Jack Buchanan's discovery, Jean Gillie, who made her film debut in This'll Make You Whistle (1937), has her best role ever in this, her second film. Actually, the above credits don't do her justice. They minimize her contribution by not detailing her dancing lithe, graceful yet full of pep. In addition to the opportunities to dance, the script also offers her a wonderfully rounded character who is charming, vivacious, naive, headstrong, child-like, emotional, perverse, self-centered, loyal, dutiful, ingenious, illogical. In short, thoroughly fascinating.
Aided by his photographer, make-up man, hair stylist and dress designer, director René Guissart brings out the best of Gillie. He also draws superb performances from Bobby Howes (for whom the script throws in many delightful routines including a bit where he side-splittingly enacts a ventriloquist's dummy) and Syd Walker (another expert in laughter-making).
Delectable Glen Alyn (a wow in a René Hubert evening gown) is perfect as the "other woman", whilst Ellis Jeffreys makes mother-in-law a riotous turn of snobbery. She has one of the film's funniest lines. When a character enthuses that Bane's Biscuits are a "household name", she retorts: "Yes, but it wouldn't be ladylike to repeat it." Wiliam Kendall (who also starred in This'll Make You Whistle) is marvelously stuffy as the biscuit man with little but time on his mind. He also makes the most of some delicious bits of comic business. The shot of him standing for the Matonian National Anthem through the roof his car is a classic.
Commendably, it's not only the principals and support players that have all the amusing lines. Two of the most amusing comebacks are handed to bit players, like the bandleader asked how much he will charge, replies, "£20." When the butler then instructs him that on no account are the musicians to mingle with the guests, the leader shoots back, "In that case, we'll do it for £15!" But the line that really had me in stitches was the "Thanks for the liniment!" topper as the long line of battered guests made their adieux.
The musical numbers are not only perfectly blended with the farce, they are an intrinsic part of the fun. Guissart directs the whole film with such style and panache, it's impossible to state that comedy is subordinate to dance, or vice versa.
Produced on a lavish budget, with excellent credits, Sweet Devil is an unabashed joy from go to whoa.
