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Dinner at Eight (1933)

A review by Damian Cannon.
Copyright © Movie Reviews UK 1997
A plethora of MGM stars boost this exceptionally sharp comedy into orbit, as they play a broad spectrum of society people. Organising a dinner party, which is all-important to her, Mrs Oliver Jordan (Billie Burke) is frantic with all of the details. In order to impress the honoured guests, who are rich British aristocrats, she absolutely must have diners of the highest calibre. Her husband Oliver (Lionel Barrymore) can only nod in agreement with her plans, so exhausted is he from fighting to save his shipping line and their fortunes. The tales of the guests, which are fiendishly entangled, spread out from this moment (culminating in the dinner itself). In his office Oliver is visited by Carlotta Vance (Marie Dressler), a faded stage star who still acts as if she was in the public's eye (although internally she understands the situation and the decline that age brings). She and Oliver go back a long way, to the time when he asked for her hand in marriage - even decades later he still adores her. Carlotta's finances are as delicate as Oliver's and she'd like to sell her shares in the firm, even though the Depression is in full swing.

It's a bad time for Oliver though because right now he can't buy her shares yet he's frightened of an outsider taking over the business (by amassing loose shares). His next visitor is Dan Packard (Wallace Beery), a self-made millionaire with a no-nonsense approach to business. With his help Oliver hopes to salvage the Jordan Shipping Co. and save it from financial predators, although he doesn't realise that Packard is a wolf in sheep's clothing. To facilitate their help the Packards are invited to this prestigious dinner, much to the disgust of Oliver's wife ("He smells of Oklahoma!"). She has a point if you consider the down-market values of the Packards, especially those of manipulative, nouveau-riche Kitty (Jean Harlow). More than happy to spend all day in bed, ordering her equally cheap servants around and expecting diamonds in return. Theirs is a tempestuous relationship where Dan is consumed with the pursuit of wealth and power, trampling over anyone in his way, while Kitty has ambitions of becoming a lady (their language easily betrays their gutter origins however).

Another invitee is Larry Renault (John Barrymore), a silent movie star who now lives in a world of debts and alcohol. Larry remembers the times when he could pick his roles (and girlfriends) as if they were yesterday, because he believes that they were yesterday! Self-delusion is his strong point. However, Paula Jordan (Madge Evans) has met and fallen in love with him (she is Oliver's daughter), to the detriment of her engagement. Larry relishes the attention of this sweet young lady but knows, deep inside, that she shouldn't get attached to an old has-been like him. The awful reality of his decline is bought home to Larry by his agent Max Kane (Lee Tracy), whom he abuses in his drunken, paranoiac state. Reduced to pawning the silver frames of his pictures, Larry knows that the future is a desolate place.

With this build-up, the dinner party eventually takes place. Unfortunately the British guests have cancelled, throwing Mrs Jordan into a frenzied tailspin of worry. Their vacuum allows for the airing of some particularly significant home-truths, suggesting that the dinner party is something of a success.

In this masterpiece, George Cukor managed to control and extract the strengths of his star-studded cast to memorable effect. Clearly adapted from the stage, with its long scenes, this heritage works to great advantage with the vignettes which compose the story. The script is astoundingly perfect, vibrant with witty language, knowing comments and a pulsating energy which envelops the actors. Despite being set in the Depression era the stories are just as amusing today, betraying none of the six decades which have passed since its making. If it's at all possible the acting is even better, with each performer inhabiting their role to perfection. Lionel Barrymore is depressingly excellent as the broken-down star (mirroring his own life), John Barrymore is beautiful as the only honest man in the entire picture and Dressler is magnificent in her struggle with time. Every character is impressive, bursting with distinct qualities and just so much more three-dimensional than the simple sketches which inhabit many movies. Pure, unadulterated class.

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