Ever Since Eve (1937)

It's really hard to watch a movie with Marion Davies and not think of the whole "Rosebud" thing. It's also hard to watch her not imagine that the actors and actresses around her wouldn't be just a touch resentful of her star status. As William Randoph Hearst's mistress, she had an entire film production company created to give her a showcase. Of course, as Irving Thalberg's wife, Norma Shearer had a similar degree of unfair advantage. But Shearer won over critics and the public were crazy about her. She would have been a star without being Mrs. Thalberg. The same can not be said for Davies, though as a comic actress, she is actually quite good. Ever Since Eve was her final film and was a fitting movie to go out on. It is a breezy screwball comedy, co-starring Robert Montgomery and the always hilarious Patsy Kelly. I watched this movie for Montgomery and Kelly, but I was impressed with Davies' ability to hold her own in with these top notch comic actors.

Davies retired from Hollywood at age 40 to devote herself to Hearst full-time. Without Hearst's backing, she might have made a very first rate actor, though perhaps never a star. I think she was wise not to try to force her way into the glamor gal roles any more. Hollywood then as now had little room for women over forty who had the misfortune to look their age. Looks are an important part of my assessment of this movie because the entire film is predicated on the conceit that Davies character is so incredibly gorgeous and sexy that her bosses can't keep their hands off of her. She looses job after job because she refuses to submit to sexual harassment. While I'm happy to see the issue of sexual harassment brought up, I think it's a mistake to think that it only happens to pretty girls. Even more offensive is the joking way in which Patsy Kelly is disappointed that her boss is a perfect gentleman with her.

As a solution to her employment problem, she gets an ugly bob wig, a dumpy double breasted suit, some thick glasses and manages to get along fine as Robert Montgomery's secretary. Like those movies where women dress in drag and men find themselves strangely attracted to them, only to be relieved when the ruse is revealed later in the film, Montgomery's character seems drawn to her. Absurdly he doesn't recognize her voice or face when she he meets her dressed in her normal "beautiful" attire. My willingness to suspend disbelief is further stretched by the fact that Davies looks pretty dowdy in the supposedly fashionable wardrobe she wears in this part of the film. Whatever happened to the kind of outrageously glamorous work attire that say Kay Francis would wear? The fitted pencil skirts and short jackets she's wedged into do nothing for Davies. Even the gown she wears in a nightclub scene makes her look lumpy. Maybe it was more than the actors who were resentful and Orry Kelly hated her as well? Hearst moved his production company from MGM to Warner's because Davies was tired of being second fiddle to Norma Shearer. Though she might have lost parts to Shearer at MGM, I'm pretty sure they wouldn't have allowed her to go before the cameras like this.

What works in this movie is the script which is frothy and full of dozens of memorable one-liners. Patsy Kelly is a hoot and so is her fiancee played by Allen Jenkins. This is definitely a case in which the secondary couple were entertaining enough to draw my interest away from the leads. Montgomery was charming and funny as usual and he and Davies are quite fun together especially when she is impersonating a plain girl. I couldn't help but wish he would have just fallen in love with her like that. Or better yet, run off with Patsy Kelly.

Lady in the Lake

I was ten minutes into this movie, when I slapped myself on the forehead and said, "oh no! Not THIS thing." I had seen part of Robert Montgomery's disastrous first person camera version of The Lady in the Lake in some point in my past and repressed it. Somebody in 1947 needed to take the actor/director aside and tell him two things: Christmas music has no place in film noir, and if a filming technique has never been used for an entire movie there's probably a good reason for it. I'm sure as a first-time director, Montgomery was trying to be generous and give the spotlight to his fellow actors. If that was the case, just cast someone else as the lead. I won't go so far as to say that Montgomery's face was his only good attribute as an actor, but a movie that depends entirely on his voice is not as enjoyable as one in which we get the whole package. His performance as Philip Marlowe feels very stagy and what exactly is that accent he's trying to do? He is not helped by his leading lady Audrey Totter whose main acting technique is to bulge eyes out every once in a while like an unfunny, unappealing Lucille Ball.

As you can see from the poster, Lady in the Lake was billed as "the most revolutionary picture since talkies began." The genius in marketing who came up with that deserves to have to watch this stinker once a week for life. It's really too bad that the movie was executed so poorly, because Raymond Chandler's "The Lady in the Lake" is one of the all-time great detective stories. It deserved high-style forties noir treatment. What it got was a garbled plot and a lot people trying to punch or make out with a camera. Oh, yeah, and for what it's worth, there's no lake in it either. The original story begins with discovering the body at Little Fawn Lake. This mess begins with Robert Montgomery addressing himself in the mirror.

