Reviews

I've read the other comments that talked about aspects of this film that are dated, offensive, or just plain bizarre. I was rather surprised that no one brought up the movie's cringe-inducing gender stereotypes. Anyone who has seen Claudette Colbert or Melvyn Douglas in the films they made before the introduction of the Production Code(in mid-1934) would immediately recognize the heavy hand of the censors, who did their best to impose on Hollywood their narrow-minded idea of "family values." (On the basis of this film, it would appear that allowing married women to pursue a career would bring about the end of American society, but child abuse and drunk driving are just good clean fun!) Though the cast and plot look good on paper, the result is strained and uneven, as if the script had been written to Pre-Code standards and then hastily cleaned up so as not to offend the censors.

Claudette Colbert plays Julia Scott, a bright, capable, and confident executive assistant at a large department store. She runs the busy office like a well-oiled machine and clearly enjoys the work. It's hard to fathom why she's spent six years mooning over her boss, Richard Barclay. The way the role of Barclay is written, the usually charming Melvyn Douglas comes off as a humorless, sexless cipher. All the more jarring, then, to hear Julia talk about her desire to give up her terrific job and marry Barclay. Without a trace of irony, she describes marriage as "a woman's REAL career."

Okay, she wants to get married. But why on earth would the lovely and vivacious Julia want Barclay as a husband? Not only is he dull as ditch-water, he treats her as if she were a piece of super-efficient office equipment. Once they're married, he ridicules her for assuming the stereotypical role of housewife, despite the fact that she's set his chaotic home in order and tamed his obnoxious brat of a daughter. There's nothing in the movie to explain Barclay's eventual change of heart; apparently it's brought on by a quart of whiskey. So much for good old "family values." The film is so devoid of any hint of sexual attraction that we don't see a single cuddle or smooch--not even at the very end when it's clear that the newlyweds will finally get around to doing what newlyweds are famous for doing. Julia has more physical contact (and chemistry) with Leonard Rogers, her sweet-tempered playboy suitor, who's a lot more appealing as husband material than that cold fish Barclay.

Solid performances are turned in by familiar actors in some of the secondary roles: Raymond Walburn as the perfect butler; Katherine Alexander as Barclay's drama-queen sister; Edith Fellows as the evil daughter; and especially Jean Dixon as Julia's wise-cracking, matchmaking best friend.

Would love to have seen this film made just a year earlier, before the Hays Office started taking their moralizing hatchet to so many of the things that made movies of the 30s worth watching.

This film gets off to a great, weird, very racy Pre-Code start. In the first couple of minutes we are introduced to an adulterous young wife (Lili Damita) and her slimy, sadistic, blackmailing husband (Erich von Stroheim). You can't take your eyes off von Stroheim; his over-the-top performance is not exactly what you'd call great acting, but it gives the film its only real juice. Once he's—literally—out of the picture, we're left with a static, conventional, and uncompelling love triangle.

Others have already commented on Miss Damita's strengths (beauty and sex appeal) and weaknesses (no real acting ability), which I believe is a fair assessment of her contributions. Despite her physical charms, I found it difficult to believe that men would be driven to extremes of jealousy over her... which seriously undermines the main premise of the story. And when she chooses Adolphe Menjou over Laurence Olivier... well, that's REALLY straining the bounds of credibility!

Speaking of hard to believe, there's Hugh Herbert, making a pathetically inept attempt at a Scottish accent. (He went on to become a repeat offender, once again inflicting his bogus burr as Detective John McTavish in 1934's EASY TO LOVE). Herbert's recurring "business" about the women in his life gets very tiresome very quickly.

The biggest liability in the film is Adolphe Menjou, woefully miscast as the man who wins Damita's heart over all her other lovers, including a very young, very handsome Laurence Olivier. Scrawny, pinch-faced Menjou was over forty at the time (he looks even older); ludicrously, he is repeatedly referred to by various characters as "young man." It's obvious that the part was written for a younger, sexier actor. Had they cast someone more appropriate, the story would have had a lot more sizzle.

