[Film Review] Topper (1937), Topper Takes a Trip (1938), Topper Returns (1941)
Title: Topper
Year: 1937
Genre: Comedy, Fantasy
Country: USA
Language: English
Director: Norman Z. McLeod
Screenwriters: Jack Jevne, Eric Hatch, Eddie Moran
based on the novel by Thorne Smith
Composer: Marvin Hatley
Cinematographer: Norbert Brodine
Editor: William H. Terhune
Cast:
Roland Young
Constance Bennett
Cary Grant
Billie Burke
Alan Mowbray
Eugene Pallette
Arthur Lake
Hedda Hopper
Theodore von Eltz
J. Farrell MacDonald
Hoagy Carmichael
Rating: 7.2/10
Title: Topper Takes a Trip
Year: 1938
Genre: Comedy, Fantasy
Country: USA
Language: English
Director: Norman Z. McLeod
Screenwriters: Jack Jevne, Corey Ford, Eddie Moran
based on the novel by Thorne Smith
Composer: Hugo Friedhofer, Edward B. Powell
Cinematographer: Norbert Brodine
Editor: William H. Terhune
Cast:
Roland Young
Constance Bennett
Billie Burke
Alan Mowbray
Verree Teasdale
Alexander D'Arcy
Paul Hurst
Franklin Pangborn
Irving Pichel
Spencer Charters
Leon Belasco
Rating: 6.3/10
Title: Topper Returns
Year: 1941
Genre: Comedy, Fantasy, Mystery
Country: USA
Language: English
Director: Roy Del Ruth
Screenwriters: Jonathan Latimer, Gordon Douglas
based on the novel by Thorne Smith
Composer: Werner R. Heymann
Cinematographer: Norbert Brodine
Editor: James E. Newcom
Cast:
Roland Young
Joan Blondell
Billie Burke
Eddie Anderson
Carole Landis
Dennis O'Keefe
Donald MacBride
H.B. Warner
Patsy Kelly
George Zucco
Rafaela Ottiano
Trevor Bardette
Rating: 6.8/10
When conjuring up visions of Hollywood’s Golden Age, audiences often float blissfully through stylishly gowned heroines, tuxedoed rogues sipping endless martinis, and the glittery promise of easy sophistication. The Topper trilogy might initially seems the celluloid's embodiment of that era’s elegant whimsy. After all, here were stylish ghosts, champagne-fueled escapades, and playful hauntings galore. But revisiting these films today, we find the champagne may have gone slightly flat, and some ghostly charm turns decidedly transparent.
Granted TOPPER remains the flagship of the trilogy, and it’s easy to see why. Grant and Bennett sashay through their afterlives as George and Marion Kerby, carefree socialites suddenly dispatched to eternity by reckless driving. Their mischievous spirits determined to liven up the dull existence of meek banker Cosmo Topper, portrayed by a hilariously befuddled Young, whose carefully measured bewilderment anchors the narrative with precise comic timing, providing a human counterpoint for Bennett and Grant’s effervescent supernatural energy.
An ever-debonair Grant, finds a kind of perfect comic immortality here; his ghostly George feels like the charming cinematic cousin to his roles in screwball classics like BRINGING UP BABY or THE AWFUL TRUTH. His suave grin alone is worth admission. However, despite Grant’s starry charisma, the initial part of TOPPER does suffer from pacing issues to modern eyes. Some slapstick sequences stretch their limits, risking weariness, while comic set-pieces occasionally lapse into forced whimsy. Jokes about heavy drinking, reckless driving, and casual neglect towards social propriety - perfectly acceptable then - ring strangely out of tune now, provoking less laughter and more awkwardness.
The special effects, groundbreaking at their inception, are expectedly quaint by today’s standards, but still imbued with nostalgic charm. For 1937, sequences where hats float, doors slam spontaneously, and invisible hands pour cocktails were genuinely innovative. Today, though, the wirework and double exposures might draw more affectionate smiles than admiration, revealing a distinctly handmade quality. Yet, there’s an authenticity in their very creakiness - an endearing earnestness that retains some charm even amid their datedness.
When TOPPER TAKES A TRIP arrived in 1938, one vital ingredient went missing: Cary Grant’s irrepressible charm. With Grant being supplanted by a fox terrier (famous canine star Asta from THE THIN MAN, 1934), Bennett’s Marion is forced to carry the sequel’s ethereal comic weight alone. Although Bennett valiantly attempts to shoulder this burden, the sequel struggles to replicate the effortless chemistry that elevated the original. Young remains reliably funny, but there’s an unmistakable void. The French Riviera setting is glamorous and delightful, yes, yet it occasionally feels forced, as if the writers were scrambling to recapture the cocktail-infused elegance of the original by simply transplanting it to a flashier locale.
