Showing posts with label Andy Hardy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Andy Hardy. Show all posts

Monday, June 14, 2010

Andy Hardy, No. 15 - Love Laughs at Andy Hardy (1947)


The Andy Hardy series was just getting started following Love Finds Andy Hardy in 1938. Roughly one and a half films a year would be released over the coming decade, and each one was popular with audiences for the same reason: People loved Andy Hardy. Why I cannot say; I find Mickey Rooney’s central performance as Andy Hardy to be very tiring. But just as people of today want moronic exploding robot stories, so did people of the 30s and 40s want to see the same boy date a series of women that would make James Bond jealous. And these things were damned popular! The Oscars, ever the arbitrator of ultimate taste in Hollywood (for we shall always know How Green Was My Valley is superior to Citizen Kane in every way) chose to honor the series as a whole with an honorary award in 1943 for “representing the American way of life.” Yeah, good thing these movies weren’t about the Germans, huh?

Even with my limited exposure to this series, it is clear there were a number of expected trademarks. Countless young starlets, foolish capering, heart-to-heart talks between Andy and his father, and intrusive musical numbers. And every other film or so seems to take place in a new location. As I’d previously hypothesized, this is really a protozoan version of the family sitcoms that would prove so hearty in the upcoming television era. As such, it’s easier to understand the box office success of the Andy Hardy pictures, as audiences then had a cinematic need television now fills for us.

One little thing would slightly disrupt these films – World War Two. Hell, Mickey Rooney himself served in the army, as an entertainer, throwing off the production schedule somewhat. Man, if only we could send some of today’s young studs off to war. Maybe then they’d be halfway believable in an action movie.

The majority of the Andy Hardy movies now reside only on VHS, victims of diminishing popularity once DVD came onto the scene (expect a similar culling of titles with BluRay). Because of this, I can only offer brief plot capsules of most. And so, without further time wasting...

Out West with the Hardys (1938) – The Judge takes his family to a ranch “out west” in order to resolve a water issue of some sort. More importantly, sister Marian develops a romance with the ranch foreman and plans to marry. The Judge pushes her into a “trial marriage” so she can prematurely enjoy the marital pleasures of endless house chores and disrespect. Most important is Andy Hardy, who competes against an eight-year-old girl and almost causes a horse to die!

The Hardys Ride High (1939) – The Judge’s plot-convenient legal duties now takes the family to our new exotic setting – Detroit. There is some central plot concerning a potential windfall inheritance. Andy opts to romance a chorus girl, but she’s not good enough for Andy, what with her urbane sophistication. And in two entirely separate plot lines, each of the Hardy women buys a gown.

Andy Hardy Gets Spring Fever (1939) – Remaining in their hometown of Carvel this time to go easy on the budget, the good Judge oversees something to do with bauxite. This is really an Andy story, though, since he finds himself ignoring girlfriend Polly in order to impress the new drama teacher. He even writes a play, “Adrift in Tahiti,” taking advantage of one of those Polynesian obsessions people sometimes get.

Judge Hardy and Son (1939) – The undeserving Andy Hardy out-whores himself this time, with four women. He meets them in the process of running illegal errands for his judge father, all in another Andy scheme to get money for his car without enduring the shame of employment. And in the one plot development that doesn’t sound like a variation on the content of Love Finds Andy Hardy, Andy passes off an essay he has written on Alexander Hamilton as the writing of a woman, all because of some weird 1930s double standard.

Andy Hardy Meets Debutante (1940) – Judy Garland returns to the Andy Hardy series to promote the musical duo act she had going on with Mickey Rooney. As expected, Andy has romantic “difficulties” with an indeterminate number of anonymous women.

Andy Hardy's Private Secretary (1941) – Despite the private tutor, extra lessons and bribed teachers that are every Caucasian’s birth right, Andy still fails to graduate from high school. And apparently Andy must juggle girlfriend Polly with yet another new girl in his life, which leads me to think “Why does Polly stick with Andy?” and “Are they trying to artificially lengthen this series’ lifeline by keeping Andy in school?”

Life Begins for Andy Hardy (1941) – Andy’s flunked again! No, wait, I’m re-reading the Private Secretary synopsis...Ah! Andy has graduated, and heads alone to New York City, which proceeds to treat Andy exactly the same way the real world would, rewarding his tired antics with datelessness and unemployment. Judy Garland appears for the final time in this, the most financially successful entry in the series, even though it is Part 11!

The Courtship of Andy Hardy (1942) – Andy is once again whoring himself out, at his loving father’s request, acting the male escort to “unattractive” Melodie (Donna Reed). Donna Reed, unattractive?! This series can kiss my ass! So Melodie proceeds to become quite the slut, and yet is miffed because she can have any boy in town except Andy, and that Andy!, what a catch he is! Meanwhile, Emily Hardy remains as clueless as the elderly of today and falls for a money scam. And Marian dates a drunk!

Andy Hardy's Double Life (1942) – Andy is off to college, and swearing off girls, except he’s just become engaged to two girls, because that multi-date plot hasn’t become tired yet or anything. On top of all of this, Andy has followed his mother’s lead in falling for obvious finance scams. He’s also serving as his sister’s pimp. That is, he’s acting the cupid for her.

