Loretta Composes

Marion Cullen (Loretta Young) lives in a small town in Kansas with her parents.  The arrival of Jimmy Decker (David Manners), a salesman from New York, presents Marion with a new view on life - she's never felt she fit in her home, and Jimmy is complimentary of her ability as a songwriter. After a row with her parents - and the announcement by her mother that Marion was adopted - Marion decides to leave Kansas and make a stab at a songwriting career in New York, as well as a life with Jimmy. There's a problem - Jimmy is engaged to Enid Hollister (Helen Vinson), the boss's daughter. This week, we'll discuss They Call it Sin (1932).

This is a neatly done film - tight and enjoyable (69 minutes in total), with characters that you really end up liking. Even those people you think are the most heinous turn out to have streaks of goodness in them. Though a pre-code, most of the naughtiness is Dixie Dare (Una Merkel) in her slip and doing cartwheels that are perhaps a bit immodest.

The film, like many pre-codes, operates a lot on innuendo. We THINK our heroine Marion, may be having a relationship with Jimmy, but she isn't. Later, we think she might be about to bed Ford Humphries (Louis Calhern), but she doesn't. Marion is very much an innocent who spends the film learning to become stronger with adversity. Ms. Young does a good job of portraying that naivety, along with giving the character a strong backbone - this is a young woman who bounces with the punches, and is not afraid to stand up for herself.

There is one other piece of suggestion present in the film. Marion's mother (Nella Walker) is openly hostile to her child from the moment we encounter her. Later, we discover that Mrs. Hollister is not Marion's birth mother; Marion's mother was a showgirl, and Marion is illegitimate. Interestingly, though a religious man, Mr. Hollister is (Joe Cawthorne) is kinder to the girl. We also learn that he asked his wife to take in the orphan child - according to him, an act of "christian charity." Is it possible he is Marion's natural father? The film doesn't tell us the answer, but we left it wondering just WHY he was so eager to adopt the girl. It certainly isn't because his wife wants children.

The men in the film are secondary to Ms. Young; they are moths to her flame. David Manners is the titular leading man. He had recently appeared in both Dracula (1931) and A Bill of Divorcement (1932) (TCM article). Regardless, the character keeps disappearing from the action, and we don't really miss him. George Brent (Dr. Tony Travers) is also absent for a lot of the film; again, the viewer doesn't really care.  Louis Calhern, however, is a lot more interesting as a roué; when he is on screen, you pay attention. Mr. Calhern started his film career in 1921, and on Broadway in 1923, appearing in 28 plays over the course of his lifetime, including The Magnificent Yankee in 1948 (a role he would reprise on film in 1950) and King Lear. With his splendid voice, he was made for talking films, and his career as a supporting player would expand in 1931.  Often he was the villain (as in our film), or the boss (Notorious (1946)). He ventured into the realm of the musical when Frank Morgan died in 1949, taking on the part of Buffalo Bill Cody in Annie Get Your Gun (1950). Mr. Calhern was in Japan for Teahouse of the August Moon (1956) when he suffered a heart attack and died. He was replaced by Paul Ford, and his scenes were reshot, making his last film (another musical) High Society.

The supporting female characters are more interesting then the men. Helen Vinson is rather underused as Enid, but she's always excellent.  The star turn in the film, though, is Una Merkel as the effervescent Dixie Day. She's delightfully funny, and her little cartwheels add that little bit of pizazz (or "ginger" as Warner Brothers phrased in the TCM article above) that one expects in a pre-code . Ms. Merkel is always an actress to look forward to seeing - this film is no exception.

The gowns by Orry-Kelly are quite lovely, and we were impressed by the set design of Jack Okey.  The scenes of Penn Station are splendid, and for us, a piece of nostalgia. Demolished in 1963 (a controversial action at the time, and long bemoaned by New Yorkers - to quote architectural historian Vincent Scully "One entered the city like a God [now] One scuttles in now like a rat."), the building was a wonder of height and light. Mr. Okey used a combination of stock shots and sets to paint the picture of the station.

We'll leave you with the film opening and the suggestion that you give this one a viewing.

Ronald Visits India

The life of Lord Robert Clive (Ronald Colman) is recounted in Clive of India (1935), a somewhat fictionalized account of his beginnings as a clerk for the East India company through his rise as a military officer and later diplomatic official.

Let's begin by saying that this is a very loose interpretation of the live of Robert Clive. For one thing, Lord Clive, as portrayed by Ronald Colman is a much nicer person than the real Lord Clive, who has been referred to by William Dalrymple as "an unstable sociopath" (The Guardian) because of his treatment of the Indian people. Clive's death is still a bit hazy - it's quite possible that he killed himself; at the very least, his dependence on opium was surely a contributing factor. Nevertheless, this filmed account of Clive makes him far more heroic than the real man ever was. (For more on Robert Clive, visit this Wikipedia article.)

Regardless of its take on history, this film belongs entirely to Ronald Colman. He is in nearly every scene, and dominates the movie. There are a number of fine supporting actors, but most have so little screen time, you are likely to miss some of them. Mr. Colman is not afraid to make Clive annoying at times. He's not really going for totally heroic - his Clive is ambitious, impulsive, violent at times, and a tad greedy. What the film does want to do is to mitigate Clive's attempted destruction of the Indian people in his quest for money (TCM article). It's all for their own good, and Colman is pretty much stuck with that attitude.

