TALES OF MANHATTAN is an omnibus film that samples a variety of the film genres that were popular around 1942. It's practically inevitable that such anthologies will show some degree of inconsistency, and such is the case here. The movie's chief interest lies in its unparalleled roster of stars, most of them at the peak of their careers. If for no other reason, it stands as must-viewing for Classical Film Lovers. Others may wish to pick and choose from among its various installments.
The first adventure of our magical tailcoat is essentially a basic Film Noir, starring Charles Boyer, Rita Hayworth and Thomas Mitchell. Though the always excellent Boyer does what he can with it, this story strikes me as underwritten and with a preposterous twist at the end. Mitchell overacts and Hayworth, later an undoubted Noir Icon, seems completely lost.
We follow with a virtual Screwball Comedy, starring Ginger Rogers and Henry Fonda, with Cesar Romero and Gail Patrick. It's the only time Rogers and Fonda ever worked together, and despite the lightweight material they put on a good show. Patrick's sardonic delivery of the line, "I'm in misery and I think I've got company," is my second favorite moment in the entire movie.
It was not uncommon in that era to center movies around a classical music theme, and that's what we get in the third segment, starring Charles Laughton and Elsa Lanchester. It's a one gag story that seems very forced, and Laughton's performance appears off to me.
I agree with many that the highlight of TALES OF MANHATTAN comes in its fourth segment, starring Edward G. Robinson, with James Gleason and George Sanders. For the umpteenth time, Robinson demonstrates that he's one of the greatest actors in the history of the cinema. His long speech about his life is a masterpiece, and this Capra-esque dramedy should not be missed by anyone.
The shortest segment is of W. C. Fields, with Phil Silvers, Margaret Dumont and others. Anarchic comedies built around individual performers is a longtime staple of Hollywood cinema, but it seems out of place here. For Fields completists only.
Finally, we get a 'folk drama' about rural Southern blacks, starring Paul Robeson, Ethel Waters and Eddie 'Rochester' Anderson. This was another sub-genre that audiences had seen before and would see again and I'm sure it was well-meant, but only the charm of the performers (and I'm not sure that Robeson did anything that was charming) is really worthwhile.
Eddie Robinson towers above the rest, and Rogers and Fonda provide a solid equivalent of a good sitcom; otherwise it's not so hot. I expect that nearly everyone will be skipping to their favorite tales on any re-viewings.
The first adventure of our magical tailcoat is essentially a basic Film Noir, starring Charles Boyer, Rita Hayworth and Thomas Mitchell. Though the always excellent Boyer does what he can with it, this story strikes me as underwritten and with a preposterous twist at the end. Mitchell overacts and Hayworth, later an undoubted Noir Icon, seems completely lost.
We follow with a virtual Screwball Comedy, starring Ginger Rogers and Henry Fonda, with Cesar Romero and Gail Patrick. It's the only time Rogers and Fonda ever worked together, and despite the lightweight material they put on a good show. Patrick's sardonic delivery of the line, "I'm in misery and I think I've got company," is my second favorite moment in the entire movie.
It was not uncommon in that era to center movies around a classical music theme, and that's what we get in the third segment, starring Charles Laughton and Elsa Lanchester. It's a one gag story that seems very forced, and Laughton's performance appears off to me.
I agree with many that the highlight of TALES OF MANHATTAN comes in its fourth segment, starring Edward G. Robinson, with James Gleason and George Sanders. For the umpteenth time, Robinson demonstrates that he's one of the greatest actors in the history of the cinema. His long speech about his life is a masterpiece, and this Capra-esque dramedy should not be missed by anyone.
The shortest segment is of W. C. Fields, with Phil Silvers, Margaret Dumont and others. Anarchic comedies built around individual performers is a longtime staple of Hollywood cinema, but it seems out of place here. For Fields completists only.
Finally, we get a 'folk drama' about rural Southern blacks, starring Paul Robeson, Ethel Waters and Eddie 'Rochester' Anderson. This was another sub-genre that audiences had seen before and would see again and I'm sure it was well-meant, but only the charm of the performers (and I'm not sure that Robeson did anything that was charming) is really worthwhile.
Eddie Robinson towers above the rest, and Rogers and Fonda provide a solid equivalent of a good sitcom; otherwise it's not so hot. I expect that nearly everyone will be skipping to their favorite tales on any re-viewings.