Whoopee! (1930) Review: Eddie Cantor's bug-eyed desert chaos

Is it worth your time?

If you can handle the 1930s style of humor and really old-school musical numbers, then yes. It is a total trip to look at.

People who love theater history will find it fascinating. If you hate slow pacing or cringe at old racial stereotypes, you should probably skip this one entirely.

It’s a movie that feels like it’s constantly shouting at you. But in a friendly way? Maybe.

Eddie Cantor is the main thing here. He has these massive eyes that seem to take up half his face.

He plays Henry Williams, a hypochondriac who is basically a walking pharmacy. He’s always taking pills or complaining about his nerves.

The plot is honestly just an excuse for him to make faces. Sally is supposed to marry the Sheriff, but she doesn't want to.

She likes Wanenis, who is 'part-Indian.' The movie handles this about as well as you’d expect from 1930. Which is to say, not well at all.

Sally tricks Henry into driving her away. He thinks he’s just being a nice guy, but everyone else thinks they eloped.

The whole thing turns into a big chase through the desert. Except the desert looks like it was painted by someone who had never actually seen a desert.

The colors are so bright they almost hurt. It’s that early Technicolor where everything is red and green and orange.

There is this one scene where the nurse, Mary, is trying to seduce Henry. She is very aggressive about it. It’s actually pretty funny because Henry is so terrified of her.

The 'Making Whoopee' song is the highlight. It’s a classic for a reason, even if the lyrics are a bit cynical about marriage.

The dance numbers are huge. The Goldwyn Girls just show up and start doing routines in the middle of nowhere.

It reminds me of the weird stage-to-screen energy in Roaming Romeo. Everything is played to the back of the room.

Some of the jokes land, but a lot of them just sit there. There’s a long bit about a grill and a steak that felt like it lasted for twenty years.

I found myself staring at the background extras a lot. Some of them look like they have no idea why they are there.

There’s a strange moment where a character just stops to talk to the camera. It breaks the flow, but this movie doesn't really have a 'flow' to begin with.

It’s more like a series of Vaudeville sketches held together by some very thin string. 🧶

The ending is very abrupt. It’s like the producers realized they ran out of film and just decided to stop.

I liked it more than Johnny-on-the-Spot, but it’s definitely an acquired taste. It’s loud and colorful and messy.

A few random thoughts:

• The hats in this movie are incredible. Just giant.
• Eddie Cantor’s clapping thing he does is weirdly catchy.
• The horses look bored. I don't blame them.
• The way they talk about 'blood' and 'race' is super uncomfortable now.

If you want a polished masterpiece, look elsewhere. If you want to see what people thought was peak comedy 90 years ago, give it a look. 🤠

It’s not 'good' in the modern sense, but it’s memorable. And sometimes that’s enough for a Saturday afternoon.