Bob Hope plays The Lemon Drop Kid, so named because of an affinity for a certain kind of candy. The Kid grifts his way through life bottom feeding in the rackets as a racetrack tout steering suckers to this bet or that in order to keep the odds profitable for the house. After he mistakenly convinces a gangster’s gal to change her bet from a winner to a loser, he’s thisclose to being on the wrong end of a gangland killing when he manages to fast talk Da’ Boss into a little time to come up with the $10,000.
It’s Christmastime in New York City and the Kid hatches a scheme to cash in on holiday sentiment through the cynical deployment of an unwitting cast of colorful characters dressed as Santa Claus and filled with goodwill hoping to collect money for an “old dame” retirement home that will never open after the Kid embezzles every penny to save his own skin and a little extra for himself. Along the way he lights up his old flame Marilyn Maxwell and coins a standard with the definitive version of “Silver Bells.”
Based on a Damon Runyon story, The Lemon Drop Kid naturally offers up a host of those ever-fascinating Runyonesque characters personified here by greats such as William Frawley, Jane Darwell, Lloyd Nolan, Tor Johnson and many others.
Best of all, the story is nowhere near as sentimental as it sounds. Sure, the tone is comedic and there’s never any real sense of danger, so the fun is in wondering how the Kid will pull it off and see the light and change his ways. Of course, the many profile shots of Marilyn Maxwell’s incredible figure might help to explain any man’s decision to settle down.
Great cinematic comedies require a simple story, fast pace, a lot of heart, a strong leading man, and a few memorable scenes. The Lemon Drop Kid doesn’t disappoint on any front. Hope is set on rapid-fire as he quips his way through the brisk 91 minutes without ever losing sight of his character, and a winter windstorm and storefront mannequin provide two imaginative and unforgettable comedic set pieces.
My favorite moments, however, come from a litany of shots aimed at Hope’s friendly screen rival Bing Crosby. Whether they were in the same film or not, the onscreen insults these longime friends traded with each other over a couple of decades is not only a reminder of the intimacy of their personal friendship but also of the close relationship each had with an audience who always got the joke.
Both on the screen and off it always seemed to be Crosby who got the last laugh. “Silver Bells” would end up becoming a holiday classic, but the Academy Award for best song that year would go to Johnny Mercer and Hoagy Carmichael’s “In the Cool, Cool, Cool of the Evening” as sung by …. yep, Crosby…
Consider this the first and best Bad Santa. One you can enjoy with the kiddies.
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