Together Again (1944) is one of those curious rom-coms that’s so entertaining it’s hard to understand why it isn’t well known. It pits a wised-up, small-town, widowed mayor (Irene Dunne) against her crafty father-in-law (Charles Coburn). She is devoted to her town and to commemorating her beloved husband. He thinks she should ditch the politics and get some romance, and in typical bulldozing Coburn fashion (i.e., The More, the Merrier) will do anything to make that happen. The verbal fireworks between them owe much to screenplay writers Virginia Van Upp and F. Hugh Herbert. But they might owe even more to the magical combination of Coburn and Dunne.
Yes, this is a rom-com, and Charles Boyer, who plays the mayor’s romantic interest, has great chemistry with Dunne as well. (Witness Love Affair, the far superior predecessor to the anemic An Affair to Remember).
But sizzling as their reunion is (thus the otherwise baffling title of the film), you feel like shooing it away for more airtime with Dunne and Coburn and for more scenes between Mayor Crandall (Dunne) and her constituents.
I’ve chosen to write about Together Again as part of the Classic Movie Blog Association’s awesome political blogathon. Politics might not be the heart of this film, but Crandall’s job leads to some interesting feminist moments. Here are some of the ways the film was of—and ahead of—its time.
Of Its Time The Message that Romance Is Always More Important than A Woman’s Job Coburn’s character assumes that his daughter-in-law is just working because she can’t get over her husband’s death. That’s pretty insulting. The assumption that she can’t possibly be truly happy without a man in spite of a meaningful job? That’s even worse.
The Suggestion that Instantly Quitting a Job and Leaving Your Town in the Clutches of Your Jerky, Manipulative Opponent Is Just Fine…If You’re a Woman. Yeah, that’s messed up.
Ahead of Its Time A Female Mayor There wouldn’t be an ACTUAL Vermont mayor without a Y chromosome for almost 40 years after this film’s premiere.
A Woman Who Wins Sparring Matches with Everyone
Crandall might ditch it all for love in the end, but she’s the wittiest, smartest character in the film—and outmatches every man in it. It takes her own need for romance (and doubts about the town) to make her change course.
A Female Who Succeeds In Spite of the Whiff of Scandal Mayor Crandall wins the election even though there’s a rumor she’s involved in a sex scandal. True, the townspeople don’t think it’s even possible she could have been at a sexy nightclub—which in a way, is a kind of insult. But for a sex rumor to not end a woman’s political career? More than we might expect in a 1944 film. (And sometimes in real life today….)
A Leader Who Stands Up to Difficult Male Constituents
Crandall doesn’t take her townspeople’s complaints lying down. Here’s one of my favorite scenes (my long-time readers must forgive me for repeating this from a previous post): Mr. Witherspoon, who is in charge of the town’s sanitation, keeps leaving the south side blanketed in “a lot of old potato peelings” and is full of excuses for his neglect:
Witherspoon: “It’s the manpower, your honor.”
Crandall: “Manpower, my eye. Use womanpower then.”
Witherspoon: “Women? To collect garbage?”
Crandall: “Why not? Women see more garbage in their lives than men do, don’t they? They might as well get paid for it.”
As for the romantic plot between Crandall and George Corday (Boyer), it’s silly but fun, hinging on a statue, a hat, and some lightning.
Even if the mayor aspect of the film doesn’t interest you—even if you don’t like Boyer or Dunne—ask yourself a simple question: In this dispiriting time, don’t you think a healthy dose of Charles Coburn may be just what the pandemic ordered?
I think it was about five minutes into Psych‘s new movie that I realized just how much I was smiling.
How to explain the effects of Psych? It’s my emotional yoga. When I can’t sleep, I lie on the couch and play episodes till I do. It’s my white noise when I’m doing mindless busy work. And when I really need a pick-me-up (and who doesn’t right now?), I can put on an episode–even my least favorite–and laugh so much. (This despite the fact that I’m surely close to having the whole show memorized by now.) It doesn’t matter if I’m sad, worried, stressed; Psych‘s hilarious dialogue and antics always makes me smile. And the movies are no exception.