Loretta Young as Clive's wife, Margaret Maskelyne, is little more than window dressing. She is included to look supportive and sad, and gets to do very little else. A scene in which she leaves her sick child to accompany Clive back to India is created out of whole cloth - the Clives had nine children (four died in infancy), but their oldest boy, and the child born just before Robert and Margaret returned to India, Edward Clive, 1st Earl of Powis, lived to the age of 85. Why the screenwriters (R.J. Minney and W. P. Lipscomb) felt it necessary to insert this dismaying episode is beyond our ken. (It's also rather irksome that both parents refer to the child as "the boy". Really? Don't his parents know his name?)

Colin Clive, who has two very brief scenes as Clive's adversary  Captain Johnstone, was in fact a descendant of Robert Clive. Colin Clive was nearing the end of his career, though his second turn as Dr. Frankenstein in The Bride of Frankenstein, was released in May of 1935 (our film was released in January). Mr. Clive started his film career as a leading man, but by 1935, he was becoming a supporting actor, perhaps due to his increasing dependence on alcohol. He died two years after Clive of India, of tuberculosis exacerbated by his alcoholism.

Even though he was only in a couple of scenes, it's always a pleasure to see Cesar Romero. Cast as  Mir Jaffar, an Indian lord, Mr. Romero brought to mind his portrayal of Ram Das in The Little Princess (1939). We wondered if this role led to his being cast as Indians in both the The Little Princess and Wee Willie Winkie (1937). Mr. Romero always played his parts - even when portraying a villain - with a bit of a twinkle in his eyes. Clive of India is no exception; it would have been nice to have seen more of him in the film. Mr. Romero was not the first thought for the role - it was to have been given to George Regas (AFI catalog).

While there are some good scenes in the film - those with the battle elephants were quite impressive - this film is not going to be ranked among Mr. Colman's best. For Colman aficionados, it's worth a look. Otherwise, see Random Harvest or A Double Life.

Loretta is Alarmed

What was once a happy marriage has deteriorated into bitterness and jealousy, due to the illness of George Z. Jones (Barry Sullivan). Bedridden from a heart condition, George has decided that his wife Ellen (Loretta Young) is having an affair with his best friend, Dr. Ranney Grahame (Bruce Cowling). He concocts a plan to keep the pair apart - he writes a letter to the district attorney, accusing them of trying to murder him, and creates a body of evidence to substantiate his charge.  Ellen unknowingly mails the letter; then George outlines his plan to her - and drops dead. Ellen definitely has a Cause for Alarm! (1951).

Our plot summary is a bit misleading because it's hard to tell if the Jones marriage ever was a happy one. Ellen clearly thinks it was, but, as portrayed by Barry Sullivan, George is a bully and rather creepy. Yes, some of this is the result of his illness - Ranney mentions that the heart condition and the medication George is taking have changed him - but George relates a story in which he beat up one child and then broke a toy so that another child could not have it. Is the story a delusion? Or is he really the jealous monster he portrays?

We must admit to not being fans of Barry Sullivan. He's not a BAD actor, but he isn't all that appealing either. He was excellent in Jeopardy (1953), but not so much in this film. A more sympathetic actor might have made the change in George more apparent. But the flashback scenes reveal a man who is obviously gloating as he steals his best friend's girl.

Bruce Cowling is equally underwhelming as Ranney. He's rather dull and pedestrian, and it's no wonder that Ellen is looking elsewhere for a beau in the early scenes. Mr. Cowling didn't have an stellar career - only 39 film and television credits - however Ms. Young must have had a regard for him - he appeared on her television show 6 times. He's okay in this film, but you forget about him when he's not around. John Hodiak was to have performed the part (which was allegedly shortened after Mr. Cowling was cast), but he dropped out for some reason after filming began (AFI Catalog).

Does this mean that the film is dull? Absolutely NOT - this is a suspenseful ride, with an excellent performance by Loretta Young. In spite of Ellen's lousy taste in men, you feel for her and root for her to succeed in her simple mission - to retrieve a letter from the Post Office before it reaches its destination. That there are men in her life is secondary to the story. This is a film about Ellen Jones, and a period of about two hours in which her life is falling to pieces.

 

This is a film noir set in the suburbs on a bright and sunny day. Children play on the street; neighbors tend their garden. George is an insurance salesman and Ellen is a housewife. It all seems so middle-America. But upstairs in the Jones house is a man who has become a monster. Eventually, he is a dead man, lying on his bedroom floor with a gun in his hand. It flies in the face of film noir conventions, and yet is very much of the genre. Instead of a femme fatale, we have an homme fatal, who has lured an innocent woman into a life that becomes a hell on Earth.

Thanks to Ms. Young, we are never in doubt that the routine happenings of her day - a client visiting to see her husband, the arrival of his aunt, the postman wanting to see him - are mere contrivances. An emotionally battered woman, she keeps her strength in the face of all obstacles, and keeps trying to protect herself. That she was unable to stand up to her husband doesn't matter. She is no doormat; she keeps trying and (thanks to the character's voice-over monologue) constantly revises her plans.

Written and produced by Ms. Young's husband, Tom Lewis, the film was based on a radio play that was done in real time (TCM article).  Allegedly, Mr. Lewis wanted Judy Garland in the lead, but Ms. Young got a lawyer to appeal on her behalf to Mr. Lewis that he was discriminating against her because she was his wife (IMDB).

