What promises to be a mild "B"-feature comedy turns into something rather less than that – thanks to the insertion of a whole reel of corny radio-type patter plumb in the center of the film. If this reel was eliminated, the movie would certainly have more appeal. True, the direction is mercilessly routine, but the cast holds some pleasant surprises, including brief appearances by Larry Parks (who has about two lines), Lloyd Bridges (who has one line), and Maurice Costello (who has no lines at all). Marie Wilson is on-screen for two or three minutes (and has two or three lines), and if you're really alert, you can catch a fleeting glimpse of Heinie Conklin near the end of the opening night club sequence. On the other side of the coin, Byron Foulger has a meaty part as an antediluvian professor. Oddly, Virginia Sale has more footage than Arline Judge, who does not figure in the Harvard episodes at all. Fortunately, there are some agreeable glimpses of Columbia starlets as bathing belles, and Tim Ryan does an agreeable turn as the English professor. However, it would seem that the budget ran out when the movie was half complete. Not only does it end abruptly, but includes a whole reel of static verbal padding. And to push out the running time even further, the editor has leaned heavily on reaction shots. Would you believe, Maxie Rosenbloom is allowed to hog the camera mercilessly. He even uses his own name! Production values, despite the credit to Franz Planer as cinematographer, are decidedly mediocre, even by "B"-picture standards.
Review of Harvard, Here I Come!