Lassie Come Home is both a typical episode and a tribute to Timothy Omundson (Lassie), whose stroke prevented his full participation in Psych: The Movie. But sweet as the tribute to Lassie is, it’s the Shawn and Gus team-up that’s the highlight, as always. I could listen to them banter all day long. This is still the best bromance I’ve seen on TV.
A favorite moment is when Shawn and Gus are trying to get a man to admit he’s faking an illness by tickling him. Shawn (James Roday Rodriguez) begins the badgering of the man like this: “Tough guy from the old neighborhood. Probably didn’t even cry when Liz Berkley got addicted to speed in Saved by the Bell.“
Now that’s a pop culture reference!
As usual, there were some funny cameos, with Sarah Chalke, Scrubs alum, directly referencing her scrubs, and Kadeem Harison from A Different World showing up, reminding fans that Dwayne Wayne was Gus’s (Dulé Hill) early hero (see that bizarre werewolf episode, “Let’s Get Hairy”–Season 4, Episode 8). Chalke was an inspired addition–she fits right in. My other favorite new character was Morrissey, Chief Vick’s (Kirsten Nelson) dog. And current fan or not, you will love a wonderful breaking the third wall moment, when Shawn refers to Psych fans (Psychos), and Gus rips him in response.
Way back when I started this blog, I recommended The Thin Man to Psych fans. But that recommendation goes both ways. Are you a fan of delicious flavor–i.e., funny dialogue? Do you love pop culture references? Do you prefer the relationship between detectives (and their loved ones) to the mystery itself? Do you enjoy some childishness in your leads, as long as it’s funny? (If you’ve forgotten how immature Nick Charles is, watch his classic performance at his in-law’s house in After the Thin Man.)
If you share my preferences, why are you waiting to watch the series, much less Lassie Come Home? I envy you the eight seasons and three films (if you include the musical) you have yet to watch! And if you’re already a Psych fan, you’ll be so happy to have Shawn and Gus back–even for a little while.
It’s not unusual to find a film with a strikingly ridiculous plot. I spent many Friday nights as a teen watching USA Up All Night (hosted by Gilbert Godfrey). How I loved taking in gloriously dumb films, hour after hour.
But to find movies with such plots that are genuinely good? That’s a whole other level of enjoyment. Now add 80 years or so, and the film is STILL GOOD, STILL FUNNY? That’s a comedic masterpiece.
Last Tuesday I wrote a post on feel-good silly films, and rated them according to their degree of silliness. (In a homage to Spinal Tap, I let the ratings go to eleven rather than ten.) So today, I’m going to list five films with plots so absurd they deserve that 11 silliness quotient fully. And not coincidentally, these films are a blast to watch. In no particular order:
The Palm Beach Story (1942)
A woman (Claudette Colbert) leaves her broke husband (Joel McCrea) so that she can marry a millionaire and use his money to fund her original husband’s brilliant project. She heads to Palm Beach to find such a millionaire, aided by a “wiener king ” and trigger-happy hunters. The writer/director is Preston Sturges, so you know you’re in for a treat.
Easy Living (1937)
A banker (Edward Arnold) in a fight with his extravagant wife (Mary Nash) throws her fur coat off the roof of their home. The coat hits the hat of a bus passenger (Jean Arthur). The banker’s attempts to compensate the passenger destroy her reputation, but do aid her income. If you need a teaser to be convinced, check out the banker’s and passenger’s hilarious fight about loan interest.
Arsenic and Old Lace (1944)
Mortimer (Cary Grant) has always known his cousin (John Alexander) is a bit off. After all, his cousin thinks and acts like Teddy Roosevelt, building his canal. But in visiting his beloved aunts (Josephine Hull and Jean Adair), Mortimer discovers they have some issues as well: they’re serial killers murdering lonely old men. “Teddy” assumes the dead bodies are yellow fever victims and takes them in stride. But Mortimer begins to fear for his DNA. A screwball classic.
