I opened the last entry with a consideration of the Blondie character, so I think I’ll do something similar here with Baby Dumpling, that detestable little scamp who caught me completely off guard. His comic strip counterpart became a teenager in the 1950s; I couldn’t possibly anticipate an eight-year-old toddler. But in 1941, the young Bumstead son was but a lad, and sadly for child actor Larry Simms, the real world ages you whether you like it or not. One cannot forever remain an irrepressibly cute ragamuffin, and so one day poor Larry Simms would mature into this:
Time took its toll!Moving even further through the years, we find Larry Simms aged again, into this:
Actually, I joke. That’s a fake skeleton! Recent evidence indicates Simms is presently living in Thailand with his wife, this being the sort of info you can dredge up on the Internet – too bad for the privacy of a guy who quit show business in 1951.Now that I’ve wasted a little time, I can move on to discussing Blondie in Society. This is the longest Blondie movie of them all, and as such it eschews the traditional teaser opening I’ve refused to mention for about seven films. It also foregoes the opening paperboy gag, as I suspect the series as a whole has legitimately dropped that joke. Instead, the opening sees Dagwood returning home to find the Bumstead homestead surrounded by cop cars. It turns out Dagwood is suspected to be the victim of identity theft (there really is nothing new under the sun). This is all just a mistake, as Dagwood explains he meant for a certain Cliff Peters to forge his signature, something Dagwood feels he owes Peters, since they went to elementary school together. The logical leaps this man makes are totally alien to me.
The traditional morning routine is still a feature of these films, so I’ll just point out the unique details of this specific entry. Once again the family is in money trouble (we’re just shuffling through the standard sitcom plotlines), and Blondie wants Dagwood to get the $50 back from Peters – she has a mind to buy a bicycle, a perm and a washing machine, which were all pretty new things then. Baby Dumpling, for his story, wishes to join a legally distinct, knockoff version of the Boy Scouts, namely the Boy Rangers – this shall also require money. So Dagwood rushes out to retrieve the $50 dollars. The Sisyphean mailman has learned something in this ninth encounter with Dagwood, as he hides in a tree as the moron rushes past; the only problem is the tree then dumps him on the sidewalk anyway.
Nothing simple can ever happen in these movies, so somehow in his attempts to get his money back from Peters (Chick Chandler), Dagwood instead manages to gain ownership of a Great Dane. And no, this isn’t Dagwood vs. Marmaduke, the great geek event of 1941, for it wasn’t until 1954 that Brad Anderson created the worst comic strip in all history. No, this Great Dane is called Chin-Up, and would you believe this movie could come up with more humor about a massive dog than “Marmaduke” could in its 56 years? Of course you would, because these movies are fairly clever, and “Marmaduke” is merely the outlet for one old man’s dementia.
The central joke is the same. A Great Dane is big, perpetually hungry and endlessly destructive. Not a single member of Dagwood’s family is happy with this latest development, especially family dog Daisy, the shaggy little mutt, who flees from the demonic hell hound with a genuine expression of terror on her poor face. Even Dagwood is inconvenienced, as Chin-Up is the one living being ever to successfully devour one of his monumental sandwiches. But still, Chin-Up is a show dog, a possible champion at the dog shows, so there’s an impetus for keeping the beast.
This movie has a genuine affinity for chaos, the “genre” mode is chooses to work in. With Chin-Up escaping from Blondie’s meager captivity, he runs amok throughout the neighborhood, spreading death, doom and property damage throughout. Dagwood runs home from work, where he’s spent his day sleeping inside a doghouse (don’t ask), and he manages to capture a Great Dane. It’s a different Dane, though, one cleverly named Hamlet’s Soliloquy. Funny, isn’t it, how the instant you own a Great Dane, you start seeing Great Danes everywhere? Soliloquy’s owner is a Waldo Pincus (Wilber Frawley), millionaire, canine enthusiast, and potential investor for Dagwood’s boss, Mr. Dithers. These two men plan to see each other socially to discuss Great Danes over drinks, as you do, as meanwhile Chin-Up plows through Blondie’s front door, shattering it to pieces.
