Now Playiing: "The Story of Temple Drake" (1933)

"I've seen three generations of them in my time.  They're a stiff neck lot, most of them.  Proud and all that.  There's a wild streak in them.  Every now and then, one of them comes along like Temple -- with something bad in them.  Something wrong.  Maybe Temple will get over it but there's not one of them that's had it, didn't end up in the gutter."

No Pre-Code movie list is complete without The Story of Temple Drake and there's a very good reason for that.  The picture is in a class by itself insofar as the seamy, sleazy and gritty nature - - never mind the fact that it, coupled with Convention City, a sex comedy, helped to bring on the Production Code and usher in a new era of filmmaking.

 The Story of Temple Drake is based on a William Faulkner work called "Sanctuary," which is about the rape and abduction of a Mississippi college age girl from a prominent local family.   Published in 1931, "Sanctuary" was Faulkner's critical and commercial breakthrough but the novel was highly controversial due to its overriding theme of rape.  While it was generally agreed that the book proved Faulkner was a highly talented writer, most reviewers found the book horrific.  While the general consensus in Hollywood, an industry that always kept one eye on those bestselling and/or notorious works, was that "Sanctuary" was unfilmable, Paramount had no such qualms.

Flush with stars at the time but cash strapped, Paramount snapped up the rights to the story and cast Miriam  Hopkins, who had created quite a stir in Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and Trouble in Paradise, in the title role.  Not coincidentally, both pictures made a tidy profit for her studio.  Her popularity alone didn't make Miriam a perfect fit for the role of Temple - - like Temple, she too was a Southern belle (born in Savannah, Georgia and raised in nearby Bainbridge, Georgia), descended from a wealthy and notable family (her great-grandfather was the fourth mayor of Bainbridge and helped establish the local Episcopal church).  She possessed the wild, carefree beauty that Temple had; Miriam could also portray longing, abject fright, and sad resignation.

Surely someone named Trigger is trustworthy

Perhaps the most important part outside of the title character was the role of Trigger, the man who rapes and abducts Temple.  Called "Popeye" in Faulkner's book, the name was changed for obvious copyright reasons.  Paramount assigned the part to George Raft, who was making a name for himself in the parts of gangsters and heavies.  In fact, Scarface, in which he portrayed coin-flipping Guino Rinaldo, released the year before Temple Drake made Raft into a star.  He, however, wanted nothing to do with Temple Drake, feeling that Trigger was a sadist and playing such a role would ruin his reputation and effectively finish his career.  His biographer claims that Raft told Paramount he would the film only if the studio put $2 million into his account, a not-so little insurance policy to support him if the film did indeed torpedo his burgeoning career.  Instead, Paramount put him on suspension in February of 1933 and cast instead Jack La Rue, an actor who had been cast in Scarface but, due to his deep voice and height, had been replaced by -- you guessed it -- George Raft.  

As fair warning, spoilers lay ahead!

Nothing good can come of this

The opening credits of Temple Drake give us glimpses into what's to come, with the dark, moody lighting and the flashes of the broken down, decrepit house.

The first we see of Temple isn't actually all of her but rather her arm as she's attempting to wrangle herself away from a date at three a.m. by getting through the front door.  It's clear that she's laughing and having a wonderful time, while her date is anxious to continue what they've started.  When she does make it through the door, she's literally on fire with the empowerment of control -- sexual and otherwise.  Her grandfather, who is her guardian and also judge of their town, tries to reprimand her for staying out late and, in general, being wild but she quickly wraps him around her finger.  It's clear that she has been doing this - - wrapping males around her finger -- for a long time.

Temple playing with one of her dates

She's presented to viewers as basically a good girl but a flirt or a tease.  She enjoys playing games with her many dates but she apparently stops short of ever allowing them their way or consummating the relationships.  Life for Temple Drake, up to this point, has been nothing but fun with little to nothing raining on her parade.  It's only fitting that when tragedy (or comeuppance as some might see it) strikes, it does so with an actual lightning strike and terrible rainstorm.

Attorney Stephen Benbow has been in love with Temple, as apparently are most of the men in their town, and even proposed to her in the past but she has refused him.  She obviously likes him a great deal, if not feels romantically toward him, but rebuffs him because she believes she is "no good."  As town gossips speak freely about how "wild" Temple is, we have to assume that she believes this because she's heard it for so long.  And also because Stephen, as a straitlaced and very responsible young man who works with her grandfather and sits at home with his elderly aunt and helps her knit, is deadly dull in her eyes.  It's another confrontation with Stephen, during a dance, that starts the ball rolling into her eventual downfall.

Temple and Stephen before the literal storm

Desperate to escape Stephen's pleas for matrimony, monogamy, and fidelity, Temple leaves the shindig with a drunken acquaintance named Toddy who, in short order, manages to crack up their car and get them picked up by the menacing looking Trigger and clearly stunted Tommy who take them back to the rundown house seen in the opening credits.  She isn't keen to accompany them into the woods and back to their place but Toddy, not drunk enough, only wants another drink and has no issue busting into the bizarre band of redneck-y characters that are playing a game of cards in the house.  All the males, except for Toddy, are leering at Temple in such a way that watching the picture today, more than 80 years after it was filmed, is an uncomfortable experience.  Things will only get worse.

Toddy is knocked unconscious when he attempts to defend Temple and her honor from one of them, who wants the pretty college girl, dressed in sheer, wet clothing, to sit on his lap.  As all the men in the house are due to take a truck into "the city,"  Trigger - - clearly the alpha male -- decides that Toddy will be carried out to the truck and taken to the city but Temple will stay put.  The only woman in the house, an old-before-her-time and understandably bitter Ruby, who is forced to wait on the men (one of whom is her maybe legal husband) and keep her baby, whom she refers to as "it," in the wood box so "the rats don't get it," has a mixture of both pity and resentment to the classy Temple.  She's jealous of Temple, warning her to stay away from Ruby's own man, condescending of Temple, lecturing her about the type of girl -- tease -- she is, but also tries to protect her by sending her to the barn, with Tommy, to sleep as Trigger has stayed behind.