I’m No Angel (1933)
A lion tamer (Mae West) becomes the talk of high society, even winning a classy lover who plans to marry her (Cary Grant). The circus fears losing her income, so they convince the lover that their star is cheating on him. When her lover leaves her, the tamer sues him for breach of promise. She acts as her own lawyer, spending 90 percent of the trial strutting and seducing the jury in what may be the funniest courtroom scene ever.
I Love You Again (1940)
A man (William Powell) gets hit on the head and becomes an old self he’s forgotten, a swindler, instead of the upright prude he now is. He decides to live the prude’s life as he looks for a score and becomes intrigued by the uptight man’s wife (Myrna Loy), whom the swindler version of himself never met. She, sick of his stodgy ways and unaware of his change, wants to divorce him. The question is, will the man’s wife fall in love with his older self? I feel dizzy just explaining this amnesia plot, but it’s The Thin Man’s Loy and Powell team, so what’s not to love?
There you have it. Five ridiculous plots. Five ridiculously fun movies. And I haven’t even scratched the surface of this topic! Anyone who wants to share their favorite silly plot, please do so in the comments!
As the pandemic length has grown and your patience has seeped away, what spells a “comfort” movie to you may have changed. If you’re single and alone, the rom-com, usually a fallback, may make you cringe about the horror of dating dangers post-opening (as if dating usually weren’t bad enough!) If you’re huddled inside with TOO MANY PEOPLE, you may find yourself enjoying dull footage of peaceful lakes.
But for all of us in times of stress, the truly, deeply silly movie remains a staple, and so in the long-delayed follow-up to my earlier post, “Classic Feel-Good Movies for Shut-Ins,” I’m going full-on silly with my next set of suggestions. I’m joining my peers at the Classic Movie Blog Association, who are sponsoring a great blogathon event on comfy favorites. So here are five comfy classic films, chosen for silliness and enjoyment–and listed in no particular order. (You will note that I’ve rated the silliness level, so not all here are full madcap in style. BUT I’m thinking that a list of films with silliness at level eleven, and eleven only, may be my next project.)
5. TheMiracle of Morgan’s Creek(1943/4). Silliness Quotient–11 out of 10.
I could have easily chosen ANY Preston Sturges flick obviously, but I recently discovered this on my library’s Kanopy streaming service, and just seeing the listing made me grin. For those of you who DON’T know writer/director Sturges, he was a big Coen brothers influence, thus the name of their film, O Brother, Where Art Thou?, a reference to Sturges’ classic, Sullivan’s Travels. (In fact, the Coens’ film title ONLY makes sense if you have see the Sturges flick.) This early writer/director’s delirious combination of madcap physical comedy, witty banter, and sheer improbability in his plotting make Sturges a favorite of any Coen brothers’ diehards (which I definitely am).
The Miracle of Morgan’s Creek actually thrives on denying information to its audience, who know that a scandal/miracle is about to erupt in Morgan’s Creek, and many stratagems are in play to contain it. Betty Hutton is adorable as the center of the scandal, and Eddie Bracken plays her lovesick friend/maybe-more (think Ducky in Pretty in Pink). Basically, it all begins when Hutton has too good of a night with liquor and a bunch of soldiers and sleeps with one of them. The thing is, she can’t remember his name. Yes, you read that right. It gets much more complicated as it goes. Bracken has the silliest role, and he captures his character’s constant befuddlement to the hilt—and just escapes going too far. Since the writing is in Sturges’ hands, it’s brilliant, of course (I have a set of his scripts on my bookshelf, trying to see how he does it).
4. Auntie Mame(1958).Silliness Quotient–7 /10.
I haven’t yet done a full post on Auntie Mame, but that’s because I love it too much, not too little. An unconventional, fun-loving aunt in the city (Rosalind Russell) takes in her dead brother’s prim child, and many hilarious scenes ensue. If you don’t end the film wishing Auntie Mame were your aunt, I don’t know what’s wrong with you. Rosalind Russell’s acerbic edge keeps the film from ever treading into maudlin territory, and she so fully embodies Mame’s significant lust for life that it’s very confusing to find Russell cowed and sad in other films (Picnic, for example).