The New York Times review by Bosley Crowther was very positive. He was, not surprisingly very impressed with Ms. Young. According to Hollywood Madonna: Loretta Young by Bernard F. Dick,though the the film was made on a small budget and did make a profit, it was not highly regarded by MGM. Ms. Young, who was approaching 40, was finding it harder to get good film roles, so within 2 years, she had switched over to television.

We'll leave you with this trailer from the film, and a recommendation that you give it a try.

Ronald Acts as Auctioneer

As promised, we return with a forgotten pre-code gem, starring Ronald Colman.  The Devil to Pay (1930) has Colman playing Willie Hale, the ne'er-do-well (but much beloved son) of Lord Leland (Frederick Kerr).  Lord Leland is an indulgent father, who has spent the last few years supporting Willie's "ventures", the latest of which ended with Willie auctioning off the contents of his Kenyan home in order to get passage money home.  Willie is an engaging young man, but too much enjoys life, especially when they including cards and horses.  And while Lord Leland is initially determined to disown Willie, his love for his son - who doesn't have a mean bone in his body - convinces him to welcome Willie back to the family's good graces, and even give him more money.  Willie determines to spend the money with his sister, Susan (Florence Britton), and her friend Dorothy Hope (Loretta Young).  Not surprisingly, this day of adventure results in Dorothy and Willie falling head over heels in love, despite the fact that she has a fiance (Paul Cavanagh as Grand Duke Paul), and he is intimately involved with an actress of some reputation (Myrna Loy as Mary Crayle).  Add to the mix, Dorothy's father (David Torrence) despises Willie, and you have a formula for conflict.

According to this TCM article, Ronald Colman was eager to play Willie.  He was intrigued with the comic aspects of the character.  Much of his silent career had involved heavy dramas like Stella Dallas (1925) and Beau Geste (1926), and he wanted to do lighter fare.  He is excellent in the role; though in many senses he is far to old to play Willie (he was 39 at the time), he is irresistible as this scalawag with a heart of gold.  Watch him in the scene where he resists spending £15 of the only £20 he's gotten from his father on a dog that he has already named George.  (In his New York Times review, Mordaunt Hall was quite taken with George as well). Colman is adorable.  He has a lovely, breezy relationship with both Loretta Young and Florence Britton in their scenes together.  You never doubt that he is a young man in his mid-20s. And the auction scene that opens the film is very funny - Colman immediately sets the tone for his character for the rest of the film; you will love Willie from that moment on.

We are given another treat:  Myra Loy as Mary Crayle.  She's excellent - she always is, but here, while she is playing "the other woman" she gives us a woman who is a genuinely nice person.  Her relationship with Willie is casual, and she sympathetic and supportive of his love for Dorothy. She is, in fact, a much nicer person than Dorothy.  Ms. Loy is a blonde in this film, perhaps to contrast her to the brunette Young.  We also get an almost nude scene, as Mary steps from a steam chamber.  Her work in this film did not go unnoticed - Louella Parsons praised Ms. Loy's naturalness in her review of the film (Myrna Loy: The Only Good Girl in Hollywood)
 
Florence Britton is memorable as sister Susan.  It's a small part, but she brings a lot to it.  We get a real picture of the Hale family from her (and her father).  Susan serves as a contrast to her carefree brother, but without being stiff or forbidding; there is a warmth to her affection for Willie that doesn't necessarily condone his actions, but still loves him without question.  Ms. Britton had a  brief career - she made 14 films between 1929 and 1933 (we've already seen two of her films: Merrily, We Go to Hell and Brief Moment).  She would appear uncredited in Colman's Arrowsmith the following year.  She died, age 77, in 1987, having retired from the screen in 1933. 

Loretta Young replaced Constance Cummings in the lead, according to this article in the AFI catalog. Also replaced was the director, Irving Cummings (the name similarity is just a coincidence; they were not related.  Irving was born in New York City, nee Caminsky; Constance, in Seattle Washington, nee Constance Halverstadt).  With the replacements, many scenes had to be refilmed, as producer Samuel Goldwyn was unsatisfied with the performance.  

All in all, this is a film worth your time.  Next week, we'll be back with another pre-code film.

Edward G.'s Ancient Gang

We decided to return to the pre-code era this week, visiting Edward G. Robinson earlier in his career in the 1932 film The Hatchet Man (also called The Honourable Mr. Wong in the United Kingdom). Featuring an impressive cast of Caucasian actors all playing Asians, the film is quite politically incorrect, but has an ending that will knock your socks off.

Wong Low Get (Robinson) is the titular Hatchet Man for the Lem Sing Tong in San Francisco (a Chinese brotherhood that by modern standards would be the local mobsters).  The title of Hatchet Man is, as the opening crawl informs us, an honorable one that is handed down from father to son.  Following the death of the Tong's leader, the new chief, Nog Hong Fah (Dudley Digges) orders Wong to murder his best friend, Sun Yat Ming (J. Carroll Naish), who was complicit in the death of the leader.  Sun realizes that his death is imminent, and so makes out his will, leaving his fortune and the care of his 6 year old daughter, Sun Toya San (who will grow up to be Loretta Young), to the care of Wong.  His will also expresses his desire that Toya will wed Wong when she is of age.  The men talk, Sun forgives his friend for the deed he must commit, and Wong throws his hatchet.  We see a doll fall from the hand of the young Toya, its head hanging by a thread.  And then the story jumps forward 12 year.

We've already mentioned that this is a movie about the Chinese in America in which not ONE Chinese (or Asian) person appears.  As politically incorrect as this is in the 21st Century, this was standard practice in Hollywood in the 1930s and 1940s.  As this TCM article points out, it was crucial to have a star name to tout, and those stars, of course, were Caucasian.  But, if you had a Caucasian done up to look Asian, next to a person of genuine Asian ancestry, the make-up on your white actor looked outlandish.  So, the decision was to hire an all-white cast, and everyone's make-up was the same.  Only here, it really isn't, as Edward G. Robinson is barely made up, compared to Loretta Young or Leslie Fenton (Harry En Hai).  As a result, Robinson maintains the facial expression that is crucial to his characterization while the other actors look as though they are wearing Halloween masks.

The other problem with the movie, from a modern perspective, is the relationship between Wong and Toya.  Wong raises her as a daughter, then marries her.  It is a trifle disturbing to think about, especially when you throw into the mix that Wong murdered her father.  But, Robinson's skill as an actor helps to mitigate the audience discomfort.  He is loving and gentle - he is even surprised when Toya consents to their marriage.  It's because of Robinson that the viewer can't help but feel sympathy for Wong.

The wonderful character actor J. Carrol Naish has a VERY small part, but as with most things Naish does, you don't forget him.  Naish had a long career, from 1925 until 1971.  He made the transition to television fairly seamlessly, and probably appeared as a member of every ethnic group on the planet. He was nominated for two Academy Awards (for Sahara in 1943 and A Medal for Benny in 1945, for which he was awarded the Golden Globe award).  Naish married his wife Gladys in 1929; they had one child and were together until his death of emphysema in 1973.  In his last role, he starred as Dr. Frankenstein in the low-budget Dracula vs. Frankenstein (which also featured Lon Chaney, Jr.).

Back in 2013, when we discussed She Had to Say Yes,  we talked about Loretta Young and her relationship with Clark Gable.  A new article on Loretta Young was recently released, and in light of our prior conversation, we thought it important to alert you to this new information.  Ms. Young's son, Chris Lewis, spoke to an interviewer about conversations he and his wife Linda had with Ms. Young.  After watching an episode of Larry King Live in 1998 (a show Ms. Young watched regularly), she asked Linda what "date rape" was.  Linda explained, and Ms. Young stated “That’s what happened between me and Clark.”  Ms. Young asked her son and daughter-in-law to keep the secret - she didn't want daughter Judy to think that her conception was totally without love.  But, with Judy's death (of lymphoma) in 2011, Chris and Linda felt it was time to confess his mother's secret, and though neither party from that night is there to confirm or deny, it is an important story to tell.  We hope you will read the article above. 

Directed by William Wellman, the movie is fascinating to watch primarily because of the ending (which we will avoid telling you).  It's interesting that, in a contemporary New York Times review critic Mordaunt Hall had no compunction about blowing the ending.  I know my fellow blogger at Pre-code.com was not impressed with the film, and while The Hatchet Man is far from perfect, we think it is worth viewing, if for nothing more than to see the ending.  We will just say that words have power, and curses aimed in the right direction can achieve as much as a weapon. 

We leave you with an early scene from the film - the introduction of Wong Low Get:

Jean is Jealous of Loretta

Though Loretta Young (as Gallagher, the young reporter with no first name) is listed as the star of Platinum Blonde (1931), it's Jean Harlow as socialite Ann Schuyler who steals the film.  When reporter Stew Smith (Robert Williams) visits the Schuyler home to determine the validity of rumors about Ann's brother Michael, Stew is instantly smitten by the lovely Ann.  She is less impressed, but when Stew is able to retrieve (and return to the family) some incriminating letters written by Michael, Ann discovers that Stew is appealing indeed.  Their elopement is an anathema to her family, but Ann is determined to have Stew fit into HER world, whether Stew likes it or not.

This is a very enjoyable film, with good performances by Jean Harlow and Robert Williams.  As we mentioned, Young's name is above the title, but she doesn't stand a chance once Harlow shows up.  Harlow's Ann is quite appealing, perhaps because she doesn't seem as upper class and snooty as the rest of the Schuyler family.  This TCM Article discusses the problems Harlow had with sounding "sophisticated."  She especially had some difficulties with the word "library".  While director Frank Capra must have despaired at getting her to sound right, in the long run, it works in her favor.  We want to like them as a the couple, despite the fact that Ann is doing all she can to make her young husband into an upper-class twit.

That this is a pre-code film is readily apparent by the relationship between Stew and Ann. It's really one of lust more than of love.   Though Stew is clearly his own man, Ann is determined to tame him, and make him an appendage to her lifestyle.  She has no clear understanding of his career goals (he wants to write a play, for one thing) and would be quite satisfied if he stayed home and played at being a society husband.

