The Voracious Cinephile Film Review: Big City Blues (1932); Directed by Mervyn LeRoy

Film poster for *Big City Blues* (1932); directed by Mervyn LeRoy.

Big City Blues opens with Bud Reeves (Eric Linden) inheriting money from his aunt (which occurs offscreen) and buying a train ticket to New York City. Before he leaves, he entrusts care of his dog (who escaped to follow Bud to the station) to the wise old bus station clerk (Eddie Graham). The best monologue in the film comes courtesy of the clerk (Graham), who tries his best to inject a little reality into the moony-eyed youngster, all to no avail, of course.

When Bud (Linden) gets to New York and checks into his hotel room overlooking the park, his older cousin Gibby (Walter Catlett) meets him and starts fleecing him out of his money, a little bit at a time. Gibby (Catlett) introduces him to two young ladies, Vida Fleet (Joan Blondell) and her friend Faun (Inez Courtney). Bud immediately falls head-over-heels in love with Vida (Blondell), and it appears she’s also taken with him.

Gibby organizes a party in Bud’s hotel room, with plenty of booze flowing (all on Bud’s dime, you see) and a ragtag group of other young people (including Humphrey Bogart and Lyle Talbot in uncredited roles). A fight breaks out in which a young chorus girl named Jackie (Josephine Dunn) is accidentally killed, and the partygoers flee like cockroaches. Bud is left holding the bag, so to speak, but quickly flees. Vida goes back to the room looking for Bud but sees that he’s also gone. When she’s still in the room, Hummell (Guy Kibbee) the hotel dick discovers Jackie’s body and Vida slips out.

Local police throw out a dragnet to snare the partygoers and get to the bottom of who killed Jackie. Bud goes in search of Vida and finally meets up with her at the 55 Club. For lack of anything better to do, the two go upstairs to gamble at dice and Bud loses what’s left of his inheritance. This is the most frustrating part of the film because why in the name of God would you gamble your fortune away when you’re facing trumped-up murder charges?! Please make it make sense. Such is the bedlam often found in so many Pre-Code classics. Anyway, a detective who’s been trailing Vida all day confronts the pair and arrests them.

While Bud, Vida, and the other partygoers are being interrogated, Hummell (Kibbee) finds the body of Lenny (Talbot) hanging in a closet holding part of the broken bottle that matches the one found near Jackie. After accidentally killing her, he was overwhelmed with guilt (presumably) and hanged himself. Cleared of suspicion and free to go, Bud and Vida exchange a tearful goodbye. It’s insinuated that Bud will one day return for Vida, as his feelings for her are reciprocated, but he is flat broke and needs to go back home and save up money.

The last shot of Blondell looking longingly at Bud as he’s heading to the station is perhaps the most emotion I’ve ever seen from her in a picture. There are tears welled up in her eyes, but she’s strength personified. In that brief moment, we see a woman who’s almost never had the breaks fall her way, but she’s resilient. It’s breathtaking, and a testament to her versatility as an actress. She truly was one of a kind.

Big City Blues is streaming now on the Criterion Channel as part of the collection Gangsters, Gold Diggers, and Grifters: Mervyn LeRoy’s Pre-Code Films.

Thanks as always for being a faithful reader of The Voracious Cinephile. If you like what you see, please like, comment, follow, and subscribe to my email list to get notified of new posts as soon as they drop. Keep watching the world, one frame at a time.

Film Review: To Have and Have Not (1944); Directed by Howard Hawks

Film poster for *To Have and Have Not* (1944).

Review

To Have and Have Not was a landmark film for several reasons, not least of all because it introduced Lauren Bacall to the world and became the backdrop for the beginning of one of Hollywood’s most famous marriages. In fact, I’d say the only Hollywood love affair that topped it would have to be Liz and Dick, but that’s not really a fair comparison. To Have and Have Not is based loosely on the 1937 novel of the same name by Ernest Hemingway. Hemingway was friends with Howard Hawks, the director of the film, and it was during a fishing trip they took together that Hawks told Hemingway he could make a great movie out of Hemingway’s worst novel, which in his estimation was To Have and Have Not.

Whether or not he was successful in his quest is not really up for debate, because anyone that sees the film can’t easily forget it. From the time that Lauren Bacall first explodes onto the screen asking if anyone has a match to her infamous line about whistling (watch the scene with the line here), every frame is a delight.

Garfield’s tortured desperation is more fitting and far more interesting than Bogart’s stalwart stoicism.

I say that even though To Have and Have Not isn’t even my favorite adaptation of Hemingway’s novel. The Breaking Point (1950), directed by Michael Curtiz of Casablanca fame and starring John Garfield (in his penultimate role), Patricia Neal, and Phyllis Thaxter, is the far superior film. I know this statement is sure to arouse a lot of strong feelings in some, and I welcome the discourse. It is only my opinion, but I stand by it wholeheartedly. Garfield’s tortured desperation is more fitting and far more interesting than Bogart’s stalwart stoicism. And while Bacall is truly a revelation in this her first film role, her performance has nothing on Phyllis Thaxter’s pleading anguish when trying to convince Harry (Garfield) to reverse course.

It would be really easy to turn a character like that into a stereotype or a caricature, but Brennan is far too capable to let that happen.

Perhaps one of my favorite parts from the film, aside from Bogie and Bacall, of course, is Walter Brennan’s performance as Eddie. Brennan’s Eddie is really a tragic character, but not an obviously tragic one. His alcoholism makes him vulnerable and is also probably one of the driving forces behind Morgan’s (Bogart’s) de facto adoption of him. He’s the kind of person you want to protect but that is seemingly helpless in the face of their own demons. It would be really easy to turn a character like that into a stereotype or a caricature, but Brennan is far too capable to let that happen.

If you’ve seen the film or are inspired to watch it after reading this post, let me know and we can talk about it.

Production Stills

Thanks as always for being a faithful reader of The Voracious Bibliophile. If you like what you see, please like, comment, follow, and subscribe to my email list to get notified of new posts as soon as they drop. You can also email me at fred.slusher@thevoraciousbibliophile.com or catch me on Twitter, Instagram, TikTok, and Pinterest @voraciousbiblog. Keep reading the world, one page (or pixel) at a time.

Happy Belated 100th Birthday to Lauren Bacall

Bogie and Bacall in *The Big Sleep* (1946).

She was the kind of person you’d only want to serve your good wine to, because anything less than the best would’ve been an insult.

Although she is no longer with us, yesterday would have been Lauren Bacall’s 100th birthday. She is TCM’s Star of the Month, and they’ve been showcasing some of her best and most iconic performances on Monday nights in September.

Yesterday, they showed the four films she starred in with her first leading man and later husband, Humphrey Bogart: To Have and Have Not (1944) (which was also her film debut), The Big Sleep (1946), Dark Passage (1947), and Key Largo (1948).

I’ve seen Dark Passage twice and Key Largo years ago, but until last night I’d never managed to catch To Have and Have Not and The Big Sleep when they were on. The funny thing about that is I own them both on DVD, but it’s a lot more fun to watch them when they air on TCM (especially if there’s an intro and outro from one of the hosts, who I consider my own personal friends even though I’ve never spoken to any of them).

The thing I love most about Lauren Bacall, aside from her effortless acting ability, is how elegant she was. She classed up a room just by walking into it. She was the kind of person you’d only want to serve your good wine to, because anything less than the best would’ve been an insult.