A strange 1932 time capsule: Hollywood on Parade No. A-2

Is it worth your time?

Honestly, only if you’re a complete sucker for pre-Code Hollywood oddities. It’s not a film in any sense that matters today. It’s more like a weird artifact you find in a dusty box. If you enjoy watching legendary stars just kind of hanging out and being awkward on camera, you’ll dig it. If you need a plot or, you know, things to actually happen, you’re gonna have a bad time.

The whole thing feels like a fever dream from 1932. Stuart Erwin is our host, and he’s doing a lot of heavy lifting to keep this thing moving. It’s almost painful watching him try to tie these segments together. It feels like he’s just making it up as he goes along.

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of Hollywood on Parade No. A-2 (1932) through its definitive frames.

The Bing Crosby segment

Then Bing shows up. You expect the smooth crooner, but instead, he’s roped into this comedy bit with Burns and Allen. It’s genuinely bizarre. They’re all just standing there trading lines that don't really land. It’s like watching your parents try to act in a middle school play. Still, there’s something fascinating about seeing them so young and clearly unsure of how to sell this specific brand of sketch comedy.

The beach madness

Then we get to the Olsen and Johnson part. It’s pure, unadulterated chaos on a beach. There are a dozen “bathing beauties” running around while the comedians do slapstick that probably wasn't even funny in 1932. It just feels… empty. Like the director just told everyone to run in circles while the camera rolled. I kept waiting for a point, but it never came.

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of Hollywood on Parade No. A-2 (1932) through its definitive frames.

It’s kind of funny to think how different this is from something like The U.P. Trail. One is trying to be a serious epic, and this is just… whatever this is. It makes me wonder what people actually thought was entertaining back then.

The pacing is all over the place. One minute you’re listening to a song, the next you’re watching a guy fall over in the sand for no reason. It’s disjointed and weirdly charming in a 'what am I even watching' kind of way. 🏖️

Final thoughts

• The transition between the studio stuff and the beach is non-existent.
• I’m pretty sure the extras on the beach were just confused tourists.
• Bing Crosby looks like he wants to be anywhere else.
• It's only ten minutes long, thank goodness.

It's not a masterpiece. It's barely a short. But it exists, and that's something. If you've got ten minutes to kill and a high tolerance for 1930s nonsense, go for it.