This is a blog post that accompanies the most recent bonus pod! You can listen to the first 15 minutes of the bonus pod below, but you’ll have to subscribe on Patreon to get the RSS feed of the full episode (as well as access to our Discord). 

Honestly, at this point, the topic for our bonus episodes comes up on the fly— literally as we are in the middle of recording an unrelated episode. I apologize to any listeners (all five of you) who constantly suggest films for us to cover; we’ll get to them eventually!

I can’t recall exactly what the impetus was, but during some odd pod recording, Spencer mentioned Christopher Walken’s “30s pimp” outfit from Pennies from Heaven (1981). Being a lackluster movie guy, I had no idea what he was talk-en about, but once I looked the character up, I was intrigued. It looked like a 60s (or 70s) version of a 30s outfit, complete with a pattern mixing, a narrow purple necktie, fedora, and a neatly groomed mustache. Spencer said he watched the movie with his girlfriend and was rather taken with it, especially since he’s also a fan of pop music from the period (his car playlist back when we were teens was straight out of 1935). We made up our minds; we were going to cover this film! 

Holy shit, I don’t know what I was expecting. First off, while all of the dancing is real, all of the singing is lip-synced, with the actors miming the lyrics to actual period recordings. It’s a jukebox musical unlike anything you’ve ever seen, creating a surreal experience that contrasts with the gritty, dark portrayal of the Great Depression. This movie is bleak, while still featuring big dance numbers full of elaborate choreography, chorus lines, and a plethora of tap dancing, all in the 30s style. The contrast is entirely the point:  Pennies From Heaven is a subversion of the happy-go-lucky Golden Era films we’ve come to know. All of the romance is ill-fated and shallow. The charming men are manipulative and violent. There is no happy ending…well, not one founded in reality, at least. 

We follow Arthur, a traveling sheet music salesman (that was a real job?) who has rather excitable, shall we say, proclivities, who is more concerned with the happy world found in the songs he sells instead of the reality he resides in. Arthur’s constant lying and gallivanting lead him to have an affair with Elaine, a sweet local school teacher (played wonderfully by Bernadette Peters), and in the midst of their cover-up, their pair is set down a tragic path.  There are a few other characters as well, like Joan, Arthur’s longsuffering wife who pleads for him to stay and be happy, a mysterious Accordion Man, and Tom, a local pimp who may just be the devil himself. The songs they and the rest of the cast perform serve as both a respite from the sad story and a way to illustrate their inner monologue and emotions. That’s a facet for almost every musical, but the sheer contrast between “real life” and the “song world” is what makes this movie quite good. Joker: Folie à Deux tried to do something similar, but it fell significantly worse than this.

It also helps that the costuming in Pennies from Heaven is very good!

For a surreal, high-concept (and quite dour) film, Pennies from Heaven does a great job with its grounded period attire. In fact, the movie can even serve as an effective sampling of vintage menswear styling! 

Arthur, our rather unlikeable protagonist, certainly gets some fits off in this film. The song-obsessed and uncouth salesman seems to have a penchant for grey 3PC suits, first seen in a two-button grey flannel (the belt back detail and release year call to mind the teaching attire worn by a fedora-ed archaeologist) and later, a pinstriped SB peak lapel number that definitely feels Fred Astaire-esque (which makes sense as they watch the film).  Each suit is cut quite nicely, featuring a lightly structured shoulder, a nicely draped chest, and trousers with high waists and wide legs. The pinstriped suit even has a DB waistcoat, showing that costumer Bob Mackie knew his 30s sartorialisms. When not wearing the vest, Arthur still retains a chest piece garment in the form of two different fair isle sweater vests. All of this immediately sells the audience on the fact that this is a man in 1934!

Underneath, Arthur wears the “30s special” throughout the film: a patterned tie against a striped point-collar shirt, complete with a collar clip. It’s a simple move, but it does a lot to make an outfit look decidedly period. This also lets Arthur show a bit of personality, as he tends to opt for vibrant combinations, featuring exploded abstract designs against a boldly striped shirt; these are no doubt a shout-out to the era’s frequent use of elegant brocades and multistripe shirts. However, keen-eyed vintage heads will notice a bit of an anachronism: Arthur’s brazenly designed ties are more 40s swing than 30s deco-abstract (printed rather than woven), and his long point shirts are more late 60s-70s inclined with their lack of tapered curve. This sort of thing happens quite a bit in period movies, especially with The Sting (whose use is charming in its own right), but it’s much more palatable here, namely because the tie knots are all narrow (and good). If anything, the wild tie patterns serve to echo Arthur’s loutish and aggressive personality. 

