Lloyd Bacon – Movie Musings

Run-of-the-mill odd-couple buddy movie, that somehow landed a nomination for Best Picture

Director: Lloyd Bacon

Cast: James Cagney (Chesty O’Connor), Pat O’Brien (CPO Biff Martin), Gloria Stuart (Dorothy Martin), Frank McHugh (Wilbur ‘Droopy’ Mullins), Dorothy Tree (Gladys), Willard Robertson (Lieutenant Commander), Eddie Acuff (Orderly), George Irving (Admiral)

Why did Here Comes the Navy get nominated for Best Picture? The only answer that makes sense why this run-of-the-mill mix of odd-couple buddy movie and flag-waving recruitment piece ended up in such hallowed company is that it was the only contender Warner Brothers had that year and the full company block vote went behind it. Either way, Here Comes the Navy has disappeared as swiftly as a rock dropping to the bottom of the sea.

Chesty O’Connor (James Cagney) is a happy-go-lucky builder with a chip on his shoulder who takes it badly when Chief Petty Officer Biff Martin (Pat O’Brien) woos his girl Gladys (Dorothy Tree), wins Chesty’s own dance competition with her and even knocks Chesty down in a fight. Chesty decides the best revenge is to join the navy and get on board Martin’s ship USS Arizona for round two. Unfortunately for him, he finds the navy is harder work than expected, with its rigid discipline. Doesn’t stop Chesty continuing his feud with Martin – especially when he falls for Martins sister Dorothy (Gloria Stuart). But will Chesty find honour, decency and a love of duty in him while serving in the navy?

Since the film was made with the full co-operation of the US Navy, you can be pretty confident he will. Bacon’s film zips along in a pacey 85 mins, hitting every expected beat you would expect. It’s almost completely reliable on the charm and comic timing of Cagney, so it’s just as well he’s on fine form, with just the right level of cheek and cynicism alongside his deadly sin of pride. It further helps that he’s sparking much of his odd couple bickering against long-time real-life pal Pat O’Brien, spot on for the stiffer, less entertaining role of the rule-abiding killjoy who can still win a dance contest and will put up his dukes when needed (but only off duty).

The sparring and bickering between these two – with the inevitable heroic deed that brings them together as feuding best pals – is fairly formulaic but decent enough. That’s par for the whole film, which is all a formula delivered exactly to plan, that barely stands out from hundreds of similar movies. It feels rather like a light-and-jolly B-movie, the sort of thing that might pop up before you watch a more prestige product afterwards.

It gets lifted to A-movie status due to the scale from that Naval investment. Here Comes the Navy’s subtle, military-approved, message is that the atmosphere of the navy, its discipline and the pride in the institution of officers and men can turn even the most unlikely waster into a stand-up pride of the service. With that message firmly in place, the film got enviable access to the USS Arizona, with scenes above and below deck, with Chesty and Droopy polishing guns, swabbing decks, loading and firing the guns, climbing on board… every chance is used and to show the navy equipment (several stock clips shows various ships on practice manoeuvres) and the same thing continues when Chesty is re-assigned to the US Naval Air Service, with vast hangers and airships.

Plot wise, among all this impressive military hardware, there is little to get anyone’s creative juices really flowing. It’s all shot with competent professionalism but no real inspiration (or lasting interest) by Lloyd Bacon. Gloria Stuart gives a perfectly fine performance as Martin’s decent, kind sister. Cagney has almost as much chemistry with her, as he does with the tender bond he displays with Frank McHugh’s quietly amusing Droopy. (There is a hint of a homoerotic bond between Cagney and McHugh, that I am pretty sure must have passed the Navy by when they watched the film).

The shenanigans are all fairly amusing, except perhaps for an unfortunate sequence where Cagney blacks up to slip ashore as part of a ticket-of-leave party. The make-up renders him unrecognisable to Martin (!), but that’s not as bad the Black sailor he purchases the ticket from, who is only a few degrees away from the sort of “yes massa” portrait of dimness and docility that filled out the cast of Gone with the Wind.

Aside from that it’s all fine, in a totally forgettable way (I’d be amazed if Cagney had any memory of making the film). It’s main interest today is the way it captures on film two doomed naval vessels. The airship USS Macon that Chesty serves on was lost at sea (fortunately with only two crewmen lost) less than a year after Cagney’s stunt double shinned down a rope mid-air. Even more tragic, the USS Arizona would be sunk at Pearl Harbor seven years later, with 1,177 officers and crew lost, its carcass still lying at the bottom of the harbour today. It’s a tragic footnote to a film that is itself a footnote in Oscar’s history.

Less a musical, more about a musical – but a delightful love letter to the joy of theatre

Director: Lloyd Bacon

Cast: Warner Baxter (Julian Marsh), Bebe Daniels (Dorothy Brock), George Brent (Pat Denning), Ruby Keeler (Peggy Sawyer), Guy Kibbee (Abner Dillon), Dick Powell (Billy Lawler), Una Merkel (Lorraine Fleming), Ginger Rogers (Anytime Annie), George E Stone (Andy Lee), Ned Sparks (Barry), Robert McWade (Jones), Allen Jenkins (MacElroy)

Jones and Barry are putting on a show! The cry lights up Broadway (in an impressively staged series of quick-cuts, cross fades and super-impositions of the excited souls). And 42^ndStreet is all about the creation of that show, from the signing of the contracts to the opening night and the spontaneous making of a star. If it feels, watching 42^nd Street that it’s made up of nothing but theatrical cliches… then it’s because most of them became cliches from excessive re-use after 42^nd Street showed they worked so well – and made such a hugely entertaining film along the way.

