Revisiting Rewatchables, week 15: "Gold Diggers of 1933"
This is the second of the Busby Berkeley films on my list. As with “42nd Street” it is about putting on a show, but this film is like a layer cake. The beginning and the end are all about song and dance, the middle is about three showgirls getting their revenge on two stuck-up men.
The film starts with Ginger Rogers in the wonderful “We're in the Money”, which gets even better when she switches to pig Latin. It’s a dress rehearsal – that rare beast in musicals. It is a wonderful and optimistic number complete with Busby Berkeley’s intricate choreography, right in the middle of the Depression:
We're in the money, we're in the money;
We've got a lot of what it takes to get along!
We're in the money, that sky is sunny
Old Man Depression you are through, you done us wrong
We never see a headline about breadlines today
And when we see the landlord we can look that guy right in the eye
We're in the money, come on, my honey
Let's lend it, spend it, send it rolling along!
But of course, although Ginger Rogers and the chorus girls were dressed in lots of coins, they were not in the money. Quite the opposite. The number ends abruptly when men from the sheriff’s department come and confiscate costumes and sets because the producer hadn’t paid his bills. The show is shut down before opening night.
The chorus girls are out of work again. Three of them share a flat, one of them is Ruby Keeler, the others are Joan Blondell and Aline MacMahon. In the same building lives a young songwriter, Brad, played by Dick Powell, who is sweet on Polly, Ruby Keeler’s character, and vice versa. When the news arrives that the producer of the show that had closed down wants to put up a new show, the excitement is enormous. They get him into the flat where he, by accident hears one of the songs of Brad and hires him right away. The thing is, the producer has no backing for the show. He needs at least $15’000. Brad promises to provide the money. And he does, eventually.
The show is on. Everybody thinks that Brad should perform in the show and sing his own songs but he refuses. He wants no publicity whatsoever. But then, as we know from “42nd Street”, the stars of musicals have a tendency to fall ill at the last moment. This time it is the male lead. After a good talking to, Brad agrees to get on stage and sing. The first number is “Pettin’ in the park” (more about that later). He and the number are a success, but somebody in the audience recognises Brad. He was not a bank robber, as the girls had thought, he is the youngest son of a wealthy family. This family is not amused when they get to know that Brad is involved in show business and wants to marry a showgirl. The older brother travels to New York, lawyer in tow, to bring Brad back to the fold.
And here we have reached the middle of the layer cake. That part of the film stems from a play which takes place mostly in apartments or restaurants, and we lose the connection to the stage. Instead, we get the story of the older brother and the lawyer who try to keep Brad from marrying Polly but then fall for Aline MacMahon and Joan Blondell.
It is mildly amusing and rather predictable. Eventually one thinks: “How come these girls have time for shopping sprees and lavish dinners? Shouldn’t they be at work in the theatre?” Just then one of them says: “Oh, I have to be at the show” and we move on to the third layer of the cake where we get back to the theatre with a couple of fantastic numbers. The end.
So, let’s talk about the numbers. The first of the big numbers after “We’re in the Money” is “Pettin’ in the Park”, and that is just as risqué as the title would suggest. It starts simply enough with a couple sitting on a bench, singing the song, but then the number expands and becomes enormously elaborate. There are roller skating dancers, a cheeky baby, then the weather changes. It snows, shortly thereafter the weather changes again, countless couples are petting in the park until it starts to rain. The girls get into a huge pavilion to change into dry clothes. They are behind a screen but one sees enough and can imagine the rest. The cheeky baby lifts the screen with a lewd grin and the number ends with a tin opener. How did they ever get away with it? They did. That’s enough.
The second to last number is “The Shadow Waltz”, which consists of dancers in amazing hoop skirts playing the violin. But not just any violin. These instruments glow in the dark, which makes for intricate patterns. There is constant motion of dancers and the play of light and dark. Mesmerising. It is one of Busby Berkeley’s masterpieces.
Finally, we get to see “The Forgotten Man”. According to the producer of the show it should have been about the Depression and the unemployed. When he hears one of Brad’s songs he bursts out: “That's just what this show is about — the Depression – men marching - marching - marching in the rain...!” Up to then we have seen fluffy numbers, but the finale packs really a punch. It starts with a torch song where a woman sings about her forgotten man:
I don′t know if he deserves a bit of sympathy
Forget your sympathy, that's all right with me
I was satisfied to drift along from day to day
Till they came and took my man awayRemember my forgotten man
You put a rifle in his hand
You sent him far away
You shouted: "Hip-hooray!"
But look at him todayRemember my forgotten man
You had him cultivate the land
He walked behind the plow
The sweat fell from his brow
But look at him right nowAnd once, he used to love me
I was happy then
He used to take care of me
Won′t you bring him back again?'Cause ever since the world began
A woman's got to have a man
Forgetting him, you see
Means you′re forgetting me
Like my forgotten man
Again, the number starts small, just Joan Blondell speaking the lyrics and then Etta Moten singing, the camera pans to desperate women sitting by the windows (a woman with a baby reminds me of the famous photograph “Migrant Mother”, but that was taken a couple of years later) and then expands to show marching soldiers, first on their way to war and then, injured and broken, on their way back. We see the breadline and the utter despair of the men looking for a job. This is really powerful and moving, just a year after veterans had marched onto Washington DC to demand the benefits they had been promised and then had been stopped by military force.
The honest take on the misery brought by the Depression and the fluffy stuff don’t really gel, but it is the finale that leaves a lasting impression. There is a core of hard reality at the heart of this musical, only lightly hidden by amorous complications. And it is this core that makes “Gold Diggers of 1933” worth watching.