Fanny Brice was a great Broadway star, one of the ones whose abilities did not translate to film that all well. It is worth it to watch her here, and extrapolate backwards to see the stage talent that made her famous. Blessed with perfect comic timing, she belts the blues, torches a ballad and parodies operatic singing in a way that would make Jerry Lewis jealous. It would all work better live and none of it burns into immortal memory, but still it's all interesting.
William Cameron Menzies' designs are delirious. The nightclub that hosts most of the action is decidedly surreal, and only he could make a boxing arena look like the Arabian Nights.
Harry Green acts a Jewish stereotype with such guilelessness and energy that he doesn't offend. He's safely in the past, and only non-Jews will be made confused and uncomfortable. The dates in his filmography suggest that he moved to England as a result of blacklisting rather than artistic irrelevancy, as is suggested in another review. England was a good choice for exile; they've always welcomed with open arms actors willing to play reductive ethnic clichés.
There is a peculiar fascination in the film with the shape of Robert Armstrong's nose. Fanny Brice had already had one of the earliest of the celebrity nose jobs, inspiring Dorothy Parker to observe that she had "cut off her nose to spite her race."
At any rate, Armstrong and the rest of the cast know exactly what to do and do it well. As with many early talkies, the pacing and continuity are uncertain. More artifact than musical comedy, we can watch the Jews and the Irish warily circling each other from the safe distance of the 21st Century.
