ONLY YESTERDAY

ONLY YESTERDAY (1933). Director: John M. Stahl.

"This sort of thing is no longer a tragedy. It isn't even a melodrama. It's just ... something that happened."

A man receives a letter from a woman that he has completely forgotten, but who tells him that she has given him a son he has never known. No, it's not Letter from an Unknown Woman, but a variation that takes place in New York at the time of the stock market crash. Mary Lane (Margaret Sullavan) had shared a night of passion with Jim Emerson (John Boles) some years before, but when she goes to see him when he returns from WW1 he doesn't even remember her. She is determined to raise their son and stick it out until he does remember her, but instead Emerson marries another woman. Years go by, and Mary resists romantic overtures from others [reminding one of Back Street, which both Sullavan and Boles appeared in, albeit in different versions]. This was Sullavan's first movie and she delivers, and Boles is also fine as the object of her affections. Jimmy Butler scores as their young son, as does Billie Burke as Mary's sympathetic and up-to-date Aunt Julia, who sings "Tiptoe through the Tulips." Bramwell Fletcher and Reginald Denny are also in the cast. It all builds to an undeniably moving conclusion. Stahl also directed the Boles-Irene Dunne version of Back Street, as well as Leave Her to Heaven.

Verdict: Good acting helps put this over. ***.

TOO MUCH, TOO SOON: DIANA BARRYMORE [BOOK]

Diana Barrymore

TOO MUCH, TOO SOON. Diana Barrymore and Gerold Frank. Henry Holt; 1957.

This very frank memoir written by the daughter of John Barrymore was published in 1957 but reads like one of the "warts and all" embarrassingly frank Hollywood autobiogs of today. Barrymore seems to leave nothing out -- her three marriages, her promiscuity, her nearly hopeless alcoholism -- but one still gets the sense that this self-destructive individual didn't want to take full responsibility for her actions. True, her famous father [who was on a serious down-slide when Diana began her career] and mother, who wrote under the pen name "Michael Strange," were rather self-absorbed people and not the best of parents, but it's not as if Diana, on a trust fund, was raised in the ghetto -- although in later years when the money ran out she certainly got a stark taste of poverty and harsh reality. Thanks to co-author Frank, "Too Much, Too Soon" is compelling and often powerful in its delineation of the depths to which Ms. Barrymore would sink. She managed to throw away many opportunities others would have killed for, such as when she showed up for the first live telecast of "The Diana Barrymore Show" dead drunk and immediately lost the show and the lucrative contract. The anguish of her third marriage to washed-up actor and fellow drunk Robert Wilcox is sharply etched [her first husband was older actor Bramwell Fletcher of The Undying Monster, whom she was wretched to]. She can be capable of some raw assessments of herself, such as when she chastises herself for being outraged by her father's wanting her to phone a call girl service for him [which was a little tacky] when she later realizes she should have shown compassion for his being "sick and broken and lonely and old and unhappy." Whatever you think of Diana -- pathetic, out-of-control alcoholic, or simply a major fuck-up --  the book is a fascinating expose of the dark side of Hollywood that pulls you along from the first page. Diana managed to make about half a dozen films, but she died of an overdose only three years after this book was published. The film version of the book starred Dorothy Malone as Diana and Errol Flynn as her father. John Barrymore and future son-in-law Fletcher appeared together in Svengali.

Verdict: Pride goeth before a fall. ***1/2.

SVENGALI (1931)

SVENGALI (1931). Director: Archie Mayo.

"Trilby in England would be like a butterfly in mutton soup."

The impoverished music instructor Svengali (John Barrymore) meets a young model named Trilby (Marian Marsh) and exerts his influence over her. Svengali has not stood the test of time, now coming off as quite dated and hokey, although the sparse, impressionistic sets with the huge corridors are striking. Barrymore can't seem to make up his mind if he's playing Svengali or Rasputin, and the picture doesn't seem to know if it's serious or a black comedy. In any case, it seems to be over just as it's getting interesting. Bramwell Fletcher and the always reliable Donald Crisp are also in the cast, and Carmel Myers makes an impression as a pupil of Svengali who loves him and makes the ultimate sacrifice.

Verdict: Barrymore should not be measured by this movie. **.

DAUGHTER OF THE DRAGON

DAUGHTER OF THE DRAGON (1931). Director: Lloyd Corrigan.

In the early 1930's Paramount Pictures released a trio of films very loosely based on the first three novels in Sax Rohmer's fascinating series of Fu Manchu books. The third and final film in the series, Daughter of the Dragon, is supposedly based on The Daughter of Fu Manchu, Rohmer's third Fu Manchu book, but it has an entirely different storyline. In this movie Princess Ling Moy (Anna May Wong) is a dancer who has no idea that she is the daughter of Fu Manchu. Fu Manchu (an excellent Warner Oland), whose origin is entirely different from Rohmer's, has spent the first two movies trying to wipe out the Petrie family, whom he holds in part responsible for the deaths of his wife and other children (Ling Moy was raised by another family). After killing John Petrie (Holmes Herbert), a dying Fu tells his daughter who she is and of the blood oath which she must fulfill: to kill the final member of the Petrie family, Ronald Petrie (Bramwell Fletcher). Ling Moy agrees to do this but winds up falling in love with Ronald instead. In a rather abrupt character reversal, she decides to go ahead and fulfill the oath and turns quite sadistic to boot. Balancing the evil Asians in the movie is Ah Kee, a policeman played by Sessue Hayakawa. Daughter of the Dragon is slowly-paced and has a rather boring middle section, although there's some excitement at the climax (which has a moving wind-up). The chief feeling you take away from the movie is that both Wong and Hayakawa are excellent actors who deserved much better material. Still, it has its moments. Good performances from the rest of the cast. As far as Fu Manchu goes, he has more fun in the unrelated The Mask of Fu Manchu the following year.

Verdict: Wong and Hayakawa make a great team. **1/2.

THE UNDYING MONSTER

THE UNDYING MONSTER (1942). Director: John Brahm.

At the turn of the century the Hammond family of England is under a strange curse, and become victims of an unseen, prowling monster that tears them apart at night. Helga Hammond (Heather Angel) believes the tale of the curse is all stuff and nonsense, but then her brother Oliver (John Howard) is attacked and nearly killed by the monster. Inspector Bob Curtis (James Ellison) of Scotland Yard is called in with female associate "Christie" Christopher (Heather Thatcher) to investigate the attack on Oliver and a lady friend who was tramautized by the assault. Then there's the sinister Doctor Colbert (Bramwell Fletcher), a special friend of Helga's, who stands to inherit if Oliver dies. Lucien Ballard's crisp cinematography, handsome production values, and some superlative scenic design and art direction add immeasurably to the film's atmosphere, but the comic relief provided by Ellison and Thatcher detracts from same. Ellison was perfectly okay in light comedies and romances, but he's an odd choice to play a Scotland Yard detective (and doesn't even try to affect a British accent). This is sort of a non-werewolf werewolf story. Minor all told, but not without interest.

Verdict: Not great, but has its moments. **1/2.