6.1/10
Senior Film Conservator

A definitive 6.1/10 rating for a film that redefined the boundaries of cult cinema. Laddie remains a cornerstone of transgressive art.
If you have a thing for vintage black-and-white family squabbles, you might find this charming. If you need a movie that moves faster than a tractor in mud, stay away. It’s for the folks who want to feel like they’re watching a play put on by people who take their manners very seriously.
Laddie is the kind of movie that feels like it was filmed in someone’s backyard. The drama is all about class differences and parents who just love to hold a grudge. It’s a very specific brand of 1930s earnestness that doesn't really exist anymore.
Charlotte Henry is there, doing the wide-eyed innocent thing. It’s hard not to feel like she’s trying to carry the whole weight of the plot on her shoulders. Honestly, I found myself watching the background scenery more than the actual dialogue half the time. The way the shadows fall on the walls during the parlor scenes is arguably more interesting than the script.
The parents in this movie are exhausting. Donald Crisp spends most of the runtime looking like he’s just swallowed a lemon. You can tell the actors are trying to make the stakes feel high, but it mostly just feels like a loud Sunday dinner at a house you really don't want to be at.
I kept thinking about how different this is from the chaotic energy of White Pants Willie. Where that film feels like it’s trying to find its feet, Laddie just wants to sit down and have a long talk about honor. It’s refreshing in a way, I guess, but it also drags like a heavy suitcase on gravel.
There’s a weird, stifled tension in the air. It’s not sexual tension or anything cool like that; it’s just the tension of people being polite when they actually want to scream at each other. It made me miss the simpler, more direct approach found in something like The Six-Fifty. 🎥
By the time the third act rolls around, you’ve probably figured out exactly where it’s going. The movie doesn't care. It’s going to get there at its own slow, measured pace, regardless of whether you’re still paying attention or not.
It’s not a masterpiece, but it’s a time capsule. You can almost smell the mothballs on the costumes. Sometimes, that’s enough to keep you watching until the credits roll, even if your mind starts to wander to what you’re having for dinner later. 🕰️

IMDb 7.9
1932
Community
Log in to comment.