Louise Closser Hale, a character actress we've admired before, is terrific as Ann's horror of a mother.  Mrs. Schuyler couldn't be a bigger snob, and her disregard for anyone not in her social circle makes her unlikeable AND humorous.  Her "consort" of sorts is Reginald Owen as lawyer Grayson.  Grayson does all of Mrs. Schuyler's dirty work, and enjoys every minute of it.  The character provides someone at whom Stew can direct his animosity, and Owen does an admirable job of keeping the character distasteful.  Also well worth watching is Halliwell Hobbes as Smythe, the butler.  We would expect this character (really, the only one in the house with any class) to be the worst snob, but Hobbes gives us a likeable fellow who really is open to all classes.  The party scene in which he interacts with Stew's friends is a riot.

Robert Williams, who played Stew, is also delightful.  This, unfortunately, was his last film. He died at the age of 37, the result of peritonitis from a ruptured appendix.  He had only made 7 films - two shorts and 5 full-length films (one a silent).  We've actually reviewed two of his talkies: Devotion and The Common Law.  This film demonstrates his breezy style and screen presence. 

Though Ann is the one with most of the good clothing, our Loretta gets one smashing evening dress that takes your breath away.  It's amusing that Stew specifically asks HOW she got a dress like that (on a reporter's salary).  We wondered the same thing.  The name of the costumer is not provided, but this dress proves his/her talents.

Interestingly, the film was originally called "Gallagher" after Young's character, but was changed to demonstrate the power Harlow had in the film.  Directed by Capra and written in part by Robert Riskin, it provides an early example of their collaborative genius.

As we mentioned before, one scene that particularly stuck with us was the singing argument between Ann and Stew.  As referenced in the TCM article above, it does seem almost improvised. It also appears that Harlow and Williams are having quite a good time:

Loretta's Haunted Apartment

A Night to Remember (1942) is one of those films that doesn't seem to know what it wants to be when it grows up. Screwball comedy? Horror? Suspense? Romance? Take your pick, because the film really doesn't do any of them very well.

The film opens on Nancy (Loretta Young) and Jeff Troy (Brian Aherne).  They have just arrived at their new Greenwich Village basement apartment, which Nancy found for them (Jeff's never been there before).  He's a hack mystery writer (he writes as Jeff Yort), and wants to work in the Village, in hopes of writing the Great American Novel. They have arrived early (without notifying their landlord), and are stunned that the apartment isn't ready for them (who arrives two days early, and expects to just move in? They haven't even paid for the apartment yet).  But the real problem is, the landlord is more frightened than annoyed that they are there.  And there is this weird housekeeper who says something keeps crawling on her feet. 

The film is extremely repetitious.  The housekeeper keeps telling the same story over and over; there is a door that is always getting stuck.  It's like the writers had a few jokes, and decided they could keep using them.  Rather than build on humor, the repetitions become inane.The one humorous bit is the introduction of Old Hickory, a turtle that was the mascot of the speakeasy that used to be in the apartment building.  Old Hickory keeps turning up (scaring everyone), and MANY people, including the police inspector investigating the murder (of course, there is a murder!), are fans of Old Hickory.

The film is based on the third in a series of nine mystery books about the exploits of
Jeff and Haila Troy, entitled The Frightened Stiff.  There was also a Screen Guild Theatre radio production of the film, with Lucille Ball playing Nancy Troy and Brian Donlevy playing Jeff on May 1, 1944.  

The supporting cast is good, albeit not well used.  Sidney Toler as Inspector Hankins (shades of Charlie Chan!) is the only smart one within a group of fairly dumb police officers,  That's probably why he is an inspector.  At one point, Jeff comments that the police are no longer allowed to used rubber hoses during an interrogation - shades of the Miranda Warning!.  You get to see the wonderful Lee Patrick  (playing apartment house resident Polly Franklin) right away, but you have to wait quite a while before Gale Sondergaard (as Mrs. DeVoe) shows up.  Both are fun to watch.  We would have liked to have seen more of them, as both Aherne and Young got a bit annoying after awhile.

As the movie opens, it has a creepy air.   We felt that the writers should have emphasized that suspense aspect more, as we think they would have had a better movie.  Not that humor and murder can't be done - Miss Pinkerton, which we saw a bit ago, was able to do it.  So did the wonderful Cat and the Canary.  But the problem with A Night to Remember is that nothing really makes sense.  Why would the landlord would rent an apartment in the building to an outsider, when he and all the tenants are so frightened that an outsider will discover their crimes.   And, the ending is very abrupt. The murderer is revealed with almost no explanation, and the film is over. 

We kinda liked the little apartment, though, with its private garden in the back.  It is supposed to be on Gay Street, which is a real Village street.  But other than that (and Old Hickory), this movie was missing that certain something that makes you want to come back for more.  It's no wonder there were no further Troy mysteries.

Liberated Loretta

The Doctor Takes a Wife (1940) is about two extremely obnoxious people, who are supposedly funny when they get together. Loretta Young plays June Cameron, author of the bestselling book "Spinsters aren't Spinach," a tome that urges women to be independent, and seek careers rather than marriage.  Ray Milland is Dr. Timothy Sterling, a medical school instructor and researcher in head pain.  They meet at an inn, when June, desperate to return to New York, intrudes herself into Tim's car, and demands (yes, demands!) that he drive her home.  During a stop, a young boy accidentally attaches a "Just Married" sign to Tim's car, and the local telegrapher is horrified to discover her hero (June) is married!  To avoid scandal, June's publisher convinces her to pretend marriage (she'll also get another book out of it - "Marriage Ain't Measles"), and then "divorce" Tim once it is published.  Tim agrees when he is given a long sought-after promotion BECAUSE he is married.