Dagwood opts to meet with Pincus for a dog dialogue in Dither’s office. Hence as Dithers sees Pincus, he suspects something truly unbelievable – that Dagwood is a good employee. A series of misunderstandings arises, and I’ve seen enough of these things in a row now to know exactly how such a set up will play out. Namely, Pincus will grow mad at Dagwood for accidentally setting him up with Dithers, rescind his generous offer to buy Chin-Up, and Dagwood will get fired. Bringing up the old layoff meter, I find this is the fourth time in nine movies Dagwood has lost the exact same job. This may not be the career for him.
Blondie takes Chin-Up to the vet (we don’t see just how she struggles to get this beast downtown in the first place). Chin-Up’s latest swath of destruction through the veterinary clinic simply incurs more bills, as well as the deathless wrath of the vet (Edgar Kennedy), the designated buttmonkey for this episode.
Well, we’ve got a misunderstanding between Dagwood, Dithers and Pincus. Shall we try for a misunderstanding between Dagwood and Blondie as well? Why not! For even though Blondie left Chin-Up at the vet’s (unable to pay the $35 to spring him – I guess that’s about $500,000 with inflation), she still somehow thinks Dagwood has sold the dog. So we’re back to awkward farcical underpinnings in this entry, a crutch that’s easy to lean on in the suburban setting. Dagwood, ever the cowardly he-whore, cannot tell Blondie about his firing – they really need a shorthand code to relay this particular info, as it happens so frequently. Thus Blondie schemes to go right ahead and do all that frivolous spending she’s dreamed of.
Cue Blondie’s wild shopping spree, which she manages to accomplish without leaving the house – this is without the Internet, mind you. As I keep forgetting, the Blondie universe is one where salesmen roam the suburbs like packs of feral mongrels, so it’s really easy to decide on a whim that you want this and that and the other thing. Blondie is simultaneously organizing the purchase of a washing machine, bicycle, Boy Rangers membership and a new front door when the vet calls from the clinic. This inspires a nice joke with the washing machine guy confusing “wringing” and “ringing.” Taking the phone, Blondie learns that Chin-Up is “a great hulk of worthless dog” who cannot perform at dog shows, since he instantly falls asleep, this Not So Great Dane. Chin-Up cannot keep his chin up, eh? Blondie promptly banishes all the crestfallen salesmen, as she herself falls into the standard funk of the stymied consumer. Leaving Dumpling at home and pummeling the mailman, she heads off to see a divorce lawyer (she divorces Dagwood nearly as often as Dithers fires him). Methinks this not the strongest marriage on earth; most couples at least wait until their child is in college, rather than kindergarten.
Blondie sees her divorce lawyer, whom she knows on a first name basis now. They proceed to have – yup – a misunderstanding. Blondie talks about the dog, but the lawyer thinks she’s talking about a mistress. This is a potentially rich, disgusting comic vein (subtly equating big dogs with sexual fiends has long been the purview of the “Marmaduke” strip), but it is left sadly untapped due to the squeamishness of the Hays Office. (That completes my once-per-entry complaint of the Hays Code.) The lawyer advises Blondie to “have only love in your heart.” That sounds like the moral of an animated movie!
Okay, a few more scenes take place between Dagwood, Dithers, Pincus, Blondie and the vet, the misunderstandings modifying and changing endlessly. I shall attempt to explain the end result as simply as possible. Dagwood has been rehired to Dithers’ company, on the condition that he and Dithers present Chin-Up as an olive branch of peace to Pincus. The only thing Dagwood can do wrong now is to enter Chin-Up in the upcoming dog show on his own. So naturally that’s just what Blondie does the instant Dagwood brings the hound home, because of course he doesn’t bother to explain any of these latest developments to her. People like this deserve to star in an endless series of convoluted farces.
The only problem, from Blondie’s perspective, is that Chin-Up cannot remain erect long enough for dog show purposes. She quickly finds a solution, which is pretty much the same solution Katherine Hepburn employed in Bringing Up Baby to tame her vicious pet leopard – singing. Apparently Chin-Up stands at attention any time someone sings the term “apple tree,” which is precisely the sort of phrase you’d encounter in 1940s pop music. Nowadays it’d be a phrase like “smack a bitch” or whatever – I don’t really pay music enough attention. Thinking back on this without rewatching the film, I cannot even remotely recall how Blondie learns this bizarre trick in the first place. But it hardly matters, since the producers were now intimately aware post-Blondie Goes Latin that Penny Singleton has a nice singing voice, and they were going take advantage of that at every opportunity possible. And making a Great Dane stand on all fours is as good a reason as any.
The next scene is something I really expected I’d see more of in this series: a live action variation on jokes from the comic…Okay, there might be more than I’m giving them credit for, since I’m only counting the running gags the strip continues to this day. An way, it’s time to do the “Dagwood tries to take a bath but is constantly interrupted” routine that normally runs on Sundays. With the added length and leisure of the feature film format (as opposed to three tiny cartoon panels), this gag can evolve to accommodate every plot development in play. The final punch line involves Dagwood finally returning to the bath to find Blondie bathing the massive Chin-Up. Yup, that’s funnier than “Marmaduke!” And I do apologize for using a 69-year-old movie to badmouth an unrelated comic strip; I’ve kind of been obsessing lately, as Google could attest.
It’s the day of the big dog show, which would seem to be an unlikely source of comedy except we all know the rather brilliant Best in Show. They’ve even found a way to work in Dumpling’s minor Boy Ranger plotline into this event, as a choir of the lads is in attendance on the show floor. The movie makes another great Great Dane joke, as Chin-Up very nearly devours a Pekinese whole. That “Marmaduke” strip occasionally dallies with canine cannibalism comedy, but never as hilariously as Blondie does. Way to show up something that wouldn’t be created for another thirteen years!
Okay, okay, I promise, no more “Marmaduke” comments.
Because both Dagwood and Blondie are separately tending to Chin-Up, but under entirely different motives, more of those untranscribeable misunderstandings make an appearance. First Pincus gets mad at Dagwood, then happy with him, then mad at him again, because his beloved Soliloquy will be facing off against Chin-Up (and an anonymous third Dane) in the great Great Dane dog show showdown. Also, Daisy is there on her own accord, and it’s rather a shame they weren’t able to find some crazier shenanigan for this dog to do than simply watch.
Blondie shows Chin-Up, but is forbidden from speaking while on the show floor – thus she’ll be unable to sing, and thus promote her dog’s rigidity. And remember, Dagwood’s job is on the line here – though I forget which outcome is the good one for him. Blondie’s solution (wait, is there an entry called Blondie’s Solution?) is to have the Boy Ranger choir sing instead. It turns out they don’t know the right song, but they know another song with “apple tree” as a lyric – this must be an entire musical subgenre! They sing, and Blondie sings as well (good voice, remember), this song a rather listless, sleep-inducing melody. It gets Chin-Up’s chin up, though, as the judges inspect his dogly form.
Chin-Up wins, and the owner is asked to come forward. This is the height of various compounded misunderstandings, so those appearing as owner include Pincus, Dithers, Dagwood, Peters and even the veterinarian. Because physical chaos is this movie’s raison de etre when it’s not ogling dogs, the misunderstandings now spread like viral gonorrhea, as all the dog show intelligentsia in attendance proceed to punch, bite and kick each other in a vicious melee, almost as if a soccer game were in progress! Ah, pure pandemonium, the best way to resolve a story when all else fails…
But you know how all this is ultimately going to turn out. Things shall return to normal, with Dagwood back at work, reunited with Blondie, and Chin-Up pawned off on Pincus. And as the movie’s final punch line, the vet gets paid for his troubles – actually, I don’t quite see how that’s a joke, but they treat it like one.
I really don’t have much else to say about this one. It was pretty much the baseline for the Blondie franchise, neither impressing me with unexpected cleverness, nor angering me with overly-stupid plotting. I’ll simply note that my opinions of the individual entries have varied wildly, an assessment that the series’ IMDb ratings do not back up. It seems that most who’ve seen these movies people (all 78 of them) look at them as a single uniform whole; I do not. But really, where would the interest lie if these movies were truly all the same?
Also, Marmaduke can go to hell and die!
Related posts:
• No. 1 Blondie (1938)
• No. 2 Blondie Meets the Boss (1939)
• No. 3 Blondie Takes a Vacation (1939)
• No. 4 Blondie Brings Up Baby (1939)
• No. 5 Blondie on a Budget (1940)
• No. 6 Blondie Has Servant Trouble (1940)
• No. 7 Blondie Plays Cupid (1940)
• No. 8 Blondie Goes Latin (1941)
• No. 10 Blondie Goes to College (1942)
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