Copyright 15 September 1929 by RKO Distributing Corp., and RKO Productions, Inc. New York opening at the Earl Carroll Theatre: 6 October 1929. U.S. release: 15 September 1929. 15 reels. 11,506 feet. 128 minutes.
SYNOPSIS: Who is the mysterious "Kinkajou", a rascally bandit who robs the Fremont bank? Is it Captain James Stewart of the Texas Rangers. Or is it Roberto Ferguson, the brother of "Rio Rita" Ferguson (the beloved of our "just Jim")?
NOTES: The stage musical, produced by Florenz Ziegfeld, jr, ran 62 weeks on Broadway at the Ziegfeld Theatre, starting 7 February 1927. J. Harold Murray played Captain Stewart and Ethelind Terry the title role. Wheeler and Woolsey recreated their roles for the screen.
With USA/Canadian rentals of $2.4 million, number four at the domestic boxoffice for 1929. Only Sunnyside Up, Broadway Melody and The Cock-Eyed World took more money.
COMMENT: There are two words which absolutely must be used in any review of the original Rio Rita and those words are "creaky" and "spectacular". But even more to the point, I rate Rio Rita as one of the most entertaining movies ever made. There are so many things wrong with the movie that I could practically fill a whole book with its faults, starting with the lousy acting, the stupid script and nondescript direction and going right through to the incompetent chorus work, the incredibly bad sound recording, the often blurry cinematography, the jerky continuity and the amazing usurpation of the director's role by Victor Baravalle.
Now Mr Baravalle is the music director. For some reason or other, perhaps with the encouragement of producer LeBaron or sound supervisor McDowell, he has taken it upon himself to drown out whole sections of the movie with his orchestra. Not just the lyrics of the songs, mind you, some of which-rendered by the female chorus-are completely indecipherable (not one single word, not one, mind you, being sufficiently audible to give the hearer a clue as to what they're actually singing). No, not just the songs, but whole slews of straight dialogue are also attacked by Mr Baravalle's frantic orchestra. Poor Bebe Daniels has little chance, though John Boles gives the musicians a good run for their money. Don Alvarado is the worst victim. He has little enough dialogue as it is, but all but two of his words are completely blacked out by the band's determined cacophony. It's only Georges Renavent, in the biggest role of his career, who really seems to be totally aware of Baravalle's machinations and always manages to shout above the musical din loud enough to be heard.
Fortunately, Baravalle's ploy is often a big success. Who wants to hear the corny dialogue? I'd rather listen to Tierney's compositions any day. And if you're not a particularly rabid fan of Bebe Daniels, you won't mind the fact that she's saddled with a Mexican accent and recorded so poorly. The real star of the Baravalle film is not the McDowell-shaded Miss Daniels, or the too-eagerly pleasant John Boles (who does rather well by Captain Stewart in a stagy sort of way), but Bert Wheeler who has the lion's share of the audible dialogue (which he shares with his usual partners, fast-talking Robert Woolsey and plaintively cute Dorothy Lee) and two absolutely wonderful song-and-dance numbers. The first of these, "On the Loose", is an absolute classic of merry footwork, melodic musical invention and visual delights (including a hop-skip-and-jump overhead shot and the most comic exit ever recorded on film). The other occurs early on in the Pirate Barge scene. Wheeler and Lee share a nice romantic ballad which they top off by an acrobatic stunt in which the pert Lee carries Bert on her back! This is again topped off by another reprise in they are joined by Woolsey and Kaiser.
The last half-hour of the movie is presented in Technicolor. A pity the rest of the movie was not tinted too. The chorus costumes especially cry out for color. And the soundproof-boothed washed-out photography is much improved by the added shading provided by Technicolor's laboratory.
Big crowd scenes (eagle-eyed fans will spot Woolsey, sans make-up but still smoking his big cigar, posing as a crowd extra in the introductory Mesa Francisco tracking shot) add to the film's luster as a faithful transcription of the original lavish Ziegfeld stage production-an impression reinforced by Reed's penchant for long takes and proscenium-style direction.