Andy Hardy's Blonde Trouble (1944) – Apparently actually following up immediately on its predecessor, Andy is off to college again with the Judge’s advice fresh in his mind. This time they actually find a wrinkle for the double date plot line, as Andy is accidentally caught up with twin coeds trying to pass themselves off as one woman. Either that’s the set up for an awesome David Cronenberg movie, or I sense forced sitcom shenanigans!

It appears interesting from these summations how the series was willing to grow up with Mickey Rooney, sending him from high school to college in a relatively realistic fashion. Ah, that constant bane of the family sitcom, the cast’s aging. I’d suspect Rooney’s physical (if not mental) maturation is as good a reason as any for this series’ eventual end. It seems this wasn’t the sort of film franchise to run itself into the ground beyond all sense, but the kind that naturally outgrew itself and thus bowed out gracefully.

And now for our subject of today, 1946's Love Laughs at Andy Hardy, the last Andy Hardy film made during the regular run of the series (more on this later). There is little need for a specific preamble to this film, for the series as a whole was a perpetual motion machine of inexplicable popularity. The reason I review this one, and none of the 10 that immediately precede it, is because they only exist on VHS. This one I could find on the Internet, an invention that would surely terrify Emily Hardy to an early grave. All hail Google!

Following the opening credits, we are in the Hardy household with Judge James Hardy and Emily Hardy (series regulars Lewis Stone and Fay Holden). Also, Aunt Milly is there. Andy’s older sister Marian is no longer in the series; nor is Polly. Pretty soon they receive a telegram, which very nearly causes Emily a deadly heart attack right then and there. Its content announces that Andy has been “separated” from the army (he’s been off nuking Japs or whatever during World War Two), only Emily foolishly thinks it means he’s getting a divorce. At the suggestion that Andy might marry, the Judge states “There must be some law against it.” This is one of the surprisingly many times where I actually laughed at this movie’s jokes.

The family wanders through downtown Carvel when Andy (Mickey Rooney, as ever) leaps from the rear of a speeding army convoy to greet them. Having aged nearly a decade since I last saw him, Andy remains largely the same irritating, overeager ham as always, though age has mellowed him somewhat. That God for that, for it makes Andy a lot more palatable. Cinema techniques allow the viewers to be far more intelligent than his parents, for we soon understand that Andy indeed anxiously yearns for marriage – he wanders through town staring at baby bathtubs in store windows! At least, a desire for marriage is the least creepy interpretation of this action.

Back at home, Andy wanders around pantsless in front of his parents. No apparent joke is made about this, so perhaps it was the style at the time. Andy is awaiting a telegram from his former college girlfriend, and his parents want to take him out to dinner. Because this is a farce, misunderstanding is the name of the game. Therefore Andy cannot simply tell his parents about his long term girlfriend (perhaps they would die of shock upon learning Andy is keen on monogamy), and rather Andy opts to cook up an over-elaborate ruse to escape from them during dinner and race home. All this somehow involves telling the police that water is flooding the Hardy household, and it’s a hell of a lot of setup for a problem that could be resolved with a single sentence!

Also at the dining hall is an attractive new girl Isobel Gonzales (Lina Romay), who has remained celibate and come to this pathetic little town entirely because of Andy Hardy – because this is something beautiful women do to earn the love of a short buffoon with squinty eyes and a bulbous nose. Movie producers must find this kind of thing funny, and I must again compare Mickey Rooney’s career to Shia LeBeouf’s. “I know I’ll blow up,” Isobel says, literally orgasming at the sight of Andy. I dunno, maybe he has a big penis or something.

Because the Andy Hardy series was an excuse to showcase new actresses, the high school talent show of Hollywood, the real reason Lina Romay is here is to perform a song and dance number. I’m reminded of Carmen Miranda from the same era, as Isobel employs her specific style of Latina tropical stylings. This is all rather entertaining, as these things go, and far more up my alley than the stilted, starchy songs Judy Garland sang in Love Finds Andy Hardy. Isobel flirts obviously with Andy, who rejects her like so much week-old fish, because a sultry, ready-to-go Latina is far too lowly for this noble gnome! I hate this series’ gender politics.

Finally Andy manages to race home alone, under no pretense, simply abandoning his parents without a car. Nice kid! One standard pratfall later, he has received his telegram from girlfriend Kay Wilson. Andy proceeds to poorly recite lines from “Romeo and Juliet,” then heads upstairs for an entirely innocent, non-onanistic bath. And here comes the payoff for Andy’s elaborate lie to the police: they have shut the water off outside. Clad in his aunt’s frilly nightgown, Andy heads outdoors to turn the water back on when the door shuts, locking him out. Ah, but Andy instantly makes his way back into the house through an unlocked window. So much for that 25 minutes wasted setting this up, huh?

Not so fast! Andy goes outside again, for entirely no good reason whatsoever, and locks himself out again due entirely to his own stupidity. And now the windows are locked, which could have just been the case the first time around without making Andy look like as much of a moron. And then his family goes into the house early and a cop chases Andy through the bushes. The great, grand punch line to all this ridiculousness is...is...Andy’s parents see him in a nightgown!...That’s it?! Man, a meticulously plotted French farce would have had this escalate about twelve times further, but this movie settles for the first, most obvious joke it happens upon.

