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The Devil to Pay! (1930, Geo. Fitzmaurice)
🕑 Added 2025-11-08 19:42:13 +0000 UTC76/100
Second viewing, last seen at NYU (seems to have been a class on early sound in Hollywood; I wasn't actually taking it, just sitting in on screenings) in 1995. Were I to draft a list of the most purely likeable characters in cinema history, Willie Hale, as embodied-more-than-played by Ronald Colman, would be way up near the top, alongside Lloyd Dobler and Jane Craig; The Devil to Pay! mostly coasts on his laid-back charm, and I rarely wanted it to do anything more, frankly. First thing we see Willie do is interrupt an auction of his furniture to complain that everyone's overpaying to help him out, grab the auctioneer's gavel and proceed to reject all top bids. Second thing we see Willie do is place his luggage in a taxi to be delivered home, telling the cabbie that he's hoping the family will take out their anger on suitcases and be spent by the time he finally arrives. Third thing we see Willie do is fall in love with an adorable fox terrier (it's not Asta/George/Mr. Smith, I determined, though Myrna Loy has a supporting role here) in a pet-shop window and spend several minutes conducting a one-sided conversation about why he can't possibly afford to spend 15 of his remaining £20 on a dog before finally giving in. This all happens before we've even met anyone else of note, and by that point I was ready to follow the guy into battle, in part because he'd so clearly be uninterested in battle. Colman's performance is just effortlessly good-natured—he keeps referring to himself as a ne'er-do-well and a scoundrel, and clearly benefits from his father's wealth (even as Dad largely declines to indulge him), but still somehow comes across as the single nicest person on Earth. If you don't want to be Willie Hale's friend, I don't care to be your friend. Would I go so far as to say that Colman earns 76 needlessly precise points of @gemko enthusiasm all by his lonesome? I might!
Not having seen The Devil to Pay! for more than 30 years, I remembered only that it had seemed unusually fluid for 1930, which it in fact is: mostly clean sound apart from plentiful tape hiss, modestly effective compositions that don't seem obviously beholden to where mics have been hidden, actors who've somehow already figured out how to modulate their speaking voices for the screen. Given the era and the cast (Loretta Young's the female lead), I just assumed that it must also showcase witty dialogue within an impressively byzantine romantic plot, even if I couldn't recall any details. One of those things is true, at least. Written by Frederick Lonsdale (On Approval) and Benjamin Glazer (won an Oscar for 7th Heaven), the film has an unmistakable Austen influence—most prominent in the scene that sees Willie spar with the equivalent of Pride and Prejudice's Lady Catherine; his joy at being informed that Dorothy will inherit nothing should she marry him is infectious—and also seems to be aware of Philip Barry's work (Holiday was first adapted that same year, not very long after opening on Broadway), though it's much less aggressive and brittle in its jocularity. Choice lines include "Love you? I've been squinting ever since I met you" and, in response to his father complaining that Willie blames Dad for bringing him into the world, "I should be extremely mortified for your sake if I had to blame anyone else." (Also, best possible answer to "What do you want to go to New Zealand for?": "Because if I ever want to go to Australia, I'll be near.") But there's hardly any narrative to speak of, just a brief lovers' quarrel toward the end that itself speaks to Willie's decency, as he promises Dorothy never to see Mary again but then can't bring himself to dump her by letter or even by phone. A few more complications would almost certainly have been welcome, though I did cackle aloud when Willie accepts the $5,000 check (think $100,000) that Dorothy offers, believing him to be a gold digger, and breezily sails out of the room, leaving her even more stunned—you can guess that he won't keep the money, but it's still a highly satisfying riposte to her implicit insult. This might well represent the ceiling for very early sound (I have no other year with a favorite film as low as 76—though 2020, which of course experienced its own upheaval, comes close), and I can't legitimately make great claims for it as an overlooked classic. Just enjoy spending time with this fellow.
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