Budd Fine Movies

W.C. Fields is in fine fettle as small-town grocer Harold Bissonette (pronounced Biss-o-NAY). Harold dreams of becoming a California orange farmer, but his gorgon wife (Kathleen Howard) will have none of it. After a grueling day at the store, during which his electric light stock is destroyed by a cane-wielding blind man (Charles Sellon), and his floor is flooded with molasses by the impish Baby LeRoy, Harold announces that he's sold the store and bought an orange grove. Seeking to escape his wife's nagging, Harold tries to sleep on his porch, which proves impossible thanks to innumerable interruptions--not least of which is an insurance salesman (T. Roy Barnes) loudly asking for Karl LaFong ("capital L, small A, capital F, small O, small N, small G!") The next day, Harold packs his family into the car and heads off for California. Once there, the little band of pilgrims drives onto the property of a wealthy man, assuming that it's a public park. They make a shambles of the grounds while trying to have a picnic, whereupon they are chased off the land by the scowling owner (Guy Usher). Finally, Harold arrives at his "vast" orange grove--consisting of a tumbledown shack and one scrawny tree. Harold sits silently ruminating over his bad luck until his new neighbor informs him that a wealthy land developer wishes to buy Harold's property to build a stadium. "Don't let them bluff you," advises the neighbor. "You can get any price." The potential buyer turns out to be the same fellow whose property had been invaded by Bissonette the day before, but business is business. The buyer offers several insulting sums, but Harold, fortified by a flask of gin, holds firm. "You're drunk!" the buyer shouts. "And you're crazy," responds Harold. "But tomorrow I'll be sober, and you'll always be crazy." Harold's stubbornness saves the day, and we fade on the satisfying sight of the Bissonette family living in luxury on the huge orange grove of Harold's dreams. A remake of Fields' silent It's the Old Army Game, It's a Gift was written by J.P. McEvoy and one Charles Bogle--and there isn't a Fields fancier alive who doesn't know who Charles Bogle really is. Downplayed by detractors as being merely three two-reelers strung together, It's a Gift has survived such piddling criticism to emerge as one of W.C. Fields' funniest efforts, as well as a comedy classic by any standards. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

Brooklyn tugboat worker Eddie (Eddie Cantor), bullied and cowed by his tough-guy stepfather and stepbrothers (a la Harold Lloyd's The Kid Brother), inherits $77 million from his uncle, an Egyptologist. Con artist Dot (Ethel Merman) wants to get her lunchhooks on the money, and to this end offers herself as Eddie's adopted mother (never mind that she's nearly 20 years younger), intending to have her thuggish brother Louie (Warren Hymer) bump off our hero at the first opportunity. The nonsensical plotline ends up with Eddie, Dot, Louie, pompous Southern colonel Larrabee (Berton Churchill), and nominal romantic leads Jerry (George Murphy in his film debut) and Jane (Ann Sothern) trapped in the palace of Arab potentate Mulhulla (Paul Harvey). The better-than-average comic banter includes some funny bits between Cantor and Eve Sully, of the comedy team of "Block and Sully" (her husband-partner Jesse Block is also in the picture, but just barely). Spotted among the featured players in Kid Millions are such "Our Gang" members as Stymie Beard, Scotty Beckett and Tommy Bond, and there's a specialty by the Nicholas Brothers during Cantor's obligatory "blackface" number; and yes, that's Lucille Ball as a blonde Goldwyn Girl in the harem sequence. PS: According to Ethel Merman, the film's elaborate Technicolor ice-cream factory finale, in which Eddie allows dozens of tenement kids to gorge themselves on his tasty confections, posed censorship problems: while producer Sam Goldwyn was allowed to show the little boys with comically extended stomachs, he was not permitted to do so with the little girls, for fear that the audience might think the female moppets were pregnant! ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

