One Way Passage

I've been on a bit of a William Powell kick lately.  I'm not sure why that is.  Sure, he can deliver witty lines with ease, but he plays more or less the same character in every film I've seen so far.  If I'm wrong, please suggest some Powell movies where he isn't suave, clever, charming and probably drunk, by all means.  What drew me to One Way Passage was a comment I found somewhere on the great wide interweb that pointed out that this was one of the great "talkies" of the pre-Hays Code era Hollywood.  What does that mean?  Well, a few things.  First, this picture was released in 1932, which is a long-ass time ago, especially in terms of media.  Second, not adhering to the Hays Code means that One Way Passage could do a lot of things (potentially) that are not recognized as cliche by the modern viewer.  That may or may not sound enticing to you, but I have to admit that I was curious by what might have been scandalous in this 1932 pic.

Answer: sandwiches!

The film opens with Dan (William Powell) having a special drink made for him at the bar.  The bartender keep harping on about how great the drink will be, while Dan is clearly desperate to ingest just about anything alcoholic at the time; when he finally gets this legendary drink, his glass is immediately broken by a strange woman, Joan (Kay Francis).

Intrigued or about to fight?  You decide.

A few moments of witty banter later, the pair have fallen in love/lust.  Rather than actually act upon their mutual attraction, they choose to leave the fate of their romance to serendipity, trusting that fate will once again bring them together.  If they had a little foresight, they might not have taken that patient approach.  You see, Dan is a convicted murderer, doing his damnedest to escape the hangman's noose back in California (oh, the movie begins in Hong Kong, by the way).  Joan happens to be suffering from an unnamed (but obviously not cosmetic) terminal illness that can allegedly be accelerated if she undergoes any sort of shock.  As "luck" would have it, Dan gets caught by a San Francisco cop, Steve (Warren Hymer), and their passage is booked on a month-long cruise back to California.  Furthermore, this is the same cruise ship that Joan is returning home on.  Being a sporting fellow --- at least, that's the best reasoning I can figure --- Steve lets Dan romance Joan, sans handcuffs, during the voyage because it's not like he can escape into the Pacific, right? 

"Every condemned crook deserves a little hanky panky"

Unfortunately neither Joan nor Dan reveal how close they both are to death, which complicates Dan's escape attempts.

I love me some William Powell, so it's not surprising that I found him the single most attractive part of One Way Passage.  Seeing him as a criminal was interesting, but he was a gentlemanly crook, so it wasn't like he was playing against type.  One thing that this film impressed upon me, once again, was just how well Powell plays a man who truly appreciates fine alcohol.  Most movie drunks appear to be happy with anything, but Powell gives the impression of a man with particular tastes (most of the time).

"Mmm...smells like morning regrets...!"

Kay Francis was okay as the leading lady, but she definitely fell into the trap of the damsel in distress.  I hate when otherwise capable female characters get sidelined because they are too fragile to know one thing or another; when she was able to show off her comic timing and witty banter, Francis was good, but I thought she was melodramatic when it came to flaunting her ambiguous illness.  Frank McHugh was surprisingly fun as a stereotypical early-Hollywood drunk.  McHugh's filmography implies that he was a career character actor, but I thought his lazy laugh (think Nelson from The Simpsons, drawn out for about five more seconds) was enough for a few chuckles. 

Direct quote: "Haw-haw!"

Warren Hymer was less entertaining, but I suppose someone has to play the straight man for the criminals, right?  Aline MacMahon was surprisingly good in a small role; she helped make Hymer more interesting and McHugh less irritating by just being fun to watch.  It's too bad she didn't receive much recognition for this feat; she plays a dangerous woman here, but her late career was filled with tame mothering characters.

Above: not motherly

One Way Passage was directed by Tay Garnett.  This was one of his earlier talkies and I suppose it was handled well for the time period.  I would love to blame him for the odd blend of slapstick comedy and romantic tragedy in this movie, but that seems to have been the style at the time.  Garnett did not do anything too spectacular in this film, but he told it well enough.

So what is the big deal about One Way Passage that makes it the stuff of legend among pre-Hays Code Hollywood films?  Good question.  In many ways, this film is pretty typical of its time period.  The basic plot of two lovers destined for death, unbeknownst to each other, is pretty hammy; if you throw in a long-lost twin, this could be a soap opera plot.  The comic relief stands in stark contrast to the main story and the romance is good, but not epic.  Here's what makes One Way Passage unique, though: you care more about the crooks than the lawman.  It would be decades before audiences would again sympathize this much for a killer. 

