How sad is this?

everything you have heard about this movie is true.

If the ambition is to provide two hours of instantly forgettable, popcorn-munching escapism, it succeeds.

An old-fashioned movie made with new-fashioned finesse.

There's definitely a spark missing from this version of the Thornton Smith story of what happens when a simple mortal (Alan Mowbray) suddenly has the power to turn the human beings who annoy him into statues and bring Greek and Roman gods and goddesses to life. Reminding me of "The Man Who Could Work Miracles", this story shows how Mowbray takes it too far (although I agreed with his choices of whom he turned into marble) and how the Gods try but fail to fit into the modern world. Mowbray is the whole show, zapping people left and right at a society function, then heading off to the Metropolitan Museum of Art where he brings ancient statues back to life and finds that the Gods and Goddesses had their issues of getting along with each other as well. Florence McKinney plays the soft hearted young lady in love with the rambunctious Mowbray, following him like a love lorn unicorn all over Manhattan. The film has its creative moments, but unfortunately, never springs to the full life force it could have been, seemingly missing the zest from Smith's story. Of course, the finale seems inevitable and predictable, but there is some fun along the way. It's a missed opportunity that might have been made more potent by being done as a musical, a la "The Boys From Syracuse" or the Eddie Cantor musical farce "Roman Scandals".

Thorne Smith was a writer whose stories reliably made good movies, even after the censors cut some of the juice out of them. I am also an Alan Mowbray fan. Thus, I expected a lot from Night Life of the Gods. The title itself suggested a witty parodyThis film did not deliver A large amount of time was devoted to Mowbray using his magic ring to freeze annoying people and bring ancient statues of Greek gods to life. Zip! Zap! Huntz Hall could have done it much better. It takes forever to get to the part where the gods are brought to life. When this finally happens , the Gods turn out to be .morons. There are no comments from them about modern life nor any comparison with lifer on Mt. Olympus. They just act like bewildered children with an immense sense of entitlement. Unfortunately, there is very little humor in their romp through New York City.Florine McKenny is the romantic interest She hams it up royally. Everyone else also does the same, but it is unusual to see this in the romantic lead. She screws her face into some awfully unattractive expressions which I can't remember ever seeing from a female romantic lead, at least not from one as attractive as she.Too bad.

