THREE SMART GIRLS GROW UP: Blu-ray (Universal, 1937) Kino Lorber

While I pause for a moment’s contemplation on the executive logic behind releasing Henry Koster’s Three Smart Girls Grow Up (1939), the sequel, ahead of 1936’s Three Smart Girls (which remains MIA on Blu-ray), I am reminded of two Hollywood maxims: the first - you can never have too much of a good thing, exercised here with yet another visit to the same well and in that grand tradition of escapist fantasy the studios once reveled to extol, and second, that in Hollywood, timing is everything; in the truest sense, Barbara Read – the winsome ingenue, to have played middle daughter, Katherine ‘Kay’ Craig in the original movie, now judged as too mature to be involved in its sequel, ergo, a has-been at age 21. Read’s career would barely last out the 1940’s. Henceforth, her role in this sequel is played by Helen Parrish instead. Three Smart Girls Grow Up continues on with the coming of age saga that followed the comings, goings, and romantic loves of the Craig sisters, aforementioned Kay, Joan (Nan Grey) and, top-billed, Deanna Durbin (as Penelope - ‘Penny’). Never tiring of the milieu of East Coast upper-crusters, Three Smart Girls Grow Up sets up the debutantes in their fabulously wealthy enclave of New York’s high society. Alas, all is not well in the Craig household after Joan announces her engagement to the impeccably turned out, Richard Watkins (very handsome, William Lundigan) whom Penny is about to discover her other sister, Kay, secretly desires. Determined both sisters should be happy, Penny plots to have Kay’s affections for Richard cool. And thus, the search for another ‘tall, dark and handsome’ fellow to fit the bill begins in earnest.

Stumbling upon musician, Harry Loren (Robert Cummings), Penny invites him to their fabulous estate. Alas, her heavily contrived efforts at playing Cupid miserably fail. However, the embers of love almost immediately begin to crackle between Harry and Joan. A series of mishaps, cleverly scripted by Felix Jackson and Bruce Manning, follow, with Penny becoming more disillusioned at her botched tries to bring love and romance to all concerned. To this end, Penny decides to consult her father, the scattershot businessman, Judson Craig (the charmingly buffoonish, Charles Winninger). Too bad the ole Wall Street tycoon, while a wiz at making money, is something of a dud at just being ‘dear ole dad’.  Actually, he is quite lovable and lovably flawed.  In an age where men were not to be considered inconsequential, even if they did suffer from a sort of chronic amnesia, fathers still proved to, indeed, ‘know best’ and predictably, this one too saves the day. Throughout Three Smart Girls Grow Up, the central focus is on the Craig sisters who once more, with Deanna Durbin at the helm, illustrate a verve for getting into not terribly prepossessing circumstances that do little except strain their own consciences and emotions to joyful fits of smiles and tears. Innocence in the movies is the trickiest trope and tightrope to cross – especially when the players are more accomplished than the characters they represent. And Durbin, with her endlessly studied soprano – the musical sage of centuries’ old, ripened as a woman well into her forties – has a steeper uphill climb to make us believe she is just an average child with a keen mind and slightly above average tastes in men and meddling.

Here, it is the bric-a-brac in Jack Otterson’s art direction, and R.A. Gausman’s set decoration, immaculately photographed by Joseph A. Valentine, greatly to enhance at least the appearance of plastered on youth – all crepe and gauze, frilly dust-ruffles and duvets, the kittenish fur-lined stoles and quilted pajamas – the benign trappings every young girl of a certain age and generation would have yearned for, though so few in Depression-era America would ever experience first-hand. Movies like Three Smart Girls and Three Smart Girls Grow Up remain perennially popular, despite changing times, because they speak to a feminine ideal; sentimental and longing for the velvet-gloved approach to life where people are just people, moments before wonderful things begin to happen to them. What played as a pseudo-reality in 1937, or wish fulfillment in the extreme, today emerges as nimble froth from Hollywood’s dream factory; in this case, one step ahead of the usual escapist thirst for nostalgia.  A moment’s pause here, to marvel at the luxuriating quality of it all. There is a lot to be said for fiction here, and very much more than those more recent homages to pseudo-reality the movies have all aspired to today.

