Footlight Parade (1933) **1/2

Busby Berkeley was a field artillery lieutenant in WWI. Thus, he watched as soldiers marched in unison as they obeyed a strict cadence. No doubt this experience laid the groundwork for what would would become some of the most innovatively choreographed musical numbers in film history. Last week I wrote about Berkeley's breakout work in 42nd Street, so it is only fitting that I do a follow-up this week about his greatest musical number ever, “By a Waterfall” from Footlight Parade.

Following up his directorial success of 42nd Street, Lloyd Bacon helmed yet another backstage musical with this film. James Cagney plays Chester Kent, a down on his luck Broadway director who becomes a prologue director after talking pictures prove hugely profitable. And just what is a prologue director, you ask? Someone who puts together live stage shows to be shown in movie theaters before the main film. This is a step down for Chester. The musical comedies that he directed for Broadway were very successful, but once the “talkie” emerged his ticket sales dwindled. If this wasn’t bad enough, his wife (Renee Whitney) leaves him after she learns that his Broadway career is over. She should have stayed, because Chester and his partners, Sy Gould (Guy Kibee) and Frazer (Arthur Hohl), make their prologue enterprise a huge success. Due to this success, Chester’s main competitor decides to plant a mole in the company in order to steal Chester’s lavish production ideas. In addition to this problem, he has to worry about his underhanded partners who are shortchanging him from his hard-earned profits. What is a frazzled, creative genius to do?

Like most distracted, overworked men Chester has a woman on the spot who keeps his chaotic world in order: Nan Prescott (Joan Blondell). Dependable, loyal, and desperately in love with her boss, Nan keeps the ship afloat as Chester puts his attention everywhere but on her. One place that he sets his attention is on gold-digging actress Vivian Rich (Claire Dodd), who Nan sees right through. To say that Vivian is a piece of work would be an understatement.

When a big deal emerges with the Appolinaris’ theater company for a 40-theater contract, Chester must come up with three new shows in three days. Not willing to take a chance on his brilliant ideas leaking out to his competitor, Chester locks everyone in the studio and forbids any phone calls or outside visitors. One of the brilliant ideas Chester has is that mousy, bespectacled secretary Bea (Ruby Keeler) take off her glasses and become the star of the show. He also thinks that Scotty Blair (Dick Powell) has a nice singing voice; even if he had been forced upon him by Mrs. Gould (the outrageously funny Ruth Donnelly). Coincidentally, just like in 42nd Street, Powell and Keeler are romantically paired in this film. If working under such tight time constraints and fearing that someone will leak his ideas to his competitor aren’t enough, Chester must also try to meet Mrs. Gould’s “decency” requirements, which are monitored by her brother Charlie (Hugh Herbert).

In the end, what emerges from Chester’s creative mind are three very memorable musical numbers. The first, “Honeymoon Hotel” is performed by Powell and Keeler, who play a newly married couple who just want to enjoy their honeymoon without interruption but keep being interrupted by relatives and a creepy baby played by Billy Barty. The lyrics are very suggestive and overall the number was deemed too racy by many and was heavily cut in some local theaters.

The second act is the most spectacular (and the one that is most associated with Berkeley): “By a Waterfall.” Over 15 minutes long, this was the first on-screen aquacade. It featured 100 “bathing beauties”, costumed in swimming suits that made them appear naked, performing various aquatic acts in an 80-by-40-foot swimming pool. The pool was designed with a glass floor and glass walls, which allowed Berkeley to shoot the swimmers from every imaginable angle. The swimmers dance and form intricate, geometric patterns (which were captured by overhead kaleidoscopic shots). At the end, the swimmers form a revolving 70 ft. high wedding cake/fountain. It is the most spectacular musical number ever captured on film. Berkeley had the pool lined with glass walls and a glass floor so he could shoot the swimmers from every possible angle. No musical number has ever topped this.

