" . . . sandpaper had to wait in line." Thus the title card describes the "Bowery Cafe" in New York City where most of the 10-minute short, YOUNG MR. JAZZ, takes place. (The term "jazz," by the way, was used during the post-WWI era running into the early 1930s to denote virtually anything, with everybody and their brother--no matter how "square"--trying to jump onto the "jazz bandwagon," not unlike today, where the heirs of Lawrence Welk--Eminem, Anderson Cooper, Jimmy Kimmell, and others of that ilk--try to associate themselves with "Rap" or "Hip-hop"-themed elements in their public personae.) This Bowery dive is overrun with pick-pockets, hookers, thugs, and women who triple up as all three (played by Marie McSweeney, primarily). When the daughter catches her rich Daddy out on the town "wh*ring" around, the fur REALLY begins to fly! Throw in a few transvestites plus a piano, and you have a recipe for mayhem that would put the Three Stooges to shame. Though one might wish to see more of the "Apple Sisters" (Seedy and Core-y, of course), you get enough bang for your minute here to surely earn your nickel.
Review of Young Mr. Jazz