"Do you like them?  They don't reek of corpses, do they?"

Even better (in my opinion) is the film's ending.  With a lot of movies, you can predict the ending, not because it is the most realistic course of events, but because a lifetime of exposure to Hollywood teaches certain lessons (cranky people discover a heart of gold, good friends triumph over sexy jerks in both love and life, everything will turn out okay, etc.).  I was thrown off by the ending (which was surprisingly well-done) because I forgot that this film happened before...well, it happened before just about everything else I've seen.  A pretty great ending, combined with criminals that are not supposed to teach audiences a lesson in civil obedience and a short run-time (67 minutes!) make One Way Passage more than worth your time.

After the Thin Man

Actually, Mr. Movie Poster, it's "Mr. and Mrs. Charles are back."  The "thin man" from the first film referred to a missing person, not William Powell's character.  What's that, 1930s moviegoers?  You've decided to make William Powell the "thin man?"  Um.  Okay.  I guess it's too late to do anything about that now.

After the Thin Man takes place, appropriately enough, immediately following The Thin Man.  Does that mean you should be familiar with the first film to enjoy this one?  Not at all; if you haven't seen the first movie, though, you really ought to give it a try --- it's a treat.  Nick (William Powell) and Nora (Myrna Loy) Charles have arrived via train to their home in San Francisco, just in time for New Year's Eve.  Unfortunately for Nick, the pair are expected to join Nora's family for a fancy formal dinner party.  No one in Nora's family seems to like Nick, either because he married into his money or because he's a lush or because he's a bit of a smart-ass. 

Tuxes for a dinner with the family?  That doesn't sound stuffy at all

For better or worse, the evening takes an interesting turn when it appears that the nogoodnick husband, Robert (Alan Marshal), of Nora's cousin, Selma, is missing.  The family has never liked Robert, but if they didn't resolve his disappearance soon, it was worried that Selma would get dramatically crazy and bring shame to the family name.  The disappearance is easy enough for Nick and Nora to solve, but it is almost immediately followed by a murder in which Selma is the prime suspect.  What's a moderately bored and perennially drunk amateur gumshoe to do, but solve the mystery and put a neat bow on it?

After the Thin Man is an interesting bit of early Hollywood.  The first film was a big hit and this was only the first of five (!) sequels.  The original film was based on Dashiell Hammett's final novel, but this was completely original.  Hammett was hired to write the story for After the Thin Man, with the talented team of Frances Goodrich and Albert Hackett returning to turn his story into an acceptable screenplay.  I don't know any specifics (because I'm too lazy to do any actual research), but I know that Hammett's post-novelist years were filled with sickness and booze, so it should not be surprising that the story here is not as intricate as in the original film.  Nevertheless, it manages to overcome some Scooby-Doo-esque plot twists and typical 1930s film tropes and it remains an entertaining bit of lighthearted comedy, even by today's standards.

Ha ha ha!  Get it?  She's being arrested for murder!

The key to this film working once again rests on the shoulders of William Powell and Myrna Loy.  Powell's charm and excellent line delivery are essential to this film, but it is the banter between him and Loy that really makes the movie succeed.  Loy's role is a little less entertaining this time around (she has to be nice to her family, after all), but she is still more than a capable foil for Powell's wit.  As much as I enjoyed watching the duo feign drunkenness in the first film, I enjoyed their interactions more in this one.  They were a pleasant blend of mean and tender that is surprisingly believable in a couple.

As a married man, I am all too familiar with that look

The supporting cast is a little more noteworthy in this sequel.  I was surprised to see a young James Stewart in his first substantial film role; this is the first time I have seen him in a non-leading role, so it was interesting to see his typical aw-shucks charm being applied to someone who wasn't the main hero.

Maybe he's the titular thin man?

The rest of the supporting cast is less spectacular, but a number of recognizable people played small roles.  Penny Singleton (the voice for Jane Jetson) plays a scheming nightclub singer.  Noir actor Sam Levene plays the hapless policeman forced to look like a fool next to Nick Charles.  Hard-working character actor Paul Fix also has a small part.  My favorite of the less famous supporting actors was Joseph Calleia, though; the man was such a great movie villain that it doesn't really matter that his character here was relatively tame.

