The Griggs family live in a really-nice house in a really-nice neighborhood. Dad is a college professor, and his daughter is a librarian. Yet, we're supposed to buy that the family is so "poverty-stricken", buying tea and fancy cakes forces them to fall behind on their mortgage? Spare me!
What had me wanting to put my head through the TV was the Woe Is Me Act by the Professor and Mrs. Professor. Why is it up to Rich Boy to tell his dad to raise Hell with the Board over the Professor's meager wages? Why doesn't the Professor (whom has tenure, I assume) go to the Board and raise Hell over his meager wages? Why doesn't Mrs. Professor tell the Professor to go to the Board and raise Hell over his meager wages? Why don't we see the other professors go to the Board and raise Hell over their meager wages? Why doesn't the Professor just quit and go to another college? These human doormats allow their circumstances to control them instead of the other way around. To add insult to injury, the title cards are few and far between (and lamely written, too boot). Unless you read lips, you won't know what everyone is blubbering about 90% of the time.
Then there is the "dilemma" Librarian faces choosing between her Three Romeos. Only Rich Boy is proactive in his pursuit of her (ignoring the Society Girl who loves him). Next door neighbor Shoe Boy just stares at her, and by the time Rich Boy's pal Preacher Man decides to make his weak-as-water move, it's too late. The film's final shot is of him walking away, moping.
The Blot's premise is as laughable as the idea of the Griggs's reputation being threatened over Mrs. Professor's half-hearted attempt to swipe Shoe Boy's mother's chicken. Mrs. Professor loses it when a basket of food containing - you guessed it - a chicken is delivered to the house, courtesy of Rich Boy. Mrs. Professor speculates as much to Librarian, who refuses to eat the subsequent chicken dinner, thinking it's Shoe Boy's Mother's chicken (which she tries later to reimburse Shoe Boy's Mother for); they fall into blubbering sobs after Rich Boy confirms that he sent the chicken! Had this ham-fisted virtue-signaling on income inequity not been written and directed by a woman, would critics and film scholars be praising it to the skies? Doubt it.
What had me wanting to put my head through the TV was the Woe Is Me Act by the Professor and Mrs. Professor. Why is it up to Rich Boy to tell his dad to raise Hell with the Board over the Professor's meager wages? Why doesn't the Professor (whom has tenure, I assume) go to the Board and raise Hell over his meager wages? Why doesn't Mrs. Professor tell the Professor to go to the Board and raise Hell over his meager wages? Why don't we see the other professors go to the Board and raise Hell over their meager wages? Why doesn't the Professor just quit and go to another college? These human doormats allow their circumstances to control them instead of the other way around. To add insult to injury, the title cards are few and far between (and lamely written, too boot). Unless you read lips, you won't know what everyone is blubbering about 90% of the time.
Then there is the "dilemma" Librarian faces choosing between her Three Romeos. Only Rich Boy is proactive in his pursuit of her (ignoring the Society Girl who loves him). Next door neighbor Shoe Boy just stares at her, and by the time Rich Boy's pal Preacher Man decides to make his weak-as-water move, it's too late. The film's final shot is of him walking away, moping.
The Blot's premise is as laughable as the idea of the Griggs's reputation being threatened over Mrs. Professor's half-hearted attempt to swipe Shoe Boy's mother's chicken. Mrs. Professor loses it when a basket of food containing - you guessed it - a chicken is delivered to the house, courtesy of Rich Boy. Mrs. Professor speculates as much to Librarian, who refuses to eat the subsequent chicken dinner, thinking it's Shoe Boy's Mother's chicken (which she tries later to reimburse Shoe Boy's Mother for); they fall into blubbering sobs after Rich Boy confirms that he sent the chicken! Had this ham-fisted virtue-signaling on income inequity not been written and directed by a woman, would critics and film scholars be praising it to the skies? Doubt it.