. . . without Chico, Harpo, or Groucho. John Barrymore may be convincing in other movie roles, but he's hammier than a pork chop here. As the "Napoleon" of Broadway, Barrymore chews not only the scenery, but the script and props as well. Following his lead, the rest of the cast barely enliven their characters about which few viewers will give even one hoot. The slapstick falls flat, and the repetitive dialog does not get any better the fourth time around. If anyone were actually paying attention, they'd see the plot twists coming from as far away as Toledo is from Elkhart, IN. (This quibble may be a moot hypothetical point, as TWENTIETH CENTURY is more sleep-evoking than a fireplace-log-burning DVD.) Though I found it pretty hard to doze off the last time I boarded a train in Toledo, for slumber inducement, TWENTIETH CENTURY takes the cake among railroading films. If this movie actually advanced the career of anyone involved, one hopes they did not incur a fatal Karma debt because of that undeserved windfall.

Howard Hawks is probably my favorite Hollywood director. He made genuine classics in virtually every film genre, except perhaps Horror.

I had never seen Twentieth Century until its release on DVD recently. It is a good movie, funny, and entertaining. But, IMHO, it falls short of being one of his Greats.

The problem, for me, is that Twentieth Century never changes its tone throughout the whole movie. It starts with people shouting at one another, and acting hysterical, and it carries that through until the end.

In structure, Twentieth Century is similar to His Girl Friday, the screwball comedy Hawks directed six years later, (and a superior film). That is similar is not surprising for two reasons. First, because the Hollywood/Broadway writer Charles MacArthur was involved in both projects. And Second, because Hawks, in his career, was noted for often going back to basic story lines and remaking pictures.

Both movies revolve around a woman involved with and fighting with her former boss/lover. In both stories, the plot revolves around the ex-boss trying to get the woman back, both on the job and in his life. In the case of Twentieth Century, the ex-boss and woman, are played by John Barrymore and Carole Lombard. In His Girl Friday, the parts are played by Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell.

Twentieth Century is definitely John Barrymore's picture, and he is wonderful in it. Those of us from later generations, have mostly only heard of John Barrymore. It is a real treat to watch him. Barrymore's character is overwrought and overacts shamelessly, but it is totally in keeping with his character. At one point, in one of Barrymore's endless tirades, almost in mid-sentence, he begins imitating a camel chewing. It is a startling moment, that goes by almost as fast as it appeared, but it is a brilliant piece of comedic acting. There are very few actors, either then or now, who have the creativity or the versatility to pull off a scene like that, and make it seem totally in character.

(Possible Spoiler) This was, I believe, Carole Lombard's first major role, and she does very well keeping up with Barrymore, shout for shout, and eccentricity for eccentricity. She is not quite his equal, particularly at the end of the film, (which I found a little bit disappointing) but she comes close.

Like all good and great screwball comedies, Twentieth Century has great dialogue to go along with the zaniness. And both Barrymore and Lombard do a great job delivering that dialogue.

So, it is well worth watching Twentieth Century. It just seems that, in his later films, comedies and otherwise, Howard Hawks was better able to build tension to a crescendo. Here, too much of the movie is all crescendo, and by the end, it may wear you out.

Director Howard Hawks, impressed by Carole Lombard acting skills in her recent movies, took a gamble by giving the biggest role to her yet in May 1934's "Twentieth Century." The twenty-six year old actress had never been placed in such a prominent part in a big-budgeted major Hollywood movie before, this playing opposite the legendary, but temperamental John Barrymore. Hawks stuck out his neck to cast her as Mildred Plotka, a lingerie model-turned-actress, despite several more popular stars wanting the part for the Columbia Pictures movie.

Thus, the director was somewhat puzzled by Lombard's lack of spark in the first few days of filming. Hawks speculated it was either through a case of the jitters or from her previous experiences playing unemotional roles that was causing her to hold back. During a break, Hawks posed a question to the actress about what she would do if she heard from others that Barrymore said something derogatory about her behind her back. Lombard replied she would kick him in the groin. "Well, Barrymore said that, so why don't you kick him?" Such backstabbing got her blood pressure up, and she tore into the bewildered Barrymore, the actor not knowing where she was coming from. From that moment on, Lombard played Mildred with the energy Hawks was expecting from her. In fact, Barrymore, who played opposite of many of the screen's most respected veteran actresses, wrote on a photograph of himself to Lombard after filming wrapped, "To the finest actress I have worked with, bar none."

"Twentieth Century" is labeled as one of film's earliest screwball comedies. Adapted from a Charles Millholland unproduced play, 'Napoleon of Broadway,' the work was based on long-time eccentric theater producer David Belasco. He's the one who gave Gladys Marie Smith her stage name, Mary Pickford, reworking the young actress' middle name while selecting her mother's maiden name. The Ben Hecht/Charles MacArthur script shows Oscar Jaffe (Barrymore) treating Mildred (Lombard) harshly during the first days of a play's rehearsal. In one controversial scene where he wants the restrained Mildred to scream, Oscar picks up a sharp pin and jabs her in the buttocks. The incoming head of the Hays Production Code Office, Joseph Breen, not yet in total control of the censor bureau, was troubled with Barrymore's action with the pin.

Hawks had shot a close-up of the pin's penetration into the buttocks, which Breen promptly excised.

Barrymore was approached by Hawks to play the quirky stage producer. The actor asked why would the director think he was a good fit for the role? "It's the story of the biggest ham on earth, and you're the biggest ham I know," said Hawks. Barrymore agreed. Once filming began, the director encouraged his two leads to ad-lib their dialogue. He recalled later, "When people are as good as those two, the idea of just sticking to lines is rather ridiculous." Despite Barrymore's problematic drinking causing delays and reshoots in his recent productions, he was more dedicated to his craft under Hawks' watchful eye. In a rare day's absence from an evening of heavy drinking, Barrymore was so distraught he offered to work for two days for free. He made suggestions in several scenes that are seen on the screen, such as his disguise as a Kentucky Colonel to sneak onto the Twentieth Century train, which at the time was the most modern and fastest train used for the Chicago-New York express.

Lombard and Hawks were aware of Columbia studio head Harry Cohn's habit of making physical passes at new actresses working on his pictures, which he did with Carole. Cohn scheduled a meeting with the director in his office on the progress of the film. While the two were in conversation with Hawks far off to one side, Lombard barged in and exclaimed "I've decided to say yes!" pretending as though the studio president was alone. With the puzzled Cohn's mouth wide open, the actress began removing some of her clothes. Then Hawks cleared his throat and said, "I'd better get out of here if this is the kind of studio you run." The flustered Cohn politely asked the two to leave. The actress never got a wayward grouping of Cohn's hands nor any free-love comments from him again.

Lombard always remembered Hawks' sneaky maneuver at the expense of Barrymore to make her a better actress. Before every movie she was appeared, she sent the director a telegram announcing "I'm going to kick him." "Twentieth Century" proved pivotal in Lombard's career, with studios offering her larger, more prominent roles while her popularity soared worldwide.