A remarkable example of cinematic alchemy at work, with a trite'n'turgid lump of lead script (penned by numbingly mediocre Hollywood hack nonpareil Jole Schumacher, no less) being magically converted into a choice chunk of exquisitely gleaming 24-carat musical drama gold thanks to brisk direction, fresh, engaging performances, spot-on production values, a flavorsome recreation of 50's era New York, an infectiously effervescent roll-with-the-punches tone, and a truly wondrous rhythm and blues score by the great Curtis Mayfield.
The story, loosely based on the real life exploits of the Supremes, prosaically documents the arduous rags-to-riches climb of three bright-eyed, impoverished black teenage girl singers who desperately yearn to escape their ratty, unrewarding ghetto plight and make it big in the razzle-dazzle world of commercial R&B music. All the obvious pratfalls of instant wealth and success -- egos run destructively amok, drugs, corruption, fighting to retain your integrity, and so on -- are predictably paraded forth, but luckily the uniformly excellent work evident in the film's other departments almost completely cancels out Schumacher's flat, uninspired plotting. The first-rate acting helps out a lot. Irene Cara, Lonette McKee, and Dwan Smith are sensationally sexy, vibrant and appealing leads -- and great singers to boot. Comparably fine performances are also turned in by a charmingly boyish pre-"Miami Vice" Philip Michael Thomas as the group's patient, gentlemanly manager, Dorian Harewood as McKee's venal, aggressively amorous hound dog boyfriend, and perennial blaxploitation baddie Tony ("Hell Up in Harlem," "Bucktown") King as a dangerously seductive, smooth operating, stone cold nasty gangster. The tone dips and dovetails from funny and poignant to melancholy and blithesome without ever skipping a beat, deftly evolving into a glowing, uplifting ode to the human spirit's extraordinary ability to effectively surmount extremely difficult and intimidating odds.
Veteran editor Sam O'Stern acquits himself superbly in his directorial debut. Bruce Surtees' luminescent cinematography and Gordon Scott's expert editing are both flawless. O'Stern's firm grasp of period atmosphere, keen eye for tiny, but telling little details, and unerring sense of busy, unbroken pace are just as impressive. No fooling about Curtis Mayfield's impeccable soundtrack contributions, either. "Jump," "What Can I Do With This Feeling," "Givin' Up," "Take My Hand Precious Lord," "Lovin' You Baby," and "Look Into Your Heart" are all terrifically tuneful, soulful, almost unbelievably fantastic songs, with the sweetly sultry love jones number "Something He Can Feel," which was later covered by both Aretha Franklin and En Vogue, clearly copping top musical honors as the best-ever song in the entire movie. The net result of all these above cited outstanding attributes persuasively illustrates that sometimes it's not the screenplay so much as what's done with said script which in turn determines a film's overall sterling quality.

I suppose that any novel that's as much of a downer as Moby Dick would not find much favor with Depression era audiences who had enough of their own troubles. But any resemblance to the classic Herman Melville novel is a pure coincidence.
In fact half of the film is a prequel to the main story as we know it, not that too much of it was kept for the film. We first meet Ahab Creely (he's got a last name and a brother) as one happy go lucky soul with two legs and intentions to marry Joan Bennett who is Father Mapple's daughter. That brother Derek, played by Lloyd Hughes, also wants to marry Bennett.
John Barrymore is Ahab in an over the top performance. Barrymore had not quite mastered the sound cinema and he gave out with all the silent era histrionics plus a stage voice that would have shaken the rafters of any movie theater this film was playing in.
We see Ahab lose his leg to the great whale Moby Dick and I have to say the amputation scene was pretty gruesome. Of course this was all before the Code. Still I'm sure 1930 audiences shuddered.
After that the story of Ahab's hunt for the whale that he thinks made him unsightly in Joan Bennett's eyes. That is not exactly Melville's motivation, in fact there are no women characters in Moby Dick as he wrote it.
One of the things Melville did was invest the crew of Ahab's ship the Pequod with personalities. Other than Queequeg the cannibal harpooner the names are there, but not the personalities. Starbuck and Stubbs might as well be Smith and Jones.
I'd see this version of Moby Dick strictly for curiosity and nothing else.