This is not a particularly good film, but it's pretty entertaining, and I mean that in a bonkers kind of way, even by pre-Code standards. The premise is that a man fresh out of prison for his last scheme hatches a plan to run a fitness magazine ostensibly to promote health, but in reality to make money off of photos of beautiful young men and women, with some salacious stories mixed in. He and his female partner convince a publisher to front the money after they show him they've landed a couple of Olympians to work on the magazine, with the publisher's interest being further aroused by a blonde cousin who's along for the ride. The rub is that the Olympians are squeaky clean and truly want to promote exercise, and this central conflict proceeds from magazine to a 'fitness farm' that they begin to run.
Part of the fun of the film is the casting, as a young Ida Lupino plays one of the Olympians, and it's notable that she only turned 16 two days after it was released. Late in the film to protect her cousin (Toby Wing) from a lecherous crowd, she gets up on top of a table and shimmies around in her silky pajamas, which on its own is worth the price of admission. Buster Crabbe, fresh off his gold medal in the 1932 games, plays the other Olympian, and there are a large number of real-life beauty contest winners from various American states and the British Empire, including Ann Sheridan in her first screen appearance. The three people out for money over decency are played by Robert Armstrong, Gertrude Michael, and James Gleason, and the banter between them has good pep to it.
One of the most notable things about the raciness in the film is that the objectification is equal opportunity, and in fact there is probably more ogling of the male body here than the other way around. There are bare butt cheeks in a shower scene, and a woman training her binoculars on a swimmer's crotch and purring "ooh baby, you can come to mama!" There are countless scenes with muscular young men wearing nothing but shorts, and exchanges like this one from a group of women looking at photos of them:
"We're using those boys in an idea we're working on - outdoor sports with indoor trimmings." "As far as I'm concerned, outdoors, indoors, or behind doors." "Think your customers might give him a tumble?" "Tumble? If they were like me, they'd give him a double somersault." "Give me a look. Might turn a couple of handsprings myself." (studying pictures) "Mmm, haven't seen anything like that since...well, just call it since."
Somewhat out of left field, the film also includes an ensemble dance number with men and women in bathing suits prancing and jiggling about for five and half minutes near the end. The choreography is not up to the gold standard that is Busby Berkeley, but it's not bad, and definitely had me smiling. What a nutball of a movie this is, I was thinking while hoping no one would notice me watching this scene.
It's also interesting how the film kind of thumbs its nose at the morality police, those who would begin enforcing the Production Code in the middle of 1934, five months after this was released. For one thing, there's the cynical exchange between the women talking about the magazine story "I Loved an Artist," where one says that unhappy endings that serve as morality lessons are "baloney," and that in real life women probably get ahead in life for their dalliances. The protagonists in this story are Crabbe and Lupino's characters to be sure, but it's interesting that the fitness farm they run gets a bit fascist in how they crack down on partying and force guests to abide by their rigorous schedule. The ending, with the tight shot on the old publisher's butt as he's forced to touch his toes and the words "The End" scrolling onto the screen, one word per cheek, had me chuckling too. While low-brow, I liked the silliness and audacity in the face of the looming end to the pre-Code era.
Part of the fun of the film is the casting, as a young Ida Lupino plays one of the Olympians, and it's notable that she only turned 16 two days after it was released. Late in the film to protect her cousin (Toby Wing) from a lecherous crowd, she gets up on top of a table and shimmies around in her silky pajamas, which on its own is worth the price of admission. Buster Crabbe, fresh off his gold medal in the 1932 games, plays the other Olympian, and there are a large number of real-life beauty contest winners from various American states and the British Empire, including Ann Sheridan in her first screen appearance. The three people out for money over decency are played by Robert Armstrong, Gertrude Michael, and James Gleason, and the banter between them has good pep to it.
One of the most notable things about the raciness in the film is that the objectification is equal opportunity, and in fact there is probably more ogling of the male body here than the other way around. There are bare butt cheeks in a shower scene, and a woman training her binoculars on a swimmer's crotch and purring "ooh baby, you can come to mama!" There are countless scenes with muscular young men wearing nothing but shorts, and exchanges like this one from a group of women looking at photos of them:
"We're using those boys in an idea we're working on - outdoor sports with indoor trimmings." "As far as I'm concerned, outdoors, indoors, or behind doors." "Think your customers might give him a tumble?" "Tumble? If they were like me, they'd give him a double somersault." "Give me a look. Might turn a couple of handsprings myself." (studying pictures) "Mmm, haven't seen anything like that since...well, just call it since."
Somewhat out of left field, the film also includes an ensemble dance number with men and women in bathing suits prancing and jiggling about for five and half minutes near the end. The choreography is not up to the gold standard that is Busby Berkeley, but it's not bad, and definitely had me smiling. What a nutball of a movie this is, I was thinking while hoping no one would notice me watching this scene.
It's also interesting how the film kind of thumbs its nose at the morality police, those who would begin enforcing the Production Code in the middle of 1934, five months after this was released. For one thing, there's the cynical exchange between the women talking about the magazine story "I Loved an Artist," where one says that unhappy endings that serve as morality lessons are "baloney," and that in real life women probably get ahead in life for their dalliances. The protagonists in this story are Crabbe and Lupino's characters to be sure, but it's interesting that the fitness farm they run gets a bit fascist in how they crack down on partying and force guests to abide by their rigorous schedule. The ending, with the tight shot on the old publisher's butt as he's forced to touch his toes and the words "The End" scrolling onto the screen, one word per cheek, had me chuckling too. While low-brow, I liked the silliness and audacity in the face of the looming end to the pre-Code era.