A favorite scene in the film is when Mame takes a sales job after the market crash. She only knows how to do COD (cash on delivery), and therefore is urging everyone to pay that way. Her dismay when they don’t is ALL OF US in every job when we’re out of our depth. COD isn’t really a thing you hear much anymore, but any time I do hear it, I think, “Oh, Mame.”
3. The Man Who Came to Dinner (1942).Silliness Quotient–7/10.
“Guests, like fish,” penned Ben Franklin, “begin to smell after three days.” No movie has ever captured that sentiment better than The Man Who Came to Dinner, and no actor has ever improved on Monty Woolley’s commanding performance of entitlement personified. He’s playing radio star/personality Sheridan Whiteside on a lecture tour, and the unlucky family once so proud of his appearance at their dinner table learns to rue the day they agreed to it. A little accident on their stoop, and they’re stuck waiting hand and foot on Whiteside’s prodigious ego.
George S. Kaufman and Moss Hart created the witty script, and Billie Burke plays the unwilling hostess to Whiteside. (Bette Davis may have helped the film get made, but her role here is one of her most flavorless. You know it’s not a Davis vehicle when Ann Sheridan outshines her.) Watch the film for the script and for brilliant Woolley, who must have been something to see on the stage (where he originated the role). Unfortunately, I have delayed writing about this film because it seems to be always unavailable for streaming on Amazon, but the DVD is available. If you know a good source for streaming it, please mention that in the comments!
2. Ball of Fire (1941).Silliness Quotient–7/10.
No list of silly movies would be complete without my favorite classic comedy, with Barbara Stanywck as the moll and Gary Cooper as the hapless encyclopedia writer who falls for her. And then there are the “dwarves”–the older encyclopedia writers who ALSO fall for her. I see that the film’s available on the Criterion Channel, which I’m shocked I don’t belong to yet. (No worries for me–I own two DVDs of this movie–the 2nd for when mine inevitably breaks from overviewing.)
With the dizzyingly talented combination of Howard Hawks as director and Charles Brackett and Billy Wilder as writers, this film’s dialogue can be almost as breathtaking as His Girl Friday‘s (also Hawks), but the writing/directing team leaves room for endearingly slow sequences as well. You actually watch Cooper’s character studying how to box in a book before his big fight scene, showing how goofy this story is. And for extra fun, you get favorites Dana Andrews, Dan Duryea, and S.Z. Sakall simultaneously embracing and mocking their typical roles.
1. A Night at the Opera (1935).Silliness Quotient–11/10.
Did you honestly think you’d get through this list without a Marx brothers appearance? I didn’t think so. (As with The Man Who Came to Dinner, the screenplay is co-written by Pulitzer-Prize-winning Kaufman.)
Here are just a few quick early bites: We get Otis B. Driftwood (Groucho) yelling at his driver for not traveling slowly enough to miss the whole opera they’ve driven to see. We have Fiorello (Chico) and Otis tearing apart the bits of a contract they don’t understand (i.e., all of it). We have Tomasso (Harpo) interrupting a typical movie romance trope (one lover onshore, the other on the ship, crooning about her love) by attack-kissing strangers for no reason. That’s just a small sampling of the joys you get before the glorious comedy of the ocean voyage, which includes such a monstrously over-the-top buffet that I wondered just how old the joke about gaining weight on cruises was….
During a strange but enchanting musical sequence starring Chico and Harpo, the two entertain a crowd of children with a deft combo of lunacy and calm, making me think, “Doesn’t every parent stuck at home with children for weeks want these two as babysitters right now?”
So there you have it–five wonderful, comforting films to get you through this trying time. NOTE: You may notice that neither Mae West nor Cary Grant has appeared on this list. That’s because 1. I already discussed Mae in my previous comfort list, and 2. I figured you’d already thought of Cary–and if you haven’t, why not?
Bonus: Kedi (2016).
