Jewel Robbery (William Dieterle, 1932). This pre-Code comedy is a randy little number. Among the onscreen behaviors that would be strictly prohibited just a few years later is the steady thrum of society wives bantering about their intentions to cheat on their dull, older husbands at every opportunity. I don’t necessarily advocate that stance, but the constant, jutting-eyebrows expression of it sure makes for a lively movie. The main plot centers on Baroness Teri (Kay Francis, absolutely effervescent) and the suave jewel thief (William Powell, of course) who romances her as he casually avoids lawmen after perpetrating a major heist. Erwin S. Gelsey’s workmanlike script is given a splendid snap by all the actors involved, and William Dieterle directs the film with beguiling zest. The film’s closing shot — with Francis jubilantly rushing at the camera — is like an invitation to join the playful party. I see no reason to resist that particular come-on.

Pennies from Heaven (Herbert Ross, 1981). Adapted from a 1977 British television series that must have been mind-blowing for the unsuspecting populace, Pennies from Heaven is an odd, daring film that ultimately gets lost in its own experiments. Dennis Potter, author of the small-screen version, pens the screenplay about a Depression-era sheet music salesman (Steve Martin) who is miserable in his marriage to Joan (Jessica Harper) and begins a dalliance with Eileen (Bernadette Peters), a teacher he spots in a store that’s part of his rounds. The bleak tale is regularly interrupted by musical numbers straight of out the era of MGM when showmen such as Busby Berkeley specialized in spectacle. Although there are talented musical performers in the cast (by this point, Peters had already collected Tony nominations for performances in stage musicals and would go on to win two competitive trophies), director Herbert Ross opts to have them lip sync to vintage recordings. The conceit is presumably meant to accentuate the pure fantasy of those moments, but it’s needlessly distracting most of the time. The main trio’s performance of “Life Is Just a Bowl of Cherries” is one of the few times when it works. Indeed, it probably wouldn’t work any other way. Martin’s relative inexperience as an actor is a hindrance here. He’s not ready to develop the complexity required for the role, a shortcoming that’s especially clear in a handful of instances where Peters or Harper completely outdo him in the level of craft they can bring to the scene.

The Royal Hotel (Kitty Green, 2023). In her follow-up to the wrenching drama The Assistant, Kitty Green is again interested in the vulnerability of young women in the face of casual hideousness on the part of the male of the species. Hanna (Julia Garner) and Liv (Jessica Henwick) are in Australia on a work abroad program, and their depleted funds prompts them to take an assignment tending bar at a remote pub connected to a dilapidated hotel. Green, who cowrote the screenplay with Australian filmmaker Oscar Redding, is highly skilled at highlighting the reverberating menace in the most mundane aspects of the main characters’ experiences. A normal night at a busy bar feels like something out of Hieronymus Bosch painting. Green is less adept as The Royal Hotel edges more towards conventional thriller territory. The grand finale is especially unconvincing. Green gives in to a level of bombast that’s at odds with the low-burn dread she developed the rest of the film. Garner and Henwick are both solid in their roles, and Hugo Weaving is admirably unrecognizable as the boozehound proprietor of the title establishment.