Joseph "Born Evil" Calleia

Like the original film, After the Thin Man was directed by W.S. Van Dyke.  His direction is adequate from a technical standpoint --- don't expect to see any subtext or clever uses of frame or lighting here --- but he once again handled the cast quite well.  With the bulk of this movie relying on the charm and chemistry between its stars, Van Dyke's touch with the actors was critical.  On the other hand, with a considerably less dense script than the first film, Van Dyke's limitations are a bit more obvious.  The supporting actors are portrayed in broad strokes with very little complexity and Van Dyke panders to the audience a little too much when it comes to the dog.

Actual subplot: Asta is depressed, thanks to an unfaithful wife

After the Thin Man fares best when it is not directly compared to its predecessor.  Nick and Nora are still a lot of fun to watch and their dialogue is more than worth the price of admission.  This movie is a bit more cute than actually funny, but it is still a fun watch.  It certainly could have used a more compelling mystery, but the charm of the main characters helps balance that.  Perhaps the film's biggest miss was its inability to actually make anything look seedy. 

This is their idea of a dive bar

It is fun to watch Nick interact with criminals (to Nora's amusement), but I would have liked them to appear out of their element at either (or both) ends of the social spectrum; here is a film with snooty rich folk looking down their nose, as well as nightclub patrons planning on theft and murder --- and the Charles' never miss a beat.  As good as Nick and Nora are, I would have liked to see them unsettled at least once.  While I doubt anyone will argue that After the Thin Man is a masterpiece, it is still a fun, disposable bit of film fluff.  Many great films have had truly unfortunate sequels, but this isn't one of them.

Ziegfeld Follies

I like to watch films with very little or no foreknowledge of what is in store.  I like to be surprised.  So, when I stumbled across a listing for Ziegfeld Follies on TCM, I immediately programmed my DVR to record it.  My cable provider gave the film four stars and it had William Powell in a non-Nick Charles role?  I was intrigued.  And only minutes after I began watching, I was utterly confused.

Ziegfeld Follies opens with Florenz Ziegfeld (William Powell) lounging around what appears to be a luxury suite in Heaven.  While Ziegfeld appears to enjoy being dead, he also wistfully wonders aloud what a great show he could put on with the current crop of famous talent.  In case you didn't know --- and if you are under the age of 70, that's not terribly surprising --- Ziegfeld was a real person who masterminded a string of high-profile, star-studded musical/comedy/dance revues on Broadway, in the 1910s and 20s.  Ziegfeld's reminisces are brought to life by some sort of puppetry/stop-motion animation, which  features (among many things) holy-shit-that's-racist portrayals of Native Americans and blacks.  How racist is it?  You know those Tom & Jerry scenes that have been edited out of television broadcasts for the last twenty-odd years?  Worse than that.

If only because the "joke" wasn't caused by an explosion

You may rightly wonder why the hell there are puppets onscreen at this point, and that's a valid concern.  It won't be answered in this film, but I can guarantee that it won't be referenced again, either, so...there's that.  You see, Fred Astaire shows up, as himself, on a stage and explains that Ziegfeld had a magic touch for entertainment and racism.  This segues into a song (naturally), which transitions into Lucille Ball giving some S&M treatment to a crowd of Batman villain cosplayers.

She's gonna have some 'splainin' to do

Oddly, Ball --- arguably the most famous comedienne ever --- doesn't have a line of dialogue or any physical comedy bits.  She just looks bitchy and cracks a whip at Catwomen.  That's not even close to the only bizarre choice made in Ziegfeld Follies, but it won't bother you for long; after a few minutes, it is time for a new bit, with only a title card serving as a transition from one act to the next.  After all, that is what is going on here; this is a collection of unrelated musical and comedic bits thrown together to wow the audience with glitz, glamor, and star power.  How much star power, you ask?  Fred Astaire stars in several bits, but you also get to see Judy Garland, Esther Williams, Gene Kelly, Lena Horne, Red Skelton --- and those are just the ones I recognized without doing any research!

To be perfectly frank, I had no idea when I watched Ziegfeld Follies who Ziegfeld was or what his Follies were.  I was also unaware that William Powell played Ziegfeld once before, in the 1936 Best Picture winner, The Great Ziegfeld.  Even armed with that knowledge, I don't think I would have been prepared for the sheer ridiculousness of this movie.  Oh, you think The Hunger Games had some odd costumes?  Consider this check and mate.

