Colibel Terrible acting, screenplay and direction.

CommentsXp Best movie ever!

Senteur As somebody who had not heard any of this before, it became a curious phenomenon to sit and watch a film and slowly have the realities begin to click into place.

Ella-May O'Brien Each character in this movie — down to the smallest one — is an individual rather than a type, prone to spontaneous changes of mood and sometimes amusing outbursts of pettiness or ill humor.

cstotlar-1 This is Rodgers and Hart at their level worst. The tunes aren't very tuneful and the words creak with age. Jolson over-acted least in this film and his endless spiels were left out or at least curtailed. There wasn't any black-face in this but there was a little black actor who, from his part in the movie, might just as well have been in black-face given the script. There is music everywhere in this film - when the characters are singing, of course, and when they are just acting or when there aren't any characters to be seen, and this omnipresence is often nerve-wracking and tiring at least. The great, great Harry Langdon of silent days shows up in a minor role here. His ego caused his immediate demise a few years before when he had fired all those around him responsible for his success and went on his own with disastrous results. Here he plays the part of Egghead with some dialog.

Steffi_P The story of the 1930s musical is very much the story of its stars. As the genre developed different stars came and went. And sometimes, established stars adapted alongside the musical itself. Al Jolson featured in some of the most successful movies of the early talkie era, in what were not really true musicals but stories about the music hall, essentially showcasing the persona Jolson had been playing for years on the stage. However by 1933 such theatrical musicals no longer cut it with audiences, and Hallelujah, I'm a Bum sees Jolson ditching his blackface and immaculate dinner suit for the battered attire of a down-and-outer in this topical depression-era musical in which the songs weave into the narrative.Hallelujah, I'm a Bum was not like those flimsily-plotted stage musicals, where the story really only existed to string the numbers together. Its screenplay is by no less a personage than S.N. Behrman, from a story by Ben Hecht. These two practically defined screen writing in classic-era Hollywood, and their list of credits is astounding. For this particular opus, they make light of the poverty-stricken times with a tale of homeless folk being cheerful about their situation. Rather disrespectful perhaps, but it's belittling poverty as much as it's ignoring the real unpleasantness of it. And all this jocularity builds into a very tender and poignant love story, giving a bittersweet twist without having to wallow in the depressing business going on in the streets at that time.The music and lyrics are by that celebrated duo Rodgers and Hart. Richard Rodgers is now of course better-known as having been one half of Rodgers and Hammerstein. His melodies are still just as beautiful, if a little less grand than they would be with Oscar Hammerstein, but Lorenz Hart was very much a writer of unique style, one that was crucial in the development of the genre. As oppose to the strictly stand-alone nature of most songs in musicals, Hart often leads in or out of a number with rhyming dialogue. He also has multiple singers take part in a song, often changing singer halfway through a line, making the song more a conversation than a performance. This all chimes in with the fact that the songs actually move the plot forward rather than commenting upon it.Director Lewis Milestone didn't too many musicals, but he was a great stylist as a filmmaker, using technique to build rhythms and tones on the screen. And this was ideal, because just as musicals were becoming less about stage performances, so too did they become more fluid in their stylisation. Milestone is great at making a choreography out of normal actions, such as Bumper and Acorn hitching a ride on the back of a cart on their way to New York. He makes every frame compliment the dynamics of the music at the time. In the first version of the title song, he switches quickly from a thronging crowd to a shot of Jolson on his own beside a tree, a couple of people walking leisurely in the background. It's a sublime moment.As for Jolson himself, he may have changed his clothes and surroundings, but he still has all the charm and appeal that made him the most popular entertainer of his day. At times his movements are so hammy they would look ridiculous from any lesser performer, but Jolson has such a genuine earnestness he makes us overlook that. When he makes his defence in the "trial" scene and does the little routine with two imaginary fleas, it harks right back to the music hall, but he makes it fit to this more contemporary character, pleading in a way that is comical but also endearing. A brief mention should also go to Jolson's co-star Harry Langdon, an old silent-era comic who made some truly appalling feature films in the previous decade. But as a supporting player with some kind of structure about him, he is not too bad, creating a jolly little character with some carefully-timed mannerisms. Even if Langdon wasn't a rival to Chaplin or Keaton, he was certainly a good comedy actor.The early sound era had been a testing time for the musical. The genre had been thrust to the forefront of the new medium, having had no time to develop (there were of course no silent-era musicals!). But Hallelujah, I'm a Bum is really everything a great screen musical should be, showing a dramatic shift in structure and tone but with a consistency of heart that a player like Al Jolson could bring – even if the demands upon him are slightly different. It demonstrates that, by this stage, the genre had well and truly arrived.

MartinHafer Wow, is this an unusual film! Not only is it about how wonderful it is to be a bum, but there also is a song that is anti-Bolshevik! For the life of me, I can't think of another film with themes like this!! Unlike most musicals, most of the dialog is actually sung--some very well and some definitely not! While this might sound like a good thing, it was NOT--especially when seen today. It's all very, very hard to enjoy as there aren't any particularly memorable songs and a little of this goes a very long way! As a result, it's a mildly interesting curio at best--and a film only for Jolson fans (both of them).Despite me not enjoying this film, it is interesting to silent comedy fans like me. Two old-time comedians are in the film--Harry Langdon (a gifted comic who is practically unknown today) and Chester Conklin (of the Keystone Kops and other supporting roles). Look for Langdon as 'Egghead'(the supposed Bolshevik) and Conklin plays 'Sunday' (sporting the familiar mustache but here it's gray--plus he also wears spectacles).

Swift-12 I can't think of an earlier film example of ethnic parity than Al Jolson's "Hallelujah, I'm a Bum", 1933. It's a fun musical (with bit parts played by composers, Rodgers and Hart) and co-starring Harold Lloyd and Frank Morgan. Lots of delightful rhyming dialogue. Among Depression era musicals, it's an oddity in that it doesn't dodge the poverty issue, yet remains light-hearted while dishing out the political/economic statements. I particularly liked the bank sequence where the camera tracks from the entrance, through the bank and ends behind the tellers' cages. It begins with a pair of big-wheeling businessmen discussing a deal involving an immense fortune. As successive conversations are overheard, the monies involved become smaller and more paltry. A guy can't get a loan for some small pittance. Finally one teller asks another for a measly buck is it just a dime?], and his buddy says he hasn't got one to give (this teller played by lyricist, Lorenz Hart).Anyway, I'm off the point of the introductory statement: Jolson's the unofficial "mayor of Central Park" -- a leader amongst all the hoboes living there. And his best friend, his friend mind you -- not some Rochester-style servant, not some lackey -- his FRIEND, who alone can get in his face to defy him when none of the other bums can -- his friend is an African-American wonderfully played by Edgar Connor.