Wesley Giraud Movies

The last of RKO's Fred Astaire-Ginger Rogers vehicles, The Story of Vernon and Irene Castle is also the least typical. At their best playing carefree characters in gossamer-thin musical comedy plotlines, Fred and Ginger seem slightly ill at ease cast as the real-life dancing team of Vernon and Irene Castle. The stripped-to-essentials storyline boils down to novice dancer Irene (Rogers) convincing vaudeville comic Vernon (Astaire) to give up slapstick in favor of "classy" ballroom dancing. With the help of agent Edna May Oliver, the Castles hit their peak of fame and fortune in the immediate pre-World War I years. When Vernon is called to arms, Irene stays behind in the US, making patriotic movie serials to aid the war effort. Vernon is killed in a training accident, leaving a tearful Irene to carry on alone. To soften the shock of Astaire's on-screen death (it still packs a jolt when seen today), RKO inserted a closing "dream" dancing sequence, with a spectral Vernon and Irene waltzing off into the heavens. The film's production was hampered by the on-set presence of the real Irene Castle, whose insistence upon accuracy at all costs drove everyone to distraction--especially Ginger Rogers, who felt as though she was being treated like a marionette rather than an actress. In one respect, Mrs. Castle had good reason to be so autocratic. Walter, the "severest critic servant" character played by Walter Brennan, was in reality a black man. RKO was nervous about depicting a strong, equal-footing friendship between the white Castles and their black retainer, so a Caucasian actor was hired for the role. Mrs. Castle was understandably incensed by this alteration, and for the rest of her days chastised RKO for its cowardice. As it turned out, it probably wouldn't have mattered if Walter had been black, white, Chicano or Siamese; The Story of Vernon and Irene Castle was a financial bust, losing $50,000 at the box office. Perhaps as a result, Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers would not team up again for another ten years. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

Spencer Tracy won his second Oscar for his portrayal of Father Edward J. Flanagan--then promptly turned the statuette over to the real Father Flanagan out of gratitude. The priest's philosophy that no boy will grow up bad if given a chance in life culminates in his formation of Boys Town in Omaha, Nebraska. Unable to raise funds through "proper" channels, Flanagan finds that his staunchest supporters are the workaday folks who have faith in him; none is stauncher than Jewish pawnbroker Henry Hull, who digs deep into his pockets to help Flanagan realize his dream. The story of the struggle to get Boys Town on its feet paralleled with the regeneration of punkish Mickey Rooney, the younger brother of criminal Edward Norris. At first a wise-guy rebel, Rooney rises to a position of authority, responsibility and respect in Boys Town's self-maintained government. Boys Town, by the way, is the source of the classic line "He ain't heavy--he's my brother." ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

Carole Lombard stars as Helen Bartlett, a compulsive liar who always tips the audience to an oncoming whopper by sticking her tongue in her cheek. Helen is married to a Kenneth Bartlett, a scrupulously honest lawyer whose integrity has always held him back professionally. Hoping to help Kenneth get ahead, Helen confesses to a murder she obviously didn't commit, confident that he'll get her off and make his reputation. But things don't go exactly as planned, thanks largely to a mysterious eccentric named Charley (John Barrymore), who assures the heroine over and over that she'll "fry." Once considered a prime example of screwball comedy, True Confession is now regarded by film buffs as one of Carole Lombard's worst pictures: it wasn't much better when remade by Betty Hutton in 1946 as Cross My Heart. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

A tough youth gang leader learns the true meaning of courage in this moving and thoughtful drama. He is the leader of a troop of boys involved in an elaborate game of "capture the flag." He is idolized by a sickly boy on the block who begs to be allowed to join the leader's group. Eventually the older boy gives in and "enlists" the weakling as a private. Though he treats the young lad with contempt, the boy is so enamored of his hero that he doesn't notice. Eventually the gang's rivals, the "Red Shirts" steal their flag. To prove himself, the sickly boy risks his life and frail health. The allegorical, anti-war story is based on Hungarian playwright Molnar's autobiographical novel. ~ Sandra Brennan, All Movie Guide

Cowboy star Ken Maynard trots out one of his favorite plot devices in Whistlin' Dan. Once again, Maynard poses as a crook in order to infiltrate an outlaw gang. It's all for the purpose of getting even with the men responsible for his partner's murder. The most surprising aspect of the film is its leading lady, exotic dancer Joyzelle Joyner, best remembered for her performance as a leering lesbian in DeMille's Sign of the Cross. Director Phil Rosen, presumably following Ken Maynard's instructions, invests Whistlin' Dan with an abundance of offbeat camera angles. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide