Good to have this one on a "restored and remastered" Warner Archive DVD, complete with its original "Overture" and its Technicolor sequences (be they a little bit damaged). Most people complain about the attempted restoration of the two Technicolor sequences, but I thought the archives did a remarkably good job here. Where they failed was with the Overture. I anticipated that it would be at least as effective as the stirring music track for Don Juan (1926). But not on your life! These boys have had three years to refine their task, and they come up with something that isn't a quarter as stirring or effective. Fortunately, the sound track of the movie itself is much better, though it too seems to have only half the volume and no more than a quarter of the Barrymore movie's oomph and daring. All the same, it's hard to keep Al Jolson down. Even at his worst (some of the end-man's corny feeds to the Interlocutor), Jolson is still almost the best thing about Mammy. I say "almost" because Al is actually thoroughly beaten for acting honors by the title lady herself, brilliantly played here by Louise Dresser. Despite the movie's title, her role is actually rather small. But you'll never forget her. Wisely, Curtiz, his cameraman (Barney McGill), his editor (Owen Marks) and his costume designers (Earl Luick and Edward Stevenson) focus all our attention on Louise when she does actually appear. For once in the picture, Jolson feeds her all the dialogue. In all other scenes in which he appears, Jolson is the one who is fed. This is bad, actually, because it makes the plot hard to follow when the victim is given all the close-ups and the perpetrator is almost always observed in long shot and makes virtually no impression at all. Still, you could argue that Mammy is a musical and that the plot doesn't really matter. There's more than a bit of truth in that argument, so don't let the plot worry you. Just sit back and enjoy all the standard Irving Berlin minstrelsy.

Al Jolson occupies an unusual place in cinematic heritage. Dubbed the world's greatest entertainer, and certainly the most popular one in his day, Jolson will also forever remain famous for being the star of the world's first talking picture. And yet, due to much of his act and many of his screen appearances being in blackface, as well as the general quaintness of his style which owes far more to the musical hall than it does the screen, he is a figure whose work is today discussed far more than it is enjoyed.Mammy was Jolson's fourth movie, and perhaps surprisingly is the first in which he had been paired with a major hit songwriter – in this case, Irving Berlin. The lesser-known Ray Henderson may have given Jolson his biggest hit with "Sonny Boy", but Irving's knack of mixing upbeat jollity with a bittersweet tug chimes in perfectly with Jolson's own style. The key song of Mammy is "Let Me Sing and I'm Happy" which is among Berlin's simplest both in melody and sentiment, and really suits Jolson's persona down to the ground.Mammy also sees Jolson placed before a rather heavyweight director of dramas, namely Hungarian émigré Michael Curtiz, as opposed to comedy and musical specialist Lloyd Bacon who had helmed his previous two releases. Curtiz's tendency to fill up spaces with layers of extras and assorted business, tightly framing actors amid their settings isn't really what this picture needs, but nevertheless the director adds a few little touches to help ease out the story's emotions. Most notably we have several facial close-ups, a couple of Louise Dresser and one of Lois Moran. A pretty standard trick, but these are not just any close-ups. Take the one of Dresser after she has said goodbye to Jolson. Behind her we see some people walking to screen left, after which we cut to the train pulling away screen right, making it visually appear that the two shots are moving in opposite directions. Curtiz was also known to encourage restrained performances from his cast, and indeed we do get some beautifully understated turns from silent stars Louise Dresser and Hobart Bosworth. Even Al himself is a good deal more subtle under the influence of Curtiz.However, the real key to Mammy's appeal – the reason why these pictures were more than just Jolson showcases – is the way that the songs are placed within the narrative. This is of course long before the days when the "integrated" musical was commonplace, and yet the emotional weight of each song has undergone consideration, probably by original "idea" writer Berlin, such story-based song deployment being another of his talents. Jolson's performance of "Looking at You" ironically comes just after his inadvertently putting himself in an embarrassing situation with Lois Moran, and the utter inappropriateness of the song at that moment increases that feeling of awkwardness. "Let Me Sing and I'm Happy" as well as being Jolson's introductory number, is reprised twice, firstly when he is about to be arrested, and again at the end of the picture – each time for completely different impact due to its placement. And this is something Jolson himself is clearly aware of, putting a veneer of professionalism over each rendition, but allowing his character's emotional state to show through according to the context in which the song is sung.This may be one of the finest Jolson features, but ironically it was part of a downward turn in his career. His pictures were becoming repetitive, and now a few years into the talkie era he was less of a novelty. He would disappear from screens for a few years before reinventing himself as a more conventional musical star for the mid-30s, more or less divorced from his music-hall roots. Still, Mammy provides an opportunity to see him as he was to early audiences, before he even stepped in front of a camera, taking simple, hackneyed routines, pouring in his heart and soul and making them his own.

