Gold Diggers of 1937: Too Much of Everything

Should you bother?

Honestly, you watch Gold Diggers of 1937 for the sheer, unhinged commitment to excess. If you want a tight, realistic story, you're going to hate this. But if you have a soft spot for movies where people just randomly burst into song while wearing outfits that cost more than a small house, you'll be fine.

It’s the kind of film that feels like it was written by three people in different rooms who only checked in to make sure there was enough glitter. It’s loud, it’s fast, and it barely makes sense, which is honestly its best quality.

That insurance plot

The premise is wild. They basically bet that the producer will die so they can collect the payout. It’s dark, but in that breezy 1930s way where nobody actually cares about consequences. Victor Moore plays the producer, and he’s so sweet it hurts. You spend half the movie waiting for him to trip over his own feet.

And Joan Blondell? She’s carrying the entire movie on her back. Every time she speaks, you can hear the smoke in her voice. She’s the only one who seems to realize how ridiculous this whole insurance scheme is.

The Busby Berkeley effect

Then there’s the big production number at the end. It’s famous for a reason, but also… what is going on? There’s a giant neon piano setup that defies every law of physics I’ve ever known. It’s the kind of thing that makes you miss the days when Hollywood was obsessed with filming hundreds of people doing the exact same thing in perfect synchronization. Following the Horses might have had its own charm, but it certainly didn't have a giant illuminated keyboard.

• Dick Powell is doing his usual "I’m just a guy in a suit" routine.
• The pacing is frantic, like the editor was on a very strict caffeine limit.
• I swear the background actors are just making up their own choreography half the time.

It’s not quite as weird as The Birth of Character, but it’s definitely not a normal movie. It’s a relic of a time when the goal was just to distract people from the fact that the economy was in the toilet. It works, mostly. At least for an hour or so.

One scene lingers on a telephone conversation for way too long. I think the director just liked the sound of the rotary dial clicking. It becomes strangely hypnotic, or maybe I was just tired. Who knows. 🤷‍♂️

If you like movies that feel like a fever dream set on a Broadway stage, pull up a chair. Just don't ask too many questions about the insurance policy. It'll only give you a headache.