There are moments in the film, such as the discovery of a dead body, where the first person camera work and the creepy Christmas music are actually effective. But one suspenseful sequence does not make up for the excruciating minutes of "real time" where nothing much happens and the payoff for all our waiting around is to hear Montgomery huffing and puffing away in the background while we watch the surface of the ground moving slowly in front of us. Yeah, I get it, he's half dead and crawling along, but why would I want to experience that for myself?

This must be my week for bad noir, but really after Lady in the Lake, Bette Davis in The Letter seems like Citizen Kane, or at least The Postman Always Rings Twice. I feel like I need to watch Double Indemnity as soon as possible or I'm in danger of giving up on the genre all together.

Riptide

Norma Shearer and Herbert Marshall in "normal" evening gear in Riptide. As always, Ms. Shearer's evening gear is by Adrian. Though Marhsall gives a great performance you can tell what MGM's publicity department thought of the male actors in Shearer's pictures by how little light his face is given.


With a first half hour that would make any comedy of re-marriage of the late 30s proud, Riptide is one of the best Thalberg-produced Norma Shearer vehicles. The story begins with an an unseen dowager's invitation to the "World of the Future Ball." Lord Philip Wrexton (Herbert Marshall) and Mary (Norma Shearer) are strangers meeting en route to the party while struggling with the ridiculous costumes assigned to them by the dowager. These costumes are at once masterpieces of art deco styling and totally hilarious. The pair decide to ditch the party and their silly duds. (I have to say that I was a little disappointed that we don't actually get to see what the MGM art department would have down with the World of the Future Ball). After one big eyeful of one another in regular evening clothes--though to be fair when was Norma Shearer in an Adrian gown, ever anything but spectacular--they fall instantly in love. They then have one of those ridiculous conversations that could only happen in the movies where they acknowledge their intense attraction and plan their future in the vaguest and most breezy manner.

After a whirlwind "spree," represented by the usual polo-playing, speed boat riding montage the couple marry despite her wild past and his somewhat fusty personality. We flash forward five years and the couple are happily married and living in London with a three year old daughter. (I was delighted to see Norma Shearer reading the Tale of Jeremy Fisher at bedtgime. That is as close to being Norma Shearer as I ever get in a day.) Philip is going away on a men's only business trip (whatever that means) his wife is feeling sorely neglected. If this weren't a recipe enough for trouble, Philip's blacksheep aunt Hetty (Mrs. Patrick Campbell) is called in to chaperone. Hetty is a fun-loving old scamp and she insists of dragging her niece first to Monte Carlo and then into the apartment of Mary's ex, Tommie (Robert Montgomery) who is the life of every party. Tommie introduces us to a great hangover remedy, the crown of ice cubes. Inevitably there is moonlight and too much booze and Mary and Tommie get unfairly caught in a scandal. Unwilling to believe that their romance amounted to nothing more than a kiss and some idle chatter, Philip asks Mary for divorce. Apparently there was more than polo playing happening during their spree and Philip decides that because she was the kind of girl who didn't stop at a kiss back then, there's no reason (other than, you know, five years of a marriage and a child together) she should have changed. Mary is understandably annoyed by this double standard and does the sensible thing which is to start sleeping with Tommie. Then Philip changes his mind after learning from a private detective that Mary was innocent after all. Now, Mary is happy to go back to Philip except she has this new and actual cheating to explain. Things get very awkward and driven by his insecurity and her temper, the couple decide to divorce again. The last third of the movie is tiresome as heart strings are tugged, child custody is debated and marriage triumphs about 15 minutes after we quit caring about it.

If this movie was just a tad funnier and a bit shorter, it would be remembered today as a classic romantic comedy. It has all the pieces: a stellar supporting cast, a juicy love triangle and a breezy clever script. As it is, Riptide isn't much remembered at all. Dismissed by critics as a typical Shearer vehicle, it was a box office hit and quickly forgotten when the next one came along. Like most of Norma's pictures it had a lot to say about sexual politics. It is very frank and not entirely outdated. For all its fantastical settings, the portrait of a marriage of opposite personality types was quite accurate--the very qualities which attract also cause tension. Marshall is adept at playing a man in love, yet wracked with quiet insecurities, unable to communicate with his wife. Shearer portrays her loneliness and frustration admirably and then simply shines in her scenes with Tommie. Robert Montgomery who gets billed above Marshall is in many ways the star of this picture, even though he doesn't get the girl. He is always the charming gad-about playboy in these movies, but he takes "charm" to it's zenith in Riptide. He is a leviathan of charm, scooping up hearts like so many plankton and swimming muscularly away when his part in the film is complete.

Of lingerie models and leering boyfriends

Anita Page (right) and Bessie Love pre-pare for a bath in The Broadway Melody (1929).

