Shirley Temple's films for Twentieth Century Fox aren't negligible because they're poorly-made (Darryl F. Zanuck supervised most of them, after all); they don't retain much of a "classic" stature among cinema aficionados mainly because they're weighed down with the syrupy optimism of Depression-era Hollywood. 1930s audiences were placated by the delight of seeing a dimply, often orphaned sunshine girl making the grown-ups look foolish by comparison (they fretted and wrung their hands while she danced her troubles away). Seen these many years later, Temple's vehicles barely get by on story (aided always by musical sequences to bolster the content), and her timing (always too-perfect) and exaggerated reactions might leave most modern viewers rolling their eyes. No one could possibly be blamed for their exasperation over Temple's performance here (shouting lines at the top of her lungs) or the perverseness of her dance steps, sashaying with a crowd of sailors to "At the Codfish Ball". Still, the fantasy aspect of this particular story, previously filmed in 1924 from the book by Laura E. Richard, is enough to captivate those in the proper saccharine spirit. Seems Shirl was pulled from a shipwreck by a government-appointed lighthouse keeper, but when a truant officer from the State Board finds out the tyke isn't in school, she threatens to take the kid away. It doesn't really matter if the prune-faced officer has a point that Temple isn't being raised properly (the woman is turned into the proverbial villainess almost immediately); one can see right away that Temple can hold her own, taking care of herself and her elderly guardian in the bargain (as well as the local widow who has her hooks in for the Captain). Temple isn't the only one overly-rehearsed; Guy Kibbee's January is cued for wide-eyed reactions so often you wonder if maybe if he didn't film them all in one day. The dialogue is steeped in waterfront metaphors ("You can't rush a trout!" ... "Well, don't give up the ship!), and something about the whole enterprise seems strangely pixilated. ** from ****