That's a hat, not a pink luckdragon in heat

I'm not even going to bother explaining the scene where dozens of pretty girls may or may not have been suffocated by soap bubbles.  But that's okay, there are a ton of ill-advised scenes in this revue.  Do you love comedy sketches that are about ***snicker*** how annoying telephone operators are?  Hmm...okay, maybe that doesn't translate very well into the modern age.  How about lawyer jokes?  Maybe some 1940s fake drunken acting?  No?  Okay, you're a viewer with discriminating tastes --- here's a gift for you:

Yes, that is Fred Astaire, wearing heavy makeup and playing a stereotypical Chinaman.  The racist puppets were kind of surprising, but this...damn, Fred!  I could excuse you somewhat if this was a really cool song or dance number --- it's not like they had a lot of Asians in Hollywood at the time, much less singing and dancing ones --- but it's really slow and boring, plus offensive to modern tastes.

I don't want to give the impression that Ziegfeld Follies is just a collection of what-were-they-thinking sketches.  To be fair, there are a number of charming acts. For instance, I had never seen Esther Williams (outside of a few MGM montages) before, and her underwater scenes were interesting.  I don't quite understand how her swimming choreography became popular in movies, but I have to admit that some of it looked pretty.

...and some of it looked like Minority Report murders

Fred Astaire, when he wasn't busy offending Asians, was pretty entertaining in a few dance numbers.  Notably, this was the first and only time he and Gene Kelly danced together on film in their prime.  While I didn't care for any of the songs in Ziegfeld Follies --- which I was surprised at, given the star power in the film --- the dancing sequences were pretty impressive.

Perhaps not the best screenshot to capture that sentiment

I also liked Judy Garland's spoof of serious actresses.  It wasn't a great song, but the sentiment was kind of funny; it was more of a style over substance bit, but I was surprised to see such sharp barbs aimed at the same people who bring prestige to their projects.

"Drama!" - a more or less direct quote

Almost every scene had a different director, with only Vincente Minnelli and George Sydney handling multiple scenes.  Robert Lewis, Lemuel Ayers, Roy Del Ruth, Charles Walters, and Merrill Pye round out the rest of the directors in this film.  Not surprisingly, the different directors only emphasized the disjointed nature of this film; even if there had not been title cards separating each scene, the difference is style was very noticeable.  I wasn't very impressed with any of the directors, but I will admit that (as a whole) the group used some pretty high-end sets.  Not every set, mind you --- they ranged from opulent to minimalist --- but there were enough "wow" moments to stick with you.

Ziegfeld Follies was probably never meant to stand the test of time, but that is the issue modern viewers are faced with.  On the one hand, this is a movie that feels like the sort of thing you would have seen in Manhattan in the 1920s.  The dance sequences are pretty well done and the songs (while not memorable) are inoffensive.  On the other hand, every single attempt at humor fails miserably, the dance sequences never blow your mind, and the songs are mediocre and not very famous.  When you add that amount of underwhelming to something that is hodgepodge, without the semblance of story, and add a generous heaping of WTF, the result is less than magical.  There are only a few shining lights in this movie to justify anything approaching a respectable rating, but the randomness, the racism, and the absolutely wretched comedy in Ziegfeld Follies makes for a soul-sucking experience.

Oh, and William Powell is only in the opening scene?  What the hell?!?  He is the only reason I watched this damn thing!

My Man Godfrey

Why on Earth did I catch this movie?  Good question.  It's a seventy-five year-old comedy, and I can barely stand most modern comedies, much less something that came out before the last time the Cubs were in the World Series.  Well, for starters, I love William Powell in the Thin Man movies, but they're all I've seen him in.  My Man Godfrey was also nominated for six Academy Awards.  So, while this could be be just indulging my fondness for a particular actor, the Oscar nominations imply that the film won't be a waste of my time.

Godfrey (William Powell) is living in a literal dump with a surprisingly friendly group of other homeless men during the Great Depression.  One night, a group of spoiled brat socialites show up, looking for one of the homeless men to play the part of a "forgotten man" for their spoiled socialite scavenger hunt.

One is scruffy, the other vacant.  Guess which is which.

