Twentieth Century
Watching Twentieth Century, I expected a slick screwball classic. I came out more frazzled than smitten. John Barrymore’s deranged Broadway impresario spotting “potential” in lingerie model Mildred Plotka, renaming her Lily Garland and browbeating her into stardom is a terrific setup. He chews every bit of scenery in sight, and Carole Lombard keeps pace, shifting from nervous newcomer to full-blown diva with real sparkle – you can see why this made her a star.
The trouble is how often the film turns into a sustained shouting match. Hawks keeps things moving, but whole stretches become pure racket, the sharp lines trampled under sheer volume. The “Repent” sticker business and bad cheques gag feel like a creaky vaudeville turn that’s wandered in from another show.
By the time we’re stuck on the train with this lot, I was more worn out than delighted. The ending’s nicely sour, but it doesn’t quite make up for the headache on the way there.
The trouble is how often the film turns into a sustained shouting match. Hawks keeps things moving, but whole stretches become pure racket, the sharp lines trampled under sheer volume. The “Repent” sticker business and bad cheques gag feel like a creaky vaudeville turn that’s wandered in from another show.
By the time we’re stuck on the train with this lot, I was more worn out than delighted. The ending’s nicely sour, but it doesn’t quite make up for the headache on the way there.
Mini Review: Watching Twentieth Century, I expected a slick screwball classic and came out more frazzled than smitten. Barrymore’s monstrous Broadway impresario and Lombard’s glow-up from lingerie model to full diva are great fun, but Hawks cranks the volume so high it turns into a sustained shouting match. The ending’s nicely sour; the journey there is a bit of a headache.