As an aside, the reason Andy’s parents came home early is because Emily was convinced, absolutely positive that she had left the stove on and the house had burned down. Wow! She’s as much a worrywart as, well – My grandmother was about her age then too. Maybe it was a generational thing to be so paranoid pre-Cold War.

Andy has the first of two heart-to-hearts with his father, all on the subject of marriage. See, outed by his female nightgown, Andy finally reveals his intent to marry, as simple as that, effectively making the prior half hour a complete waste of time, unless you find unjustifiable cross-dressing innately hilarious. Apparently half the world does, though, so there’s that.

This first third of the film is effectively a self-contained short. Andy is soon off to college again, where he reunites with girlfriend Kay (Bonita Granville). Kay leaves before she has a chance to reveal a dire new confession to Andy. (I correctly guessed here what the movie will delay for another half hour – that she is leaving Andy for another man. Of course I couldn’t have guessed at the time whom this man would be.)

Quickly setting up the frivolous plot line for the next half hour, Andy runs into Duke, big man on campus. By the way, college as we see it here is something totally alien to a modern day audience. I primarily recognize it as what Animal House satirized with its preppie fraternity douchebags, only here it is presented as an ideal, not an institutional sickness. I mean, characters wander around unironically wearing fruity sweaters and those dinky blue-and-yellow beanie caps. I dunno, perhaps the whole East Coast is still like that, but this is definitely college in the pre-hippie era.

Duke soon appoints Andy freshman head of an upcoming school dance, responsible for whoring out all the boys to ensure none of them goes stag. Duke himself happens upon a new problem, as he is then tasked with finding a date for the beautiful, vivacious Coffy Smith (Dorothy Ford). The problem? She’s, like, 6 foot 4. And you know the standards of the ugly males in this series, where “Amazon” somehow equals “unattractive.” Damn this series and its readiness to disparage any and all females! Coffy does have one genuinely creepy habit, though, in that she calls every single male “Uncle,” as in “Uncle Duke” and “Uncle Andy.” There’s a really subtle undercurrent of familial sickness in this series, and I’m not sure how to approach it.

Andy, for his part, is wandering downtown, again needing a large sum of cash and again unwilling to obtain it through gainful employment (this time he wants to by a hideous plaid coat). A solution conveniently presents itself as a big cash prize for naming the “Big New Co-Ed Lingerie Store.” Wow! Where is this college?! Soon Andy has named the store “The Hidden Charms,” and is granted his big prize of $75 in merchandise. So now Andy can buy himself unsoiled women’s underpants whenever he likes!

Later summoned to the dean’s lair, Andy finds his parents in town for Homecoming Week, because a franchise like this one has to keep all its major characters in play no matter what the justification. So they’ll be at the school dance to witness Andy’s latest public humiliation, to be established – now!

For Andy knows Kay will be out of town for the dance (yet he doesn’t suspect why). As a result, he accepts Duke’s offer of a date with Coffy – this occurs at the school pool, a contrived means of hiding Coffy’s inhuman, disgusting six-foot stature from Andy the hobbit. Ah, but the next scene is Andy picking Coffy up for the dance, so let’s not milk that height reveal for too long or anything, right? The idea that Andy would date a tall girl causes great titterations among other coeds – What would this school do if, God forbid, someone ethnic went there? Of course this was twenty years before race even became an issue, so perhaps “dating a tall girl” really was the “miscegenation” of the 40s.

Andy’s parents are aghast to see him with Coffy – more elaborate, farce-style setups make them this she is Andy’s future fiancée. Andy proceeds to do a nifty swing dance with Coffy, and this is actually a nice bit of physical comedy here, recalling something I could easily see Charlie Chaplin doing, only it’s soured by how distastefully the tallness issue is handled. Nonetheless, it ingratiates both Andy and Coffy to the rest of the school body.

This latest non-catastrophe resolved, Andy bids his parents farewell at the train station. He utters one line of dialogue that it totally out of place. Here it is: “Mom, make sure and make dad wear his rubbers now.” Okay, either this Hays Code teenager wants his parents to wear condoms, or...what? What the hell else could that mean?! Honestly.

A platonic friendship emerges between Andy and Coffy, so he grants her the $75 worth of underpants. The next scene sees Coffy emerge from her dorm wearing nothing but said underpants, so I think there are some cultural things here I am missing. This snazzy underwear is an instant smash with the sheep-like girls on campus, who want some of their own – but in normal human sizes, naturally. It turns out Andy and Coffy are running a highly illegal laundering operation where Coffy resells the lingerie store’s free goods at an inflated price. Again, wow! Coffy’s a budding Doña Corleone, with a clear future in organized crime, and at least she’s huge enough not to need hired muscle.

The Coffy thread resolved via crime, it’s back to Andy and Kay. Now he learns that she is going to marry someone else, and whom that someone else is – Her stepfather. Ready – and…Wow! I’m not even looking for creepy things in these movies anymore, and yet they keep on happening. Kay’s stepfather fiancé, Dane, is a highly-respected industrialist, apparently wealthy enough that no one in the Andy Hardy universe gets a Woody Allen vibe or anything.

