By the early thirties, static stage-to-screen musicals had become such a yawn that exhibitors were forced to publicize films with the disclaimer, "This is not a musical picture." Busby Berkeley changed all that with two 1933 releases, 42nd Street and Gold Diggers of 1933. Less a choreographer than a dance designer, Berkeley turned people into visual elements and the camera into a kind of omniscent eye relishing in angles impossible to the mere mortal. Berkeley's imagination was truly bizarre, even a tad sinister, and The Gold Diggers contains some choice gems, such as the opening sequence in which Ginger Rogers, in giant close-up, sings "We're in the Money" in pig latin, backed by gals wearing coins over their private parts. Or the "Pettin' in the Park" routine, in which Berkeley cuts to strange details like a caged chimpanzee on a cookie box, a voyeuristic midget, and metallic bathing suits for women that men must pry open with can-openers. Seen from above, Berkeley's human flower arrangements, rhythmically opening and closing, might suggest a camp Georgia O'Keefe, but close-up his feminine side turns sour: why the inclusion of the Central Park "roller skate service for little girls who have to walk home alone"? Well, "It's the Depression, dearie," and it's a jungle out there, as the plot of Gold Diggers of 1933 cynically demonstrates. The energetic Dick Powell as the (wealthy) male musical lead is a graceful thing compared to showgirls Joan Blondell and Aline MacMahon who must work for a living. Accused of being "parasites, chiselers and gold diggers," they proceed to live up to the insult. "Every time you say 'cheap and vulgar' I'm going to kiss you," Warren Williams tells Blondell. Fascinating Depression fare-especially the haunting "Forgotten Man" number that is at once a non-sequitor and perfectly apt.