SYNOPSIS: Who is the mysterious "Kinkajou", a rascally bandit who robs the Fremont bank? Is it Captain James Stewart of the Texas Rangers. Or is it Roberto Ferguson, the brother of "Rio Rita" Ferguson (the beloved of our "just Jim")?
NOTES: The stage musical, produced by Florenz Ziegfeld, jr, ran 62 weeks on Broadway at the Ziegfeld Theatre, starting 7 February 1927. J. Harold Murray played Captain Stewart and Ethelind Terry the title role. Wheeler and Woolsey recreated their roles for the screen.
With USA/Canadian rentals of $2.4 million, number four at the domestic boxoffice for 1929. Only Sunnyside Up, Broadway Melody and The Cock-Eyed World took more money.
COMMENT: There are two words which absolutely must be used in any review of the original Rio Rita and those words are "creaky" and "spectacular". But even more to the point, I rate Rio Rita as one of the most entertaining movies ever made. There are so many things wrong with the movie that I could practically fill a whole book with its faults, starting with the lousy acting, the stupid script and nondescript direction and going right through to the incompetent chorus work, the incredibly bad sound recording, the often blurry cinematography, the jerky continuity and the amazing usurpation of the director's role by Victor Baravalle.
Now Mr Baravalle is the music director. For some reason or other, perhaps with the encouragement of producer LeBaron or sound supervisor McDowell, he has taken it upon himself to drown out whole sections of the movie with his orchestra. Not just the lyrics of the songs, mind you, some of which-rendered by the female chorus-are completely indecipherable (not one single word, not one, mind you, being sufficiently audible to give the hearer a clue as to what they're actually singing). No, not just the songs, but whole slews of straight dialogue are also attacked by Mr Baravalle's frantic orchestra. Poor Bebe Daniels has little chance, though John Boles gives the musicians a good run for their money. Don Alvarado is the worst victim. He has little enough dialogue as it is, but all but two of his words are completely blacked out by the band's determined cacophony. It's only Georges Renavent, in the biggest role of his career, who really seems to be totally aware of Baravalle's machinations and always manages to shout above the musical din loud enough to be heard.
Fortunately, Baravalle's ploy is often a big success. Who wants to hear the corny dialogue? I'd rather listen to Tierney's compositions any day. And if you're not a particularly rabid fan of Bebe Daniels, you won't mind the fact that she's saddled with a Mexican accent and recorded so poorly. The real star of the Baravalle film is not the McDowell-shaded Miss Daniels, or the too-eagerly pleasant John Boles (who does rather well by Captain Stewart in a stagy sort of way), but Bert Wheeler who has the lion's share of the audible dialogue (which he shares with his usual partners, fast-talking Robert Woolsey and plaintively cute Dorothy Lee) and two absolutely wonderful song-and-dance numbers. The first of these, "On the Loose", is an absolute classic of merry footwork, melodic musical invention and visual delights (including a hop-skip-and-jump overhead shot and the most comic exit ever recorded on film). The other occurs early on in the Pirate Barge scene. Wheeler and Lee share a nice romantic ballad which they top off by an acrobatic stunt in which the pert Lee carries Bert on her back! This is again topped off by another reprise in they are joined by Woolsey and Kaiser.
The last half-hour of the movie is presented in Technicolor. A pity the rest of the movie was not tinted too. The chorus costumes especially cry out for color. And the soundproof-boothed washed-out photography is much improved by the added shading provided by Technicolor's laboratory.
Big crowd scenes (eagle-eyed fans will spot Woolsey, sans make-up but still smoking his big cigar, posing as a crowd extra in the introductory Mesa Francisco tracking shot) add to the film's luster as a faithful transcription of the original lavish Ziegfeld stage production-an impression reinforced by Reed's penchant for long takes and proscenium-style direction.