a descendant of Don Juan, who is smitten with a young American in Paris (Laura LaPlante) but in order to win her must extricate himself from the tangled web of his long- term intrigues with a virtual harem of lovers (played by Joan Blondell, Margaret Livingston, a sadly underused Louise Brooks and others).

The set up is amusing and deftly staged by Michael Curtiz, but once the direction of the plot becomes clear it bogs down in long, boring and insultingly stupid gag sequences, one upon another, involving Fay's diagnosis with a potentially fatal illness; eventually the viewer can only long for this character's demise.

The fine lineup of female supporting players is wasted as are Charles Winninger as LaPlante's suspicious and protective father and Alan Mowbray as (what else?) the butler. Tyrrell Davis gets to wrap the whole thing up with a decadent chuckle, foreshadowing his even more unusual closing moment in "Our Betters" two years later.

Frank Fay's trademark casual banter works against him here because it only adds to the already sluggish pace.

Frank who? It's difficult to engage immediately with unfamiliar actors. Frank Fey was a very popular but infamously arrogant 1920s comic and he's actually quite good in this, a natural talent. Once you get used to him, you'll find this 'Carry On style' farce quite entertaining.

Allegedly Frank Fey was a particularly unpleasant man and looks wise, he certainly was not God's gift to women! He's got really creepy eyes and looks like a cross between Lee Tracy and Pope Benedict XVI. You'd think it implausible for all these sexy women to be chasing him but somehow in real life he managed to snare Barbara Stanwyck so there must have been something about him. Nevertheless he was a professional and despite appearing like he sleeps in a coffin filled with Transylvanian soil, he really carries this picture.

Whereas Fey is pretty decent in this, silent cinema star Laura LaPlante is atrocious. But if you think she's bad, wait until you see Margaret Livingstone - oh dear, even for a comedy, some of the acting in this is terrible. Fortunately we have the divine Joan Blondell. Her former vaudeville experience is just perfect for this type of daftness. You can tell that she's destined for stardom - it's a shame this wasn't made a year later when she'd established herself as she'd have been brilliant in the lead. Even though she's not got a huge part, she makes a real impact - and not just because she strips down to her underwear. That scene lasts just two seconds but for us fans, it's the highlight of the picture!

Although forgotten today, Frank Fey was a huge star in the 1920s so Warner Brothers, expecting a big return on this, threw an uncharacteristically big budget at this. It looks sumptuously delicious and has even got a full score which wasn't that common in 1931. Michael Curtiz however still hadn't mastered making talkies when he made this - he certainly could do the visuals but as I've said, apart from Fey and of course Joan Blondell, the rest of his characters seem utterly unrealistic. This was a common flaw in early thirties comedies - 'comedy acting' wasn't like straight acting, it was purposely awful, presumably that style was considered funny back then.

Overall, if you like well made silly farces or are in love with Joan Blondell, give this a go. Not as funny as 'Allo 'Allo though.

Plot? Who cares about the plot? Something about a guy with several attractive girlfriends, including the incendiary Louise Brooks and the magnetic Joan Blondell. We should all have this problem. ;>

The main action involves the classic situation of juggling three women in different bedrooms. We've all seen this a million times and always wished the juggling act would fail, the women would encounter each other, and a catfight would ensue. Guess what? This time it happens! It may not be a classic catfight, but the brawl between Louise, Joan and another attractive brunette is worth the price of admission.

This movie will appeal mainly to fans of Louise Brooks. Her part is relatively small and she appears sans her famous Dutch-bob hair helmet, thus revealing a rather high forehead. You will still be in love with her, guaranteed. The real irony here is that several other actresses appear with the hairstyle she made not only famous, but possibly immortal. The Louise Legion will also be interested in her voice acting. Her voice is fine, but the role gives her no real opportunity to display her ability. As we all know, things never really got better on that front, either.

So don't expect much out of this, just kick back and enjoy one of the great beauties of film history, the incredible Louise Brooks.

Having read the 700-page biography of Barbara Stanwyck, which only goes up to 1941, I'm not inclined toward sympathy for her first husband Frank Fay, who stars in this Warners bedroom farce. He was arrogant and possibly abusive, and you can see his career in free- fall here. But he's not bad. As an irresistible Don Juan in Paris, which is itself a bit of a stretch, he has a good way with a comic line and is expert at physical comedy. You don't know why Laura La Plante, Joan Blondell, and Louise Brooks, among others, are all fighting over him, but director Michael Curtiz sustains the action nicely, and the Deco costumes and sets are a treat. There's also the nice additional pleasure of a "Show Boat" connection: Leading lady La Plante, who's charming, had recently been Magnolia in the first film version, and Charles Winninger, the stage Captain Andy who repeated his role in the 1936 version, is her dad. He's quite different here, and good.

During the 1920s, Frank Fay was the highest paid performer in vaudeville, the comedian from whom Jack Benny candidly admitted he lifted his on-stage style. By 1931 when "God's Gift to Women" was released, he had married Barbara Stanwyck and groomed her for stardom while his own career was rapidly declining. An arrogant drunk with a flair for alienating his fellow performers, Fay's downfall didn't get much sympathy though it purportedly inspired the movie, "A Star is Born." For more than a decade, he was the classic example of a "used-to-was" until the producers of the Broadway play, "Harvey," tapped him to play Elwood P. Dowd. It was among the most memorable stage performances I've ever seen, a classic of fey (sic) whimsy and superb comedy timing. Jimmy Stewart in the screen version, couldn't come close. Suddenly, a far less arrogant Frank Fay was enjoying the accolades that had eluded him since the late 1920s. Watch "God's Gift to Women," a stiff, stilted early pre-code romantic romp and you'll see both why Fay's career went downhill and conversely why he had the ideal vaguely befuddled style to play a man with a six foot tall rabbit as a pal.