I know–it’s not a classic film. It’s a recent documentary about the cats of Istanbul. But I have literally recommended it to every cat lover I know, and when I found it streaming on my library’s Kanopy service, played it on repeat for a day. The film focuses on several stray cats, telling their stories (the hunter, the crazy one, the player, etc.). The cats are certainly endearing, but surprisingly, the shopkeepers, artists, and others who love and care for them are just as likeable. And the cinematography of Istanbul is often gasp worthy, especially when you see those cats on some tall balconies and rooftops! My friend described the film as human catnip. How right she is. Next time you experience one of those anger/grief/anxiety spirals that all of us are prone to during this pandemic, play Kedi. Trust me. It’s healing.
I’ve been thinking about how hard it is to grieve the loss of a funny person. The grim process of American funerals—the still church/mortuary, the solemn rituals, and the steady tears—can feel inappropriate when mourning the loss of someone who enjoyed breaking conventions, who made you bend over laughing when you were supposed to be acting with decorum.
I attended two parties recently to celebrate the lives of such funny individuals, complete with amusing anecdotes and the shared company of those who’d loved them. These memorials felt so fitting, so much better than typical funerals for such amusing personalities, that I returned to my home thinking of other lost comedians and comediennes, especially those whose lives are so often described with the “funny but died tragically” designation. And it struck me that Jean Harlow was someone who deserved the kind of festive send-off I’d just attended, a woman who relished breaking the rules of others on and off screen (especially prim others) in such a breathtakingly funny way. So I watched The Girl from Missouri (1934), the lesser known of two entertaining gold digger tributes originally penned by Anita Loos, to celebrate her.
Harlow stars as Edith Chapman, a young woman eager to escape the clutches of the family entertainment/bar business, which is full of men trying to keep her from staying “straight.” Marriage to a millionaire in New York is her plan, and she won’t have sex until she gets her goal, which she brazenly sets about doing. Her very transparent efforts first amuse, then mildly annoy the wealthy self-made businessman, Thomas Paige (Lionel Barrymore)—that is, until her attention turns to his son, Thomas Paige, Jr. (Franchot Tone). Paige Sr. wants Junior to be courted by the upper-crust society he aspires to join, not for his progeny to be dismissed as the target of a silly gold digger. Predictably, Papa Paige is soon plotting against Edith. But she, like the actress who brought her to life, doesn’t take that kind of treatment passively….
Like many of Harlow’s characters, Edith is goofy and blatant and oblivious to any kind of etiquette or class mores. But there’s something about Harlow…you just can’t dismiss her characters. (And you can’t pay attention to anyone else—a Barrymore, Clark Gable, Spencer Tracy, even a Powell/Loy combo—when she’s onscreen.) Her characters usually dress in frilly, showy clothes, and their words and actions are designed for punch lines at their expense. Yet the deep humanity, sincerity, daring, and lovability of Harlow’s heroines make you adore them all the same, root for them even when they don’t deserve it (i.e., Red-Headed Woman).
And Edith deserves fair treatment and compassion. She even manages to make a Franchot Tone playboy character palatable to me. Edith begs Paige, Jr. not to toy with her, confesses that he could make her sacrifice the virtue she’s worked so hard to protect, but pleads that he let her go instead.
Paige, Jr.’s reversal of expression, his contrite response to her words is really all of us: Don’t take this awesome woman for granted. We won’t have her for very long.
I didn’t expect to catch my breath and feel for a Harlow character’s pain, but The Girl from Missouri caught me offguard, and that made me smile. Wow, Harlow can get to me. I did expect to laugh often as I watched, and of course I did. There are some cute turns by others–Paige Sr.’s teasing, Edith’s sex-obsessed sidekick’s (Patsy Kelly’s) flirtations. But why pay attention to anyone else? Harlow is MARVELOUS—with every preening smile, with every stomp/bustle, with every huff (and huffs there are a-plenty with Harlow), you can’t stop smiling. And you can’t stop thinking, What a joy it is to be in her company. I’ll take every second Icanget.
And so I laughed. And expressed a silent thank you for the gifts she’d given me. And that, to me, was the perfect send-off.
