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Robin Hood (1922)
Robin Hood as you've never seen it before...
...and may never want to see it again.
My biggest problem with the movie was the strange pace. In the beginning, before the Earl of Huntingdon becomes Robin Hood, things move as slowly as a snail. The movie is just over two hours long and could have been much shorter. For example, it opens with a long jousting tournament that could have been completely removed. But after Huntingdon goes AWOL on King Richard's Crusades (which are disturbingly glorified in this movie) to protect England from the tyranny of evil Prince John and adopts the alias Robin Hood, things suddenly start moving at break-neck speed.
Douglas Fairbanks shines in this film, creating a Robin Hood with surprising heart and humanity for a silent movie. But in a movie that was a big-budget blockbuster for the 1920s, Fairbanks's star is often eclipsed by needless pageantry, as well as by his own less-talented co-stars, particularly Wallace Beery as King Richard, the so-called "lion hearted" king who spends most of the movie laughing. He laughs when he sees that Earl of Huntingdon (Robin Hood) is scared of women, he laughs when he defeats the Muslims in the Crusades, he laughs when he discovers that Robin Hood is Huntingdon is disguise, and he laughs as he tries to barge in on Robin and Marian's wedding night in the final scene. Before long, you'll be wondering why the heck everyone in Nottingham reveres this guy, or you'll be asking the question I heard someone sitting near me in the theater whisper: "What is so funny, anyway?" Enid Bennett, playing Lady Marian, seems like a good actress, but it is hard to tell, as she's given little more to do than faint whenever a fight starts and wake up once the action's over. Her romance with Robin Hood, however, is definitely worth watching. My favorite scene in the whole movie was their first kiss: When Robin leans in toward her, she modestly turns away, and he settles with kissing the hem of her sleeve instead.
The Little Princess (1939)
Quite Possibly Shirley's Best Ever!
Between the ages of 7 and 10, little Shirley Temple was the biggest box office star in the world. But as she grew older, her popularity quickly began to wane. At 11 (though she believed herself to be 10 because her mother shaved a year off her age), Shirley was still quite a child when she made "The Little Princess." But because she was no longer as cute and cherubic as she was at 6, when "Stand Up and Cheer!" first made her a star, it was to be her last successful film in a children's role.
As Sara (a Hebrew name meaning "princess"), Shirley plays her standard rags-to-riches storyline in reverse: Sara's wealthy widowed father loses everything in the Boer War, and her cruel boarding school headmistress Miss Minchin makes her an underfed, overworked servant girl to pay the tuition debt her father owed. Sara goes from luxurious rooms and private tutors to friendless, freezing attics as suddenly as the swinging America of the 1920s sank into the dust storms, breadlines, and squattervilles of the 1930's Great Depression. But where did poor Americans turn to briefly forget all these problems during the Great Depression? To the movies, where Shirley Temple, her unwavering hopefulness (as present in "The Little Princess" as in any of her movies), and her cute song-and-dance numbers -- with titles like "Laugh, You Son of a Gun" (1934), "You Gotta Smile to be Happy" (1936), "Be Optimistic" (1938), and "Come and Get Your Happiness" (1938) -- cheered up the entire nation. The same singing and dancing cheers up Sara Crewe while she's working as a galley slave in 1899 London, as Shirley performs "The Old Kent Road" with her pal Arthur Treacher (her four-time co-star).
In short, "The Little Princess" is Shirley Temple's career in a nutshell. It is a must-see film for both longtime Shirley fans and newcomers.
Ma vie en rose (1997)
"...beautiful, no matter what they say."
Deriving its title from "La Vie en Rose" (one of the most famous French songs in history), "Ma Vie en Rose" is a courageous film that presents a controversial topic in a truly captivating, childlike light.