I've been interested in seeing this rare film for quite awhile, and after locating a poor quality DVD (a copy-of-a-copy-of-a-copy) I sat down to watch in a state of keen anticipation. By the end, I was shaking my head in bewilderment, wondering how the project could have misfired so badly. This is a strange, disjointed attempt at freewheeling fantasy, though you have to give the filmmakers credit for sheer moxie. Night Life of the Gods is not good, but it's not a total dud, either; it's highly original, and there are scattered moments that work, but those bits are overwhelmed by strained efforts at whimsy, punchlines that fall flat, and embarrassing performances by supporting players who look like refugees from a small town community theater. I don't regret seeing it and wouldn't mind taking another look someday if a better print turns up, but let the viewer beware: this movie is strictly for connoisseurs of Le Cinema Bizarre.Night Life of the Gods was based on a novel by Thorne Smith, the novelist best known for his comic fantasies "Topper" and "I Married a Witch." Smith specialized in imaginative tales of the supernatural with decidedly risqué elements. This one tells the story of eccentric inventor Hunter Hawk (Alan Mowbray) who concocts a ring that can turn people to stone, and can also bring statues to life. He promptly turns his annoying family to stone -- except for his pretty niece -- and goes on a drunken stroll through the woods. There he meets Meg, daughter of a leprechaun, who promptly falls in love with him. They go to a roadhouse to dance, but when an argument breaks out Hawk turns several people to stone and flees. The next day he and Meg go to New York and visit the Metropolitan Museum. They remain after closing time and then bring several classical statues to life, including Apollo, Diana, Bacchus, Neptune, and Venus. They escort the gods and goddesses out of the museum, and take them to a department store to buy them clothes. The humor is supposed to derive from the incongruous behavior of these mythological deities in modern Manhattan, but this is where the script falls short: these gods aren't crazy, they're just plain silly. The actors seem desperate to work up a "screwball" atmosphere, but the material leaves them stranded.Anyhow, once they're properly attired Hunter installs his charges in a fancy hotel. They invade the hotel swimming pool but Neptune can't resist poking people with his trident. Venus is given new arms but no one will accept a hug from her. (Why not?) Later, in a monomaniacal quest for fish, Neptune invades a fish market and gets into a Monty Python-style fish-slapping fight with merchant Henry Armetta. Unfairly, the merchant is turned to stone. By this point, word has reached the police and they close in on Hawk and the naughty gods. Hunter & Meg return the deities to the museum, transform them back into statues, and then turn themselves to stone. That's where the movie was supposed to end, but preview audiences rejected this finale, so director Lowell Sherman was forced to add a dream framework he disliked, one which wraps up the story on a resoundingly flat note.One of the key problems with this movie is our protagonist, Hunter Hawk. Alan Mowbray was a gifted character actor, but he wasn't really leading man material, and it's difficult to like the guy he's playing: Hawk has a mean streak, and once he has the power to turn people to stone he uses it with reckless abandon. I'm not sure any other actor could have made this man more likable -- Roland Young, perhaps? In any case, the script is full of stupefyingly bad jokes. (Example: when Mercury is brought to life he says: "Thanks, I was bored stiff." Groan.) Gilbert Emery manages to earn some laughs as the unflappable butler, but there are too many quips that bomb, too many sour notes and too many loose plot threads for this movie to be a satisfying experience. Even so, watching Night Life of the Gods is certainly memorable, and never predictable except for that hokey, tacked-on ending. Even film buffs who think they've seen the weirdest stuff out there may watch this one in astonishment.P.S. Since writing this piece I've learned a few more things about the movie. For starters, it seems the project itself was plagued by bad luck. Author Thorne Smith died suddenly of a heart attack during the summer of 1934, just as the film was going into production, and then director Lowell Sherman caught pneumonia as it was wrapping up. He lived long enough to complete a final edit but died before the film's release. There are some odd stories in circulation about what caused Sherman's illness; supposedly, he found the sound stage uncomfortably warm and took to directing the film in his underclothes! For what it's worth, I've examined a file of material concerning this film at NYC's Performing Arts Library, and found a photo of Sherman on the set: he's wearing shorts and a sports shirt, certainly casual attire for a director at the time, but not what anyone would call alarmingly under-dressed.The film itself is lucky to have survived. Apparently the only known print was held by a collector who turned it over to the UCLA Film Archive in the 1980s, where it remains. A video copy was made before the print was locked away, and all copies now in circulation derive from that 20 year-old dub, which is why the image quality is so poor. As noted above I feel the movie is something of a misfire, yet it still deserves a decent restoration and a chance to find a new audience. Movies as strange as this one don't come along every day!

A one-of-a-kind comic fantasy from the pen of Thorne Smith, creator of "Topper", this strained whimsy has eccentric playboy Alan Mowbray invent a magic ring that turns people to stone. After rendering his annoying family into marble, he spends the night drinking with leprechauns, and then visits New York's Metropolitan museum, where he throws his ring into reverse and brings to life the statues of ancient Greek gods. Hectic shenanigans ensue when they all check into the Waldorf-Astoria hotel: Bacchus drinks rubbing alcohol, Venus de Milo acquires arms, Neptune starts a slapstick fight in a fish market, and so on. More witty than funny, the movie is afloat with Prohibition-era tipsy jokes, but manages to get an occasional naughty touch past the Hays Code restrictions. Mowbray captures the right energy and manic glint in his eye, and an imperturbable butler wins some laughs, but the others give overly broad performances that are comic, but in the wrong way. At this point in history, the curiosity value and Art Deco sets exceed the entertainment, or maybe they've now become the entertainment.