Without Grant’s sparkling wit, gags become repetitive rather than refreshing. The running joke of invisibility gets overplayed swiftly, turning from whimsical to tiresome. Marion Kerby, once effervescentl, now risks descending into caricature - a phantom socialite without deeper motivation than mild amusement. The special effects here are similarly weakened. Once playful and fresh, invisibility sequences now employed ad nauseam. When Marion’s invisibility prank extends into luggage handling and beach antics, it feels less like comic innovation and more like narrative desperation.
In the final installment, TOPPER RETURNS, the series undergoes a dramatic pivot. Now fully immersed in a haunted-house murder mystery, the film benefits from Blondell’s spirited ghost Gail Richards, but somehow loses sight of what has made Topper originally engaging. Blondell is vibrant and jocose, yet the film itself trades sophisticated banters for broader slapstick and creepy manor clichés (an attitudinizing Zucco and a severely looking Ottiano mocking the stock impression of evil doctor and housekeeper, respectively, while the culprit is none other than the less suspected). While humorous, its tired antics - from sliding panels to lurking shadows - veer towards the cartoonish and occasionally imbecilic.
Here, special effects improve somewhat, likely benefiting from four additional years of Hollywood wizardry, with ghostly fades and levitations becoming rather commonplace. They are charmingly antiquated rather than genuinely inventive. And in terms of story, gone is the clever social critique of dull bourgeois routines that lent subtle depth to the original. Instead, we’re given boilerplate mystery tropes and zany farce - fun perhaps, but undeniably forgettable.
Thematically, the trilogy explores ideas of breaking social conventions, liberation from routine, and playful rebellion against staid conservatism. Yet, reexamined today, these themes appear more like superficial flirtations than genuine critiques. While audiences of the time may have delighted in the Kerbys' flamboyant disregard for societal norms, modern viewers might recognize less charm in characters whose affluent hedonism and irresponsibility seem less aspirational than indulgent, less liberating than grating. Indeed, the relentless triviality occasionally weakens the trilogy's long-term resonance.
Furthermore, certain portrayals - particularly Anderson's black chauffeur in TOPPER RETURNS - reflect now-uncomfortable stereotypes. Bennett and Blondell, talented as they are, often find themselves pigeonholed into the roles as stylish, flighty apparitions or playful troublemakers, missing opportunities to imbue characters with depth beyond their superficial charm and ditziness. Marion’s sophisticated wit in the first installment fades progressively across in TOPPER TAKES A TRIP, replaced by narrative frivolities that omitting complexity rather than enriching it.
Despite these critical notes, the trilogy’s enduring appeal remains undeniable. Much credit is due to Roland Young’s consistently amusing Cosmo Topper, whose comic confusion never fails to charm. Even with diminishing returns in sequels, Young's impeccable delivery and subtle physical comedy anchor these films with great sophistication, maintaining an enduring sweetness amid missteps. And special mention goes to Billie Burke, who, as Mrs. Topper, consistently delivers as a pitch-perfect second banana, radiating scatterbrained befuddlement and enunciating shrill screams just for the hell of it.
In considering the trilogy’s legacy, there’s a telling observation: although the films are undeniably fun, they lack the enduring sharpness and meaningful subtext of similarly themed contemporaries like HERE COMES MR. JORDAN (1941) or HEAVEN CAN WAIT (1943). Thematically thin and comically repetitive, the Topper films fade in memory faster than Grant and Bennett’s playful ghosts fade from sight.
To watch the trilogy in a row is thus to witness a peculiar evolution: starting from a sharply amusing satire on society’s constraints, moving through superficial elegance, and concluding in a goofy send-up of all those dark house plots. From Grant’s magnetic charm to Blondell’s energetic silliness, the performances fluctuate between inspired brilliance and predictable frivolity. The jokes and sight gags, sparklingly effervescent in 1937, have increasingly flattened over time, losing fizz as tastes shifted and cultural sensibilities evolved.
Ultimately, revisiting the trilogy is akin to sipping cocktails mixed many decades ago - delightful, vintage, yet somewhat stale. The films offer moments of genuine comic joy, yet their faded themes, occasionally wearying humor, and diminishing invention hint at why these films might charm today’s audiences less consistently than others of their era. It’s a fun, nostalgic journey, but like the spirits themselves, its lasting resonance remains elusive.
referential entries: Leo McCarey's THE AWFUL TRUTH (1937, 7.5/10); W.S. Van Dyke's THE THIN MAN (1934, 7.9/10); Alexander Hall's HERE COMES MR. JORDAN (1941, 7.4/10); Ernst Lubitsch's HEAVEN CAN WAIT (1943, 7.9/10).