Ruby is having none of Temple's angst 

Up to this point, the film has been dark and utterly disturbing.  Knowing the subject matter, and having heard about the infamous rape scene, waiting for it to come is almost unbearable.  The rain, with accompanying thunder and lightning, the spooky house, knowing that a bad man is hiding somewhere, along with the highly effective lighting, are all precursors to the horror movies that would see popularity in the 1970s and 1980s.  These scenes alone reminded me so much of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre that I felt outright fear while watching.  The Story of Temple Drake did it first, and without a bit of gore.          

It turns out that while Tommy is "off," he's a decent enough person overall.  He sits in the barn with a gun to watch over Temple.

T

Uh oh

he next morning the sun is out and the mood of the picture lightens considerably - -but only very, very briefly.  We see feet heading to the barn and we're in no doubt that it's Trigger, who has apparently waited long enough to claim Temple and her virginity.  He skulks around the sleeping Tommy to pounce on his prize.  The scuffle awakens Tommy who, after poking his head around to see what's going on, is rewarded with a bullet to his head, killing him instantly.  We see Tommy fall, we see Trigger close the barn door and approach on the frozen Temple.  She screams and then the screen goes blank.

Next time we see her there is no doubt as to what happened.  She has tears streaming down her face and appears comatose in the car next to Trigger.  He apparently likes her and is taking her away to "the city," where he has a room in what is clearly a bordello.  He's going to turn Temple out.

Meanwhile, Ruby's partner, Goodwin, finds Tommy's body and notifies the sheriff, who immediately suspects that Goodwin himself is the killer and promptly arrests him.  Ruby saw Trigger driving off with Temple and correctly deduces that Trigger must have killed Tommy in order to snatch Temple.  Goodwin, afraid of Trigger's wrath, would rather stay mum and face the hangman than turn snitch on Trigger.

It's Stephen Benbow who is assigned to represent the indigent Goodwin and he eventually gets Ruby to tell him who actually shot Tommy.  He goes looking for Trigger at the "house of ill repute" and is shocked to find Temple there, lounging about in a negligee and clearly for hire.  Seeing that Trigger is prepared to shoot Stephen, she tells Stephen she went with Trigger willingly and is living with him, and working for him, willingly.  To further prove her point, she gives Trigger a bit, wet kiss.  Stephen is heartsick and leaves, but not before handing both of them a subpoena to appear in court.

Living in a bordello and dressed like this . . . hmmm.

It all becomes too much for Temple who packs up to leave Trigger.  Trigger, who actually believed that Temple might have feelings for him that don't include revulsion and outright hatred, tells her she will never leave and slugs her.  She shoots him with his own gun and takes off for home.

She goes to the courthouse, where her grandfather is upset that Stephen would actually subpoena his granddaughter for a trial involving someone like Goodwin.  Temple does not want to take the witness stand, even to save an innocent Goodwin from the hangman's noose, because then everyone will know how far she's fallen.  Stephen believes the right thing to do is provide testimony that she saw Trigger shoot Tommy but when he calls her to the stand, he cannot bring himself to ask, knowing that her reputation will be forever ruined.  It's Temple herself that tells the story and it's Temple who tells the judge that they cannot find or question Trigger because she killed him.  She then faints, as all proper ladies in the 1930s did when it just became too much.   Stephen scoops her up and tells her grandfather that he should be proud of her for what she did and fade out, with the assumption that Temple's reputation won't be permanently ruined and Stephen will marry her.

Temple on the witness stand

Not surprisingly, The Story of Temple Drake was banned in Pennsylvania and Ohio.  New York would only agree to show it if the scenes involving sex and violence were reduced to a minimum (seriously, was there much left to the film?)   So controversial was it that when the Hays Code went into effect, Joseph Breen ordered that the film never be re-released and the movie did not resurface for more than 20 years.

Amazingly, the film was reportedly significantly watered down in order to pass the censors in the first place.  As such, the film version is quite different than the story in the novel, which has very different endings for Temple, Stephen Benbow, Trigger, and Goodwin.

I found Miriam Hopkins to be perfectly cast in this role and absolutely mesmerizing.  Despite being 31 years old at the time of filming, she captures the flirtatious manner of the spoiled and aimless Temple as expertly as she captures the crushed, defeated, and resigned Temple post-rape.   Her face is such a masterful window of emotions that even with no speech following Stephen Benbow's defection after finding her and Trigger, the viewer knows very well that was the last straw.   The fact that she wasn't nominated for an Academy Award for this performance is infuriating and very likely more due to the scandalous and salacious story than anything else.

Jack La Rue as Trigger

It feels almost wrong to say this but I found Jack La Rue electrifying as Trigger.  The camera captured his menacing approach and focused on his deep, mesmerizing eyes.  He's a bad guy, no doubt, and probably has zero redeemable qualities but he's got that something.  Some say The Story of Temple Drake negatively impacted his career, as George Raft had predicted, but looking up his credits showed him working throughout the 1930s and 1940s and into the 1950s and 1960s.  Would he have become leading man material without Temple Drake?  That's a hard question to answer but La Rue was Bogart before Bogart was Bogart.


The Story of Temple Drake continues to create debate even to this day.   Was Temple a willing participant in her rape?  Did Trigger satisfy her bad-boy/bad-girl fantasies?  Was the rape merely an excuse for Temple to leave town and kick up her heels as a prostitute?  Did she kill Trigger because he had her motivations nailed?

Anything is possible.  Even before the Production Code was put into place, the censors in 1933 only allowed certain aspects to be shown and suggested.  It's too bad on the one hand but thank God on the other that the film was made when it was.  A year later, The Story of Temple Drake would never have seen the light of day, much less gotten to a soundstage.  It does make you wonder what pictures might have come out of Hollywood had the Production Code never existed, if The Story of Temple Drake is a model to base a theory on.

Regardless of what Temple's motivations may or may not have been, she's ultimately portrayed as a victim.  A victim of Trigger.  A victim of society and cultural norms at the time.  She's just an average gal at the start of the film, one that is enchanted by her own domination over men who really will do anything to sleep with her.  And one with natural and normal hormones and hormonal impulses.  Were she not in a small town in the late 1920s, when the story takes place, and not the granddaughter of Judge Drake, Temple could sow her wild oats and not be scandalized for it.   Were she allowed to do that, and not suffer the guilt of turning Stephen Benbow down because she's "no good" and can't promise that her urges won't impact their relationship, she may never have ended up in Trigger's path to begin with.

I find The Story of Temple Drake one of the most intriguing, puzzling, unsettling, and unusual of the Pre-Code era.   It's not a happy film and therefore not satisfying in the feel-good sense but it's brilliantly told and made, directed by the solid hand of Stephen Roberts, excellent camera work by Karl Struss, and wonderfully acted all around with the aforementioned Hopkins and La Rue, aided by Florence Eldridge as Ruby, William Gargan as Stephen Benbow and even a small part for the amazingly underrated Louise Beavers.   The New York Times, back in 1933, found The Story of Temple Drake to be "a highly intelligent production . . . grim and sordid but . . . enormously helped by its definite dramatic value."  

Interestingly, Miriam Hopkins had mixed feelings about the film in her later years, saying that she felt she needed to shower after viewing it for the first time in years and commending viewers in 1972 for sitting through it.

The Story of Temple Drake is not available on DVD as far as I know and is shown only rarely on TCM.  At one time it was available to view on Amazon Prime and was available in its entirely (75 minutes) on YouTube.  It's worth the search.

Now Playing: "Double Harness" (1933)

As fair warning, spoilers lay ahead!

"Love?  Marriage has got nothing to do with love.  Marriage is a business.  At least, it's a woman's business. And love is an emotion. A man doesn't let emotion interfere with his business. And if more women would learn not to let emotion interfere with theirs, fewer of them would end up in the divorce court."

When the following lines are uttered by our heroine in the first ten minutes of the movie, you know it's going to be good.

Double Harness isn't particularly well known today and that's a damn shame because it's a wonderful insight into the modern woman's thinking in 1933 and an honest look at marriage without the convenience (or inconvenience) of love. It's got some darn good performances to boot.

Ann Harding receives top billing as Joan Colby, a very practical woman who, given her father's financial losses, believes she needs to let her head and not her heart rule any matrimonial decisions.  She has her cap set on John Fletcher (William Powell), a shipping magnate who is debonair, dashing and a playboy.  He has the financial wherewithal to make Joan's life comfortable; unfortunately he also has a regular Saturday night kind of thing named Monica Page.

Joan and her elaborate nightie

Joan, whom it seems has not only been hitting the town with John but also possibly the sheets, comes up with a surefire scheme to nab her prince.  She arranges to have her father show up at John's apartment and catch Joan in her very frilly nightie.  Qué scandal!  The proper thing to do at the time and in their social circle was to marry.  John agrees and he and Joan make an arrangement to remain married, for appearances, for six months.  He then promptly takes up where he left off with Monica Page.

Joan, however, has been lying to herself for months.  She is in love with John and was hoping for a "real" marriage.  Because of that, and because she's a genuinely nice and caring person, she's been working at increasing his business.  Like most magnates and "gentlemen" of the time, movie-wise, he never seems to work.

John needs a drink after the Colonel catches him

Joan's younger sister, Valerie, throws a major wrench in the works.  Valerie is Joan's polar opposite - - we see it from the very beginning when, while shopping for a wedding trousseau, she throws all caution to the wind, despite her father's precarious financial standing.  Marriage does not cure her and she comes to Joan to bail her out of financial dilemmas.  When Joan finally realizes that Valerie will only learn when she has to stand on her own two feet, Valerie blabs to John that their father walking in he and Joan, leading to their marriage, was a set up.  All planned and delivered by Joan.  Uh oh.

John is rightfully pissed and more than a little disappointed in Joan, who he felt was above this kind of deception. He had realized earlier that same day that he was in love with his wife; instead of talking it out, he returns to Monica Page, leaving Joan to host a dinner she has organized for his benefit, one to get him a contract with the postal service.  The dinner goes all kinds of wrong, in the way that only 1930s screwball can deliver, but the ending is just right, with John realizing that Joan is a swell girl and he does love her.

Sure, the film is trite on paper and purely formula but the stars make it so endearing and imminently watchable. 

William Powell is a year out from his super stardom role in The Thin Man; he plays against the Nick Charles type, somewhere in between the bad guys and heavies he smoothly turned in for Warner Brothers and the aboveboard gentlemen MGM preferred. His John Fletcher is at his core a good guy bit takes a particularly good girl to scratch the surface and find it.

Ann Harding is wonderful as Joan Colby, a part that could have been too saintly and too sweet had Harding not nailed it.  But nailed it she did, expressing Joan's character without alienating the audience and making us root for her, even if she had to resort to deceptive tactics to get her man.  When caught, she doesn't deny; she confesses the entire thing, including her love for John, in front of him and Monica.

Double Harness is a perfect example of why Ms. Harding was such a well respected and critically acclaimed actress in the early 1930s and it's tragic that she's not one of the better remembered and considered actresses of yesteryear today.  This film is but one of a handful of Pre-Codes in which she masterfully appears and is very much worth your time.

