The New Pictures

New Faces of 1937 (RKO). As its title, from Leonard Sillman's Broadway revues of 1934 and 1936, suggests, this picture aims to present to cinemaddicts a gallery of heretofore unknown players. Unfortunately, of the numerous new faces in the cast, few belong to performers engaged in major roles. These are handled by such eminently unnovel entertainers as Milton Berle, Joe Penner, Harriet Hilliard, and Parkyakarkus.

The Saturday Evening Post story by George Bradshaw on which New Faces is based contained a first-rate comedy idea.. Its hero was a shoestring theatrical impresario whose method consisted of selling a show to several different backers, then making sure that the show was so bad it closed immediately. The method worked perfectly until the unforeseen accident of a hit put the impresario in the miserable position of having to pay 85% of its profits to all its various angels simultaneously. As rewritten by a battery of Hollywood scenarists, this idea is somehow boiled down to the skeleton for a succession of vaudeville turns most of which are as familiar as the players who take part in them. Best sketch, taken from Life Begins at 8:40 (1934): Milton Berle as a stock speculator hysterically caught in the toils of a greedy broker.

First cinema appearance of "New Face" Parkyakarkus was in Strike Me Pink (1936), as Eddie Cantor's stooge. As freakish, though not so foolish, as his soubriquet, Parkyakarkus is really Harry Einstein, a onetime Boston advertising writer who, when his friends found his Greek dialect monologs at parties hilariously funny, decided to merchandise his specialty. Response to a few local broadcasts encouraged him to apply for a spot on the nationwide radio hour of Funnyman Cantor, whom he had met socially. From radio, he went to Hollywood. "Parkyakarkus" is an adaptation of the informal invitation with which Dr. Einstein habitually greeted callers at his office during his business career. In New Faces he functions as a mysterious friend of the scalawag producer, executes nothing resembling his press-release pose (see cut, p. 30) with the vaudeville team of Lowe and Giant Kite, who have bit parts.

King Solomon's Mines (Gaumont-British) is good-old-fashioned adventure adapted from H. Rider Haggard's 50-year-old melodrama. In quest of legendary diamonds encased in Africa's jagged Drakensberg Mountains go doughty Allan Quartermain (Sir Cedric Hardwicke), Kathy O'Brien (Anna Lee), Captain Good (Roland Young), Sir Henry Curtis (John Loder) and Umbopa (Paul Robeson), a burly, black Zulu. On the desert trek the reckless fL'e almost perish from thirst. In the mountains they are tolerated by Kukuana savages only because the superstitious blacks believe bemonocled Captain Good to be a white god. Before they attain the mines he is required to demonstrate white magic in the form of an opportunity-scheduled eclipse. Umbopa proclaims himself the rightful, monkey-furred Kukuana chief.

King Solomon's Mines is as rich in scenery as it is in make-believe. The principals are trapped in a sandstorm, in a burning thatched village, in a gurgling underground crater which erupts upon their entrance. Majestically pictured is Paul Robeson, scaling peak and precipice, chanting Mighty Mountain--I'm Going to Climb You. For some spirited shield-whacking and spear-hurling filmed in South Africa, Director Robert Stevenson hired 5,000 native Impingi. who were reluctant to act because they thought they were being drafted for a new European war. Good shot: Robeson digging for water in the sand which the parched party gulps in a frenzy.

Singing Marine (Warner Bros.). Having successfully sung his way through West Point and Annapolis in previous films, Dick Powell now tries his voice on the U. S. Marine Corps. As a shy, likable Arkansas rookie he is drafted for a weenie roast on the beach at San Diego, innocently sings the leathernecks' sweethearts into acquiescence. For this patriotic service he is rewarded with a trip to Manhattan and a radio tryout on what is obviously Major Bowes's amateur hour. Managed by Aeneas Phinney (Hugh Herbert), he embarks upon a U. S. radio career as the "Singing Marine" until ordered to the Shanghai station.

Thereafter the Marines busy themselves with little but tap dance routines arranged by fanciful Busby Berkeley. Never at sea, they cleverly oblige dance-hall patrons by performing "right, dress!" and "squads-right" in full Marine regalia. The Marines otherwise enliven Shanghai night life by their efforts to set up their own night club, are recalled to duty only in a final musical number. Songs: 'Cause My Baby Says It's So, The Lady Who Couldn't Be Kissed, The Song of the Marines.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.