"The Crystal Ball" is a screwball that's genuinely *hilarious* for much of its runtime. In fact, I'd venture to say this one's a good bit funnier than many critically acclaimed top-tier comedies of the period. I'm puzzled by the middling reception it's gotten over the years. Every single actor is cast perfectly and the script, courtesy of the ingenious Virginia Van Upp, remains whip-crack through its brief runtime.
In fairness to the movie's detractors, the plot really is ludicrous beyond words. Things kick off when a maid hides the emerald ring of her dizzy society dame employer, advising her to visit a fortune telling psychic who's aided in retrieving similar objects. Things just progressively wackier from there: we get to spend time at carnival shooting gallery manned by Cecil Kellaway (of all people) and watch Ray Milland get genuinely crushed in an avalanche of watermelons!
All the scenes with Gladys George in her fortune teller's tent are pure gold. I loved that she had a small arsenal of "Who's Who" books to assist in her hot readings of society matrons, somewhere near the side room where she keeps her ectoplasm handy! Paulette Goddard, who's been hired as George's assistant, affects a terrific Southern belle accent when she's in a spirit trance (her character's from Texas).
The best scene has Ray Milland bringing Goddard home to a random apartment because she doesn't want to reveal she's living with a fortune teller. It happens to be the home of a bitterly feuding alcoholic couple, with poor Paulette quickly getting caught in the fray. The wartime propaganda in this one is kept to a minimum, although there's a cute bit where Hitler, Mussolini and Tojo serve as targets at the shooting gallery. When hit in the right order, they trigger a musical number and kick each other in the rear!
I can't rave enough about this one. That "The Crystal Ball" is so good yet so comparatively unheralded is a reflection on how accomplished the Hollywood studio system was at this time. They were making so many great pictures at such a fast clip that gems like these get lost in the shuffle.
In fairness to the movie's detractors, the plot really is ludicrous beyond words. Things kick off when a maid hides the emerald ring of her dizzy society dame employer, advising her to visit a fortune telling psychic who's aided in retrieving similar objects. Things just progressively wackier from there: we get to spend time at carnival shooting gallery manned by Cecil Kellaway (of all people) and watch Ray Milland get genuinely crushed in an avalanche of watermelons!
All the scenes with Gladys George in her fortune teller's tent are pure gold. I loved that she had a small arsenal of "Who's Who" books to assist in her hot readings of society matrons, somewhere near the side room where she keeps her ectoplasm handy! Paulette Goddard, who's been hired as George's assistant, affects a terrific Southern belle accent when she's in a spirit trance (her character's from Texas).
The best scene has Ray Milland bringing Goddard home to a random apartment because she doesn't want to reveal she's living with a fortune teller. It happens to be the home of a bitterly feuding alcoholic couple, with poor Paulette quickly getting caught in the fray. The wartime propaganda in this one is kept to a minimum, although there's a cute bit where Hitler, Mussolini and Tojo serve as targets at the shooting gallery. When hit in the right order, they trigger a musical number and kick each other in the rear!
I can't rave enough about this one. That "The Crystal Ball" is so good yet so comparatively unheralded is a reflection on how accomplished the Hollywood studio system was at this time. They were making so many great pictures at such a fast clip that gems like these get lost in the shuffle.