i too feel like crying when my hair has to be cut 💔

i too feel like crying when my hair has to be cut 💔

This type of anthology film feels like a rare beast these days, though there were quite a few churned out in the peak days of the Hollywood system. Nowadays, there are still a few anthology films made every year but they are either all directed by one person or exist in the realm of gore and horror (or they're split into their individual elements like Netflix's bizarre handling of The Wonderful World of Henry Sugar). Here, though, we're presented five stories from turn of the century writer O. Henry directed by five major directors of the time with different casts, all strung together by none other than literally John Steinbeck. O. Henry's Full House has the swagger of a film aiming for real prestige; why else would you assemble a cast of a dozen of the best character and matinee performers Fox could assemble to tell these American classics if you're not trying to produce something with real weight behind it. But we inevitably run into the most frequent issue with anthology projects like this: the variety in quality. Now, the actual difference between each segment's caliber isn't very large at all, though that more so speaks to how low the ceiling is on the best moments. I would say my rough order of preference here goes The Gift of the Magi, The Last Leaf, The Cop and the Anthem, The Clarion Call, and The Ransom of Red Chief. The tone between these segments also varies wildly; Gift of the Magi and Last Leaf are sweeping emotional stories of sacrifice and love while Ransom of Red Chief is a lame attempt at comedy and The Clarion Call is an attempt at low-grade noir work(?). Performance across the board are fine if nothing too remarkable, though my highlights were Charles Laughton's bumbling vagrant and the pairing of Granger and Crain in the Magi. Much of the film strikes me as serviceable but nothing beyond that which probably speaks to its lack of profile in the decades since. I mean, this has a cameo performance from Marilyn Monroe literally the year before Gentlemen Prefer Blondes and yet I never hear anything about it. As a comforting watch of Hollywood's past, it did just fine for me but I can't imagine I'll hold too strongly onto it. Most heartbreaking thing about this was how bad Howard Hawks's segment is considering he's among my absolute favorite directors (though I chalk that more up to the flaccid script and Fred Allen being a little too old-fashioned comic for my liking).

This type of anthology film feels like a rare beast these days, though there were quite a few churned out in the peak days of the Hollywood system. Nowadays, there are still a few anthology films made every year but they are either all directed by one person or exist in the realm of gore and horror (or they're split into their individual elements like Netflix's bizarre handling of The Wonderful World of Henry Sugar). Here, though, we're presented five stories from turn of the century writer O. Henry directed by five major directors of the time with different casts, all strung together by none other than literally John Steinbeck. O. Henry's Full House has the swagger of a film aiming for real prestige; why else would you assemble a cast of a dozen of the best character and matinee performers Fox could assemble to tell these American classics if you're not trying to produce something with real weight behind it. But we inevitably run into the most frequent issue with anthology projects like this: the variety in quality. Now, the actual difference between each segment's caliber isn't very large at all, though that more so speaks to how low the ceiling is on the best moments. I would say my rough order of preference here goes The Gift of the Magi, The Last Leaf, The Cop and the Anthem, The Clarion Call, and The Ransom of Red Chief. The tone between these segments also varies wildly; Gift of the Magi and Last Leaf are sweeping emotional stories of sacrifice and love while Ransom of Red Chief is a lame attempt at comedy and The Clarion Call is an attempt at low-grade noir work(?). Performance across the board are fine if nothing too remarkable, though my highlights were Charles Laughton's bumbling vagrant and the pairing of Granger and Crain in the Magi. Much of the film strikes me as serviceable but nothing beyond that which probably speaks to its lack of profile in the decades since. I mean, this has a cameo performance from Marilyn Monroe literally the year before Gentlemen Prefer Blondes and yet I never hear anything about it. As a comforting watch of Hollywood's past, it did just fine for me but I can't imagine I'll hold too strongly onto it. Most heartbreaking thing about this was how bad Howard Hawks's segment is considering he's among my absolute favorite directors (though I chalk that more up to the flaccid script and Fred Allen being a little too old-fashioned comic for my liking).