The show is Pretty Lady, to be directed by Julian Marsh (Warner Baxter), the finest director (and friendliest tyrant) on Broadway who needs the money after losing a packet in the Crash. He’s not the only one struggling in Depression-era America: the competition to land a job as chorus girl is fierce. So, it’s a lucky chance that debutante Peggy Sawyer (Ruby Keeler) lands a gig. The star is Dorothy Brock (Bebe Daniels), a vaudeville veteran trying to make it as a serious Broadway actor and currently the squeeze of the shows’ wealthy financier Abner Dillon (Guy Kibbee) – although she is still seeing her old partner Pat Denning (George Brent). But will Dorothy make it through the drama to opening night – or will Peggy need to step up to save the day?

It’s not a surprise that of course she does, but then Julian’s final words to her (“You’re going out a youngster, but you’ve got to come back a star!”) is the film’s most famous moment. As well as launching a thousand backstage dramas, 42^nd Street is remembered as a musical. But there is actually precious little music in it. We have to wait almost 45 minutes before the first song (Dorothy’s rendition of ‘You’re Getting to Be a Habit with Me’) and the final fifteen until we see the bulk of Busby Berkeley’s choreography. Other than that, this is very entertaining soapy, backstage drama with romantic entanglements. It’s a more film about the stressful theatrical alchemy involved in making a musical, rather than a musical itself – there is no ‘putting my feelings into song’ here.

And it’s taking place in Depression-era desperation. Everyone needs a job – that’s why they are so excited about hearing there is a show in town. That plays into the family atmosphere behind the scenes. After all everyone needs the show to be a success, and if that means roping in a few gangsters to get a wayward star back into line so be it. Much like, in fact, 42^nd Street itself, coming to the screen after a glut of musical flops (perhaps that’s why there is so little actual musical content in it). The film zeroes in refreshingly and lovingly on the hard work, dedication and family atmosphere that can grow up in theatre, where everyone is working towards a common goal – and why I, a veteran of more than my share of putting a show on, felt a real soft spot for it growing.

And there is support, for all the bitchy moaning behind the scenes. Julian Marsh may tyrannically insist on absolute perfection – rehearsing through the night, waking the piano player when needed – but, it’s all to service a common goal. When emergency hits, the company flocks around and support each other. When one of their number triumphs there will be more congratulations than there are jealousies: even Dorothy will lay aside any personal feelings to support the new star. 42^nd Street really captures the sense that behind the curtain in the theatre a little world of its own is created, one which can be very loving in its own unique way.

It’s also a world, with more than a few sexual escapades, something hard to overlook in a film as full of chorus girl’s legs as this (the chorus girls are largely hired on the basis of how good those legs look). Dorothy is effectively trading her favours for a career leg-up from the clueless Dillner, while sticking with true love Denning. Denning, jealous, conducts his own speculative flirtation with Peggy (in a fun sequence, her landlady throws her out for daring to bring Pat home for a coffee – while behind her another chorus girl smuggles out her lover with an illicit kiss). Anytime Annie didn’t get her nickname for her dancing, Lorraine is happy to leverage her relationship with dance director Andy Lee and Lee himself (it’s implied) is the willing subject of Julian’s attentions.

In the midst of this, poor Peggy feels rather naïve. Sure, she may be bouncing between unlooked for attentions from a young member of the company and leading young man Dick Powell, but a passing possibility of romance with George Brent’s cuckolded partner (in every sense) to Bebe Daniel’s star leaves her flustered. Brent’s intentions may well be noble, but left alone with him in his apartment, Peggy is sweetly nervous and locks her door after she is chivalrously conveyed to the spare bedroom by Brent, as if scared she may give into temptation. Hilariously they are only in his apartment, after his calling on her is mistaken for a dalliance by her landlady, who throws them both out while boasting she never misses a trick – all while, in the back of the shot, another tenant quietly ushes her beau out of the door.

All of this gives some lovely opportunity to its actors, and there are several delightful turns in 42^nd Street. Not least in the chorus, where Una Merkel has a wonderfully playful flirtatiousness and Ginger Rogers gives her monocle-clad Anytime Annie a rogueish sexiness. Guy Kibbee’s moronically uncultivated sugar daddy gets several good laughs at his boorish cluelessness. If Ruby Keeler at times seem a bit unnuanced as the lead (there has long been some rather mixed feelings about her slightly heavy-footed dancing) and Dick Powell is eminently forgettable as her love interest, there is more than enough class from Baxter’s stressed out director, George Brent is very fine and Bebe Daniels invests Dorothy Brock with just enough vulnerability under the diva exterior to always leave you rooting for her (she is, after all, just as desperate for work as the meanest chorus girl).

It’s a film put together with flair – the early montage is pacily and flashily assembled – and a great deal of wit (producer Darryl F Zanuck and Berkely often gain the lion’s share of the credit for its pace, wit and zip although I feel some credit must go to experienced director-for-hire Lloyd Bacon). The final dance numbers are expertly done and very well filmed by Berkely, including a point where the camera glides under a parade of leg arches. But above all, it’s a heart-warming and witty tale that pulls back the romantic curtain of theatre to reveal – well an equally romantic view of the camaraderie and magic that brings a show to the stage. But it would be a hard heart that could not find something to smile at here.