Serving as the best man, Andy arrives at the chapel to find a fancy sports car parked with the initials “D.K.” on it. Oh my, I do believe Tokyo Drift’s Takashi is here!...Actually, no, it’s just Dean. What follows is honestly one of the most depressing wedding scenes I’ve ever seen, and at this point the series completely gives up on comedy. Andy looks ready to slit his throat right there, with Kay resigning herself to a quasi-incestuous relationship, all this in an era when divorced marked a woman as a slut. At least they’ve finally found a way for me to relate to Andy.

It’s nearly Easter back at the Hardy household. I get my biggest laugh from this franchise as Aunt Milly organized countless frame photographs celebrating each one of Andy’s anonymous lays throughout the series. The Bond films could have benefitted from a similar gag at some point. Also, Emily the worrypuss is convinced the train Andy is coming home on will have exploded violently, or some other horrible disaster will have occurred, since she doesn’t realize she’s living in the Andy Hardy franchise and not the Final Destination franchise. Andy arrives home, and since we are near the movie’s end he just right out announces that he is doing the only possible sane thing in response to Kay’s disgusting marriage – namely, quitting college to become an unskilled laborer in South America! This movie is full of non-sequiturs!

This provokes Andy’s second trademark heart-to-heart with his father. The subject this time is career and future. This is a lengthy scene, full of the Judge’s wisdom, where he basically lets Andy know he’s being a tool. Little is resolved, though, so that we may have one more saucy musical number from Isobel before the final fade out. Once again her song is something that I swear I’ve heard Carmen Miranda sing before, and better. Andy dances energetically, and then instantly turns to his father and announces out of the blue that he is done with girls forever (oh, sure...). Rather, Andy has now resolved to give up on his dream of being the buttmonkey of the South Americans and instead become the buttmonkey of the law. That’s right, he’s going to be a judge just like his father! The End.

And this is effectively the end of the Andy Hardy story right here, save for a lone attempted film revival in 1958 with Andy Hardy Comes Home. Ignoring that for now, what an odd way to end a series. Even having seen only two of these films, Andy’s sudden decision to study law feels entirely out of character, and if he’d stated this at any other point during the story, we could assume silly confusions and sexual shenanigans would surely follow. Rather, it feels as though we’re meant to believe that Andy has decided to turn a new leaf, all as the fallout of a rather icky marriage. This really doesn’t feel like the proper sendoff to me. I think Andy Hardy would have been better served with an “And the Adventure Goes On...” sort of ending, suggesting he shall continue slutting himself out for the rest of his life, leaving the sickening details of these future misadventures to the minds of the audience.

Nonetheless, how about Andy Hardy Comes Home, that aborted attempt to revive the series twelve years later? Well, clearly rebooting is not as modern a movie trend as we’d like to think it is. At this stage, we find Andy married (to some girl we’ve never heard of before, natch), and with child – specifically Teddy Rooney, Mickey Rooney’s own son. It seems the intent here was for young Teddy to follow in his father’s footsteps as the series’ new irascible scamp. The only problem is that by 1958 television had more or less completely claimed the family sitcom genre, and there was no need for Andy Hardy movies to fill that void. The further plot, such as it is, sees Andy actually employed as a lawyer, embroiled in land controversy back at Carvel, perhaps recalling some of the Judge’s plots from earlier films. All this barely matters, though, for nothing introduced here would take; this was the last one!

So what does the future hold for Andy Hardy? Seeing as Mickey Rooney is still alive, beyond all medical logic, I guess there’s always that 0.000001% chance they’d make another one, but in all honesty, what kind of name recognition is there for a film series that last failed to reboot itself in the 1950s? Andy Hardy is, despite his minor Broadway origins, truly a creation of the movies, and eternally tied to Mickey Rooney. And wither Mickey, wither Andy.


Related posts:
• No. 4 Love Finds Andy Hardy (1939)

Sunday, June 13, 2010

Andy Hardy, No. 4 - Love Finds Andy Hardy (1938)


“Ooh, Andy Hardy’s here already!”

These are literally the words I said when the Andy Hardy DVD arrived far sooner than I’d expected. Goodness gracious, I fear this project is already driving me insane.

The 30s and 40s were truly the Golden Age of the Sequel. Critics bemoaning the current state of cinema should keep this in mind, for the very nature of the studio system and its ability to manufacture product is something that can never be repeated. Studios had actors on contract – a high-falutin’ form of indentured servitude, beholding them to whatever ridiculous whim the studio could conceive. This was the era of the true B-movie, for back then, calling something a “B-movie” wasn’t simply a way to imply lowered quality or lowbrow content. Movies were regularly shown in double features, along with junk like newsreels and duck cartoons. The B-movie was the secondary film in these screenings, usually produced on a budget, programmed in a way somewhat similar to television today.

In fact, it appears many of the series from this period are forerunners to television. The Andy Hardy series, for one, is essentially a family sitcom, and it is easier to understand its sixteen-film run in this way. After all, there are certain stock plot elements sitcoms love to explore, and these same devices were employed earlier to sustain a film series’ longevity. In a way, it should be a lot easier to create endless stories about a normal family that it is to create endless interconnected sci-fi action adventures. Expectations for a series were different in the studio system. So as long as cheap and dependable B-pictures performed adequately, there was never any need to go bigger or wilder from one sequel to another. Hell, it wasn’t until television arrived to viciously leech away movie audiences like the Blob that the trend of super-sized sequels came about.