Joan, Valerie and the Colonel are all smiles

after Valerie has spent too much money

Lucile Browne, Henry Stephenson and Lilian Bond are all excellently cast in their supportive roles as Valerie Colby, Colonel Colby and Monica Page, respectively.  Watch for the prolific character actor Reginald Owen as John's butler Freeman.  Owen would go on to his most famous role as Scrooge in the 1938 production of A Christmas Carol so it's lots of fun to see him here, adding some levity to the film. 

Double Harness is chock full of style, sophistication, suaveness and sex and is just delightful to watch.  It's 70 minutes of well spent time and a wonderful showcase for Ms. Harding and Mr. Powell.

Double Harness can be difficult to find on DVD (although you can locate reasonable copies if you're persistent) and is shown now and again on TCM.

Now Playing: "Beauty and the Boss" (1932)

As fair warning, spoilers lay ahead!

I love Pre-Codes and hadn't seen (nor heard much of ) this one before but since it features Warren William, I'm game.  I found Beauty and the Boss an interesting watch, not just due to William's involvement but because of the sheer insanity of the picture itself.

William plays "the Baron," a European banker, who has just returned from a visit to the States.  Miss Frey, his current secretary, is less than capable but she is hot to trot.  The Baron fires her, freeing her (and him) for outside activities, something he has made routine.  He tells the easily seduced Miss Frey that he needs a secretary who is plain and unattractive, focused solely on business and someone that would not prove a distraction to him.  Enter Susie Sachs, a young stenographer who is suffering with the Depression and looking for work. She barges into the Baron's office, after oh-so-obviously pressing her nose to the glass and staring at the Baron's co-worker preparing to eat lunch, and single-handedly takes over the office with the speed (and overall passion) of a machine.  Exactly what the Baron wants!  Susie is not only offered a job but she goes ahead and calls the local grocer to have a bevy of staples delivered to the residence she shares with her mother.

Fast forward a few weeks and Susie, the little church mouse, is running every aspect of both the Baron's business and personal life.  She's keeping him on task at the office and warding off quite a few females with ulterior motives.  Of course, Susie has motives of her own as she has fallen in love with the Baron, who is utterly blind to her as anything other than a first rate assistant.

Will the Baron realize Susie has feelings for him?  Will he have feelings for her?   This is a fairly by-the-book plot so you should know the answers.

Let's talk about the issues with Beauty and the Boss.

This man should never be third billed

First, Warren William is third billed in this picture.  Third billed. What?  Marian Marsh gets top billing followed by David Manners (who?)  Where is the respect for the King of Pre-Codes?  Certainly not here.

Secondly, please someone, give Marian Marsh a sedative because she makes the Energizer Bunny look positively lethargic.  I started out getting a bit exhausted watching her and then my exhaustion turned to annoyance and aggravation.  I'm no stenographer but can anyone really take shorthand that well?  And who asks their boss to dictate faster?  Huh?

But maybe I am overly sensitive because Marsh's initial scene as Susie struck me wrong. Sure, the scene with her at the window did its part in showing us that she was one of the Depression weary who was hungry (and it certainly would have cut down on the scene where she described to the Baron how she divided a sardine to make it last longer) but director Roy Del Ruth really had that scene go on way too long.  I think I may have been able to run to the bathroom and grab a drink and not missed anything.  I want to like her because, truthfully, she deserves the job.  And she's not only quite good at keeping the female leeches away from the Baron but some of the scenes are humorous.  When she takes the flower delivery to Miss Frey, she shows a steely backbone; in other scenes, however, she's very nearly insipid.

She's too eager, too hyperactive, too . . . TOO.  Granted, Marsh was only eighteen or nineteen when she filmed Beauty and the Boss; Del Ruth should have reigned her in.

This is an issue with everyone on this film, honestly, but was everyone hard of hearing?  Were they told there were issues with the sound equipment?  Did they think there weren't speakers in the movie theaters because they were most definitely playing to the balcony.  They were yelling and, I'm sorry, really overacting in some scenes.  I adore Warren William but this isn't one of his stronger outings.  Which is sort of weird because this film was shot the same year he made The Mouthpiece and Skyscraper Souls, both of which are excellent.

Perhaps the most troubling aspect of the film, if you want to call it that, is how women are viewed and treated.  Women are not to be, well, women, during business hours.  The Baron is perfectly okay with using women for his own needs and devices (i.e., sexually) but only if it's not during business hours and only if the women are not in his employ.  He is amazed that Susie - - or any woman - - is capable of working and using intellect as a man does.  In this way, the ending of the film is a letdown, as Susie is fired by the Baron before catching on that he has fired her so that he can make her his Baroness.  Beauty and the Boss makes her like every other cinematic woman, at least of the period, who really only wants to get married.  Jobs are simply something to do until you find that man willing to put a ring on your finger.  What a disappointment, as Susie has proven herself to be just as capable - - and maybe more so - - than any man working at the bank.  Also disappointing, to a much lesser degree, is that once she's been pink slipped by the Baron, Susie returns to her pre-employment duds (and I do mean duds) of schlubby wear and Apple Annie straw hat with a sad sunflower.  The anvils, they are a-dropping.  Clearly without the Baron and his employ, poor Susie is no longer the strong, attractive woman but instead the little church mouse.  Sigh.

Maybe worse is that women like Miss Frey and the unnamed bathtub lady who is so fond of calling the Baron, her former employer, while immersed in her bubbles were a-okay with being objectified and sexualized and essentially paid for their services; after firing Miss Frey, the Baron gives her six months of wages in exchange for being available.  I know it was the Depression but . . .

Which of course makes you wonder exactly what Susie would see in him, or why we, the viewers, should root for them to be together.  She's an innocent, if overly energetic, waif and he's a man who sees her as a woman for the first time after she appears in an evening gown and promptly gets the hots for her.  As does every other man, including the Baron's younger brother, because they clearly see her as nothing but a typewriter when she's attired in her usual blouses and skirts. Ah, the days before feminism.