I watched a trio of Anita Page movies from the early pre-code era recently: The Broadway Melody, Skyscraper Souls and Our Blushing Brides. Anita Page wasn't a great actress but she was a memorable presence on screen. She made her biggest impact in the silent era with Our Dancing Daughters (pre-curser to Our Blushing Brides) and the transition into sound was seemingly easy for her. She is natural and easy-going in her talkies, though sometimes she seems to loose the screen to more forceful actors, like co-star Joan Crawford. In all three of these movies Page plays a woman that men like to look at, whether on a broadway stage, modeling lingerie or standing behind a perfume counter, she is always the eye candy that pays the bills for some man. And there is always a stage-door johnny type ready to load her up with jewelry and furs and empty promises. While her more famous co-star, Joan Crawford, always played the good girl in these situations, Page got to be the girl who lets her foot slip once in a while.

The Broadway Melody (1929) was a very popular movie in its day but it is maddeningly slow and the musical numbers feel distant and uninspiring. I'm willing to forgive this clunkiness as a side effect of its being one of the first full-length talkies. The central relationship in the movie between Queenie (Anita Page) and her sister, Hank (Bessie Love) is just a bit weird. Queenie is in love with Eddie (Charles King) but he is engaged to Hank. For Hank's part she seems more obsessed with her sister than her boyfriend. Queenie has to choose between a producer named Jock Warriner (a thinly disguised Jack Warner) that wants to keep her in high style and low morals and her sister's beau. What's a good girl to do? Apparently the answer is to walk around in her underclothes a lot. Queenie goes so far as to take a bath in her underwear, which has to be one of the most bizarre thing I've seen in a pre-code film.

In Our Blushing Brides (1930) Anita Page plays Connie a department store clerk who is having an affair with the owner's son (Raymond Hackett). Her roommate, Joan Crawford works in the same store but prefers to keep the owner's other son (Robert Montgomery) at arm's length. Things don't turn out well for Anita's character as her boyfriend keeps her on the side while continuing to juggle society dames. Joan Crawford has one flirtatious encounter after another with Montgomery until you wish they would fall in love already. Their romance mostly takes place in his unreal, only-in-the-movies tree house complete with electric lights, telephone and mechanically descending staircase. One of his favorite tricks is to bring women up there and pull up the stairs so they can't leave. Charming. Crawford and Page also model for the department store (naturally) so that is what gives the excuse for them to be changing clothes perpetually. I don't think they invented those changing screens (you know the kind where the woman ducks behind and shortly afterward you see her dress slung over the top of the screen, followed by her stockings) until 1934.

In Skyscraper Souls, Anita Page mixes it up a bit: she plays a lingerie model and a prostitute who turns tricks for extra pocket money and to bail out her friends from financial disaster. (Click here for full review of Skyscraper Souls.) This clever bit of scripting gives Anita double the chances to undress before the camera. In the end she winds up going straight and marrying the only man in the Dwight Building that hasn't been paying her to see her in the altogether.

I really enjoyed all three of these movies, each in their own way and Anita Page is certainly entertaining and of, course, watchable in all of them.

Four from Russell and Montgomery

This must be the week I "discover" Robert Montgomery. After enjoying Mr and Mrs. Smith and particularly Montgomery as David Smith, I went on to watch four films from Rosalind Russell and Robert Montgomery that were shown on TCM late last night. I can thank a summer cold for my inability to sleep and stay up through four movies in a row. It was either guzzle Dimetapp or watch a Russell/Montgomery-athon. Ever the dedicated blogger, I decided to forgo the cough syrup and enjoy Roz and Monty.

The screen couple were paired together for five films: Forsaking all Others (1934) in which they had second billing to Joan Crawford and Clark Gable, Trouble for Two (1936), Night Must Fall (1937), Live Love and Learn (1937) and Fast and Loose (1939).

The most well-known and best-regarded of these movies, is Night Must Fall which casts Montgomery against type as Danny, a charming but deadly sociopath and Russell as Olivia, a neurotic spinster who is attracted to him despite suspecting him of murder. Night Must Fall was not a box-office hit when it was produced but has gone on to be frequently shown on late night television and the like. This is probably owing far more to the fact that its a taught thriller along the lines of Wait until Dark, than the fame or accomplishments of the leads. Montgomery uses the incredible charm that was his meal-ticket throughout most of his career and turns it against the audience. The viewer finds themselves, like Olivia, drawn to him against all reason and judgement. Montgomery was nominated for an Oscar for the film, but lost to Spencer Tracy in Captains Courageous. Russell's job in the film was no less difficult. She frequently acts against all reason when she chooses to risk being Danny's next victim rather than lean too heavily on her long-suffering boyfriend, played by adorable Olivier-look-alike, Alan Marshal. Dame May Whitty is great as usual as Olivia's crochety old aunt who falls for Danny's charms. Montgomery is wonderful in his scenes with Whitty, and though you know their friendship is all play-acting on Danny's part, you can't help but feel anyone who has that great a talent in making an unbearable person bearable must have some redeeming qualities.

