George Arliss is a Wall Street banker. He has just spent a year traveling abroad, negotiating international bond settlements on behalf of the nation. His reward is the thanks of the President. What he really wants is to get home to his family, his daughter Evalyn Knapp, his son William Janney and his beautiful second wife Mary Astor. He looks forward to making some deals in the daytime and basking in the bosom of his family at night. They're all delighted, but terribly busy with musicales and polo and redecorating his room to throw out his comfortable chair. Fortunately his valet, Grant Withers, has saved his chair in his room, so Arliss moves in and asks what poor people do. Withers explains that poor people can't afford to go out, so Arliss announces to his family that he is broke.
It's always immense fun to watch Arliss play the sly old dog, outwitting everyone with no help but his scriptwriters. Although his best known movies were costume dramas like VOLTAIRE and THE GREEN GODDESS (both of which had been hits on stage and in silent and sound versions starring Arliss), I prefer him in his modern-dress comedies like this and THE WORKING MAN.
He had an unusual working relationship with Warner Brothers. He ran his own unit and his usual director was John Adolfi, who thought his job was to help Arliss realize his vision. Contrary to usual practice, the Arliss unit would have a couple of weeks' rehearsal before shooting. The story is that Adolfi shut down the shoot for hours, while Arliss tried to trace the source of a crackling noise on the audio track. It turned out to be Arliss lighting his pipe.
It's always immense fun to watch Arliss play the sly old dog, outwitting everyone with no help but his scriptwriters. Although his best known movies were costume dramas like VOLTAIRE and THE GREEN GODDESS (both of which had been hits on stage and in silent and sound versions starring Arliss), I prefer him in his modern-dress comedies like this and THE WORKING MAN.
He had an unusual working relationship with Warner Brothers. He ran his own unit and his usual director was John Adolfi, who thought his job was to help Arliss realize his vision. Contrary to usual practice, the Arliss unit would have a couple of weeks' rehearsal before shooting. The story is that Adolfi shut down the shoot for hours, while Arliss tried to trace the source of a crackling noise on the audio track. It turned out to be Arliss lighting his pipe.