Musicals are out-and it's all the talking picture's fault. On that premise is built this superior example of the let's-put-on-a-show genre, arguably Busby Berkeley's best effort. Director Bacon should be given credit for a backstage story more complex and briskly paced than usual, combining industrial espionage, creative burnout, and occasional satire with the standard lovesick secretary, golddiggers (of both sexes), and overnight star climax. The real delight is James Cagney, who is at his most appealing, his toughness tempered by anxieties. The verbal choreography between him and the blazing, moonfaced Joan Blondell is as radiant as any of the musical spectacles. The Production Code, one of the film's satiric targets, was only months away from smoothing the edges off Hollywood films. While Berkeley's fetishistic productions flouted the Code throughout the thirties, the snap of the dialogue and frankness of the relationships shown in Footlight Parade weresoon to go.-Lee AmazonasPreserved from original negative.