Instead of knifing the pansies, the homeless guys shuffle away, leaving Godfrey to mock the idle rich and frighten most of them away.  One remains, though.  Young Irene (Carol Lombard) thought Godfrey was quite funny and brave for sticking up to the others --- particularly her awful older sister, Cornelia (Gail Patrick) --- and she manages to convince Godfrey to be her "forgotten man," if only to stick it to Cornelia.  Godfrey agrees, goes to the party and delivers a well-spoken put down of the idle rich in the Depression.  Irene is immediately enamored with Godfrey's promise --- such a smart, well-spoken homeless man! --- and she hires him to be her family's butler and her very own protege.  What follows is a witty man handling an awful family with wit and grace, decades before Benson.

And to think, fifty years later, a black man was allowed to be a butler on TV

The title really sums up the whole movie.  This movie rides on the character of Godfrey; it's a good thing he's supposed to be witty and charming, because that's William Powell's calling card.  Powell is very entertaining in this movie, delivering sharp comments throughout, but never seeming to tell the similar jokes the same way twice.  He was aided in his performance by a supporting cast that perfected the clueless (but generally nice) rich characters that were so common in films until the 1950s.  Carole Lombard (Powell's ex-wife!) gave a solid performance as the sweet but oh-so-dumb Irene.  I usually have a problem with overly ditzy roles, but Lombard turned that stupidity into a childishness that was more easily forgiven.

The rest of the family is more stereotypical than cute, but I'm sure they were all novel enough in 1936.  Gail Patrick was fine as the bitchy spoiled brat sister.  Alice Brady was surprisingly funny on occasion as the too-stupid-to-believe mother; while I don't have any proof of it, I am pretty sure that her line "She was white as a sheet" was sampled for the excellent song "Frontier Psychiatrist" by Avalanches.  The men were less entertaining.  Eugene Pallette played the idiot that was allowed to spoil his family and Mischa Auer played a very convincing freeloader.  Auer was more entertaining than he should have been, given his minor role, but I enjoyed his melodrama.

Gregory La Cava's direction didn't strike me as anything special, but I suppose that my modern perspective could be a little jaded.  He did manage to put up some gorgeous sets and all the actors were committed to their parts, with no one giving a poor performance.  I may not have liked all the performances, but they were all polished and as good as the script would allow them to be.  The ending is awfully abrupt, but the old school take on comedies made that a common occurrence.  This wasn't anything timeless, from a directorial standpoint, but it was a solid effort.

In an older and lauded film like this, the main question is how well it has aged.  For the most part, I would say "not too badly."  There are several lines of dialogue that underline just how long ago 1936 was (apparently, the terms "nitwit" and "scavenger hunt" were not part of the popular lexicon back then), but the movie is still able to retain its charm.  Charm it has, but the humor is a bit lacking.  It's just not very funny any more, because the social mores that were being pushed at the time are long gone now.

Get it?  He's uncomfortable!

The relationship between Godfrey and Irene is cute and Godfrey is certainly witty, but even his lines aren't sharp enough --- maybe because they're too nice --- to still be hilarious today.  I'm also not a big fan of the movie's character traits; Godfrey is so much smarter than the rich in this movie that it's a little insulting.  None of the exploits in the film stand out as particularly outrageous (aside from a few off-camera ones), and that's not a good thing in any comedy.  The characters are so pleasant and Godfrey is so clever that the script doesn't inhibit a modern viewing of this film.  It's not a timeless classic, but it's a little silly and still pretty cute.  If absolutely nothing else, I can happily say that this cute, but unexceptional, movie increased my appreciation for William Powell.

And here's the song I alluded to earlier.  Great song from a great album: Avalanches - Since I Left You.

The Thin Man

Dashiell Hammett essentially wrote only five novels, but three of my favorite movies are based on his work, including this one.  The Thin Man is one of the best dialogue-based movies you will ever see and it is still extremely entertaining, despite having been released in 1934.  To put that in perspective, please consider that the following all happened in 1934:

• Lou Gehrig won the Triple Crown and was not the American League MVP in baseball.
• The Chicago White Sox finished 47 games back in the American League.  Wow.
• John Dillinger, Pretty Boy Floyd, and Bonnie and Clyde all died.
• Persia changed its name to Iran.
• The first Three Stooges short film was released.
• Adolf Hitler became the Fuhrer of Germany.
• Leonard Cohen, Ralph Nader, and Sparky Anderson were born, none of whom were ever young.