The biggest problem with this film is that neither Tim nor June is particularly likeable.  June intrudes herself into Tim's car (too cheap to get a taxi?), then refuses to reimburse him for gas or her lunch (for which he paid), then breaks a piece of his medical equipment (a head, which bears remarkable resemblance to a Chia pet) because it looks like her hatbox.  Certainly, Tim has more reason to be obnoxious (he didn't request her company or expenses), but then he proceeds to pay her debt by getting drunk on her liquor, and falling asleep in her bed.  One would think that the approximately $2 he was out was worth losing to get away from her.

We're all fond of Ray Milland, though most of us are more familiar with his dramatic work (The Uninvited, The Lost Weekend, Ministry of Fear), than with his comedies.  That being said, we're all fans of The Major and the Minor, and looked forward to seeing him again in a comedy.  The problem with The Doctor Takes a Wife is that it isn't all that funny.  It has some funny moments, but the leads end up being more of a hindrance than a benefit, and the screwball elements - like the scene where Tim runs back and forth between apartments (in an effort to keep his medical colleagues and his fiance apart) - strain credulity.  The plot is so segmented that it just doesn't hold together very well, and June's very abrupt reversal regarding Tim is hard to believe.

The characters that we would loved to have seen more of were Marilyn Thomas, played with verve by Gail Patrick and the always wonderful Edmund Gwenn, as Tim's father Dr. Lionel Sterling.  Gwenn is barely used - an absolute shame, as his character was just lovely, and he is such an excellent actor.  Patrick here is (again), the other woman.  Except, if you look at it closely, June really is the other woman - Marilyn and Tim are engaged when the whole marriage ruse is cooked up.  If Marilyn is a bit much, it is merely a device to make her more unappealing than June (and it's hard to make someone more unappealing that June).  It's Marilyn who is the wronged party; she is quite loyal to Tim, even after she believes he has married someone else while she was out of town.

Reginald Gardiner playing June's publisher (and would-be husband) is really just playing the same character he played in Christmas in Connecticut.  John is even more unlikeable than June, and is openly dishonest - it's his idea to milk the pretend marriage for yet another advise book (from a woman who knows nothing about the subject).  He's even planning for a "divorce" book once June is able to ditch Tim.

The film's opening scene is a lovely, idealized view of the contemporary bookstore.  Another fantastic set design is June's two-story New York City apartment.  Her book is obviously doing well - among other touches, the apartment has a lovely spiral staircase up to the balcony.

It's also interesting to note that the title "Spinsters aren't Spinach" was probably influenced by the book "Fashion is Spinach" by fashion designer Elizabeth Hawes, which was published in 1938.  One of our group discovered the title's multiple copies in her library (which has a fashion focus).  She suspects that the book was very popular in those days since since so many copies were available.

Another little oddity in the film was June's display of a knitted baby sweater.  Never mind her complete about face regarding marital bliss.  As someone who knits, the author is rather perplexed at how she knit that thing so quickly! 

Just to get an idea of the reception of the film in 1940, we took a look at this rather blah New York Times review.   The problem, we think is that the film is trying to be screwball, but is it really? Does one farcical scene make a screwball comedy?  It's not the worst movie ever done, but neither is it really top of the game for any of the leads.  Here's a trailer from the film, to give you a chance to decide for yourself.

Loretta's Alone in the World

A man sits on a park bench, casually feeding pigeons.  He is dressed in dinner clothes; he appears to be quite wealthy, both in his garb and demeanor.  Beside him, a young woman quietly cries.  He brusquely asks her why.  She has lost her job, and hasn't eaten for 2 days.  He opines that there is absolutely no reason for her to starve, and whisks her off for a meal.  Thus begins Man's Castle (1933), a precode film, starring Spencer Tracy as Bill and Loretta Young as Trina. 

Considering the disposable nature of movies in this period, and the fact that the plot centers on a couple living together without benefit of marriage, it is fascinating that the film was reissued in 1938, with about 9 minutes of content deleted (this is the cut of the film we can see today).  Included in these cuts is a shot of Loretta Young jumping nude into the water.  Yet, even with this elimination, it is obvious that Trina (who we see enter the water) is skinny-dipping.  It's puzzling how even this version was able to pass the censors. A shortened version of Man's Castle was also aired twice (in 1939 and 1941) on the Lux Radio Theatre, both times with Spencer Tracy reprising his role.
 
Set amid the Depression, Man's Castle presents a picture of a man running from responsibility and the woman who loves him and is willing to tolerate his constant dreaming.  We found Bill very much like the little boy who smacks you to tell  you he likes you.  Though it is apparent that he loves Trina, he is constantly plaguing her with speeches about his eminent departure.  He continually belittles her, calling her Whoositz", and poo-pooing her dreams of a future. Bill is a pipe dreamer, with little grasp of reality.  Even his attempts to steal enough money so that Trina can live comfortably demonstrate his immaturity.

Though we have no real back-story on either character, it is clear that Trina recently became unemployed.  What she did before she met Bill is not discussed.  She also has been evicted from her apartment; again, it is clear that this is a recent event.  Despite her loneliness and destitution, Trina retains a positive view of life, and of Bill.  While Bill thinks he is smart, is is clear that Trina is much smarter than he is. She is able to run the house; she plans for them both, and (while she fears his departure), she knows his heart better than he knows it himself.