Though I rated the film only four stars, I'd recommend it to die-hard film buffs. Besides von Stroheim's memorable characterization, it's got a nuanced performance by the young Olivier, the lovely Miss Damita (and her equally lovely wardrobe), and some appealingly quirky scenes and performances. It's not great art, but it's good entertainment.

The best performances in this film are turned in by Oak Miller's jealous paint horse and a dog named Jeff who brings about the heroic rescue of a wagon train under Indian attack. This creaky old horse opera contains just about every silent-western cliché you could think of, which makes it entertaining in ways its creators undoubtedly did not intend. The plot features not one, but TWO maidens whose virtue is threatened by men of evil intent. (In case you don't recognize the bad guys by their black hats, long beards, and shifty eyes, the titles will obligingly point them out for you.)

"Oak" is the perfect name for a character played by William S. Hart, whose acting technique seems to have been copied from that very material. Apparently he lavished much attention on making the movie's details—such as costumes and settings—as realistic and historically accurate as possible. Too bad he didn't give equal consideration to the storyline, which is repetitious, slow-moving, and lacking in excitement (outside of Jeff's heroic dash through the sagebrush for help).

A real antique, worth watching perhaps for its historical interest.

Granted that this film shows its age and stagebound origins, it nevertheless has a lot to recommend it. Some of its message falls under the rubric of standard-issue moralizing, but it also tells us that the rich and educated have many of the same vices as the poor and uneducated... sometimes even more so. It also offers some unconventional views on topics such as unwed motherhood, social justice, and women's independence.

The lovely Constance Bennett is eminently watchable as Ellen Neal, a young woman fighting against the circumstances of her birth, gender, and economic situation to make something decent of her life. While the chic, sophisticated actress is somewhat cast against type, she manages to create a character who is strong, sympathetic, and believable. Bennett makes us willing to overlook (at least most of the time) the long string of clichés and incredible coincidences that pass as a plot. She delivers a couple of breathtaking speeches about morality and "family values" that made me want to stand up and cheer.

The movie packs an incredible amount of story—some of it quite far-fetched—into less than 90 minutes. It begins with 18-year-old Ellen being arrested in a raid on a speakeasy, where so far she's managed to keep her virtue intact (at least that's what we're told). A sympathetic judge lets her off with the admonition that she's heading down a bad road. Heeding the warning, Ellen eventually manages to find less lucrative but more honest work as the maid for a wealthy upper-crust family, the Fullertons. It turns out, however, that the high-society folk are no better than the speakeasy lowlifes; they swill bootleg whiskey, indulge in wild parties, and all of the men seem to be on the make, particularly for Ellen. Among her pursuers is Hugh, the Fullertons' college-age son (played by an appropriately boyish Lew Ayres). Learning of her disreputable past, Hugh believes Ellen will be an easy conquest, but she fights bravely and eloquently for respect. Eventually, though, the two fall in love.

After Hugh returns to school, Ellen discovers she is pregnant. Receiving no response to her letters to Hugh, she is forced to quit her job and move back with her mother (played with touching sweetness by Beryl Mercer). Following the birth of her son, Ellen contacts Hugh's family. Suspecting a shakedown, Papa Fullerton (played by Purnell Pratt) asks family friend Judge Filson (played by Hale Hamilton) to pay off Ellen and avoid a public scandal at all costs. But Ellen is not looking for money; what she wants is for the Fullertons to acknowledge precisely what they wish to keep secret: her relationship with Hugh and his paternity of her child. She hires a lawyer, the seedy but honest Yates (played to eccentric perfection by Tully Marshall) to press her claim.

Earlier in the film, we learn that as a young man, Judge Filson himself once fathered a child out of wedlock, but that his lower-class lover made no claim on him for fear that she would ruin his social prospects. He does not know what became of his sweetheart and the child he has never seen.