Until I watched this movie, I was under the impression that no true classic movies were made until at least 1939, but The Thin Man proved me wrong.

Nick and Nora Charles are quick-witted, hard-drinking socialites in New York for Christmas.  Nick (William Powell) was a detective before marrying Nora (Myrna Loy), but now he spends his time amusing her and running her father's business.  An old client of Nick's, Claude Wynant, has gone missing and his girlfriend has turned up murdered.  Wynant's daughter, Dorothy (Maureen O'Sullivan), manages to drag Nick into the investigation.  There are a lot of reasons for Wynant to have left New York; his girlfriend was stealing from him, his ex-wife (Minna Gombell) milked him for money at every opportunity, his ex-wife's boyfriend (Cesar Romero) lived off the money he gave his estranged family, and his son had a creepy Elektra complex.  Clearly, a lot of people have their own reasons for Wynant to stay on the lam or to turn himself in to the police or to turn up dead.  In the process of solving the case (that shouldn't be a spoiler), Nick manages to get shot, knock out his wife, unite lovers, end relationships, and solve three murders (maybe more...there's a lot of people to keep track of), all while pleasantly buzzed from habitual drinking.

This film was only the first Thin Man movie; its success led to five sequels, all with "Thin Man" included in their titles.  Nick Charles is not the titular character, though.  In a bit of throwaway dialogue (that acts as a clue to the case), Nick refers to Claude Wynant as a thin man.  Nevertheless, Nick was identified as the thin man by the movie going public, so the title stuck throughout the series.

The plot to this film is decent, but nothing spectacular.  It's a layered mystery, where one answer leads to another puzzle, which leads to another puzzle, ad nauseam.  The story and director W.S. Van Dyke both do a good job keeping the pace brisk.  This movie has dozens of characters and plot twists, but does not really demand much comprehension.  This movie is more of a ride than something you want to puzzle out for yourself.  That would be a problem with most mystery movies, but the mystery is logical and clever for those who choose to pay close attention; this movie doesn't demand your analytical mind, though, to enjoy it.

The dialogue is what separates this film from so many others.  The screenplay from Frances Goodrich and Albert Hackett is smart, funny, and --- most of all --- fast.  The only movie I have ever seen that has faster dialogue with this much quality is His Girl Friday, which had the benefit of Cary Grant, so it's an unfair fight to begin with.  This script, though, has more explicit flirting and outright affection, even if it is pretty sarcastic.  The first time I watched this, I thought it was decently funny, but I missed a lot of the lines because I didn't hear them, or was trying to figure out the last joke.  Sure, there are little easy jokes that anyone can catch, but there are a lot of language jokes as well.  Not everyone out there is an English major, I know, but my favorite jokes are the ones that come from misunderstandings of vocabulary.  "I heard you were shot five times in the tabloids.  It's not true; he didn't come anywhere near my tabloids," is a good snapshot of the movie's dialogue.  Now just imagine every other line being like that, and you'll have a pretty good idea of why I like this so much.

Of course, the dialogue would just be noteworthy, were it not for the truly great work from William Powell and Myrna Loy.  Powell steals the show with his wit and charm.  It is rare to see an actor enjoying himself this much in a role.  I also appreciate the quality of his drunk acting; as a child, I just assumed that all adults hiccuped and stumbled around while a trombone played in the background for effect.  Most movies play up the overacting drunk for comic relief.  Powell manages to appear subtly tipsy for the entire film, only occasionally delving into the stereotype.  Loy is able to match Powell's intensity and dialogue delivery in every scene. It's a shame that she was not nominated for an Oscar for her work because I think hers is one of the smarter and stronger female leads in early Hollywood.  The rest of the actors are fine, but they are just playing broad, usually comical, characters.  Their role is simply to show up and be commented on by Powell and Loy, and they do it well.

This is a fun movie, and one with replay value since you definitely won't catch every funny line the first time through.  The movie's pace keeps up with the dialogue, but can get a bit confusing at times; a lot of the supporting characters in Hammett's novel didn't do much speaking, so those characters are sometimes interchangeable on the big screen.  Van Dyke does a good job making sure that the dialogue doesn't fall flat, but he spends all his effort on the humor, and probably not enough attention on the plot.  It's okay, though.  The film is a little uneven because of that and is a little dated (not bad for being over seventy years old), but I absolutely love it.