Drafted into the army during World War I, those muddled misfits Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy make a shambles of Training Camp before being shipped to France. When their best pal Eddie (Donald Dillaway) is killed in battle, Stan and Ollie vow to locate the grandparents of Eddie's orphaned little daughter (Jacquie Lyn). Unfortunately, the grandparents are named Smith--and they live in New York City. With only a city directory and phone book as their guide, Stan and Ollie undergo several chucklesome misadventures as they scour the canyons of Manhattan to find Mr. and Mrs. Smith. With the orphanage officials hot on their heels, the boys take drastic action to raise enough money to get out of town with the little girl. All turns out well when Eddie's grandfather makes an appearance under the least likely circumstances. But before Laurel & Hardy can enjoy their own happy ending, they cross the path of an old enemy from their army days: a knife-wielding chef with blood in his eye. The second of Laurel & Hardy's feature-length films, Pack Up Your Troubles is, so far as we're concerned (and here we part company with most Laurel & Hardy buffs), infinitely more amusing than their first feature effort, 1931's Pardon Us. Best bit: An overtired Laurel, attempting to tell a bedtime story to the little girl, ends up snoozing away as the kid finishes the story. The powerhouse supporting cast includes such Laurel & Hardy regulars as James Finlayson, Billy Gilbert, Rychard Cramer, Charles Middleton and Charlie Hall. George Marshall, the film's director, proves a mirthsome menace in the small role of the vengeful chef. For years available only in its 62-minute reissue form, Pack Up Your Troubles was restored to its full 68-minute glory in the mid-1980s. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

After unsuccessfully impersonating a Mexican in his previous The Avenger, cowboy star Buck Jones returned to form in The Texas Ranger. Jones plays the title character, who on this occasion has been assigned to bring lady bandit Carmelita Geraghty to justice. Upon learning that the heroine turned to a life of crime because she was falsely accused of murder, Jones sets about to find the real killer. Briefly posing as an outlaw, our hero infiltrates Geraghty's outlaw gang, ultimately exposing the Benedict Arnold who framed her. A few clever directorial touches aside, Texas Ranger is a traditional Jones vehicle, but that's what the fans craved. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

While Barbra Streisand played musical-comedy star Fanny Brice in Funny Girl and Funny Lady, the closest Brice ever came to playing a Streisand-like role on film was in the 1930 comedy-drama Be Yourself. The Rose of Washington Square is cast as Fanny Field, the long-suffering girlfriend of no-account, gin-swilling prizefighter Jerry Moore (Robert Armstrong). After sacrificing everything to advance Jerry's career, Fanny is "repaid" when Jerry dumps her in favor of femme fatale Lillian (Gertrude Astor). Our heroine gets her revenge by telling Jerry's ring opponent to "go after" her man's nose, which was recently reconstructed by plastic surgery. As a result, Jerry loses the bout, but comes to his senses, returning to Fanny for good. Highlights include Brice's takeoff of "Dante's Inferno" and her song solo "Cookin' Breakfast for the One I Love," co-written by her then-husband Billy Rose. Unfortunately, the public didn't respond to Be Yourself, and Fanny Brice never again starred in a film, though she appeared as supporting player and guest performer from time to time. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

Two vagabonds find romance in this love story. It all begins when they get jobs as railroad brakemen by proving to the foreman that they are strong. Both of them simultaneously think about giving up their wandering ways when they meet two eligible women: the railroad's paymaster and commissary chief, and a dumbbell waitress. Things are looking up until one of the hoboes loses his savings in a crap shoot and later finds himself framed for theft. Fortunately, the two are able to finger the real thieves before it is too late. ~ Sandra Brennan, All Movie Guide

Our Gang member Joe Cobb has to do some quick thinking when his playful but undeniably destructive pet dog Pansy is slated to be shot by Joe's frustrated dad. Training Pansy to play dead, Joe does his job so well that the pooch is hired as a "stunt dog" by a local movie studio. As expected, Joe and the rest of the Our Gang kids tag along when Pansy makes his debut before the cameras, culminating in an outsized pie fight on the set of a slapstick comedy. By the time Playin' Hookey was released by Pathe on January 1, 1928, producer Hal Roach was releasing his newest Our Gang comedies through his new distributor MGM. Long available only in a fragmentary version, a complete print of this film was discovered in a French vault in the 1980s.
~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