All is not bad, however.  I chuckled over the scenes dealing with plane travel, as it clearly was a novelty back in 1932.  No commercial flights but the Baron has a private plane, which I'm sure was considered very plush for the time. One of Susie's more humorous scenes concerns her sending one of the Baron's potential amours to someone else's plane.

The slinky gowns and the amazing pantsuit worn by Miss Frey post-firing are phenomenal, as is the Art Deco gloriousness of the Baron's office.

As a fan of Warren William, I am happy to see him in any cinematic effort and this one is no exception.

Finally, if nothing else, as women, we should celebrate how far we've come, especially when viewed through the lens Beauty and the Boss gives us.

Beauty and the Boss is available on DVD.

Now Playing: "Private Lives" (1931)

As fair warning, spoilers may lay ahead!

Private Lives is one of those Pre-Code films that is often neglected and overlooked, which is a shame.  It defines so much of what Pre-Codes stand for and it absolutely would never be made, at least not in its entirety, after the Hays Code went into effect.

Based on a Noel Coward play, Irving Thalberg - - the film's producer and husband of Norma Shearer - - thought a movie adaptation would be good for MGM and the lead role would suit nicely for his wife.  He sent a camera crew to New York to film the first act of the play (starring Coward and Gertrude Lawrence) so that the cast could see the excellent timing needed for laughs.

Unlucky newlywed #1

Norma was indeed cast and was joined by Robert Montgomery in the lead roles. Shearer and Montgomery had first appeared together in 1929's Their Own Desire. While the film didn't set the world on fire (although it did score Shearer an Academy Award nomination; she lost to herself in The Divorcee), the studio liked the pairing well enough to cast both in The Divorcee and Strangers May Kiss.  Although Montgomery played a supporting role to Shearer in both films, they projected a strong and undeniable chemistry.

In Private Lives, they played former spouses who find themselves remarried to others and at the same Swiss hotel, with new spouses and on their respective honeymoons.  So far, it sounds very much like the plot you'd find in one of the screwball comedies that would become so popular in the mid to late thirties.  Private Lives veers, and veers a lot, from the screwball tract though.

Unlucky newlywed #2

First and foremost is that both Amanda (Shearer) and Elyot (Montgomery), upon meeting each other at the hotel, exchange a few barbs before realizing the flame is still there.  They go in for a passionate kiss and then elect to run off together, abandoning their new marriages.  They also choose not to inform their new spouses.  And run off they do. Although we do see them sharing a room and bed with others, it's not long before Amanda and Elyot are on their own and shacked up in a room with Elyot saying "You know you adore being made love to," to Amanda.  Racy stuff for the time, especially given that both Amanda are Elyot are married to others.

Secondly, Amanda and Elyot both admit to being physically abusive with the other. Amanda tells her husband Victor that yes, Elyot struck her but she hit him back and broke four gramophone records over his head. Elyot admits to having struck Amanda but rather than apologizing, he simply looks sheepish; he also says that certain women should be struck regularly, like gongs.

First it's love 

It's crystal clear that they have a severely dysfunctional and abusive relationship.  Where's a good therapist when you need one?  As expected, they get into it once they are alone together - - Amanda breaks a record over Elyot's head and he slaps her, leading her to scream like mad and throw herself into the sofa and kick her feet. They call each other a "pig," a "bully," a "cad," a "slattern," a "fishwife."  Like I said, after the summer of 1934, you would never see the likes of Private Lives.  Amanda runs off to the bedroom, screaming like a banshee, and Elyot ends up sleeping in a chair.  When morning breaks, we see the damage done to the room - - dawn isn't the only thing that's broken. Romeo and Juliet, these two aren't.

Then it's destruction

My first viewing of Private Lives, I thoroughly disliked the film.  I found both Amanda and Elyot unlikable, a realization that pained me greatly because I adore Shearer and Montgomery.  This is a different role for Shearer; she must have been given a lot of space by director Sidney Franklin because she goes for the scenery like a rabid dog in some scenes. She is normally more subtle and less hammy; if you don't believe me, watch the scene in the hotel room she and Elyot are in, just prior to their fight, when she applies her lipstick.


However, TCM being what it is and my stubborn streak being what it is, I gave the film another chance and upon my second viewing (and those thereafter), I found a certain charm to the movie.  The chemistry between the two leads truly sells it but looking at it as a comedy, a pre-screwball comedy before there was such a thing, shines a new and improved light on it.

Both Reginald Denny, as Amanda's jilted husband Victor and Una Merkel as Elyot's jilted wife Sibyl are perfectly cast in their parts.  Sure, Sibyl's a whiny thing but she's meant to be; the polar opposite of the cool and ready to brawl Amanda, Merkel delivers.


Of course we know from the start that neither Victor and Amanda nor Elyot and Sibyl are right for one another (mainly because Shearer and Montgomery are the stars) but the indicators start at their respective weddings.  Sibyl, in her formal church wedding, looks absolutely terrified.  Victor, in his less formal wedding at the French justice of the peace, is annoyed that children are making a ruckus, while Amanda laughs it off.   In their honeymoon suites, Victor is shocked and embarrassed to find Amanda in her lingerie at the dressing table while Sibyl needs constant kisses and reassurances that Elyot loves her.  Both of them bring up their new spouse's former partner ad nauseum.  Sibyl even asks Elyot if Amanda is prettier than she and Elyot tells Sibyl that Amanda is!   All this is within the first fifteen or so minutes of the movie.

Awkward . . . 

My favorite scene, however, is when all four newlyweds are sitting around the table in the hotel room Elyot and Amanda have battered, having breakfast. That scene alone, with its comedic timing, is worth watching the picture for.