The final number is one of my favorite James Cagney performances: “Shanghai Lil”—which was a nod to the 1932 film Shanghai Express (which I reviewed back in February). Told in an operatic fashion, the audience watches as a camera takes them through the waterfront bars of Shanghai. Cagney plays a tap dancing sailor looking for his lost lover Lil, a Chinese prostitute, in an opium-laced brothel. Watched today, most people don’t get the political messages that were being conveyed about American imperialism in Asia and FDR’s New Deal—especially with the image of the NRA’s Blue Eagle, which was a boost to fair wages and business competition (this Act was ruled unconstitutional by the Supreme Court in 1935). If you can get over seeing Keeler in a black wig and Chinese makeup, you’ll enjoy watching her dance number with Cagney—it is phenomenal. All told, more than 150 people performed in this number. Then unknowns John Garfield, Ann Sothern, and Dorothy Lamour appear in this sequence.

Overall, a highly entertaining musical. Cagney is at his best as the overworked Chester and Joan Blondell is her usual charming self. The supporting cast is stellar, especially Ruby Keeler and Ruth Donnelly. All of the musical numbers are great and two of them are considered among the greatest ever made.

42nd Street (1933) **1/2

In 1933, the Great Depression was steamrolling its way across the globe. Each country dealt with public morale in its own way. To put a little pep in the step of their people the Japanese pushed further into Manchuria and the Germans made Adolf Hitler their leader. In America, we decided to make musicals. Our rationale—poverty is easier to swallow if you’re being entertained by a good song and dance show. And in the end, aren’t dancing shoes more attractive than marching boots?

Had it not been for illness, Mervyn LeRoy would have directed this signature backstage musical. He was the one who developed most of the film, but had to hand the directorial reins to Lloyd Bacon after becoming ill—an on the verge of bankruptcy studio just couldn’t wait. Good thing he wasn’t too ill to suggest that then-girlfriend Ginger Rogers play Anytime Annie—her breakthrough role. In addition, this film launched the careers of Dick Powell and Ruby Keeler (Mrs. Al Jolson) and gave little-known choreographer Busby Berkley the opportunity to showcase his amazing talent. When all was said and done, Bacon did a fine job and the film was nominated for a Best Picture Oscar (it lost to Cavalcade).

Screenwriters Rian James and James Seymour adapted the Bradford Ropes novel of the same name into an acerbic, no-holds barred look at what really happens behind the curtains of Broadway. Their script opens with the announcement that producers Jones (Robert Mc Wade)and Barry (Ned Sparks) are launching a new show, Pretty Lady, starring Dorothy Beck (Bebe Daniels). Like most Broadway beauties, Dorothy owes her success to a rich benefactor; in this case, industrialist Abner Dillon (Guy Kibbee), who is financing the show. The producers choose Julian Marsh (the excellent Warner Baxter), a tyrannical, highly successful director but a newly bankrupt man thanks to the stock market crash, to run the show. Due to his unfortunate financial situation, Julian disregards the warnings of his doctor that too much stress could kill him and decides he must make the show a success—no matter what! And so the stage is set for a very contentious production of a Broadway show.

At the auditions we get a first-hand view of the backstage antics of show business. At the cattle call we meet choreographer Andy Lee (George Stone) and his girlfriend, chorus-girl Lorraine (Una Merkel). We also are introduced to the catty and sassy Anytime Annie (Rogers) and the innocent and inexperienced Peggy Sawyer (Ruby Keeler), who mistakenly walks into the men’s dressing room and sees a half-dressed Billy (Dick Powell) instead of the director. Fortunately for Peggy she makes quick friends with Billy, Lorraine and Annie and due to their “connections” she is selected for the chorus. Unfortunately for Peggy, Marsh is an exacting, chain-smoking director who likes to deliver overly-intense diatribes to his cast. I personally enjoy listening to Baxter deliver these not so inspirational speeches, but I can see where some might find them irritating.