The real-life relationship between Loretta Young and Spencer Tracy is discussed in this TCM article.  The couple fell in love, but as we discussed last week, marriage between the two was as impossible here as it would be for Young and Gable several years later.  Ultimately, Young decided to end what had become a very public affair. 

As always, we have some interesting character performances.  We've seen the Marjorie Rambeau before, when she played Ginger Roger's mother in Primrose Path.   Here, as Trina's only real friend,  the alcoholic Flossie, she becomes the avenging angel for pair against the rather distasteful Bragg (Arthur Hohl).  She is both sympathetic and frightening.  It becomes obvious early on in the film that things will not end well for Flossie.
Always delightful is Walter Connolly as Ira.  A man of religion, Ira also protects Trina and Bill.  But where Flossie's response to the events of her life are anger and escape, Ira looks at life squarely, and looks to his God for guidance.

It's an interesting movie - one that makes you hunger for the uncut version.  You may also be interested in Richard Brody's discussion of the film for The New Yorker. Regardless of the cuts, it is worth a look - here's a look at the scene we first discussed:

She SHOULD Have Said "No"!!!

From the opening of  She Had to Say Yes (1933), it's obvious that this is a precode film.  At a meeting of the salesmen from the Sol Glass Clothing Company, all the salesmen are bemoaning the fact that their "customer's girls" are just too hard and too greedy to be appealing to the buyers who frequent their establishment.  But, the company needs to provide entertainment to these poor, lonesome men - so why not ask the secretaries in the steno pool to take on the duties of the customer's girls.  They are younger, nicer, and not as hard looking, so they will be more appealing to the buyers.  Of course, the girls won't be FORCED to take on the job (of course not...), but it will mean extra money in their pockets and free dinners and shows at the company's expense.  At first, only one girl (Birdie, played with a certain sluttish charm by Suzanne Kilborn) is willing to participate, but soon, Tommy Nelson (Regis Toomey) has convinced his fiance Florence Denny (Loretta Young) to go out with Daniel Drew (Lyle Talbot) to close a sale - and give Tommy some "alone" time with Birdie.

This film does not paint a pretty picture of men.  Without exception, the men in this film are total creeps; there is not a nice guy in the flick.  Take a look at this commentary from TCM, in which Jeanine Basinger says that the film "puts the capper on showing how women are used by men."   You know that the secretaries will be forced to participate, and you know that if they do not "play the game" properly, they will be fired.  One of our group once worked in the garment industry, and she shook her head at what she saw as a totally accurate portrayal of the attitudes of men in that business. It seems in over 50 years, female employees were still being treated as commodities for the pleasure of the men.

The opening credits immediately inform you that you are entering the world of the fashion industry.  With stunning gowns by Orry-Kelly, the costuming is never a disappointment.  Loretta Young (who in later years was noted for her magnificent wardrobe in her eponymous television show) is garbed in some truly lovely outfits.  

Much of our discussion focused on Ms. Young.  She's quite good here.  Her Flo is sympathetic and intelligent (though we really thought that Maizie played with wit by Winnie Lightner is the smartest of the lot; she's a bit older and a lot wiser, a good character and a good friend.  And someone who really knows how to handle these horrible men).  In a different age, Flo would have been an executive rather than a secretary.  She's certainly much smarter than her fiance, the ever-creepy Tommy. 

It's hard to talk about Loretta Young without getting into some discussion of her later, personal life. We spoke at some length of Young's relationship with Clark Gable and the daughter that was the result of the liaison.  Young was a complicated woman - devoted to her Catholic faith, yet with a past that many might find the antithesis of her own beliefs.   But, here she is, two years before her life took this unwanted turn, glowing with youth and beauty and appeal.   
 
Regis Toomey pulls no punches in presenting a character that is truly unlikeable.  An underrated actor, Toomey spent much of his film career playing second bananas.  He found a place in television, where he appeared in a variety of shows, including Burke's Law (where he played Gene Barry's Aide-de-Camp), and 6 episodes of The Loretta Young Show.   Toomey died in 1991, at the age of 93, after over appearing in over 200 films.

Lyle Talbot's Danny Drew isn't much better than Tommy Nelson.  You want to like him as the film progresses, but he is really just as despicable as Tommy.   The double-standard is thick enough to spread on toast.  Do what I ask you to do, the film says, but don't be surprised when I dump you afterwards.

Here's an amusing trailer from the film - note the script at the beginning: "...because she was hired to be 'nice' to out-of-town buyers, she had to take orders from THEM until they gave their signed orders to HER.  Could a good girl stay good WHEN She Had to Say Yes...

Interlude: Loretta is BAD

The Movie Group began in New York City, with weekly meetings to watch a variety of films.  Since then, we have continued our meetings virtually.  However, occasionally, a member might get to see something that fits into nicely into our discussions, and so it will be added to the blog.  