Private Lives would become the seventh most popular movie in the U.S. in 1931.

Interestingly and yet not surprisingly, Noel Coward disliked this film (as he disliked all Hollywood films adapted from his plays.)  Also of interest is that Robert Montgomery claimed that Norma Shearer had one heck of a left hook and knocked him out cold during the fight scene.  Don't mess with Norma!

Would I recommend Private Lives to viewers?  Absolutely.  It's heavier on the fighting than on the romance but you'll not see another Pre-Code like it.  Heck, you may not see another film like it.

Warner Archives has Private Lives available; the film shows up on occasion on TCM's rotation.

Now Playing: "Night Nurse" (1931)

Ah, how I love my Pre-Codes.  There is nothing like them.

The little gem I am talking about today came out a year before my previously discussed film Downstairs but it's just as wild, woolly and fun.  I'm talking about Night Nurse, a film that not only told the moviegoing public that oaths (Hippocratic or otherwise) are for sissies but gave us a kimono clad young Clark Gable.  Thank you, movie gods.

She may have more than nursing in mind.

One of the amazing things, of which there are many, about Night Nurse is that this was strictly a B film.  Barbara Stanwyck would hit it big beginning in 1932 but at the time this film came out, she hadn't yet achieved full prominence.  Gable was still an unknown when this was filmed, although the release of A Free Soul in June of 1931 (two months ahead of Night Nurse) had built him a reputation and a growing female following.

As fair warning, spoilers lay ahead!

Night Nurse is about Lora Hart (Stanwyck), an idealistic young woman who is driven to be a nurse by compassion and a genuine desire to help people, lack of experience or education be damned.  In what is a swift and nifty bit of exposition, in only a few sentences we get Lora's background.  It's the scene in which she tries to get a job at the local hospital, only to be shot down by the bulldog HBIC, who tells us by way of reading over Lora's history that she nursed her sick, now deceased, mother, was unable to graduate high school due to her mother's illness and her grocer wrote her a letter of recommendation.  I love this brief scene so much because so many movies and television shows today have forgotten how to do excellent (and subtle) exposition.  Instead of light scenes like this, we are hit over the head with an anvil and smacked with a 2x4 by way of forced, unnatural and clunky dialogue.  You know what I mean.  No forensics tech or detective has to explain to another why they are doing what they are doing or have done (and in such technical terms) unless a camera is there.  It's a clunky and painful way to exposit information.  This scene is a perfect case study in how not to insult and potentially put the audience to sleep.

Anyhow, back to our film,  Our heroine, with the oh-so-appropriate last name, is leaving the hospital, sans job, when she is plowed down by the resident neurosurgeon who likes what he sees and tells the bulldog, who is practically licking his feet, to find Lora a job, which she does.  A gum smacking nurse called Maloney (played with absolute bravura by Joan Blondell) is assigned to show Lora the ropes and room with her.  This is another thing we learn in Night Nurse - - nurse recruits not only work all the time (one day off a week), they live in what amounts to hospital dorms with check-ins and lights out at certain times.  Maloney teaches Lora that interns are scum, that doctors never marry nurses (only interns do that) and nursing is a pretty dirty and often thankless job.

Lyon, Blondell and Stanwyck bonding over a bullet

While both ladies are assigned to the emergency clinic, Lora encounters a gunshot victim (Ben Lyon) she correctly deduces is a bootlegger (he's wearing a silk shirt after all.)  She treats him without filing the required police report because he seems like a nice guy (even bootleggers can have a heart, no pun intended) and Maloney offers an assist.  Morty is grateful and calls Lora his "pal."  He sends her a bottle of rye as a thank you; when she graduates, he sends her an enormous (and kinda tacky) floral arrangement referencing "pal."

Meanwhile, Maloney has gotten a job as a day nurse to two children who were in the hospital for starvation; she arranges for Lora to be their night nurse.  This is where she (and we) are introduced to the shady as hell Gable as Nick the chauffeur.  Or should I say the "chauffeur," because it's obvious that Nick's duties do not end with parking the car.  The children's mother, to whom he reportedly "works," is a worthless pile of permed hair, furs and liquor.

Yes, you are.

On her first night of employ, Lora is assaulted by a drunken associate of Mrs. Ritchey, the mother.  She is saved from a possible rape by Nick, who pulls the drunk off her and gives him a wallop. Nick wants for her to treat the Missus; when Lora refuses to do so without a doctor present, Nick gives her a punch that knocks her out.  Oh, and he does it while wearing a silky robe which makes it oh so hard to dislike him.  Make no mistake, though, Nick is a bad guy.

Lora rightfully returns to the hospital to complain about this treatment, and report Dr. Ranger, the doctor assigned to treat the children, who is clearly on the take.  Her kindly benefactor, Dr. Bell, tells her he cannot overstep his bounds with the sleazy Dr. Ranger and, as there is no evidence, nothing can be done but he does encourage Lora to return to the hornets' nest in order to gain evidence and, presumably, protect the children.

He's bad, I know he's bad  . . . 

This she does, because she is Stanwyck, after all, and everything goes down in a major way immediately.  The oldest child is basically dying, the mother is drunk and Morty shows up to do business with Nick.  Because Nick's a bad guy. He quickly figures out that Nick is the one that popped Lora and guards both Lora and the children's nanny while they treat the child and call for Dr. Bell, who arrives in time to give the child a blood transfusion with Lora's blood.  Lora is going to press charges against Mrs. Ritchey, which will basically end her nursing career (as people apparently will no longer trust a nurse who is not down with negligence) but that's okay because she saved the children and she's got Morty, to boot (no pun intended.)

The film wraps up with Lora driving off into the sunset with Morty and his silk shirts and Morty informing her that  she no longer needs to worry about Nick because Morty has friends. Or should I say "friends."  Cut to an ambulance pulling into the hospital where Lora worked with the driver saying the stiff inside was "taken for a ride" and he wasn't a bootlegger because he was wearing a chauffeur's uniform.  Dum dum DUM!  Fade out.