Ludovic Fabre is convinced that he was meant to be born a little girl. With all his seven-year-old wisdom, he calmly explains that his male gender is simply "a scientific error," one that he will soon correct. But instead of becoming female, Ludo becomes prey. His schoolmates tease him, his principal expels him, and his soccer teammates beat him up. Ludo's two older brothers, who are on the same soccer team, do nothing but watch.
Throughout the film, the true colors of Ludo's brothers and of everyone around him are revealed as they each try to deal with his behavior. Ludo's teacher makes an admirable speech about respecting those different from you. Ludo and his eccentric grandmother grow closer. But a terrible rift develops between Ludo and his seemingly-loving mother, Hanna. When her family is living in a comfortable neighborhood and her husband has a good job, Hanna makes every possible excuse for Ludo's gender confusion. She lets him grow his hair long and even wear a skirt, and when Pierre, Ludo's father, makes the mere suggestion to cut their son's long hair, Hanna snaps, "Well, why don't we just crucify him?" But in a powerful and painful shock, Hanna is revealed to be only a fair-weather friend to her son. After Pierre is fired (apparently because of Ludo's attempts to "marry" the boss's son), Hanna suddenly turns on Ludo, screaming and snapping at him, blaming him for all the family's problems. Both Ludo and the viewer feel completely crushed and betrayed. After Hanna physically abuses him in a scene of scary intensity, Ludo runs away, and the ending that follows is truly remarkable.
The Little Colonel (1935)
Another Shirley Classic -- Enjoyable but Overrated.
With all of her usual show-stealing spark, Shirley Temple delivers another fun family classic as Lloyd Sherman in "The Little Colonel." Proving yet again that there's no problem she can't solve, Shirley reconciles an old grudge between her young mother (played by Evelyn Venable) and her crusty southern grandfather (played by Lionel Barrymore), who disowned his daughter for marrying a Yankee. Shirley's classic tap dance up the staircase with Bojangles Robinson will remind all of her fans of what a true dancing prodigy she really was. And a few scenes later, her song "Love's Young Dream" will show you why her singing is not as well remembered as her dancing. Don't get me wrong: Shirley shines in fast, snappy songs, but her voice was not made for slow numbers like this one.
"The Little Colonel" is a nice family film, but except for the iconic staircase dance, there is little to distinguish it from most of Shirley's childhood flicks. The claim that this film smashed through racial barriers by placing Shirley Temple opposite African-American screen legends Bojangles Robinson and Hattie McDaniel is almost laughable. Rather, Robinson and McDaniel play complete racial stereotypes: Robinson is the clichéd childish, comical servant ("The stereotyped picture of gay song-singing cotton pickers," to quote Maya Angelou). Watch him stand idly by while Barrymore fusses and fumes at him, because he knows "the old colonel don't mean no harm." Meanwhile McDaniel is a Mammy figure, loyal, caring, and always glad to serve the white folks (McDaniel later won an Oscar for playing the same Mammy figure in "Gone With the Wind"). In her famous novel, "The Bluest Eye," Toni Morrison writes, "I hated Shirley. Not because she was cute, but because she danced with Bojangles, who was my friend, my uncle, my daddy, and who ought to have been soft-shoeing it and chuckling with me. Instead he was enjoying, sharing, giving a lovely dance thing with one of those little white girls whose socks never slid down under their heels."
But one cannot really expect better from a film made in 1935, when America was, unfortunately, still in the Dark Ages as far as African-Americans and their rights were concerned. Such clichéd roles were the only acting jobs available for African-Americans at the time, and so Robinson's and McDaniel's talents are largely untapped as their characters completely lack the depth given to white actors. For example, Lionel Barrymore's Colonel Lloyd has both positive and negative characteristics: He is a temperamental hothead who remains bitter over the Civil War, but he is also a southern gentleman who immediately brings his new neighbors a bouquet of flowers to welcome them.
Dial M for Murder (1954)
Talk about your stiff upper lips!
