The Last Command
A tale told in two cities: a melodrama in Czarist Russia, and a lampoon in neo-Czarist Hollywood. The lampoon is fun, the melodrama is unconvincing. Still, all the performances were strong enough to carry the weak, nonsensical story. Bonus: discovering that William Powell needed no sharp suits or witty dialogue to help him ooze sophisticated style. And, of course, any flick gets a thumbs up for a train crash.