Things soon become complicated when we learn that the show’s female lead is a two-timer, who’s cheating on the show’s backer with Pat (George Brent), her former vaudeville partner. When Marsh learns about this he asks his gangster friend Slim Murphy (Tom Kennedy) to get Pat out of the way. Meanwhile, an emasculated Pat starts to see himself as Dorothy’s “kept man” and begins to show an interest in Peggy. After taking her out to dinner one evening he is confronted and attacked by Slim Murphy. When Peggy takes him up to her room to tend to his wounds she is evicted by her landlady. With no place to stay, Pat convinces Peggy to stay at his apartment. So Peggy now spends her nights trying to help Pat get a backbone and her days trying to teach Billy how to tap dance. For those of you who don’t know, Ruby Keeler was a standout tap dancer. In the end, Pat decides to leave New York and take a job in Philadelphia—which coincidentally is where Pretty Lady has its opening test run.

Soon after performing the “You’re Getting to Be a Habit with Me” number in a full dress rehearsal (which Bebe Daniels is quite good in), Dorothy sees Peggy getting into a cab with Pat and she becomes jealously enraged. This causes her to drink way too much at her pre-opening party, which leads her to slap and insult Abner. Oh, no you didn’t! Abner now demands that Marsh replace Peggy for her insolence. Really, hours before the opening? Okay, he’ll accept an apology, but first the producers have to get Dorothy away from Pat, whom she has drunkenly called to her hotel. After hearing the producers discussing how to get rid of Pat again, Peggy tries to warn the couple. A drunken Dorothy thinks she’s there to take Pat away from her and attacks her. In this tussle Dorothy takes a tumble and severely injures her ankle. What to do?

With Dorothy obviously out of his good graces, Abner suggests Anytime Annie take her place—quick work, don’t you think? But Annie doesn’t want the part and suggests to Marsh that Peggy is the only member of the cast capable of replacing Dorothy. With only five hours left until show time, Marsh and Peggy engage in an exhaustive cram session. In the end, Marsh deems Peggy somewhat capable of playing the role and declares that the show must go on. In a somewhat moving scene, Dorothy (on crutches) goes to Peggy’s dressing room to give her blessing and to give the young ingénue some sage advice about show business: success means nothing if you aren’t happy—she’s marrying Pat and leaving show business.

With this bit of melodrama over, the curtain rises and the film becomes a full-fledged musical, but not before the most memorable lines of the film are uttered by Marsh to Peggy: “you’re going out a youngster, but you’ve got to come back a star.” Got pressure? What follows this sage declaration are three memorable Busby Berkeley choreographed numbers, the most notable being, of course, “42nd Street” but I also enjoy “Shuffle Off to Buffalo” , which is a very risqué number—fortunately the Hays Code wasn’t in effect yet. Now, Ruby Keeler was definitely not the most gifted singer, but she does a passable job of singing “42nd Street” and her tap dancing is spectacular. “42nd Street” is the final number of the show and the stylized sets are amazing and the sheer amount of bodies involved in the number baffles one’s mind. One of the standout elements of this number is when chorus members walk up a giant platform and turn at the same time to reveal skyscraper cutouts, which creates a giant New York skyline. The show is a huge success, but Marsh is so physically drained from the ordeal of putting it together that he can’t even enjoy the fruits of his labor. Isn’t that always the case?

This film set the stage for a new type of Hollywood musical and gave birth to the unmistakable Busby Berkeley production number. When people think of 42nd Street they immediately remember the spectacular images he created. In my opinion, Berkeley is the greatest choreographer in film history.

Of course, future Hollywood stars like Dick Powell, Ruby Keeler, and Ginger Rogers got their big break here. Yet, the person I always remember as the standout is Warner Baxter. He was absolutely terrific as the tyrannically-driven director. Personally, I think this was his greatest role—much better than his Oscar winning turn in In Old Arizona. For me, he and the Berkeley production numbers are what makes this such a good film.