JohnHowardReid One of the best films ever made. As theatrically released, Tales of Manhattan is a perfect blend of drama and comedy, of suspense and hilarity, of romance and humor, of pathos and wit. Each episode dovetails so felicitously into the next, there is at most only the slightest perceptible dip in tension. In fact, it's really only the abrupt change of mood from the ironic drama of manners of the first episode to the ironic comedy of manners of the second that signals even the faintest of interruptions to the movie's rhythm and flow. I know that many critics are unhappy with the final story which in some eyes seems too fanciful, too stereotyped, too Green Pastures in tone, but the sets and images of that chapter are so strikingly bizarre and the final shot of the tail coat's demise so apt and fitting a conclusion, I would be unhappy if the story were further shortened or excised. It is Duvivier's mastery of pictorial style and montage that keeps the picture as a whole on such a consistently even yet effervescent keel. The movie abounds with unforgettable images and juxtapositions. Duvivier has an uncannily accurate sense of both drama and fun. Whether it's the camera panning away from serious pianist Laughton to take in the tacky bar at which he is performing, or the sudden, sharp jolt of a pan from the doorman to the peep-hole to disclose an amazingly elegant Naish smoothing his hair; or the camera so rapidly tracking and weaving with Boyer as he exits the stage to his dressing-room and then hurriedly makes his way to his car; or the initial close-ups of Will Wright which contrast the final long shot in which he surreptitiously removes his coat; or the beautiful close-ups of Ginger Rogers who has never looked so daringly radiant as here; or the camera tracking down the endless corridor to take a sideways look through the door of Laughton's change room as he struggles into his coat; or the enormous glass shot of the dingy tenement as Gleason enters in his search for Robinson; or the most haunting images of all, the ones that all of us remember most: the shadowy close-ups of the sirenic Rita Hayworth, so alluring, so dazzling, so vulnerable, so empty. Notice also such brilliant touches as the emphasis on sound in the Laughton ep, not just the music which is such an integral part of the piece, but all the sound effects of running foot-steps, rattling trains, laughter and cheers. In the Robinson piece, see the clever way Duvivier likewise reinforces the mood, but this time by using space. The Robinson character is often set apart, separated. He's found alone, sleeping it off in that squalid but spacious slum court; he enters last at the party; at the mock trial he's placed an uncommonly lengthy distance from the judge; he stands at the center of the ring as he removes his coat; even at the final reconciliation he is kept apart from the others by his position on the stairs. The devices Duvivier uses in some of the other eps are more obvious (the noirish lighting and menacing sets of the Boyer story; all the strikingly out-of-plumb lines and seemingly tilted angles of the final fantasy) but just as equally powerful and wondrously effective. Duvivier is one of the foremost masters of the cinema. Tales of Manhattan is the apotheosis of visual style and true pictorial elegance. Allied of course with the glorious visuals are a feast of absolutely top-drawer performances. Laughton, Boyer, Robinson, Fonda, Gleason, Lanchester and others all display their usual skills to A-1 advantage. But Rita Hayworth, Thomas Mitchell, Ginger Rogers, Victor Francen, George Sanders and James Rennie give the best portrayals of their lives. Aside from Gone With The Wind, I don't know any other movie in which so many players so excel. I've already mentioned the dazzlingly creative art direction. I need to also single out the cinematography. Walker's sensitive lighting superbly captures the mood of each episode, changing from the dark and somber effects of the Boyer scenes to the bright and sunny Rogers encirclements to the gritty realism of the Robinson Lady for a Day. The film editing also is especially deft, the music scoring joyously atmospheric. And the whole film has been meticulously produced on an absolutely staggering budget.

gridoon2018 Perhaps not the great movie it could have been with this cast (truly one of the finest ever assembled) and director, but a good one. All of the five stories are a trifle too long, but Julien Duvivier puts his distinctive stamp on several parts of the film, like in a superlative sequence where Ginger Rogers and Henry Fonda practically make love with words, or the inexplicably wonderful spectacle of all male audience members removing their black overcoats after symphony conductor Charles Laughton has done the same. The film has variety: it is by turns twisty, amusing, romantic, sad and hopeful. See also Duvivier's follow-up the next year (with some of the same cast members), "Flesh And Fantasy". Personally I preferred that one, but I'm probably biased because it has a supernatural bent. *** out of 4.

moonspinner55 In New York, a man's dress coat, supposedly cursed by a disgruntled tailor, changes the lives of those who come in contact with it. They are: Charles Boyer as a suave actor wooing married Rita Hayworth, Henry Fonda as a nerd who stops Ginger Rogers from marrying skirt-chaser Cesar Romero, Charles Laughton as an aspiring musician, Edward G. Robinson as an unemployed alcoholic about to attend his class reunion, and Paul Robeson and Ethel Waters as poor black farmers (another story starring W.C. Fields was trimmed in 1942 but later became available on home-video--it adds nothing). Short stories told mostly in expert fashion, though some are obviously better than others. Fonda and Rogers are such an odd twosome that the second episode is probably the weakest; the exceptional performances by Laughton and Robinson make their installments the strongest. However, the striking finale, complete with heavenly light and hallelujah chorus, looks so different from the rest (and is filmed like a mini-epic) that it appears to be a reel from another movie altogether. Overall, an entertaining piece for the actors, particularly Robinson as the ultimate underdog, surprisingly vulnerable in an Oscar-worthy turn. **1/2 from ****

writers_reign I think it's fairly safe to say that this is the finest film that Julien Duvivier made outside France, let alone made in America; Anna Karenina which he made in England doesn't really compete with the Don Camillo films he shot in Italy - in fact on reflection The Little World Of Don Camillo may tie Tales Of Manhattan for Best-Duvivier-Made-Outside-France. He was a master of the 'anthology' movie and both Un Carnet de bal and Sous le ciel de Paris are outstanding examples that had the advantage of tighter scripting - in Tales Of Manhattan the roster of credited writers threatens to outnumber the cast and Duvivier deserves a small accolade for unifying so many diverse styles into a cohesive whole. Others have provided details of the several episodes as well as pointing out that not Every sequence takes place in Manhattan, notably the final sequence which is set in the Deep South and provides a perfect coda when the tuxedo in question finds a final resting place on a scarecrow. It feels as if every Hollywood actor who wasn't on active service in 1942 was on Duvivier's set standing up to be counted and Phil Silvers is brilliant in an all-too-brief segment working a pre-Bilko scam on W.C. Fields. A delight.