Director: Melville W. Brown
Johnny Mack Brown (here billed just as John) was a former college football star who found his way to Hollywood in the late 1920s. After failing to connect in A-pictures for the major studios, he found his place as one of the premiere B-movie cowboys and a frequent star of serials. Jazz Heaven offers a rare chance to see Brown play a role against type—here, he’s an innocent songwriter who finds a muse that gets him out of a writing slump. She is played by Sally O’Neill, a perky, energetic starlet who one could very easily see as having had the potential to have a more successful career. If Brown and O’Neill are cute together—their early scenes writing music together come with the dual excitement of starting a new relationship and finding artistic inspiration—the plot is paper thin, playing as a harmless, if naive distraction in which the characters’ futures are never in serious jeopardy. Regardless, for 1929 the picture moves at a decent clip, thanks in large part to O’Neill’s lively deliveries, and the music matches the earnest sentimentality of the narrative.
Director: Melville W. Brown
Mary Astor is superb in this otherwise fairly humdrum office melodrama in which a devoted secretary (Astor) is hopelessly in love with her boss (Robert Ames), only he’s too dense and self-involved to see it. The big problem with the screenplay is that Ames’ character is wrought to be a thoroughly pompous bastard–that Astor is so loyal in her romantic pursuits cheapens what is otherwise a finely written female lead. Her final emotional breakdown (occurring just after she hears of her boss’ engagement to a woman of his class) is a devastating moment, but for the audience her rage is almost cathartic: “I made him look like a gentleman! […] I’ve shared his troubles and worries! […] But when it comes to a girl with beauty and money and the glamour of position, I can’t do a thing!” The outburst is rendered all the more heartbreaking considering her otherwise understated performance, in which her affections are displayed through glances, body language (proximity is key), and sly smiles. It’s a shame not much else in the film is worthy of her talents–in fact, it is as sloppily made as any production from the era, with several flubbed edits in which a shot is cut to before the characters (mid-conversation) have entered the frame.
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