There is much charm in San Francisco, what with Clark Gable wholly in his comfort zone portraying "Blackie," a Barbary Coast nightclub owner and gambler with a heart; Spencer Tracy as his boyhood friend, now Father Tim; and Jeanette MacDonald as the classically-trained singer, Mary Black, down on her luck.

Mary wanders in to Blackie's "Paradise Club" looking for work, even nightclub singing, if it comes to that. Blackie likes the sound of her voice and so does "the Professor' (Marx Brothers uncle, Al Shean), the piano player and musical director. Blackie makes a routine, casual move on Mary, which she is visibly repelled by, so he backs off the romance and offers her a job. He may be a rogue, but he's not an animal. She becomes a huge draw fro the club and they develop a strong mutual attraction.

Meanwhile, the Barbary Coast is suffering from neglect from city leaders. Blackie, encouraged by Father Tim, decides to run for city council to do something about the horrible conditions and myriad fire hazards. There is also the complication of Mary's obvious operatic talents, noticed at once by the Professor, who contrives to get her an audience with owners of the famous Tivoli Opera House. Mary leaves the Paradise with Blackie's blessing, and is soon thrown into the company of opera-loving, socially-appropriate Jack Burley (Jack Holt), who promptly falls in love with her.

Jack wants Mary; Mary wants Blackie, who also wants her, but wants to see how the election plays out and isn't so sure she wouldn't be better off with the guy in her own class. Father Tim wants Blackie to be good and follow his conscience. Politics and jealousy soon lead to the Paradise's closure. In the wee hours of the annual "Chickens Ball," a competition for, I don't know, Best Clip Joint of the Barbary Coast, Mary sings on behalf of the Paradise and wins, which annoys both Jack and Blackie. Suddenly, the earthquake hits!

And it's a lulu. The special effects of the immediate damage, the aftershocks, and the fire are spectacular. Honestly. For the time, the technology, and the budget, the cinematic depiction of the disaster and its aftermath are amazing. 

When you think about it, the distance between the movie San Francisco and the actual 1906 San Francisco Earthquake and Fire is only 30 years -- the same distance between Miley Cyrus's "Wrecking Ball" machinations at the VMAs and Madonna performing "Like a Virgin" at the same event three decades earlier. Yet, the 19-aughts of this excellent W.S. Van Dyke film seem far, far away from the 1936 in which it was highly stylized. But the changes between 1906 and 1936 were astonishing: air travel, ubiquitous telephony, fast cars, skyscrapers, highways, one world war down, and one on the way. Indeed, the enormity of these changes are deftly evoked in the closing shots of the film.

And if that doesn't interest you, you should at least see the picture for Jeanette MacDonald going all ragtime on the tune "San Francisco" right before the quake hits. It's like watching your grandma rap.

Years ago, my friends and I used to play Hearts (er, at least we thought it was Hearts) and darts (we did know it was darts) at The Edinburgh Castle on Geary Street in San Francisco. The pub was a favorite because of the beer, the big wooden booths and the fact that you could select Jeanette MacDonald singing "San Francisco" off the jukebox.  And anyone who has been to an evening show at the Castro Theatre knows that when the organist plays "San Francisco" on the Mighty Wurlitzer, it means you should take your seat, shut up, and get ready for the picture.

In other words, that song and the movie it is from have been close to my heart for a very, very long time. And the person responsible for that is W.S. "One-Take Woody" Van Dyke, a man whose directorial filmography reads like the history of the art form: silent epics, westerns, documentaries, romantic comedy, historical drama, musicals, and yes, Tarzan pictures. I mean everything, including the greatest contribution to Hollywood romantic idealism ever: the pairing up of William Powell and Myrna Loy. For which I am also eternally thankful.

And for those of you who like romantic couples who sing at each other instead of drink, Van Dyke is also the engine behind the success of the team Jeanette MacDonald and Nelson Eddy.

Van Dyke was born on March 21, 1889 in San Diego, the son of an aspiring actress and a Superior Court judge, who died within a few days of his birth. To make ends meet, "Woody's" mother and he performed in vaudeville and traveling shows in and around Seattle. While still a teenager, Van Dyke worked a number of jobs, including as a lumberjack, prospector, railroad attendant, waiter, and salesman. 

His first foray into the movie business was as an assistant director to D.W. Griffith on the epic Intolerance (1916). Van Dyke quickly moved on to direct westerns and serials for Essanay and MGM, taking a quick break to fight in the Great War. By the 1930s, he had developed a reputation for bringing in films on time and under budget, without sacrificing quality or performance. Case in point: The Thin Man (1934), one of the finest romantic detective pictures of all time, was shot in 12 days for just under $250,000. He earned the nickname "One-Take Woody" on the film Daredevil Jack, by being at the ready to capture Jack Dempsey knocking out an opponent, which he was known to do with one punch, without having to reshoot.

Van Dyke was one of the few directors admired by both actors and studio executives alike. The former for his ability to draw out natural performances from his stars and to hire technicians and actors who were down on their luck; the latter for reliability and efficiency of production. 

Sadly, at the age of 50 W.S. Van Dyke was diagnosed with cancer and heart disease. As a practicing Christian Scientist, he refused medical medical care for the last several years of his life and committed suicide in 1943 at the age of 53.