This week, I got to see Born to be Bad (1934) at the AFI Silver Theatre in Maryland, where they are doing a tribute to Loretta Young's 100th birthday.  In this film, Ms. Young is Letty Strong, a woman of 22 with a 7 year-old son (Mickey, played by Jackie Kelk).  Abandoned by the boy's father before he was born, she was taken in by Fuzzy (Henry Travers).  However, she now supports herself as a dress-model and paid escort.  She allows her son to skip school, and informs Fuzzy that Mickey will not live life as naive as she - he knows the realities of life.  Here's our first glimpse of Letty:


Enter Malcolm Trevor (Cary Grant), the wealthy owner of a dairy, who Letty tries to bilk. Fascinated by her child, he and his wife adopt the boy, in hopes of giving him a better life. But Letty intends to get the boy back, and enough money to support them - preferably at Mal's expense.

That the film is pre-code is readily apparent.  We get some glimpses of Young in her lingerie (with her legs as bare as they can be!).  And Letty is never condemned for her actions, neither her present day lifestyle, nor the fact that she is an unmarried mother.  Fuzzy, our bell-weather for  Letty's actions, is angry with her for her  actions as a mother - the fact that she does not teach her son proper values.  Though it is apparent he does not approve of her occupation, he does not censure her for it; he remains her friend, and hopes that he can convince her to be a better mother.   He regrets she is compelled to do this, primarily because of the example it sets for Mickey.   An article on the TCM website offers some insight into the reception that the film received (it wasn't good).  The production code was right around the corner.  We see here the last vestiges of the pre-code film.

We'll resume our weekly review in a few days.

Loretta Goes to Work

1931's Big Business Girl features Loretta Young as  Claire McIntyre, a woman just out of secretarial school.  She is in love with musician Johnny Saunders (Frank Albertson), but her debts from school force her to let him journey off alone to a lucrative gig, while she looks for work in New York City. After landing a job as a stenographer, she is able to get into see advertising executive Robert J. Clayton (Ricardo Cortez), who, impressed with her ad copy (and her looks) promotes her to copywriter.  Claire inadvertently overhears Clayton's assessment of her skills and appearance, and decides to use her wiles to further advance her career.  Re-enter Johnny, and sparks begin to fly, as Johnny is furious at Claire's dedication to her job, as well as Clayton's obvious interest in her sexually.

Looking back from the vantage of 2013, one could see Claire eventually suing Clayton for sexual harassment, but this is 1931, and neither his actions (nor her's) is at all bothersome.  We won't go into too much detail as to Johnny's reactions, because that would give away a big surprise that is revealed in the middle of the film.  But there is a lot of petulance on the side of Johnny (Frank Albertson is rather good at petulance.  Witness his Freddie Miller in Bachelor Mother) and sliminess on the part of Cortez (which we all know from many movies he too is very good at portraying).  And Loretta skirting the edge of being the slightest bit racy.  The fact that Claire is quite talented at her job (and is very careful to not lead Clayton on too far) makes her just barely moral.  But this is a pre-code film, so that titillation value is there.

There is also a nice surprise towards the end of the movie - an appearance by Joan Blondell.  Telling more than that would give away too much of the plot, but the she is a riot.  Here is a clip that will give you a taste of the movie (and of Ms. Blondell): 



While not a great movie, this is an interesting film that is worth seeing.  Just for Young and Cortez alone, it worth the just little over an hour of your time.

A Precode Look at WWI

Heroes for Sale is nearly unrelenting in the intensity of pain that the character of Tom Holmes (Richard Barthelmess) goes through.  A soldier in the first World War, who is severely wounded in an enemy action, he ends up addicted to morphine when his German doctor can only relieve his pain rather than remove the shrapnel in his body. He returns to America to find that his fellow soldier George (Grant Mitchell) has been given awards for bravery for leading the action in which Tom was injured, while George hid in a foxhole, paralyzed with fear.  George attempts to help his friend, as much out of fear of being revealed as anything else, until Tom's addiction becomes known, at which point Tom is fired from his bank job and put into a rehabilitation center.

Cured of his drug problem, Tom starts over, marries (Loretta Young as Ruth), becomes successful, only to have everything taken away from him yet again.  He loses his job, his wife, his son and finally ends up one of the depression homeless, primarily because he refuses to live upon the pain of his fellow man.

William Wellman never lets up in this story. Just when you think Tom will make it, something else happens to him.  Richard Barthelmess is wonderful as Tom. We felt for him at every moment.  He had had a remarkable career in silents, which continued into the 1930's, finally petering out (unfortunately) in the 1940's.  We had previously seen him in Only Angels Have Wings, and looked forward to seeing him in a lead role; he was not a disappointment. 

Unlike the previously discussed Midnight Mary,  Loretta Young plays an innocent girl in Heroes for Sale, someone who loves her husband and son with her whole heart.  Young is quite good in what is really a small part.

Besides Barthelmess, though, the other actor of real interest is Aline MacMahon as Mary Dennis.  Of particular note is a scene during which she realizes that Tom has feelings for Ruth. Watch her face - Aline MacMahon will break your heart.

Ms. MacMahon began her career in 1931, and continued working until 1975.  She had started on Broadway, appearing in The Madras House in 1921 - she would continue to work on the New York stage until 1975.  She spent her film career in supporting roles, like Trixie Lorraine in Gold Diggers of 1933 and Mrs. Murray in The Search.  Married once (from 1928 until her husband's death in 1975), she retired in after completing For the Use of the Hall.  She died in 1991, aged 92.  

Here's a scene with the always wonderful Aline MacMahon and Richard Barthelmess:



Next week, we conclude this particular precode set with Wild Boys of the Road.