The Andy Hardy series is best known today as the prime vehicle for film comedian Mickey Rooney, the top box office draw of 1939 and 1940 (“Spanning two decades,” as Bart Simpson once complimented). Actually, these films were what Bart was referring to, and it’s exiting now how I’m about to expend a lot of energy exploring the inspiration for a single throwaway joke on “The Simpsons.”


Born into a family of vampires - no, wait, vaudevillians, Mickey Rooney was born Joseph Yule Jr. Through a ridiculously complicated sequence of entertainment-related escapades, he took on the name Mickey Rooney, inspired the naming of a cartoon rodent, and earned the contempt of eternally-evil film studio Fox (they were evil then too, it seems). In 1937, then-sixteen-year-old Rooney appeared in The Family Affair, the first Andy Hardy picture. I now realize an error I’ve been making for most of my life, namely, Mickey Rooney and Andy Rooney are not the same person. Mickey Rooney is a lovable, humorous star of stage and screen, while Andy Rooney is that unfunny old coot they still allow on “60 Minutes,” waving his proverbial rake at the TV audience waiting for “The Amazing Race.” But apart from names, Mickey and Andy appear to have something else in common – immortality. I sense a Highlander scenario. And I apologize to Mickey Rooney, for it turns out he’s actually not hateful...except for that one appearance as Puck in 1935's A Midsummer Night’s Dream

The good Rooney, Mickey, has continued his remarkably lengthy career into the present day as a true entertainer, performing on stage, screen, and presumably street corners. Notably, he appeared alongside everyone else in the world in It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World, and played the most racist Japanese stereotype in history in A Breakfast at Tiffany’s. In 1983 he won a Lifetime Achievement Academy Award, and continued to live for at least 27 more years.

Still, Rooney’s various internet bios would have me believe the Andy Hardy films remain his greatest accomplishment. This MGM series ran for sixteen films, with additional non-canon public service announcements requesting, presumably, that viewers buy war bonds. What follows is a list of that series, with the movies I can actually find in bold. Who knows, maybe if I TiVoed TCM for a year I could see some more.

1. A Family Affair (1937)
2. You're Only Young Once (1937)
3. Judge Hardy's Children (1938)
4. Love Finds Andy Hardy (1938)
5. Out West with the Hardys (1938)
6. The Hardys Ride High (1939)
7. Andy Hardy Gets Spring Fever (1939)
8. Judge Hardy and Son (1939)
9. Andy Hardy Meets Debutante (1940)
10. Andy Hardy's Private Secretary (1941)
11. Life Begins for Andy Hardy (1941)
12. The Courtship of Andy Hardy (1942)
13. Andy Hardy's Double Life (1942)
14. Andy Hardy's Blonde Trouble (1944)
15. Love Laughs at Andy Hardy (1946)
16. Andy Hardy Comes Home (1958)
.
The fist, A Family Affair, was a one-off, not intended as a series. It was based on the play Skidding by Aurania Rouverol. Spell check hates her. It seems, with the advent of sound filmmaking in the 30s, the only thing Hollywood could figure out to do was to present random Broadway plays verbatim on screen. Sound really made movies rather stage bound, and frankly we’re still sort of suffering through that backlash to this day.

In the context of the overall series, A Family Affair is a bit like a TV pilot, in that it is a bit different from the films that followed. This movie is a courtroom drama, not a family sitcom in Middle America. Judge James Hardy, patriarch of the Hardy family, who something something zzzzzzz...There’s some courtroom controversy, and it all ties in with James’s family, notably young son Andy (Mickey Rooney), who is simply a member of an ensemble here and not yet the star of the show. It sounds kind of tiresome by 30s standards, making me realize that, yes, this era saw countless cinematic mediocrities, just like ours.

Depression-era audiences were surprisingly receptive of A Family Affair, so B-unit producer Lucien Hubbard then decided to pursue it as a series. The sets were still standing, and the cast remained the playthings of MGM’s Faustian contracts, so a sequel could be pumped out that very same year. There was a little recasting of some of the major family roles, and some of the more extraneous family roles were cut entirely. Of course Mickey Rooney stayed on, and the new cast that joined him in You’re Only Young Once would remain for the duration of the series.

The films were retooled and calculated to present a cornball version of 1930s Americana – a depiction of a world that never existed outside of those wispy tales grandparents tell before falling asleep. To hear them tell it, things were good up until the invention of rock ‘n’ roll, or hippies, or my birth, or whatever. Why apparently, all throughout the 30s and 40s, the world was a perfect, Edenic paradise – even Europe! Nostalgia is a screwy thing, and possibly the only reason for non-ironic appreciation of Andy Hardy films now, outside of strange Old Hollywood cultists. Of course this was escapism for 30s era audiences, who needed something to take their minds off of Depressions and Nazis.

The Bondishly titled You’re Only Young Once (or...YOYO) seems to continue the first film’s combo of family comedy and courtroom antics. This entry sees the Midwest Idaho Hardy family on a quick and easy vacation out to Catalina Island in California, because to hell with geography! Its follow-up, Judge Hardy’s Family, does sort of the same thing in the other direction, sending the family to Washington D.C. In each example, the plot is kick started by Judge Hardy’s penal priorities, and the plot then moves on to focus on Andy’s, er, dong.

As the central cast was set in stone here, I shall now relate them...