"Voici l'anglais avec son sang froid habituel." This French saying -- roughly translated as, "Here come the English with their usual cold-bloodedness" -- has never been more fitting than in Alfred Hitchcock's "Dial M for Murder."
After he discovers that his wife Margot has been cheating on him with Mark Halliday, an American author of murder mysteries, Tony Wendice spends a year stalking his old schoolmate Charles Swann, then blackmails him into killing Margot. Tony has devised a complicated strategy for the perfect murder, but he plans it out down to the most minute details so much that when a few of those little details go wrong, the entire plan is botched, and Swann ends up dead instead of Margot. But Tony refuses to be discouraged and immediately hatches another scheme to have Margot convicted of Swann's murder and sentenced to death. It works, but as Margot's execution date approaches, her lover Mark Halliday begins putting his skills as an author of detective stories to work to save Margot and uncover the truth.
While this movie may prove that there's no such thing as the perfect murder, it also proves that there is such thing as a perfect murder mystery, one that's gripping, scary, and smart, and all completely without any nudity or profanity. To me, the most interesting thing about "Dial M for Murder" was the impeccably polite behavior and iceberg calm that was maintained throughout. Sure, Tony is trying to kill his wife without getting caught, but that's no reason for anyone to get very upset, or even raise their voices. When Margot discovers of Tony's true intentions, for example, she simply says, "I don't seem to be able to feel anything" (!!). When one of the characters does get mad, it's more likely to be because no one offered to take his coat than because of the murders and attempted murders that are flying around. And after his plots are finally revealed by Mark Halliday and some clever policemen, Tony simply offers his wife -- the one he has just made two attempts to have killed! -- a glass of brandy. She accepts!
Finding Neverland (2004)
Do You Believe in Fairies?
How fine is the line between fantasy and reality? And if we unleash our imaginations, just how far will they take us? These are two questions explored by Marc Foster's beautiful "Finding Neverland." JM Barrie is a lonely author stuck in a loveless marriage to a social-climbing wife and a suffocating world of adult primness until he finds creative muses four of them, to be exact in young brothers George, Jack, Peter, and Michael Davies. Though he also strikes up an instant friendship with their beautiful widowed mother Sylvia (Kate Winslet), it is clear that her sons are the real magnet. With his powerful imagination, Barrie creates a series of magical adventures for the boys ... until Sylvia's failing health and eventual death intrude upon their world of make-believe.
The weepy scenes are many, but there are definitely laughs in-between. In one scene, Barrie is asleep in bed with a tuft of blondish hair under the covers beside him, assumed to be his wife until the covers are thrown back to reveal his brilliant pet dog, Porthos. (Besides changing his breed from St. Bernard to Newfoundland, the movie took almost no liberties with Porthos.) Earlier, Barrie commands Porthos to stand on his hind legs, takes hold of his paws, and says in the most passionate, serious voice, "Dance with me!" I don't know how Johnny Depp did it without laughing! The two share a merry waltz in the middle of the park. Throughout the film, Depp's Barrie manages to keep his feet on the ground while his head is in the clouds, but in real life, Barrie's overactive imagination often gave him problems in distinguishing fantasy from reality.
Though Depp is brilliant as usual, he is nearly acted off-screen by young Freddie Highmore, whose ability to convey so many powerful emotions through a single glance or sigh is simply amazing. His glowing performance makes it crystal clear why Barrie chooses Peter as the namesake of his greatest masterpiece, the boy who never grew up. Though Charles Frohman (Dustin Hoffman), Barrie's grudging producer, is skeptical throughout the film that "Peter Pan" will be a hit even calling it "my nightmare" on opening night its instant success soon eclipses Barrie's recent theater flops. It would later go onto eclipse his forty other plays and dominate his life, but that's a depressing tale for another time. (In real life, Frohman was devoted to making Peter Pan a hit, and Barrie was the one full of doubt.) At a private performance of the play for the Davies family, Peter Pan turns to them and asks the famous plea to clap their hands. The four boys are all too awestruck to clap ... until their stuffy grandmother, who has spent the entire movie disapproving of Barrie and his fun with the boys, positively bangs her hands together to save Tinkerbell's life. More than anything, her actions capture the magical spell that "Peter Pan" still holds over any audience. I was clapping my hands, too. The movie truly made me believe.