Trouble for Two is the first movie that paired Russell and Montgomery together as leads and it was one of Russell's first starring roles. The movie is an adaptation of Robert Louis Stevenson's "The Suicide Club" which makes for a fun, costume drama twist on the romantic couple as sleuths. Think of it as the The Thin Man with riding boots and corsets. Montgomery is dashing as a disguised prince on the loose in London sowing his wild oats who gets caught up in a suicide club. Russell plays a mysterious, noirish siren for the first third of the film, a role in which she's a bit clumsy, but she aquits herself nicely when she falls into her more familiar Gal Friday persona when she teams up with Montgomery.

Fast and Loose is the last pairing of Russell and Montgomery and if Trouble for Two references The Thin Man slightly, than this movie is an out and out rip off. The Thin Man formula is evident from the opening scene which shows the couple hung over in their elegantly upholstered twin beds to the final scene in which Mrs. Sloane takes potshots at the killer and winds up hitting her husband right in the classified ads. Yet, despite its derivative nature, the movie is still entertaining.

My favorite of the Russell/Montgomery pairings was the lamely-titled Live, Love and Learn. This was a fun screwball comedy about a bohemian painter who marries a society dame. It was again overshadowed by another Loy/Powell film which came out two weeks earlier called Double Wedding. It was also about, you guessed it a bohemian painter who marries a society dame. Both films even have bit parts for character actor Barnett Parker. It's a small world over there at the MGM lot apparently. As much as I love Double Wedding, I'd have to choose Live, Love and Learn simply because it has Monty Woolley and really, pretty much every movie with Monty Woolley rocks.

Mr and Mrs Smith: Hitchcock goes Screwball

Mr and Mrs Smith (1941) is best remembered as Alfred Hitchcok's only foray into screwball comedy. Sandwiched between Foreign Correspondent and Suspicion in Hitchcock's oeuvre the movie is mostly glossed over by those who are trying to piece together a careful analysis of his devlopment as an auteur. That is somewhat beside the point of this piece of dream factory fluff. It's a quickly-made comedic star vehicle for glamorous Carole Lombard that covers the familiar ground of her earlier hit My Man Godfrey (1936). There is nothing-like authorship in the direction which lacks the Master's usual camera gimmicks and obsessive themes. Hitchock does his cameo, but his own lack of enthusiasm for the material shows a bit. He doesn't go out of his way to imprint his style on it.

This may be Hitch phoning it in, but it still stands up with the era's best in this genre. Screwball had peaked well before 1941 and Mr. and Mrs. Smith is one of the best late offerings. Though not as brilliant as the Grant and Dunne's follow up to The Awful Truth, My Favorite Wife, which came out the year before, this follow up to My Man Godfrey is consistently funny throughout and is a more evenly paced film. Where My Favorite Wife runs out of gas by the third act, Mr and Mrs. Smith is still going strong as curtain falls.

As in My Man Godfrey, the principal characters let violent argument stand in for passion. Audiences today frequently comment that the characters in these films are shrill or unlikeable as they throw bits of art deco furnishings at one another. And unlike Godfrey, there is no moral object lesson behind the bluster. No one learns to be a better human being through the proceedings. In fact, just the opposite occurs. The characters unapologetically learn nothing and are reunited simply because they are both such miserable people they can't really live with anyone else. If all this sounds loathsome, it's not. It's actually quite funny and charming. In this sort of role Carol Lombard could do no wrong. She's at once attractive and repulsive in her extremes and Robert Montgomery handles his role deftly as well.

David Smith is a fairly dispicable guy on the surface of things, he drinks too much, ignores his work, and hides the fact that he and his wife are not married simply to indulge the lurid idea that his wife will be like a mistress for a night or two. "Mrs." Smith isn't much better. After throwing her husband out, she lies about her marital status, goes on a date with her new boss and begins courting her "husband's" law partner. When the later refuses to physically defend her honor, she walks out on both saying that they should get a pair of girl guides and go camping together.

Mr and Mrs. Smith is a classic "comedy of remarriage" and pays homage to that genre in slight but telling way at the beginning of the movie. The clerk sent to inform the Smiths that their nuptuals weren't on the up and up repeatedly announces that all marriages since 1936 are invalid. I wonder if it was coincidence that 1936 was the year My Man Godfrey was made and the year in which the word "screwball" came into the lexicon?