Copyright 25 May 1938 by Warner Bros. Pictures, Inc. New York release at the Radio City Music Hall, 11 August 1938. U.S. release: 3 September 1938. 10 reels. 91 minutes.
SYNOPSIS: Flynn's character was based on the real life Ivy Ledbetter Lee, a colorful publicist who died in 1934. In the film he is a press agent who is pursuing an eccentric millionaire, John P. Dillingwell. The millionaire has a grand-daughter. But the grand- daughter is engaged to the press agent's boss!
COMMENT: Despite a somewhat talky script, this is an absolutely delightful comedy. Curtiz gets around the excessive talk by directing the whole show at a whirlwind pace. Flynn shows a real flair for comedy and delivers wisecracks and snaps with all the skilled timing of a professional farceur.
Curtiz cracks on the pace not only by having all the players deliver their lines 1½ times as fast as normal but by using extremely fast tracking shots, whip pans and such sharp-as-a-tack film editing that if you blink you miss a whole camera set-up. The dizzying tracking shots following the speeding model trains have to be seen to be believed — the tracks must have been laid across a whole sound stage — and the punchy editing in these sequences make them a classic of their kind. (The film is an absolute MUST for model train buffs).
The episode with the two trains is re-staged with two speeding taxi-cabs for the film's climax — less effectively because obviously utilizing the process screen though Curtiz tries to minimize the effect of this faking by fast pacing and cutting and some outrageous near-misses as the characters lean out the windows.
There's even a Curtiz signature shot in the middle of the film as the shadow of the guard rises on the wall above the staircase in Connolly's mansion.
As a publicity agent who "plays hopscotch from one double-cross to another", Flynn is in absolutely marvelous form. His entrance is delayed for a couple of scenes but once on-camera, he creams the rest of the cast — only Connolly is his match. The scene in which he juggles both De Havilland and Russell on the telephone (mostly filmed in one take and ending with a clever 3-way divided screen, the De Havilland and Russell segments of which dissolve to pick up and track in to a close-up of Flynn as the scene ends) had me in hysterics.
Flynn's encounters with all the dogs (both Connolly's and De Hav's) are also most amusing, despite some obvious trickery with a speeded- up camera and a fake doggy tail (which Flynn bites).
Flynn is in fine shape — that's really him doing all the running and taking those falls and balancing on the window-ledge two flights up — no wonder he didn't want to work with Curtiz again. Charming, debonair, witty, fast-talking, it's hard to imagine anyone else who could've played the role with such ease and effectiveness while fully retaining audience identification and sympathy.
Aside from Connolly, the rest of the players are no match for Flynn. Patric Knowles is way out-classed but De Havilland and Russell are in there pitching (Russell can walk fast and talk fast — a good warm-up for His Girl Friday). (Another odd thing is that with its polio references the film foreshadows Russell's Sister Kenny). A great support cast headed by Melville Cooper and Franklin Pangborn and especially Spencer Charters (love him being locked out in the rain — you can catch his forlorn face staring through the glass at the back of a couple of shots). Margaret Hamilton has little to do and Carole Landis is far in the background.
Curtiz stages the scenes not only so they play fast but they look attractive and are most skilfully composed. He even cleverly experiments with having the players lean at an angle — which is highly amusing. And he has all the usual Warner Bros. lavishness with sets and hordes of scurrying extras to back up all this pictorial richness.
SYNOPSIS: Flynn's character was based on the real life Ivy Ledbetter Lee, a colorful publicist who died in 1934. In the film he is a press agent who is pursuing an eccentric millionaire, John P. Dillingwell. The millionaire has a grand-daughter. But the grand- daughter is engaged to the press agent's boss!
COMMENT: Despite a somewhat talky script, this is an absolutely delightful comedy. Curtiz gets around the excessive talk by directing the whole show at a whirlwind pace. Flynn shows a real flair for comedy and delivers wisecracks and snaps with all the skilled timing of a professional farceur.
Curtiz cracks on the pace not only by having all the players deliver their lines 1½ times as fast as normal but by using extremely fast tracking shots, whip pans and such sharp-as-a-tack film editing that if you blink you miss a whole camera set-up. The dizzying tracking shots following the speeding model trains have to be seen to be believed — the tracks must have been laid across a whole sound stage — and the punchy editing in these sequences make them a classic of their kind. (The film is an absolute MUST for model train buffs).
The episode with the two trains is re-staged with two speeding taxi-cabs for the film's climax — less effectively because obviously utilizing the process screen though Curtiz tries to minimize the effect of this faking by fast pacing and cutting and some outrageous near-misses as the characters lean out the windows.
There's even a Curtiz signature shot in the middle of the film as the shadow of the guard rises on the wall above the staircase in Connolly's mansion.
As a publicity agent who "plays hopscotch from one double-cross to another", Flynn is in absolutely marvelous form. His entrance is delayed for a couple of scenes but once on-camera, he creams the rest of the cast — only Connolly is his match. The scene in which he juggles both De Havilland and Russell on the telephone (mostly filmed in one take and ending with a clever 3-way divided screen, the De Havilland and Russell segments of which dissolve to pick up and track in to a close-up of Flynn as the scene ends) had me in hysterics.
Flynn's encounters with all the dogs (both Connolly's and De Hav's) are also most amusing, despite some obvious trickery with a speeded- up camera and a fake doggy tail (which Flynn bites).
Flynn is in fine shape — that's really him doing all the running and taking those falls and balancing on the window-ledge two flights up — no wonder he didn't want to work with Curtiz again. Charming, debonair, witty, fast-talking, it's hard to imagine anyone else who could've played the role with such ease and effectiveness while fully retaining audience identification and sympathy.
Aside from Connolly, the rest of the players are no match for Flynn. Patric Knowles is way out-classed but De Havilland and Russell are in there pitching (Russell can walk fast and talk fast — a good warm-up for His Girl Friday). (Another odd thing is that with its polio references the film foreshadows Russell's Sister Kenny). A great support cast headed by Melville Cooper and Franklin Pangborn and especially Spencer Charters (love him being locked out in the rain — you can catch his forlorn face staring through the glass at the back of a couple of shots). Margaret Hamilton has little to do and Carole Landis is far in the background.
Curtiz stages the scenes not only so they play fast but they look attractive and are most skilfully composed. He even cleverly experiments with having the players lean at an angle — which is highly amusing. And he has all the usual Warner Bros. lavishness with sets and hordes of scurrying extras to back up all this pictorial richness.