Review by boblipton

About the turn of the 20th Century, Robert Young is the scion of one of those decaying mansions down south, with Henrietta Crossman for a domineering mother and Lionel Barrymore for a befuddled, useless uncle. A Yankee has rented part of the land to raise tobacco, but dies before we get to see him. Instead, his daughter, Janet Gaynor plans to keep on raising the tobacco; shopkeeper Russell Simpson is interested in backing her; he sees the future of tobacco, and so forth.

Of course Young and Miss Gaynor fall in love, and of course Miss Crossman does all she can to foil that passion. Stepin Fetchit is there to annoy everyone, especially me, and Shirley Temple has three lines -- if you look at this to see her, you'd best be patient, as she shows up at the very end.

I don't believe director Henry King was capable of directing a bad movie, but this one, with its outdated motifs, and singing the glories of tobacco, comes pretty close to it. The performances are all excellent, as you should expect from that cast, and Hal Mohr offers his usual impeccable cinematography. At least it has a story that makes sense, a major accomplishment at Fox in 1934. It's one of those movies I would award a split rating to; on a scale of 1-10, a 9 for execution, a three for how badly it has aged. It's a movie for those who have a completist's interest in one or more of the cast and crew.