The Stolen Jools (1931)

The Stolen Jools (alt. The Slippery Pearls)

Director: William C. McGann

USA 1931

20 min

See it on The Internet Archive here.

This is that kind of film that is wonderfully amusing to read serious reviews about. "Lame excuse to put as many stars in a movie as possible" is one comment on IMDb. Oh yes, raising funds for the National Variety Artists Tuberculosis Sanitarium is a really lame excuse to appear in a motion picture for. (Notice that the film is in "co-operation with Chesterfield Cigarettes"...)

Anyway, this is a short, entertaining film stuffed with some of the greatest stars of that day. Let me describe the very simple story for you.

The films begins with a police officer, played by Wallace Beery, answering the office phone.

"What? A murder? That ain't news, we had three yesterday."

Let go for that. But at a Hollywood party the day before, Norma Shearer got her jewels stolen (or the gangsters Edward G. Robinson and George E. Stone got them stolen after stealing them from her) - now that's urgent business! Beery collects his men (one of them, Buster Keaton) and sends out a detective (Eddie Kane) to find out who among the Hollywood stars has the jewels.

Detective Kane investigates the many Hollywood stars (among them El Brendel, playing a Swedish waiter with an unplacable accent), until child star Mitzi Green solves the case:

"Mitzi, you just saved the plot of the story!"

"And the moral of this story is: Never spank a child on an empty stomach! [horrendous laughter]"

Now, how can you not love that? Maybe if you're that kind of person who only allows himself/herself to enjoy sophisticated, well-planned comedy, in fear that a cheap laugh might undermine his/her intelligence. I enjoyed it, and it seems like a lot of the actors did too.

And here's a part of the cast!

Wallace Beery, as the Police Sergeant

Buster Keaton, as a police man.

Edward G. Robinson and George E. Stone as themselves.

Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy, as policemen.

Our Gang, as themselves (Farina, Stymie, Chubby, Mary Ann Jackson, Shirley Jean Rickert, Echo, Wheezer and Pete the Pup.)

Norma Shearer, as herself.

Hedda Hopper, as herself.

Joan Crawford, as herself.

William Haines, as himself.

Dorothy Lee, as herself.

Victor McLaglen, as himself.

El Brendel, as the Swedish waiter.

Winnie Lightner, as herself.

Fifi D'Orsay, as herself.

Warner Baxter, as himself.

Irene Dunne, as herself.

Bert Wheeler and Robert Woolsey, as themselves.

Claudia Dell, as herself.

Eugene Pallette, as a Reporter.

Gary Cooper, as a Reporter (named Cooper).

Charles "Buddy" Rogers, as himself.

Maurice Chevalier, as himself.

Douglas Fairbanks Jr, as himself.

Loretta Young, as herself.

Richard Barthelmess, as himself.

Bebe Daniels, as herself.

Joe E. Brown, as himself (uncredited).

Barbara Stanwyck, as herself.

Fay Wray, as herself.

Mitzi Green, as herself.

Platinum Blonde (1931)

Platinum Blonde
Director: Frank Capra
USA 1931
90 min


Like many other 1930's and 1940's comedies, the main character is a news reporter. His name is Stew Smith (played by Robert Williams, who tragically died three days after the release of the film by appendicitis, just when his career started taking off). Smith is a wise-cracking, slightly annoying but charming fellow, who one day covers a scandal story involving the socialite family Schuyler. Of course, the family has a beautiful charming daughter who catches his eye, Anne (Jean Harlow). After some Capraesque gnabbing, they fall in love and elope quite spontaniously. The marriage is not approved by the refined Schuyler family, and breaks the poor heart of Stew's colleague Gallagher (beautiful Loretta Young), who is secretely in love with him.
Now, isn't that a promising plot?

Stew in the centre of his colleagues' attention, keeping eye contact with his best friend Gallagher.

As if this wasn't enough, the newly weds soon realize that they both have taken for granted that the other person would assimilate themselves with their lifestyle - Stew finds it crystal clear that Anne will move to his apartment and live on a reporter salary, while Anne thinks it's obvious that Stew will learn manners and live in the family's mansion.
Eventually, of course, this causes some problems for the couple.


