New Faces of 1937 Review: A chaotic, messy time capsule worth watching

If you have a soft spot for weird, chaotic 1930s variety shows where nobody seems to know what movie they are actually in, New Faces of 1937 is absolutely worth an hour of your time. Modern viewers who need a tight, logical plot will probably turn this off after ten minutes, but anyone obsessed with early showbiz history or seeing a baby-faced Milton Berle yell at people will have a blast. 🎬

The whole setup is basically The Producers before Mel Brooks even had the idea. A crooked guy wants to make a flop, steals the money, and runs.

But then Patricia, one of the chorus girls, decides this show must go on. After that, the actual plot just completely dissolves into a bunch of random vaudeville acts.

Some of these acts are... well, they are definitely something. Joe Penner shows up with his signature catchphrases, and if you don't find a grown man yelling about his duck funny, you are going to suffer through his scenes. 🦆

I kept waiting for the duck to do something cool, but it mostly just sat there looking confused.

On the other hand, a very young Milton Berle is here, and he is just vibrating with manic energy. He basically carries the comedy on his back, even when the jokes are as dusty as an old attic.

And then there is Ann Miller. She is barely a teenager here, but her tap dancing is already so fast it looks like the film is sped up.

It has that same clunky, stage-to-screen transition feel you get in other thirties curiosities like The Return of Peter Grimm, where the camera just sort of sits there and prays the actors do not walk out of the frame.

There is this one scene where a guy named Lowe Hite who is extremely tall is paired with a very short guy. They just... stand next to each other for comedy? It goes on for like three minutes too long.

The songs are mostly forgettable, except for maybe "Our Penthouse on Third Avenue" which has some nice harmonies.

But you can really feel the writers—including a very young Julius J. Epstein who later wrote Casablanca, believe it or not—trying to throw every single joke at the wall to see what sticks.

Most of them hit the floor with a sad thud, but the sheer speed of the movie keeps you from getting too bored.

Some random things I wrote down while watching:

• Why does everyone speak at 200 miles per hour?
• The background extras in the theater scenes look like they would rather be literally anywhere else.
• Ann Miller's shoes deserve their own billing in the credits.
• The final show-within-a-show is so cheap looking it actually makes the crooked producer's plan make sense.

Is it a masterpiece? Good lord, no.

It is messy and the editing feels like it was done with a pair of rusty kitchen scissors.

But there is a genuine, sweet energy to these old RKO musical-comedies that you just don't get anymore.

If you are in the mood for something silly and incredibly dated, give it a spin.