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Claire Tree is a singer/dancer who goes after what she wants in a straight-forward, no-nonsense manner, so when she finds herself in the New York City hotel-suite, in fashionable Peacock Alley, of Stoddard Clayton, she wastes no time. Claire wants to get married. But, Stoddard, whom she cares for very much, has several proposals directed at her, none of which sound remotely like a marriage proposal; Claire tells him, in her straight-forward, no-nonsense manner that she wants to get married because, in her words: "I'm running away from the doubts and uncertainty and problems of a woman who isn't married." Stoddard thinks that nuptial bonds is a stupid old-fashioned tradition and fatal to romance. She says any man who says that is lying, and when she departs his suite at the crack of dawn, she seems convinced Stoddard indeed believes what he said he believed. But Claire has another option awaiting her...a Texan from home, and she promptly accepts his marriage proposal. But the house ...Written by
Les Adams <firstname.lastname@example.org>
Silent film star Mae Murray's career crashed and burned in her first sound outing, Peacock Alley. The girl with the bee stung lips, more dependent on her feet than voice in her silent period shows why as she insipidly squeaks out a performance that put a fork in her career.
Cruising the night life scene at an upscale dinner club (Plaza Suite?) Claire Tree picks up wealthy bon vivant Clayton Stoddard for what he hopes will be a night of seduction that instead turns out to be an all night chit chat. When her hubby to be (Jason Robards Sr.) shows up the next day they immediately marry and end up at the same hotel. A thuggish house dick recognizes her and determines she's a bimbo on the make. It gets ugly and the newlyweds separate despite Stoddard's vain attempt to explain matters.
A little chunky, sporting a double chin, a bit long in the tooth (she made the silent a decade earlier) Murray simply looks and sounds silly in her lengthy tet a tet with Barraud delivering her lines at times like the interior monologues from Strange Interlude when she's supposed to be connecting with him. Her scenes with a heavily caffeinated Robards fare no better.
A color strip exists of Murray dancing and singing that is missing from the print I viewed but it is clear it was not about to save the picture or her career with the damage being displayed in monochrome already.
In addition to Murray's cringingly poor performance blame should also be affixed to the lack of direction by Marcel DeSano who looks like he's letting his entire cast figure it out for themselves. Along with primitive sound and the mediocre look of typically tarted up Tiffany art direction Peacock has nothing to preen about.
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