Scene: The wonderfully artistic waterfall scene with Stew and Anne. How could one not fall in love?

Scene: I won't wear garters!

Platinum Blonde is a pleasant triangle drama with great actors in every role. (I've said that a lot lately, haven't I?) I haven't seen a lot of pre-code Capra yet (something I definitely will do something about), but I must say that this film had a very different ring to it than other Capra productions. I had expected a more escapistic tone in it (after all, 1931 was the beginning of the Depression), but instead Platinum Blonde turned out to be more of a solid romantic drama/comedy. (Why is he so hard to categorize?)
But maybe I'm just imagining. The important thing is that it was a great film, and to this date I haven't yet seen anything signed Frank Capra that I didn't love.

It's also funny to see similarities between Capra's movies. How about the leading man here being called "Cinderella Man" in the newspapers? Or the scene where the leading man and a butler have fun with echoing halls? Yes, I think you're with me here. (Check here.) A director making references to himself is always amusing.




There are some interesting trivia for this film, aside from the unexpected death of the leading man. (Think how cinema history could have looked like under different circumstances... Perhaps Robert Williams would have played Nick Charles instead of William Powell? Rhett Butler or Sam Spade?)
The title of the film was originally "Gallagher", but was changed to Platinum Blonde to boost Harlow's career. I always thought the title was kind of weird, since the plot hasn't anything to do with platinum blonde hair except that Harlow has it. Talk about changing the point of focus with that title switch.
I also read that, at the time, the critics totally hated Harlow's performance, mocking her and stating that she ruined every scene she was in. Maybe her laid back acting style was too modern for the contemporary audience (or at least for the all-knowing critics).

I guess we can be happy that critics see the film in a totally different light today, because it deserves to me approved - it works very good, even over 75 years later.
(But am I the only one who thinks that Stew rushes into fights a little too easily? Makes the character, who otherwise is so relaxed and happy-go-lucky, seem very unstable. What does he hide?)

Quotes:

Stew Smith: Yeah, I know those bluenoses. Their ancestors refused to come over on the Mayflower because they didn't want to rub elbows with the tourists... so they swam over!

Dexter Grayson: Where were you yesterday?
Anne Schuyler: Oh, Stew and I went for a long ride. Dexter, is there any finishing school we could sent him to?
Dexter Grayson: Yes - Sing Sing!

Stew Smith: Say, I interviewed a swell guy the other day: Einstein. Yeh, swell guy. Little eccentric, but a swell - doesn't wear, doesn't wear any garters. Neither do I, as a matter of fact.

[Anne showing Stew into the library]
Stew Smith: What country is this library in? Miss Schuyler, how about car fare back to the front door, huh?

Smoking women - part 1

There's no secret that I find classic actresses' smoking habits romantic, sensual and classy. Therefore I've decided to share that fascination with you through a little mini series called "Smoking women" - containing both film clips and photographs. You might see it as a sequel to my Men and cigarettes post from February.

Enjoy!

Evelyn Brent smoking a "bomber" in The Last Command (1928), directed by Josef von Sternberg. Handing her the cigarette is no other than Emil Jannings

, the strict professor Marlene Dietrich entangles as Lola Lola in The Blue Angel (1930).

Anna May Wong leans backwards in a comfortable arm chair, smoking a cigarette while waiting for Mr. Holmes (Reginald Owen) in A Study in Scarlet (1933).

Loretta Young in Born to Be Bad (1934) to the tones of My Mama Done Told Me. I love when she blows smoke in Cary Grant's face, wonderfully rude!

A scene from another Josef von Sternberg film, The Docks of New York (1928). Betty Compson, rescued from a suicide attempt by a blue-collar worker (George Bancroft), gathers her strength with a cosy bed and a lot of cigarettes. She's a real vixen, isn't she?

And lastly, for this time, the lovely Clara Bow. Smoking scenes from Call Her Savage (1932).