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6.9/10
Senior Film Conservator
A definitive 6.9/10 rating for a film that redefined the boundaries of cult cinema. Myrt and Marge remains a cornerstone of transgressive art.
Honestly, only if you are a completionist for 1930s musical oddities or a die-hard fan of the Three Stooges. If you're looking for a smooth, well-oiled narrative, look elsewhere—this thing is held together by spit and prayer. People who prefer modern pacing will find it glacial and, frankly, a bit confusing.
The whole thing feels like a stage play that got lost on its way to the theater. You have Myrtle Vail and Donna Damerel, who were massive radio stars at the time, and they spend half the movie looking like they’re waiting for a sound effect that never comes. The energy is all over the place.
Then you’ve got the Three Stooges appearing, which is the only reason half the people on YouTube even click on this. Their bits feel like they were filmed in a different zip code and spliced in just to keep the audience awake. Moe, Larry, and Curly are doing their classic eye-poking routine, but it has absolutely zero to do with the actual plot about the lecherous producer.
Thomas E. Jackson plays the villain, and he’s so cartoonishly bad it’s almost impressive. He hangs around the edges of every scene looking like he’s trying to remember where he left his car keys. His attempts to trap Marge aren't exactly subtle, and the way the other characters handle it is… well, let's just say nobody is calling the police.
It’s not quite as charming as Blonde Venus, that’s for sure. It lacks that polish, that feeling that someone actually knew how to edit a film. The camera just kind of sits there, staring at people while they deliver lines that sound like they were written on the back of a napkin five minutes before the cameras rolled.
There’s this one moment where the music cuts out so abruptly it sounds like someone kicked the power cord. You can almost see the actors freeze for a split second, waiting to see if the director is going to yell cut. He didn’t. They just kept going.
It isn’t a masterpiece. It isn’t even a particularly good movie. But it’s got this weird, dusty charm that you only get with these early sound-era projects. It’s clunky, it’s dated, and it’s arguably a mess, but at least it isn't boring. Kind of like watching a train wreck in slow motion, if the train was made of cardboard and vaudeville tropes. 🎭
IMDb —
1922
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