Andy Hardy (Mickey Rooney) is your standard budding teenager, in that he is indescribably horny (but in a wholesome 30s sort of way), always getting into romantic misadventures with the constant female guest stars ushered through the series. He is an irascible rapscallion, or whatever, and I’m sure his corny, horny antics came across as remarkably “edgy” at the time. He employs filthy, irritating 30s “teenspeak,” saying “buck” for “dollar,” “swell” for “adequate,” and “ain’t” for “ai not.” As played by Rooney, Andy is a ridiculously big ham, leaping and capering and bugging out for our attention at every possible moment. Since this was the big draw at the time, the fact that I find it to be the most annoying part says little for what value this series might have for me. Humor styles change over time, flailing mugging ages quickly, and I still find some of Andy’s contemporaries (the Marx brothers) very, very funny. So it’s just a matter of tastes.

Judge James Hardy (Lewis Stone) is the calm, even-tempered family head, a sane alternative to the shaved chimpanzee that is Andy Hardy, and as such he is my favorite character. The Judge is serious, yet has a wry, understated sense of humor. Even though standard plots concerned Andy’s woman troubles with ladies far out of his league (shades of Shia LeBeouf), the central relationship was always between Andy and his father. A “once-per-film” trademark sees Andy and the Judge having heart-to-heart talks about his latest trivial misadventures.

Marian Hardy (Cecilia Parker), Andy’s older sister, apparently has no notable personality.

Mrs. Emily Hardy (Fay Holden), the family mother, is walking proof that family sitcoms have never had anything interesting for the mom to do. She is also Canadian.

There’s also Aunt Milly, who’s so minor this sentence is a re-edit.

And finally there is Andy’s regular girlfriend, Polly Benedict (Ann Rutherford). Considering Andy’s man-whorish ability to cycle through anonymous girls in the pre-STD 1930s, I cannot imagine how useful Polly’s character is to the franchise. The one film I’ve seen so far, Love Finds Andy Hardy, uses the only real plot I can think of for such a character – noted in the next paragraph.

Love Finds Andy Hardy is the fourth film in the series, and, as the title indicates, Andy Hardy was truly the driving engine at this stage. The hoary, whorey old sitcom plot device I predicted with Polly is employed here – one date, two women. Maybe it was original at this stage, or...Wait, Shakespeare...Wilde...Homer...countless other writers throughout history...Nah, it wasn’t original!

Standard lengthy opening credits open the film, as they did for all movies until sometime in the 60s or so (you couldn’t walk out on the credits back then). The film proper opens in Judge Hardy’s courtroom, and it’s possible this was a stock opening. The Judge sentences a young boy to sixty days of chores, and that kid’s lucky they’re not in Texas. Retiring to his chamber, the Judge overhears a convoluted civil suit that ultimately somehow results in the Judge hiring a cook for his household. This cook storyline is given a fair amount of attention early in the film, but it ultimately comes to naught.

Following a quick scene of Emily Hardy selling off some delicious crabapple jam, we move on to the Carvel Municipal Swimming Pool, where Andy parades his freakish, shirtless body before girlfriend Polly. Polly sets up the plot by announcing to Andy she will be out of town for Christmas, and so will not be able to go to the big Christmas dance with him. Awkward, dated dialogue indicates that Andy likes to force unwanted kisses on Polly, saying “It’s good that way too,” suggesting to my modern mind that Andy Hardy is a potential rapist. Walking home together, Andy proceeds to say and do several things that mark him out as exceptionally randy – ah, the pre-Internet era.

Andy runs into his father in downtown Carvel. They have an actual “how times have changed” conversation, with Andy cruelly mocking his kindly father for growing up in an era before airplanes or cars. Children have lampooned the elderly for generations with this exact same retort, but in this one instance the criticisms are literal and not exaggerations. Technology is a big concern in this film, and it’s kind of hilarious now to see the film treat an old jalopy with the same reverence the Fast and the Furious films treat their rice rockets. Andy expresses his desire to own a jaunty jalopy of his very own, even though Dad says to wait until he’s sixteen, and so we’ve roughly pegged Andy’s age, and whoa!, they were letting little kids drive cars around recklessly without driver’s licenses back then. Just like Mexico! The big conflict for Andy, as regards this car, is he needs a whole $8 in order to afford it. Wow! Without keeping inflation in mind, I would just – I would – Wow! Eight dollars for a car!

Now, the Andy Hardy B-pictures were a means for MGM to trot out up-and-coming stars for our assessment. Why, a famous roster of stars made their way through the Andy Hardy series, with luminaries such as – You know, each source lists different stars, so let’s just go ahead and assume everyone under MGM contract (that is, basically everyone) appeared at one point or another. At any rate, Love Finds Andy Hardy serves as a major debutante ball for two notable young actresses. The first up is a young Judy Garland, eventual star of The Wizard of Oz and inadvertent gay icon. She plays 12-year-old Betty Boop - wait, Betsy Booth, Andy’s new next door neighbor. Upon learning she shall be next door to the famous Andy Hardy, she grows ecstatic, a result of the ridiculous hero worship foisted onto the undeserving Andy in these films. Again, he really was the Shia LeBeouf of the 1930s.