When Judge Filson meets with Ellen, he discovers she's not the conniving gold-digger he'd expected. As a matter of fact, he's quite taken with her and believes her when she insists that Hugh Fullerton fathered her child. Filson encourages Hugh not to repeat his own mistake and to claim both Ellen and the baby. But Hugh's father, as well as his friend Bud, continue to regard Ellen as low-class trash and refuse to allow Hugh to reconcile with Ellen.

Ellen has no choice but to have her lawyer Yates drag the whole issue into court. The trial scene is not to be believed (or missed). Besides some amazing revelations that follow pell-mell one after another, the scene is a hoot from a legal-procedural point of view. I'll not reveal the outcome, but suffice it to say the many, many loose ends do get tied up in tidy fashion.

It's sad that a movie that's so entertaining, so fascinating from a socio-historical perspective, and directed by the great Victor Fleming should be unavailable on video and so rarely shown anywhere. If you have a chance to catch it, don't miss the opportunity.

This film was described as a comedy on the cable station listing, and with a cast that includes those great screwball stars Irene Dunne and Ralph Bellamy (see "The Awful Truth"), I expected a light and zany marital farce. Far from it. Despite the nonstop string of quips, clever insults, and arch comments, this film is at its core a rather cynical and serious take on the institution of marriage. Given that it was directed by John Cromwell, I guess I should have anticipated that there'd be something more substantial lurking under the glossy comic veneer.

Things start straying from the formula-comedy path in the very first scene. When hubby Ralph talks to his doting wife Irene, the expected marital banter soon devolves into a rather distasteful display of selfish rudeness on his part. There's not the slightest glimpse of any qualities that would make his wife so devoted to him. His subsequent behavior with old flame Constance Cummings stamps him indelibly as a cad and a fool. Still, I expected him to come to his senses after one night's infidelity and do something noble to win back Irene. But he kept on behaving like such a louse that I found myself rooting for her not to take him back.... even though I knew this was not likely to happen in a Hollywood film from this era, especially when the couple in question had a child.

Another noteworthy departure from the standard-issue Hollywood formula is the affair between bad-girl Constance Cummings' character and the character portrayed by Sidney Blackmer. It's made quite explicit that she had picked him up under disreputable circumstances and that they have some sort of kinky relationship going on. Blackmer manages to show us a man who is suave, creepy, and admirable in one package.(He may behave amorally, but at least he's honest about it.)

Meanwhile, I was surprised and delighted to hear two strong, intelligent, independent-minded female characters (Irene Dunne's and Kay Johnson's) expressing some rather enlightened ideas about marriage and womanhood. No doubt this had something to do with the fact that both the screenplay and the play upon which it was based were written by women. As the film progressed, I began to hope for something truly revolutionary: that Irene would dump her unworthy husband even if he decided to return to her. If I'm not mistaken, she looks like she's not completely surrendering to him in the final clinch that closes the film. The ending is not the definitive feminist statement I was hoping for, but it's just ambiguous enough to leave the door open for that sort of interpretation if you're inclined to see it that way. It's a great illustration of how "Pre-Code" signifies much more than overt sexuality and "immoral" behavior; had "This Man Is Mine" been made just one year later, there's no doubt Irene would have pulled the noble self-sacrifice routine to win back her boorish husband, if only for the sake of their child.

This is an original, deftly-written film that keeps you guessing throughout. I appreciated the attention given to creating interesting, complex characters—even the minor ones have distinctive personalities and quirks. And hooray to the scriptwriter, director, and Ralph Bellamy for not trying to show in the end that his character is a great guy underneath it all! Performances by just about the entire cast are nuanced and compelling, with the three leading ladies meriting special praise.

Those who view this film as a lesser version of "The Women" are I think missing the point.... there's a lot more going on here than the bitchy (albeit well-written) catfights. Give it another look and see if you agree.