Cult Review
Senior Film Conservator

Look, if you have a spare twenty minutes and a high tolerance for 1930s radio-play nonsense, sure. Otherwise, stay far away. This is for people who enjoy movies that feel like they were written on a napkin during a lunch break that went sideways. If you need logic, continuity, or realistic human behavior, you are going to absolutely hate this.
The whole premise is just wild. Molasses and January are these radio stars, right? They’re so relaxing that their listeners stop having headaches. The sponsor—who sells headache pills—is naturally furious because nobody buys medicine when they aren't in pain. It’s a genius, stupid problem to have.
There is this moment where the sponsor is pacing around a room, and it feels like he’s about to have a heart attack just from the sheer absurdity of his own business model. It’s kind of funny if you don't think about it too hard. I’m not sure if the movie knows it’s being funny, but I was definitely laughing.
Then they bring in the hillbillies. It’s a total shift in tone. Suddenly the movie is just loud, abrasive, and honestly kind of grating to the ears. It reminded me a bit of the frantic energy in His New Papa, where the pacing just hits a wall and decides to start screaming at you.
You can tell they were trying to capture a specific kind of vaudeville charm. Most of the time it just lands in a weird middle ground where you’re just waiting for the next scene to start. It’s not a masterpiece, but it’s definitely memorable for all the wrong reasons. The ending just kind of stops. No fanfare, no real resolution, just a sudden black screen that left me staring at my own reflection in the monitor. 🤷♂️
Year
1935
IMDb Rating
—

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