Back in the Hardy home, Andy’s sister Marian laments that her boyfriend Wayne has been, in the parlance of folksy old dialogue, cheating on her. As a result, she goes ahead and swears off men in order to become a “settlement worker.” I do not follow this train of logic, so I suppose it is a euphemism for a nunnery – either kind. The Judge arrives to greet his wife Emily in the kitchen, and it turns out they’re one of those creepy married couples that refers to each other as “Mother” and “Father.” Was this ever considered normal?

Soon enough the entire family is gathered in the den, when a telegram boy delivers a telegram to Emily. She instantly gets her panties in a bunch, bemoaning that newfangled demon telegram technology (a mere 70 years old at the time), easily resembling the whining from elders today about that there text messagin’ and Facebookin’ and Tweetin’. But this telegram is bad, because it announces Emily’s mother has had a stroke and is in a coma. At this stage, the Judge starts calling both his wife and his mother-in-law “Mother,” which is remarkably confusing yet somehow not used as a joke. Emily declares she shall leave Carvel to tend to her sickly mother, which is basically a way for this film’s writers to admit they have nothing for Fay Holden to do anymore. And then Andy does a forced pratfall on the staircase, because damn it, the focus is supposed to be on him!

The remaining family members, Andy, Marian and the Judge, all drink Marian’s terrible coffee for breakfast. The Judge tells Andy about the new girl Betsy next door, which makes Andy excited/horny. Andy hurriedly rushes to Betsy’s house under the pretense of “delivering preserves” (another euphemism?), only to be disappointed when Betsy proves to be twelve years old when Andy was hoping for a mature fourteen. There is actually a lot of strange ageism in this film in regards to Betsy. Frankly, all the teenaged characters here look pretty young, and for the first time in any Hollywood movie I’ve ever that’s because they are young. No actors nearing thirty attempting to play high school sophomores here! Though each actor still plays a few years younger than his true age, it’s far more effective. The veiled, possibly-unintentional sex stuff seems far creepier given this age change, but I really think I’m reading far too much into this innocent family sitcom from 1938.

Back in town, Andy’s buddy Beezy is explaining his own woman problems. You see, Beezy has been dating Cynthia Potter (Lana Turner, who’d just been purchased by MGM like so much human meat). This is noteworthy because Miss Turner would soon become one of the Beautiful People of the 1940s, a black and white Megan Fox, except Miss Turner could sing, act, and engage in genuine human conduct. For some reason I cannot figure out, Beezy will be out of town, and so he wants noted man-whore Andy to date Cynthia for him until he gets back (?!). Andy says doing so would not be “respectable” unless Beezy pays him, because male prostitution makes it far more respectable. By the way, Beezy expresses marked disinterest in Cynthia, as does Andy, all on account of her being a redhead. What freaking universe do these people live in?! A young, flowering Lana Turner is presented as an unattractive prospect to a gawky, genetic abnormality like Andy Hardy! Despite this, Andy proceeds to establish an instantly physical relationship with Cynthia, all while a wheezy Beezy watches from behind a bush...Yeah, there’s nothing creepy at all about these films!

Andy, now saddled “unhappily” with both Lana Turner and Ann Rutherford, proceeds to take Judy Garland’s Betsy on a date to the soda shop. All the while he neglects to wash the family car, rather having the neighbor’s chauffeur wash it – yeah, the standard Depression era solution. Of course Cynthia spies Andy with Betsy, so he plays it off by insulting Betsy for being young. Andy also uses this moment as an opportunity to sum up the entire plot so far to Betsy, perhaps because audiences of the 1930s wandered theaters freely, not watching a picture from the start as it the practice today. So one of Andy’s dilemmas, beyond playing Lana Turner’s gigolo, is that he cannot take her to the Christmas dance unless he has a car – Hence that $8, which Andy’s not about to consider working for. Oh Lord no!

There are a few more scenes of the family drinking Marian’s abysmal coffee, and of Andy capering like a moron for Cynthia over at the public pool. The Judge receives a letter from Emily, reporting that the coma subplot has not progressed at all.

Over at Betsy’s house, she gifts Andy a hood ornament for that car he may someday own, $8 dollars notwithstanding. Andy gone, Betsy proceeds to spend several entire minutes singing some tuneless ditty on her piano (Judy Garland, remember). It’s like a cinematic talent show. You know, tiresome and self-absorbed. A really fun musical is irreplaceable, but most musical numbers from the 30s simply involve plunking down a motionless camera while some actor belts out a dull, unmemorable tune. And this movie isn’t even a musical! I don’t see what the attraction was for audiences here, but then again I cannot determine the appeal of things like “American Idol” or “Glee” either. Anyway, this song is called “In-Between,” and it is a catalogue of Betsy’s woes as a twelve-year-old, a “tween.” If only she lived today, she could instead be the tool of the Disney Corporation.

That over, we go back to the standard plot. Andy has learned that Polly shall indeed be coming home for Christmas after all, hence his two dates. He laments in a big deal sort of way as if this were a far more revelatory plot twist than it is. Then the postman rings (once), delivering Andy a letter from Beezy, announcing he’s dumping Cynthia and leaving her to Andy. You know, because she’s a redhead, and therefore beneath his station. Andy is saddened also, because it seems no one wants Lana Turner. Andy reveals his latest woes to Betsy, and resolves to solve them on his own.