Arthur’s attire certainly shines during the musical numbers, giving the film the opportunity to fully poke fun at the 30s saccharine songs—and to showcase Bob Mackie’s vintage menswear chops! In the bank scene, Arthur starts out in grey flannel (with a pink-striped dobby and brown tie), but suddenly changes into an immaculate morning-dress ensemble, complete with spats, pale grey gloves, a sequin DB waistcoat, and a cravatte emblazoned with a dollar sign. The look is completely over-the-top and very 30s, making for a memorable song-and-dance (with an absolutely fantastic tap dance routine). Morning dress is a stereotypically “fancy look” (being worn mainly by rich guys, even during this period), so it makes sense for Arthur to wear it when he fantasizes about being approved for the loan. Arthur later completes the “formality circle” by wearing white tie when he and Eileen literally step into “Let’s Face the Music and Dance”.

My favorite dance look has to be the vaudeville scene, where Arthur and his fellow salesmen jump into deliciously cheeky plaid suits. Unlike the fuller cut of the 30s, the suits in this sequence have a trim silhouette, harmonized with short jackets and trouser hems. With exploded plaids, stiff club collars, spats, bow ties, and derby hats, the trio is meant to be dressed after the 1880s-1890s, which was when the genre really started to take off. I particularly enjoy the color coordination between the wearer’s velvet lapels, odd-waistcoats, and shirt base. You don’t really see much of this anymore, even if it is meant to be an exaggerated costume within the mind of Arthur. 

The film has a bunch of other well-dressed characters, though it goes without saying that none of them are meant to be clotheshorses. This was simply how people dressed back then, a quality Bob Mackie expertly upheld when costuming this film. 

One major example is the banker near the beginning of the film. Like Arthur, he wears a 3PC suit, but his look is much more conservative: a black 3PC suit accessorized with formal details like a stiff club collar (more dressy than a regular ‘ol striped spearpoint), a grey striped tie (a nod to morning dress or Stroller suits), a dual watch chain, and, of course, spats. This combination immediately gives the banker more gravitas than Arthur, despite both of them wearing, in broad strokes, the “same thing”. Such is the power of styling! The banker later swaps his club collar and tie for a wing collar and cravatte (but keeps the black 3PC) to “match” Arthur’s morning-dress look, though the customer is now the more “dressy” one.

There’s also the horrible accordion man, who, like most of the other characters in this film, is wearing a 70s-style point collar in lieu of a proper 30s one; it’s quite obvious when he does up the airtie. The character is dressed like typical Depression-era folk: no tie, a tattered fedora, and a mismatched jacket-trouser combo. His trousers are the most interesting aspect: damn tight, high-waisted, flat-front, and with stovepipe legs. These details make me think that they are from the 1910s, when such sartorial details were en vogue; it makes sense that this unhoused man would be wearing clothes from two decades prior. And while it isn’t exactly a tableau vivant, seeing this man dance around in trim trousers does call to mind Gene Kelly as Tolouse-Latrec’s Chocolat in An American In Paris. 

However, the biggest look of the film, and the impetus for us covering it on the blog/pod, is Christopher Walken’s “Tom”. He is the devilish pimp to whom Lulu signs over her loyalty when she’s been tricked by Arthur yet again. Tom’s attire is decidedly bold, echoing his profession/personality while also serving as another case study of this film “playing up” elements of vintage style. Like Arthur, who was initially seen in a vibrant shirt/tie combo, Tom also uses a color pop, this time in the form of a deep purple tie and coordinating pocket square. The solid hue is quite striking against Tom’s blue-grey dobby stripe shirt and dark grey multistripe DB suit, two very popular patterns for the period. 

Of course, the real period adherence comes not just from the sartorial patterns or the use of spectators and garters, but from the period-accurate boxers, whose wide waistband and roomy leg make them look more like gurkha shorts than underwear. According to a video interview with Bob Mackie, they had to source original patterns to make these, as true vintage undies may not have been the safest (or sturdiest) to wear when filming Tom’s elaborate dance sequence. 

While this film may not have upstanding male characters to style yourself after or a feel-good happy ending (that’s entirely the point of the film btw), Pennies from Heaven does a fantastic job with period styling! But all things a side salad, this movie is quite a good watch, even if it’s not something I’d really want to watch multiple times; my stomach can only take that much dourness.  Apparently Fred Astaire had a distaste for this film, as he felt it was too “miserable” and “cheap and vulgar.” I do think Pennies serves as a “dark” reminder that life wasn’t all that back in the day, serving as a palate cleanser for the more saccharine period-set films we’ve covered before, particularly Wonka. 

Of course, I have found myself humming the title song and rewatching the spectacular dance numbers, which really are a delight to see. Maybe I’m just falling for the 30s nostalgia too. And much after watching An American In Paris, I truly feel like that at some point, I’m just going to cave and take up tap dancing lessons. Hey, if Steve Martin could do it in eight months, so can I! 

– end of blog post – 

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Always a pleasure,

Ethan 

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