Having scored big-time box office with his first Biblical epic, The Ten Commandments (1923), Cecil B. DeMille hoped to top this success with his 1927 The King of Kings. Inasmuch as he was now dealing with the life of Christ, DeMille had to be careful to serve up equal amounts of showmanship and reverence. The first creative challenge: how to "introduce" Christ in a tasteful manner? The answer: as a blind child is cured through Jesus' intervention, DeMille cuts to the child's point-of-view, slowly fading in on the kindly countenance of H.B. Warner as the Son of Man. Still, DeMille remained DeMille, especially in his handling of the character of Mary Magdalene (Jacqueline Logan). No longer a tattered streetwalker, Mary Magdalene is now a glamorous courtesan, replete with legions of gorgeous slave girls (one of whom is "bubble dancer" Sally Rand) and dressed in revealing Hollywood-style gowns. In fact, the film opens on this character, as she ruminates over the defection of her favorite customer, Judas Iscariot (Joseph Schildkraut), who is spending far too much time with Jesus of Nazareth. Upon visiting Jesus herself, she immediately repents, casting off all her prior sins. Once again, the efficacy of the Cecil B. DeMille formula is proven: redemption has no dramatic value unless the film shows viewers why the sinner needs to be redeemed. Once he's gotten his box-office considerations out of the way, DeMille adheres faithfully to the particulars of Jesus' life, betrayal, trial, Crucifixion, and Resurrection. (Again, however, the director improves a bit upon his source material: the storm that follows the Crucifixion is of the same spectacular dimensions as the parting of the Red Sea in Ten Commandments, while the Resurrection is filmed in vibrant Technicolor). To back up the authenticity of his images, DeMille -- with an assist from scenarist Jeannie Macpherson -- utilizes Scriptural quotes in his subtitles. And to avoid any untoward publicity while filming, DeMille required all of his actors to sign legal documents preventing them from indulging in any sort of "sinful" activity; this meant that poor old H.B. Warner had to steer clear of alcoholic beverages for nearly a year, though he more than made up for lost time after his contract ran out. Prepared to mercilessly lambaste The King of Kings, DeMille's critics were disarmed by his reverent, tasteful approach to the subject. Years after the film's release, a specially prepared 60-minute version of the 18-reel King of Kings was making the rounds of religious groups, church basements, and Easter-weekend telecasts. The film was remade in 1961 by producer Samuel Bronston and director Nicholas Ray, with Jeffrey Hunter as Jesus. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

Battling Butler has to be the strangest of Buster Keaton's silent features. Based on the musical comedy of the same name, the film casts Keaton as wimpy millionaire Alfred Butler, who goes on a vacation in the mountains in the company of his faithful valet (Snitz Edwards). While communing with nature, Alfred falls in love with a beautiful young girl (Sally O'Neil), who barely acknowledges his existence. Without his master's knowledge, the valet tries to smooth the path of romance by telling the girl that Alfred is, in reality, boxing champion Battling Butler (Francis McDonald). The real champ, a mean-spirited sort, gets wind of this deception and decides to allow Alfred to continue the charade, fully intending to mop the floor with the puny millionaire in the boxing ring. But on the night of the big fight, Alfred suddenly gets tired of being pushed around and turns into a savage opponent, leaving the bullying Butler positively groggy. At this point our hero discovers that the girl would have loved him whether he was Battling Butler or not, and all ends well. Played as traditional Keaton comedy for most of its running time, Battling Butler goes dramatic with a vengeance in the climactic fight scene, with Keaton really giving his ring opponent a going over. The final scene is all the more powerful because it is so completely unexpected; if it surprises today's audiences, one can only imagine the effect it had on Buster Keaton's fans way back in 1926. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide