42nd Street (1933) Review: The Good, The Bad & How to Watch

 

42nd Street (1933) Review: The Good, The Bad & How to Watch 

American Film, Musical, Romance, Drama

Academy Awards, 1934-  2 nominations including: Best Picture
National Film Preservation Board, 1998- Winner: National Film Registry

The Golden Age of the Hollywood musical was born not out of glossy optimism, but out of absolute desperation. By 1933, the Great Depression had crushed box office receipts, and Warner Bros. was teetering on the edge of bankruptcy. Studio head Darryl F. Zanuck needed a miracle, and he found it in a gritty, fast-talking backstage melodrama directed by Lloyd Bacon and infused with the kinetic, architectural choreography of Busby Berkeley. That film was 42nd Street, a picture that did not merely save a studio, but single-handedly reinvented a genre by replacing genteel Broadway operettas with the raw, rhythmic pulse of the urban working class. More on Wikipedia or Mubi 

How 42nd Street Saved Hollywood From the Brink of Ruin 

At its core, the film relies on a timeless theatrical trope that would become the blueprint for decades of show-biz storytelling: the aging, ailing director mounting one final production, the fresh-faced ingenue thrust into the spotlight, and the relentless ticking clock of opening night. Warner Baxter plays Julian Marsh, a Broadway auteur whose health is failing and whose personal fortune has been wiped out by the crash, yet he pushes forward with a show titled Pretty Lady. When his leading lady twists her ankle hours before the curtain goes up on Broadway, a terrified chorus girl named Peggy Sawyer, played by an effervescent Ruby Keeler, is shoved onto the stage. What follows is not just a transformation of character, but a masterclass in cinematic pacing.

What makes 42nd Street endure nearly a century later is its refusal to look away from the harsh economic realities of its era. Unlike the escapist, upper-class penthouses of rival studios, Berkeley and his writers populated the stage wings with chorus girls worried about paying their rent, aging dancers terrified of losing their footing in a brutal market, and producers scrambling to meet payroll. The dialogue crackles with cynical wit and street-smart urgency. When Marsh famously barks to the terrified newcomer, "You're going out there a youngster, but you've got to come back a star," it resonates not as empty theatrical bluster, but as a survival mantra for a nation grappling with economic freefall.

The true genius of the production, however, lies in its explosive musical numbers. Busby Berkeley approached the camera not as a passive observer of stagecraft, but as an active participant that could defy gravity, scale walls, and dissolve space. In numbers like "Shuffle Off to Buffalo" and the iconic title track, Berkeley utilized overhead kaleidoscopic shots, deep focus, and rapid editing to transform lines of dancers into living, breathing geometric patterns. He pulled the audience off their seats and placed them directly into the surreal, mechanized daydreams of the Great Depression.

When the house lights finally came up on 42nd Street in the spring of 1933, audiences lined up around the block, eager to see their own anxieties metabolized into entertainment and triumph. It proved that art could emerge from the rubble of financial ruin, leaving behind a cinematic landmark that remains as sharp, brassy, and vital today as it was during its first midnight premiere.

The Good

On the positive side, the film's greatest achievement is its revolutionary approach to choreography and camera movement. Busby Berkeley completely shattered the theatrical convention of simply pointing a camera at a stage play. By utilizing overhead crane shots, rapid-fire editing, and geometric arrangements of dancers that mirrored kaleidoscopic patterns, he turned musical numbers into cinematic art forms that could never be replicated in a live theater. Furthermore, the gritty backstage realism provides a refreshing antidote to the sanitized escapism typical of the era. The script refuses to ignore the Great Depression, grounding its characters in financial desperation, rent worries, and the genuine terror of unemployment, which gives the story an authentic emotional pulse. 

The Bad

On the flip side, modern viewers might find certain aspects of the film a bit jarring or dated. The pacing of the first half can feel overly melodramatic, relying heavily on melodramatic subplots involving mobsters, gold-digging chorus girls, and backstage romances that occasionally stall the narrative momentum. Additionally, while Ruby Keeler's earnest charm is undeniable, her acting and tap-dancing skills are notably limited compared to the powerhouse performers who would follow her in later decades. Her wooden line delivery and stiff dancing can pull viewers out of the illusion, especially during dramatic confrontations where she is out-acted by seasoned veterans like Warner Baxter and Bebe Daniels.