SYNOPSIS: Two potential heirs will receive a tidy sum if they manage to successfully hold down jobs as servants for a month. A third claimant will only inherit if both his rivals get the sack. Naturally he schemes to make this happen.
NOTES: Second film version of Browne's novel. A 1933 British Lion support directed by Leslie Hiscott starred Harold French as Bill Quinton, Frank Pettingell as Albert Peabody and Peter Haddon as Hugh (sic) Tolliver.
COMMENT: Movies (and novels) about heirs and missing fortunes and wills with eccentric conditions were exceedingly popular in the Depression era. The plot of this one is typical. What is surprising, however, is that not a great deal of it occupies center stage. Instead, a number of sub-plots jostle the main story-line from its central position. The first we don't mind, because that's the romantic sub-plot, ingratiatingly played by Bobby Howes as the diminutive valet/chauffeur and most charmingly by Diana Churchill as a spirited maid-of-all-work. When this duo burst into song, the effect is enjoyable indeed - in particular with the title tune. Both performers are very attractively photographed and their splend setting has to be seen to be believed.
Their initial encounter, inventively handled by the director in a series of rapidly cut fast tracking shots, is the acme of picture-going pleasure. However, one of the disadvantages of pairing the hero and heroine off so early in the piece is that there's little opportunity to develop this theme in the remainder of the movie. True, there are a couple of minor misunderstandings but fortunately both director and audience recognize that these tiffs don't amount to much.
Pushing both the romantic and inheritance plots aside is a rather tedious sub-plot involving - would you believe? - a husband's attempts to retrieve incriminating love letters from a former mistress. That hackneyed old chestnut was used by Bobby Howes himself in Third Time Lucky (1931) - and much more cleverly than it is here. Fortunately the husband is played by one of our old favorites, Wylie Watson, an actor who can do marvels with the weakest of material - witness his cat impersonation and the way he skilfully manages to inject a piddling running gag about foreign buttons with genuine humor. Even his somewhat too lengthy efforts to shoulder his own suspenders are tolerably amusing.
No, the blackmail plot comes unstuck not with Mr Watson but with Vera Pearce - a moderately amusing lady, it is true, but she far out-strips her initial welcome - and to a greater extent with Fred Emney who makes far too much heavy-going of what should be a smaller, less conspicuous role.
But far and away the biggest fly in the ointment is Billy Milton. Although supposed to be thoroughly obnoxious, Milton plays the part with such enthusiasm as to swamp the other players. His best scenes are at the beginning where Bobby Howes manages to out-maneuver him by kicking his hat around the room like a football. Alas, Milton allows far fewer openings for Howes in their later confrontations. Not only is the character the epitome of boorishness, he's incredibly stupid and tasteless besides. Here's one villain that absolutely nobody's going to cheer, as he's just simply completely lacking in appeal. He's boring as well as boorish.
Although Yes, Madam is something of a curate's egg, its enjoyable moments will send audiences away happy. Howes and Churchill deserve most of the credit. They play and sing with consummate finesse.
NOTES: Second film version of Browne's novel. A 1933 British Lion support directed by Leslie Hiscott starred Harold French as Bill Quinton, Frank Pettingell as Albert Peabody and Peter Haddon as Hugh (sic) Tolliver.
COMMENT: Movies (and novels) about heirs and missing fortunes and wills with eccentric conditions were exceedingly popular in the Depression era. The plot of this one is typical. What is surprising, however, is that not a great deal of it occupies center stage. Instead, a number of sub-plots jostle the main story-line from its central position. The first we don't mind, because that's the romantic sub-plot, ingratiatingly played by Bobby Howes as the diminutive valet/chauffeur and most charmingly by Diana Churchill as a spirited maid-of-all-work. When this duo burst into song, the effect is enjoyable indeed - in particular with the title tune. Both performers are very attractively photographed and their splend setting has to be seen to be believed.
Their initial encounter, inventively handled by the director in a series of rapidly cut fast tracking shots, is the acme of picture-going pleasure. However, one of the disadvantages of pairing the hero and heroine off so early in the piece is that there's little opportunity to develop this theme in the remainder of the movie. True, there are a couple of minor misunderstandings but fortunately both director and audience recognize that these tiffs don't amount to much.
Pushing both the romantic and inheritance plots aside is a rather tedious sub-plot involving - would you believe? - a husband's attempts to retrieve incriminating love letters from a former mistress. That hackneyed old chestnut was used by Bobby Howes himself in Third Time Lucky (1931) - and much more cleverly than it is here. Fortunately the husband is played by one of our old favorites, Wylie Watson, an actor who can do marvels with the weakest of material - witness his cat impersonation and the way he skilfully manages to inject a piddling running gag about foreign buttons with genuine humor. Even his somewhat too lengthy efforts to shoulder his own suspenders are tolerably amusing.
No, the blackmail plot comes unstuck not with Mr Watson but with Vera Pearce - a moderately amusing lady, it is true, but she far out-strips her initial welcome - and to a greater extent with Fred Emney who makes far too much heavy-going of what should be a smaller, less conspicuous role.
But far and away the biggest fly in the ointment is Billy Milton. Although supposed to be thoroughly obnoxious, Milton plays the part with such enthusiasm as to swamp the other players. His best scenes are at the beginning where Bobby Howes manages to out-maneuver him by kicking his hat around the room like a football. Alas, Milton allows far fewer openings for Howes in their later confrontations. Not only is the character the epitome of boorishness, he's incredibly stupid and tasteless besides. Here's one villain that absolutely nobody's going to cheer, as he's just simply completely lacking in appeal. He's boring as well as boorish.
Although Yes, Madam is something of a curate's egg, its enjoyable moments will send audiences away happy. Howes and Churchill deserve most of the credit. They play and sing with consummate finesse.