Look closely and you will spot an actual member of the Davies family. In reality, there was a fifth Davies brother, Nicholas, called Nico, born in 1903. Nico married in 1926 and welcomed his only child, Laura, in 1928. Laura appears in "Finding Neverland." Just after the first performance of "Peter Pan," she is the theater patron who says to Freddie Highmore (playing her real-life uncle), "This is Peter Pan! How wonderful!" She is credited under her married name, Laura Duguid. I would like to add that I have read several biographies of JM Barrie, beginning since long before this movie was released, and that the rumors of pedophilia are totally untrue. Barrie loved the Davies children platonically, not sexually, and both of the boys's parents considered him a friend though they were sometimes bewildered by the author's oddities, and quite understandably so.
Now and Forever (1934)
Little Miss Sunshine in a Thunderstorm -- But It Works!
Even longtime Shirley fans may be surprised by "Now and Forever." The movie was filmed with Paramount studios not with Shirley's parent company Twentieth Century Fox in 1934, before Fox producer Darryl Zanuck had perfected the successful Shirley formula (cute songs, cold hearts for her to melt, young couples for her to play cupid to, happy endings). Thus "Now and Forever" falls into the category of a Shirley vehicle without the standard Shirley story. It is an awkward position for any movie, but this impressive, talented cast makes it work.
Gary Cooper and Carole Lombard star as fun-loving, irresponsible con artists Jerry and Toni Day. The only thing that this devoted yet dysfunctional duo seems to hate more than being together is being apart. When they are suddenly landed with custody of Jerry's young daughter Penny (Shirley Temple), it is Toni and not Penny, as many believe who persuades Jerry to give up his criminal career. But Jerry flounders at his desk job, and desperate to prove that he can provide for his new family, he soon returns to thieving and dishonesty. In a standard Shirley device, Penny tries to melt the heart of crusty curmudgeon Felix Evans, the victim of one of Jerry's cons, but her attempt fails, for Evans is revealed to be a con artist himself, and he blackmails Jerry into helping him steal jewels. The drama, gunfight, death, and sorrow that follow all make this film a very unusual one for Little Miss Sunshine. There is no happy ending, no dancing, and only one song sequence (the cute number "The World Owes Me a Living").
But this does not mean that Shirley fans should avoid "Now and Forever." Rather, it's divergence from the usual Shirley story make it more interesting and memorable than many of her other films. But beware: You should avoid colorized version of this film, and see it in black-and-white if you can. The color is bright, garish, and unrealistic, and in many scenes, Shirley's famous curls are actually red instead of blonde. Yikes!
Stowaway (1936)
An Unexpectedly Bland Shirley Film.
"Sparkle, Shirley, sparkle!" Gertrude Temple cried between takes whenever her little daughter's energy flailed. As Ching-Ching, an American girl living in China, Shirley sparkles, all right; she just never dazzles. Little Ching-Ching is full of happy grins and spouts plenty of wise Chinese proverbs, but not once does she break into one of the delightful song-and-dance routines that make Shirley's other films so memorable. She only dances very briefly in this movie, and it is a great disappointment to fans who want to see the tapping that made her such a world famous star.
Another disappointment is the absence of memorable music. Shirley's song "You've Gotta Smile to be Happy" showcases her impressive talent for mimickry -- she channels Eddie Cantor and Ginger Rogers, among others -- but her other two songs, "Goodnight My Love" and "That's What I Want for Christmas," completely lack the snap and fun of catchy classics like "On the Good Ship Lollipop" (Bright Eyes), "Animal Crackers in My Soup" (Curly Top), "At the Codfish Ball" (Captain January), "Oh My Goodness" (Poor Little Rich Girl), or "The Old Kent Road" (The Little Princess).