Let's just start with the obvious, shall we?  What was going on in the world that Lora would be told to go back to the private residence where she was attacked, assaulted and threatened?  That's just crazy.  And certainly no endorsement for the police.

As far as lack of endorsements go, I can't see movie audiences of the early 1930s watching Night Nurse and rushing out to join the medical field because it's not shown to be a bastion of morality here.  At least one doctor is shown to be on the take, interns are depicted as slimy horndogs not to be trusted and the nurses are the bottom of the totem pole - - disrespected, tired and ultimately jaded.  Even Lora, so optimistic and altruistic at the beginning of the film, seems hardened and wise to the world by the end (although we really can't blame her.)

Barbara Stanwyck, as always, is excellent here.  She portrays Lora with stars in her eyes in the beginning but who, by the time she meets Morty in the emergency clinic, is able to trade quips and barbs with him, all while cleaning out his gunshot wound.  I saw flashes of her upcoming role as Lily Powers in Baby Face when she was dealing with the drunkards as the night nurse.  Watching her look with disgust at the children's mother while muttering "You mother . . . " is amazing. You know at least mentally another word follows "mother."  It doesn't need to be said because Stanwyck's inflection is everything.  I also love her "oh yeah?" retort before she hauls off and socks a drunk right in the kisser.  This, my friends, is the essence of the Pre-Code.

Joan Blondell, as previously mentioned, plays Mahoney with bravura.  How can you not love Joan?  She's the wisecracking girlfriend we all have, need to have or want.  She's no nonsense and brings Stanwyck's Lora back down to earth in the beginning.  Sadly, while she is front and center during the first half of the film, she almost disappears during the second half; only in the forefront when she's relaying information to Stanwyck in her position as the day nurse.  A shame, really.

Ben Lyon was well cast as the bootlegger with the heart of gold (and arm of lead.)  He's attractive, without being pretty or over the top, and you can almost understand why Stanwyck's Lora would fall for him.  I say almost because let's be honest.  He's not a great guy.   He's a bootlegger.  He's legally a criminal.  He has a dangerous job (he's been shot at least once that we know of) which means Lora will be in danger so long as she's with him.  It's a fascinating choice that the writer of Night Nurse decided to make Lora's knight in shining armor a bootlegger rather than a rich playboy (Franchot Tone in Dancing Lady) or attorney (Franchot Tone in Midnight Mary; Franchot Tone in Sadie McKee.)  Wow, Franchot Tone got around, didn't he?  But I digress.  We, as the audience, are supposed to be happy that Lora ends up with a bootlegger.  Which is better than ending up with a toe tag or with the lascivious Nick who would either starve you, run you over with a car or pimp you out but still.

Gable's role as Nick is a supporting one and he is most definitely not seen on screen enough.  Yeah, I'm a Gable fan.  He's a terrible person but you can understand how he gets the ladies because damn if he isn't totally hot.  He isn't confrontational with Lora from the first moment but he absolutely takes control and tells her how it's going to be.  When he socks her, we are in no doubt as to how shady he is; when he's carrying her from the room, we are left wondering whether he's going to take her for a ride or give her a ride on the Gable Express.  He dumps her on a sofa in her own room but he does stand by, watching her.  Again, he's a bad guy but the sexual undertones . . . yowza.

As a major plot point in the film involves the attempted murder of children, Night Nurse is a gritty film.  These children are the only two characters in the film who aren't jaundiced and cynical about life.  The wealthy are presented as aimless drunkards who only care about money and the next party; the criminals are on the make; and some of the medical practitioners are little above the criminal element themselves.

That said, the film is insanely enjoyable and occurs in a relatively skimpy seventy-two minutes.  But what a ride!   Pop some popcorn, grab a drink and buckle up for an enjoyable Pre-Code experience.

Night Nurse is available on DVD through TCM Archives Forbidden Hollywood Collection and shows up on occasion in TCM's rotation.

For your enjoyment, here is a clip of the infamous "oh yeah?" and "You mother . . . " scene.

   

John Gilbert and the Excellence of "Downstairs"

If you're going to talk about silent films, great silent film couples and how the advent of the talkies brought on the destruction of a once-great career, you cannot avoid talking about John Gilbert.  He had it all - - film success, high profile affairs with insanely popular actresses (Barbara La Marr; Laurette Taylor;  Bebe Daniels; Lupe Velez; Mae Murray; Greta Garbo; and Marlene Dietrich to name but a few), excesses, marriages, divorces, a career nosedive and early death.  That's the quick and dirty version.  The actual truth of John Gilbert requires much more than a simple post.

With all the available fodder on Jack (as he was known to friends), very little is ever said about his 1932 film Downstairs.  A terrible oversight and shame because Downstairs is a masterpiece of nuance and one that was delivered several generations too early for its movie-going audience.

Downstairs was written by Jack around 1928, at a time when he was still at the top of his game. He had written it with himself in mind as the lead - - a suggestion that horrified his bosses at MGM because the lead, Karl, was an unapologetic, self-serving crook.  How would it look for The Great Lover (as Gilbert had been nicknamed) to portray an irredeemable heel?