I saw today the restored version of "Mammy," restored in that the two colour sequences have been put back in. (Some areas had to use sepia-tinted bridging sequences.) I'm no fan of Jolson, but the movie did keep my interest, the presentation was good, and Al here is somewhat restrained, all of which added up to a surprisingly good time. Presentation (including a very good soundtrack) is everything

MAMMY (Warner Brothers, 1930), directed by Michael Curtiz, became Al Jolson's fourth feature, following earlier screen efforts as "The Jazz Singer" (1927), "The Singing Fool" (1928) and "Say It With Songs" (1929). Although not one of the best in the Jolson series, the movie somewhat hits home to Jolson's early years as a minstrel man. With the songs by Irving Berlin, he is also credited with its story idea titled "Mr. Bones." Al Jolson stars as Al Fuller, the lead singer of a minstrel show. He is hopelessly in love with Nora Meadows (Lois Moran), the daughter of the minstrel manager (Hobart Bosworth), but her real interest is in Billy West (Lowell Sherman), the interlocutor who ignores her so he can keep his eyes on other women. One night during a comedy act, Al, who is to "shoot" Westy at the close of the skit, finds Westly on the floor unconscious, and soon realizes that someone had placed real bullets in his gun. Following the performance, Al is arrested for attempted murder. When the police wagon that's carrying Al turns over, Al escapes. Bumming around in freight trains and eluding the law, he decides to pay his mother (Louise Dresser) her long-awaited visit. Knowing that something is wrong with her son, Mrs. Fuller doesn't let on, but she does gives Al her motherly advice in saying, "If anyone says anything against you, son, always MAKE THEM PROVE IT." Knowing that he is innocent of the shooting, Al decides to take her advice and go back to face the music, but when he does, he finds a different tune awaiting him.Music and lyrics by Irving Berlin include: "Let Me Sing and I'm Happy," "Here We Are," "Who Paid the Rent for Mrs. Rip Van Winkle?" "The Knights of the Road," "Yes, We Have No Bananas" (by Frank Silver and Irving Cohn); Guiseppi Verdi's "Miserere" from Il TROVATORE; "Looking At You Across the Breakfast Table," "Here We Are" (reprise); "In the Morning," "Why Do We Take the Night Boat to Albany?" "Swanee River" (by Stephen Foster); "Let Me Sing and I'm Happy" (reprise); "To My Mammy" (sung by Jolson to Louise Dresser); and "Let Me Sing and I'm Happy" (closing number). Of all the songs presented here, "Let Me Sing and I'm Happy" comes off best, sung three times by Jolson, each in a different style.Originally filmed in early Technicolor, existing prints today are shown in black and white. Storyline is passable, but does have its slow points, one in which Jolson's purposely stutters to a visiting sheriff (Jack Curtis) so to give the theater troupe time to take off on a train, only to learn that the sheriff isn't there to arrest anybody, but to join the company; and another when Jolson gets drunk, a scene that appears longer than what it is. Jolson's acting hasn't improved much dramatically but succeeds in perking up the plot with his energetic singing. Also featured in the cast are Tully Marshall as Slats, Al's tag-along hobo he befriends in a freight car during his escape from the law; Stanley Fields and Mitchell Lewis, among others.Due to the controversy of the movie, mainly because of it lengthy minstrel show routines, "Mammy" is a rarity on TV, or anywhere for that matter. Currently available on video cassette, it can also be seen sporadically on late night cable television's Turner Classic Movies.(**)