Devil-May-Care (1929) Review: The Good, The Bad & How to Watch

 

Devil-May-Care (1929) Review: The Good, The Bad & How to Watch

American Film, Musical, War, Romance

Early All-Talkie Film 

The year 1929 marks a fascinating crossroads in cinematic history. As the silent era takes its final, elegant bows, the "talkies" are sweeping in with a roar of novelty. Amidst this transition, Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer has delivered a sparkling gem that proves sound isn't just for dialogue—it is for the soul of music. In Devil-May-Care, we find the charismatic Ramon Novarro shedding his silent persona to reveal a voice that is as suave and stirring as his onscreen presence. More on Wikipedia or Mubi 

 The Gallant Rebel of Old France: Ramon Novarro Captures Hearts in Devil-May-Care

he story transports us to the turbulent aftermath of Napoleon’s initial downfall. Novarro stars as Armand de Treville, a fiercely loyal Bonapartist officer who refuses to bow to the newly restored Bourbon monarchy. Facing a death sentence, our hero makes a daring escape that leads him into the path of the beautiful Leonie, played with a delicate mix of wit and grace by Dorothy Jordan. What follows is a delightful masquerade where Armand must pose as a humble servant to evade his pursuers while simultaneously wooing a woman who initially views his political convictions with disdain.

What truly elevates Devil-May-Care beyond a standard costume romp is its integration of song. This is one of MGM’s early ventures into the "all-talking, all-singing" format, and it handles the musical interludes with surprising sophistication. When Novarro breaks into song, it doesn't feel like a forced theatrical break but rather an extension of his character's Gallic charm. The melodies provide a romantic texture to the Napoleonic setting, allowing the audience to feel the yearning and the bravado of a man living on the edge of a blade.

The production values are exactly what one expects from a premiere studio like MGM. The sets are lavish, capturing the opulence of French manor houses and the stark, snowy landscapes of the escape sequences. The direction by Sidney Franklin balances the tension of political intrigue with the lightheartedness of a romantic comedy. Franklin understands that the audience is here to see a hero who is "devil-may-care" in the face of danger but deeply earnest in the face of love.

While some might find the plot’s reliance on coincidences typical of the era, the chemistry between Novarro and Jordan is undeniable. Novarro, often cited as a rival to Valentino, proves here that he has the versatility to survive the microphone’s scrutiny. He brings a physical energy to the role—leaping over balconies and engaging in spirited banter—that keeps the pace brisk and engaging.

Devil-May-Care is a testament to the enduring power of the romantic epic. It serves as a bridge between two worlds of filmmaking, offering the visual grandeur of the old guard and the melodic promise of the new. For those who enjoy a tale of high stakes, secret identities, and a touch of revolutionary spirit, this film is a vibrant reminder that even in the darkest political winters, a song and a bit of courage can spark a fire. It is a triumph for Novarro and a delightful treat for the modern moviegoer.

The Good: Why It Sparkled

The primary triumph of the film is undoubtedly Ramon Novarro. Transitioning from silent films to "talkies" was a career-killer for many stars whose voices didn't match their faces, but Novarro proved he was the real deal. His singing voice was surprisingly robust and charming, solidifying his status as a leading man who could handle the microphone.

The film’s musical integration was also ahead of its time. Unlike many early musicals that felt like filmed stage plays with stiff cameras, Devil-May-Care tried to maintain a sense of cinematic movement. The songs actually served the plot, helping to develop the romance between Armand and Leonie rather than just pausing the story for a performance.

Furthermore, the MGM "Glow" is fully present. Even in 1929, the studio didn't skimp on production. The Napoleonic costumes are lush, and the set designs provide a grand, atmospheric backdrop that makes the historical setting feel lived-in rather than like a cheap cardboard stage.

The Bad: Where It Stumbles

On the flip side, the pacing can feel quite jarring to a modern viewer. Because early sound recording equipment was bulky and restrictive, some scenes feel static. The actors often had to hover near hidden microphones, which occasionally resulted in "wooden" blocking where characters stand unnaturally still while speaking.

The plot is another area that invites criticism. It relies heavily on the "secret identity" trope, which even in 1929 was becoming a bit of a cliché. The convenience of Armand finding the perfect hiding spot—which just happens to be the home of a beautiful woman—requires a significant "suspension of disbelief."

Lastly, there is the tonal shift. The movie vacillates between a high-stakes political drama (men being sentenced to death) and a lighthearted musical comedy. At times, these two worlds clash, making it hard to tell if you should be fearing for the hero's life or humming along to his next tune. The ending, while satisfying for a romance, feels a bit rushed given the heavy political themes introduced at the start.
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