The script sat for several years, until Jack's career hit a downturn.  How that happened has reached mythical status over the years (Louis B. Mayer insulted Gilbert and Gilbert punched him; Mayer vowed revenge and wreaked havoc with the sound of Gilbert's films or Mayer planted a story that audiences laughed at Gilbert's allegedly high and effeminate voice in his first talkie.)  It's unlikely that Mayer would tamper with films that were in the can because, hey, a dollar's a dollar and Mayer was all about making more of them.  But at a certain point - - after his botched nuptials with Garbo, in which the actress stood him up at the altar - - Jack was given progressively worse scripts and directors that were either inept or didn't understand the actor, causing a drop in his popularity.  However, he still had a contract with MGM and a friend in production chief Irving Thalberg. Perhaps Thalberg felt guilty over Mayer's shabby treatment of a man who had made the studio a ton of money or that Jack's misfortunes, brought on by the depression caused by his lackluster career, were putting him into the drink. Regardless, Thalberg gave him two assignments that showcased exactly how versatile and talented John Gilbert was.

The first, The Phantom of Paris, a mystery, had been slated for Lon Chaney, who died of cancer in 1930.  Jack stepped into the role of a magician/showman who was accused of murder and uses his mastery of magic and disguise to solve the crime and find the real killer.   He does well in Phantom, playing very debonair (and true to type); it was not an easy task to take over for Lon Chaney.

In Downstairs, he played against type.  Very much against type. As the scheming, blackmailing chauffeur Karl, Jack is both repugnant and mesmerizing.  He's a scoundrel for sure but he takes it a step further.  He blatantly seduces women for material needs - - money, shopping, clothing - - or just for fun and then dumps them when they have served their purpose.  It doesn't matter if the woman is young, old, single or married; if she has the means, Karl has the time for seduction.  And you know that Karl knows how to lay down the pipe.

Anna weakly tries to fend off Karl (good luck, sister) 

His current target is new bride Anna (played by Virginia Bruce, who would become Jack's new bride off-screen shortly after the film wrapped), a maid in the residence where Karl is working.  Anna is so kind that Karl opens up to her in his attempts to woo her:  "I've had to fight my way through life alone. Bad men and bad women. I've never been in love with anyone good, like you, before. I didn't know how to treat you."

Good, right?  I mean, he knows exactly what to say.  I think we can figure that he's never been in love with anyone before.  And he knows how to hook his mark.  Jack's delivery, along with his expressions, are perfection here.  You can see exactly when he realizes he's reeling in his "fish," and she's all his.  It's the subtle type of nuance in which the best Pre-Code movies deliver and John Gilbert delivered.

Downstairs is about wealthy Vienna society, the differences between those who live "upstairs" and those who live "downstairs" (hence, the name) and sex.  Lots of sex.  Jack oozes the same sex appeal he was so notorious for as the dashing Great Lover, only here he's not doing it for love but for gain.  He's so smooth, so sexually charged and electrifying that you can't truly hate him, despite his at-times vicious behavior.  So charming is he that in one scene he manages to seduce and engage in shenanigans while actually picking his nose.

Downstairs was given a redheaded stepchild release (thanks, MGM) after the fairly disastrous premiere of His Glorious Night (the film which launched a thousand and one conspiracy theories) and the critics of the day roundly hated it.  They, like theater patrons, chose to ignore Jack's risque dialogue and witty banter and were confused by the leading man's portrayal of such a remorseless character, who gets no type of comeuppance that would be required post Pre-Code.

It's tragic that no one, save John Gilbert himself, seemed to realize that he wanted to play against type because it's real.  People like Karl existed and do exist.  He wanted to be someone on screen other than the man who ran after Garbo, or types like her, mad with love and lust, murmuring sweet nothings. In Downstairs, he proved that not only could he act out those parts but he could write them as well.

I think that Jack chose to do Downstairs, at least in part, as a "screw you" to MGM, who apparently felt they owed to nothing to a man who helped to build their empire.  While the exact role of Mayer in Jack's downfall is in question, there is no doubt that Mayer disliked him heartily and had no use for the man unless his blood and sweat were transforming into coins with which to line the studio coffers.

If Downstairs had been released fifty years later, I've no doubt that John Gilbert would have been greeted with acclaim and lauded with praise and awards.  The more jaded 1970s (and after) audiences would have recognized Karl in their co-worker, neighbor or spouse.  The movie audiences of the early 1930s were happy to have cads on screen but not portrayed by actors who typically played the "good guys," and certainly not if they never saw the error of their ways.

John Gilbert had believed so much in Downstairs that he sold the rights to MGM for a single dollar.  He made no salary off his work as a writer and the film at the time only cemented the belief that he was washed up.  The film ended up losing money and was chalked up as another "miss" for Jack.  Garbo would insist that he be given the role opposite her in the successful Queen Christina in 1933 but it did little to help his sagging career.  He would end his MGM contract with a B picture that same year.  The following year, Columbia cast him in The Captain Hates the Sea, in which he played a frustrated playwright.  The hope for any comeback was soured by the constant drinking that was done by Jack and co-stars Victor McLaglen, Leon Errol, Walter Catlett and Walter Connolly.  It would end up being Jack's last film appearance.

In December of 1935, Jack suffered a serious heart attack that left him weak and in poor health.  On January 9, 1936, he suffered a second and fatal heart attack.  At the time of his death, he had been slated to appear in the film Desire, with Marlene Dietrich, who he was romantically involved with at the time

Despite his career slide, and a divorce in 1934 from Virginia Bruce (his fourth), he would leave an estate valued at nearly $6.5 million in today's dollars.  The bulk of it went, at his direction, to Virginia and their daughter Susan.


It would take the inception of Turner Classic Movies and a rebirth of the appreciation of the Pre-Code films for Downstairs to find a new and much more appreciative audience.  Today, we aren't shocked at the lengths to which persons will go in order to obtain money and have their egos stroked; we can appreciate Jack's performance and his desire to take on the role of a less than moral and likable character.

Fortunately, John Gilbert today is remembered in a far kinder light than he was in 1936.  His voice, a subject of innuendo and controversy, was never effeminate or laughable and in fact, was crisp and distinctive.  What the actual reason for his falling out with Mayer and MGM, it certainly was not due to his acting or to Downstairs.

Jack gets the last laugh