What sparkle Shirley does achieve is snuffed by the dreary adult performances. Ching-Ching's rural guardians, the Kruikshanks, and her pal Sun Lo are almost laughable. Alice Faye's character, Susan Parker, is clearly in love with Ching-Ching, but that's about the only emotion she seems to have. Susan has been harboring doubts about her engagement to the very contrived, cardboard character Richard Hope -- largely because of Richard's sickly enmeshment with his mother, played to meddlesome perfection by Helen Westley -- when she begins to feel a budding romance for Ching-Ching's rich, handsome guardian, Thomas Randall. Her choice between the two men is supposed to seem dramatic and difficult, but instead Susan only comes off as indecisive and wishy-washy. In another Shirley film, "Poor Little Rich Girl," Alice Faye displays a natural chemistry with her on screen husband Jack Haley, but in "Stowaway," Susan's relationships with both are Richard and Thomas are severely lacking, and together these three adults manage to display all the passion of a dentist office. Arthur Treacher does add some charming and unexpected wit in his small role as Thomas's butler, but if you want to see the full extent of Temple and Treacher's talents, watch them together in "The Little Princess," but not "Stowaway."
Poor Little Rich Girl (1936)
My Favorite Shirley Film.
Little Shirley Temple stars as Barbara Barry, a pampered only-child growing tired her lonely, friendless life in her big empty mansion. She craves attention from her loving but absentee dad, the owner of a major soap brand, and even devotes an entire song sequence to how much she misses him, but the clueless man still thinks it is better to buy his daughter riches than to spend time with her.
When her nanny is struck in a hit-and-run at the train station, little Barbara strikes on her own to meet friends. After spending a day with an Italian organ grinder and his colorful family, Barbara joins up with Jack Haley and Alice Faye as down-on-their-luck married singers Dolan and Dolan. Adopting the identity of her favorite book character, Barbara tells the Dolans that she is runaway orphan Betsy Weer. Soon she is given another alias: Pretending to be the Dolan daughter, Bonny Dolan, Barbara turns their failing act around, and the trio is hired to advertise for the Peck Soap Company, the arch rival of Barbara's father's soap brand.
As Bonny, Barbara wins the hearts of all her audiences, until her father hears her voice singing on the radio. Mr. Barry finds his daughter just in time to save her from a mysterious stalker who has been following the young girl around throughout the entire movie, always accompanied by eerie orchestral music. In one scene, he peers through a window and watches Barbara sleeping, and in another, he tries to lure her away with the promise to buy her candy. What's even more disturbing is that the movie never says exactly what this creep wants with Barbara. The fate of Barbara's nanny is never revealed either; she is simply whisked away to a hospital after the car collision and is not seen or mentioned again.
Despite these two loose ends, Poor Little Rich Girl is a perfect example of the standard Temple story. All ingredients for a Shirley smash are here: long tap-dance numbers (Shirley's dance-off with Jack Haley will knock your socks off), lots of cute songs (particularly enjoyable are "Oh My Goodness" and "You've Gotta Eat Your Spinach, Baby"), a cranky curmudgeon who warms his heart to Shirley (in "Poor Little Rich Girl," it's Mr. Peck, but see Ned Smith in "Bright Eyes," Colonel Lloyd in "The Little Colonel," or Lord Wickham in "The Little Princess," for other examples), and a happy ending. Her story lines may seem trite and repetitive now, but they were what the nation wanted to see in the 1930s, when Shirley Temple was one of the biggest stars in the world and a guaranteed box office smash. Shirley was obviously enjoying the height of fame at the time of this movie, as one song, "But Definitely," makes a reference to two of her most famous songs, "The Good Ship Lollipop" and "Animal Crackers in My Soup."