And into this perfectly plywood land of makeshift make-believe enters Deanna Durbin, if ever, a fairy tale princess of the first magnitude. That Durbin remains unaltered by the spectacle of it all, or rather, contributes to the spectacular fantasia of froth and flirtatious fun, relying mostly on the quality of her acting, as opposed to the loveliness in her apple-cheeked visage, manages to break the barrier between sentimental treacle and that tougher, enterprising gal, ruthlessly to trade on one love affair for another. One can candidly admire Durbin here, intuitively knowing precisely what strings to pull – not just according to plot, but more importantly, to sell her wares to the audience; also, when to attenuate, just enough to suggest her ideas have come, either from the thinnest of air, or somehow magically, and, with rather deceitful triumph, been telepathically implanted to lull the supporting cast into her domain of pleasure with her deliberately awkward, yet agile cadence.  In its heyday, Hollywood indulged in such champagne cocktails, with a ‘what me worry?’ attitude towards the Great Depression. And Durbin, with her bright and breeze good nature here, remains one of those pubescent denizens of the hooptie-doo ‘mademoiselle’ class.

The movies have sincerely lost much of their magnetism since these guileless and contemplative days of yore, when a ‘climax’ at the end, meant something wonderful was about to occur, and, being ‘gay’ was a perennial state of mind that anyone could ascribe to, regardless of their sexual orientation. Three Smart Girls Grow Up may never have been considered ‘high art’. In point of fact, its slickly polished pastiche as only Pasternak could provide. Yet, it possesses a sort of infectious rhythm and understanding to life – sunny and oblivious to the harsh reality faced by those seated in the theater. Then, this was decidedly part of its charm. Today, one could unearth a million reasons why such endeavors were shameless and ought to be considered nothing better than petty, bourgeoise and overly self-indulgent. However, the illustration of life as it should be, rather than as it was, gave Depression-era audiences hope – a change of pace and the opportunity to lose themselves in this unaffected joy and measure of a good time had by all on the screen. As in the original movie, family is of the utmost importance in Three Smart Girls Grow Up, the devotion to the people nearest our hearts is made genuine, blubberingly sentimental, but always smartly turned out, with slick dialogue, good-natured personalities, and, thanks to producer, Joe Pasternak, a cavalcade of effervescent musical offerings for which Durbin’s pipes are both trilling and thrilling. In the last analysis, we depart Three Smart Girls Grow Up, having wandered in and out of some fashionable clubs, gorgeous homes, and lovely backyards with their park-like settings. Having made the journey to and from fantasy-land, we return to the humdrum beyond the footlights with a better understanding of what life could be, with just a light sprinkling of Hollywood’s fairy dust having smiled on us for an hour or two. In the words of George and Ira Gershwin… “who could ask for anything more?”

Three Smart Girls Grow Up arrives on Blu-ray via Kino’s alliance with Universal Home Video. This is the best-looking 1080p transfer of the three movies housed together as Deanna Durbin Collection: Volume One. Despite some residual age-related damage and a slight case of gate weave, to intermittently afflict this presentation, if hardly to distracting levels, the results here support a more recent image harvest, derived from a fine grain B&W master. Contrast is excellent, and fine detail abounds. There is some gorgeous grain, appropriately reproduced. Black levels are velvety rich and solid. Whites are pristine. Image clarity is impressive, crisp and refined. Age-related artifacts persist but do not distract. Evidently, some basic clean-up has been applied to ready this for hi-def. The audio is 1.0 DTS mono and more than adequate. Regrettably, there is no audio commentary this time around.  At present, Three Smart Girls Grow Up is exclusively being offered in this collection. Given the entertainment value of all three movies in this set, we highly recommend Deanna Durbin Collection: Volume One, and sincerely hope it will not be too long before Kino favors us with another spate of these wonderful films from Hollywood’s golden age. Recommended with caveats.

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

4

VIDEO/AUDIO

3.5

EXTRAS

0