It is time for the traditional scene between Andy and his father. Andy surmises the entire storyline for the Judge, because again 1930s audiences might have been wandering around not paying attention to the intricate, intricate plot. Andy, already the potential rapist and sexual predator, also displays latent homosexuality when he asks his dad “Is there something wrong with a guy if he doesn’t want a girl kissing him all the time?” Furthermore, Andy wants to be punished, demanding “Just give me a good licking, Dad.” Whoa! The Judge proceeds to whip out his wisdom (that is, he gives Andy a Life Lesson), speaking in genuine, heartwarming terms about technology and aging and his love for his family. The Judge further expresses concern for Emily, at which Andy suggests employing a “ham.” No, actor Mickey Rooney has not suddenly become self-aware; Andy means a ham radio.

Andy takes the Judge to Jimmy, the boy from way back at the start. Jimmy mans a ham radio, in a scene meant to depict the extraordinary capabilities of this advanced new technology, what with the mere three hours it takes to send and receive a message. It’s strange, this 1930s technology porn! I cannot picture a single feature film today stalling the main plot to depict a family huddled around sending an e-mail. That sounds like an awful television commercial at best, and I’d like to think audiences have grown more sophisticated in some respects, even if we still allow Transformers movies to succeed. So anyway, Emily responds that her mother has recovered, and she (Emily) will be home for Christmas.

Soon enough the Judge has bought the car for Andy, so he is now out that whopping $8. The Judge stays at home to wait for “Mother” while Andy dons Betsy’s hood ornament. For her part, Betsy cons Cynthia out of her relationship with Andy by outright lying to her about Andy’s new car, claiming it’s an old beater. Cynthia, the high-maintenance hussy, will have none of that!

Overjoyed that he no longer has to serve as Lana Turner’s sex toy, Andy hollers in obscene joy, flailing his grotesque body all over the house in paroxysms of stuporous glee. He soon explains everything to girlfriend Polly. She is furious at Andy, because, after all, geez, it was Cynthia, and jeepers, she’s a redhead. Can you imagine anything more lowly?! Polly aptly calls Andy a “gigolo,” and reveals she too has another date for the Christmas dance – Dennis, a swinging hepcat from New York City. Andy sobs, and I’ll admit I found this part of Rooney’s performance somewhat humorous – I didn’t actually laugh or anything, but close enough.

Andy ponders his travails loudly and melodramatically, as is his wont, grindingly unaware that Betsy would make a perfectly adequate date to the Christmas dance. But Andy would never lower himself to be seen with a twelve-year-old, even if he was willing to whore it up for a redhead. Fed up at his stalling techniques, Betsy just goes right ahead and puts on her formal gown, which instantly convinces the teenaged horndog to date her anyway.

The Christmas party is the most debased shindig I can imagine happening in this version of 1930s America: a bunch of Caucasians just standing around emotionlessly as no music plays. Polly’s date Dennis quickly recognizes Betsy from New York, so he invites her to sing with him in the band. That’s right, everyone, it’s time for another stultifying Judy Garland musical! This one, “It Never Rains But What It Pours,” is more upbeat than the last, but it’s still boring. And...it...goes...on. Garland’s approach to singing seems to consist of simply being loud. And then – finally – the song ends. Applause. And as a reward to the audience for sitting through that, Betsy proceeds to – sing another song! “The Beat of My Heart,” this one is, and I have nothing more to say about bland musical numbers now. The party crowd falls into a hushed, awed reverence as Betsy and Andy proceed to lead the Grand March. Despite the awesome name, the Grand March consists of everybody simply walking slowly and silently throughout the room. Man, Americana was stilted!

Back at the Hardy home, the entire family has reunited for Christmas Eve. This scene is legitimately heartwarming, recalling It’s a Wonderful Life, while Emily and her husband embrace in a happy reunion, and Andy jumps about foolishly in the background for no good damn reason, because god forbid some of the other cast members get any attention.

The movie ends with Andy tending to his jalopy in the driveway, still mopey about Polly and Dennis. But right on cue Polly arrives to inform Andy that Dennis is in fact her cousin. This either makes things better or much, much worse. Andy opts to take the innocent interpretation, unlike me, and therefore has another one of his overacted seizures of joy. I think Andy has ADD. Andy proceeds to kiss Polly lustily, and the movie outmaneuvers those prudes at the Hays Office by cutting instead to the Judge’s lascivious leers. “The End.”

I think I’ve been a little overly harsh on this movie. It exudes gentle charms and is unpretentious. While it is not one of the masterpieces of 30s cinema, and it is rather dated, it stands as the flag bearer of a once-beloved and successful old film franchise. I do have little use for Rooney’s performance here, which really is a major impediment to enjoying the movie, since he is the intentional focus here. Andy Hardy comes across as the self-important class clown who’s been given too much attention, and no part of me wants to encourage that sort of behavior, even 72 years after the fact. The sanest response is to treat this as a product of its time, the sort of movie that most people no longer need. For it is the disposable, popcorn entertainment of another era, and obviously people loved it at the time. The film’s true achievement is to be a part of a large film franchise – “one of the most successful film franchises of all time,” some pro-Andy sites proclaim. Hell, if Mickey Rooney could be the top box office draw of 1939, the year of Gone With the Wind, that must be a legitimate assessment.


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