When the appropriately named Dum Dum Brooks (Richard Arlen, in his fourth of five collaborations with Well-man) is able to convince his girl, Celia, to marry him (on their first date) and go to New York where he hopes to make it big as a boxer, the two find themselves riding in the same boxcar as the horses, which Dum Dum thoughtfully arranged in order to cut costs. When they finally embrace, down in the hay while a record plays, Wellman pans away from them and up to a horse, who simply stares into the frame. A good minute passes by as the camera stays front and center on the white nag. Suddenly the music stops, the horse glances away, and Wellman returns to the record player and its silently spinning needle, which for obvious reasons has been neglected. It’s classic Wellman, focusing not on the plot but on what is happening right around it, as well as never losing focus on what his characters are up against, which in this case is their small town origins and the total doofiness of Dum Dum. The supporting cast provides pitch perfect color to the somewhat basic story of a country boy gone bad in the city, with Jack Oakie poking around in the background and audiences hearing Baclanova’s thick Russian accent for the first time. The Man I Love was Wellman’s second foray into sound, after the split sound/silent Chinatown Nights, and instead of letting the need to record dialogue limit him, he effortlessly strips down the picture and its action with moments like the one described above. He moves his camera away from what is forced, the placement of the actors, or conversely focuses on nothing but what is happening, as when Celia sits with Dum Dum after his fight in the empty boxing arena. Their bodies glisten in the darkness as they discuss what would happen if Dum Dum were to make it big. They stare into each others eyes as Celia sets her course (and the movies) and lovingly says, “I’ll still be sorry you’re a fighter, but you’re the man I love”. 

Gina Telaroli