Wordiezett So much average

Lumsdal Good , But It Is Overrated By Some

Limerculer A waste of 90 minutes of my life

Rosie Searle It's the kind of movie you'll want to see a second time with someone who hasn't seen it yet, to remember what it was like to watch it for the first time.

vert001 PROFESSIONAL SWEETHEART manages indirectly to be a historically important film of sorts. Flashy supporting roles in 42nd STREET and THE GOLD DIGGERS OF 1933 had brought Ginger Rogers to the attention of Hollywood, and Columbia and RKO at least were seriously thinking of signing her to a long term contract (most of her recent work had been done for Warner Brothers but they may have believed that, with Joan Blondell and Glenda Farrell among others already in their fold, there was little room left for a Ginger Rogers). RKO wound up inking her to a 3 film deal which amounted to one film plus a two film option at RKO's discretion. Thus PROFESSIONAL SWEETHEART served as an elaborate screen test for Rogers. It was a modest success both critically and at the box office (which was more than most 1933 films could say) and RKO signed her to a full 7 year contract. Ginger's first assignment under that contract was FLYING DOWN TO RIO and the rest was history.PROFESSIONAL SWEETHEART is a clear sign that RKO was very serious about Ginger Rogers. It's a pure vehicle for her comedic abilities, seen here as more 'hard sell' than they would be later on, and she's given every bit of support that could be realistically expected: A funny, sharp, broadly satirical script from the talented Maurine Watkins of CHICAGO fame, a terrific pack of supporting actors mostly imported from Warner Brothers, and about the best house director that RKO had (William Seiter) were assigned to the project. Ginger already had considerable experience as a supporting actress in big pictures and as a female lead in little pictures, but this was her first starring vehicle, and she makes the most of it.I'll refrain from running through the plot (if you're reading this surely you already know it) and restrict myself to a few observations. The chasm between a public persona and a private one is the obvious main theme, Glory's radio shtick as "the Purity Girl" being diametrically opposed to her portrayed private desires (a girl who wants to have 'fun fun fun', essentially). As in CHICAGO, the press can hardly be more cynical about it all while agreeably playing along with the act. Whether the public is actually fooled by this or is merely willing to tolerate the deceptions for its own amusement remains uncertain. This appears to be Watkins' One Big Idea, and she runs with it.Otherwise we get a broad satire of radio's inherent deceits, for example, audiences coached on their 'spontaneous' reactions; a nice skewering of the Progressive Eugenics Movement ("Hey, they're white, these Anglo-Saxons!" our naive business magnate from the Old Country notes in surprise); Harlem as a modern jazz-filled Valhalla ("I don't care what color he is as long as he takes me to Harlem!" Glory beams with a racial double entendre), barbed comments on lawyers, clothes designers doubling as interior decorators, business tycoons whose empires consist of washcloths and dishrags, the full gamut. Gregory Ratoff strikes me as very funny as the genius behind Ippsey- Wippsey Washcloths, ZaSu Pitts is excellent as a 'sob sister' whose interview style consists of her own meandering monologues, Franklin Pangborn, Allen Jenkins, Edgar Kennedy and Frank McHugh are solid in their roles, and Theresa Harris has a more substantial part than is usual for a black maid of the era (oddly, both she and Ginger Rogers, both competent singers in their own rights, get dubbed by Etta Moten). Norman Foster does what he needs to do as the country hick.And Ginger Rogers was on her way.

marcslope I'd been looking forward to this RKO programmer because it's by Maurine Watkins, a pretty smart writer who also was responsible for the play "Chicago," which became the movie "Roxie Hart," then the musical "Chicago." So she clearly knows about the value of publicity and the hypocritical nature of advertising and sponsorship. But those satirical targets are swiped at very broadly in this one, which keeps parading the name of the sponsor--Ippsie Wippsie--as if it were in itself hilarious. They're sponsoring a singing sweetheart, a dubbed Ginger Rogers, who personifies wholesome values and, predictably, is really the opposite of those values. I find Ginger's outbursts and shifts of mood unpersuasive and a little tedious, and she's surrounded by a supporting cast of Warners and RKO players who do what they always do--a simpering ZaSu Pitts, genial Frank McHugh, Brooklyn-streetwise Allen Jenkins, sputtering-in-a-foreign-accent Gregory Ratoff, swishy Franklin Pangborn, etc. Her leading man, Norman Foster, as a Kentucky farm boy who successfully woos her, is no great shakes, and Ms. Watkins also asks us to believe that a short time with him in the mountains would turn Ginger from a grasping spoiled brat who can't cook into a darling, kitchen-trained little wifey. The plot reversals are quick and unconvincing, and the bashing of the advertising industry is positively sledgehammer.

Al Westerfield This wonderful cast interacts with absolute precision, whether walking around a room or interrupting each others' wisecracks. The script and direction meld into an enjoyable film. What's best is that not one character ever removes his tongue from his cheek. They know it's not serious and so do we. It's just pure fun.Some reviewers say the film is heavily gay; I beg to differ. While Pangborn gives a few swishes, it's not entirely clear which side of the street he walks on until near the end. There Pitts see him in his underwear, feigns surprise and then walks into his room and closes the door. The rest is left to our imagination, but gay isn't part of it.This is a film to see again and again to appreciate great plotting and directing.

MartinHafer Despite this film having one of the more amazing groups of character actors for support, this is truly an awful film. It just goes to show you that no matter what talent you have assembled, it means nothing if the writing is bad--and boy, is it BAD! Even the combined supporting talents of Frank McHugh, Allen Jenkins, Akim Tamiroff, Franklin Pangborn, Edgar Kennedy, Sterling Holloway and others couldn't help Ginger Rogers elevate this mess to even mediocrity. The bottom line is the basic plot isn't at all believable and the dialog isn't any better. Normally when I watch older films, I am able to suspend disbelief and just enjoy, but this time it was a major chore not to just turn the movie off about midway through it! Ginger plays a radio star who is portrayed as so saccharine that it's impossible to believe that the public could stand her, though according to the film she's America's Sweetheart! Well, Ginger rebels against this as well, but her answer is to hang out in nightclubs and get drunk AND have sex (it's a "Pre-Code" film, so this sort of subject was NOT taboo in 1933). It's all very broadly acted and written and is supposed to be a sort of screwball comedy--the problem is that none of it is funny. What happens next and how everyone becomes happy in the end isn't really anything I want to discuss--I just want to never see this film again. It's a good thing Ms. Rogers had the Fred Astaire films to boost her career--if it was up to drivel like this, she never would have become famous!