Today a man I know well surprised me, and I could tell I had one of those hilariously odd expressions on my face in response. When I heard a couple hours later that Doris Day had died, it seemed to me that I’d inadvertently paid tribute to that marvelous, strong, very funny woman. There will never be anyone who has a more entertaining or endearing response to male oddities than Doris Day. So today I want to say how lucky we are–among many, many gifts she gave us–for the hilarious reaction shots only she could deliver. Whether disdainful, amused, outraged–or best of all, all three–Day’s expression just nailed a sentiment….And so today, Doris, this feminist sends her heartfelt thank you. I couldn’t have said it better.
For years I’ve been grumbling, waiting for streaming access to classics I hear about from other blogs: Letter from an Unknown Woman,The Great Lie,A Foreign Affair. Without a Netflix DVD cache or TCM, the classic movie fan is left with few options, and my brief affair with the Warner Archive had given me little love. Then it occurred to me, like a (clichéd) beacon of light in the night: YOU HAVE ACCESS TO INTERLIBRARY LOAN.
How do I love thee, ILL? Let me count the ways.
You don’t tarry. Within a week, all three films were at my library’s front desk. The student helping me didn’t notice my bated breath or strong desire to do the worm in celebration. Used to her fellow students’ desperate and grumpy research requests, she was unaware of the yummy chocolate cake she was handing over to me. Her loss.
You have so much to offer. Greedy after receiving all three films, I thought I’d dare for my elusive, longed-for white whale of a book. I’d just emailed Grace Collins of True Stories of Tinseltown about our upcoming podcast chat on Mae West and Cary Grant when my long-stamped-out desire resurfaced: Goodness Had Nothing to Do with It. I needed it–obviously–for research. Amazon was charging boatloads of cash for Mae’s autobiography, but was it possible I could get my hands on it for free? YES!!!
You give me so MANY moments to savor. Here is one of hundreds of funny interchanges from Mae’s bio: She’s just put on opening night for her first play in New London, CT in 1926. The house manager is grumbling about the ticket purchases: “The title’s scaring them away. Nobody in this town will buy tickets for a show with the title SEX….We don’t talk about sex hereabouts, and we don’t put it on signs.” Only 85 people show for the first performance, and Mae is feeling blue that the first play she wrote and starred in looks like a bomb. But at the next day’s matinee, she sees lines of men from the naval base “two and three deep,” and the manager is scrambling for extra seats for his theater. “And you said it was a bad title,” observes Mae. And he replies, “I forgot about the sailors.”
You let me savor each moment. On Monday morning, I’d been reading my usual dose of terrifying headlines on CNN. I was feeling blue, and knew I had to banish that mood if I had any chance of cheering my 9 am students, who had been staring at me for days with a peculiar type of hostility they’d developed from years of New England winters—the “how-dare-you-deny-me-another-snow-day, woman” look I knew so well. Naturally, I looked to Mae for mood elevation, and found her defense against the newspaper baron, William Randolph Hearst, who–in the midst of delivering his own era’s brand of terrifying headlines–had written this, “Is it not time Congress did something about Mae West?” Thanks to my generous love, ILL, I got to read Mae’s response: “All I have ever wanted to do is entertain people, make them laugh so hard they forget they’d like to cry.” Such an important reminder to me about the need for humor, dear Mae; you bolstered me the rest of the week. And by Friday? I was enjoying Jean Arthur’s and Marlene Dietrich’s charismatic performances in The Foreign Affair. Oh ILL, how I love thee…..
When asked what outlaw I wanted to feature for the Classic Movie Blog Association’s Outlaws blogathon, I immediately thought of Mae West’s character in My LIttle Chickadee. I know Mae West’s siren ways and bumpy pairing with W.C. Fields are more frequently associated with the film, but it’s hard to miss how West’s Flower Bell Lee flouts the law–not to mention convention–in this 1940s flick. And of course, being co-written by West, the film includes plenty of hilarious one liners and shimmying.
The story begins with Flower Bell (West) traveling by stagecoach to visit (and presumably settle with) her aunt and uncle in a Western town. She’s buffing her nails as the male passengers gawk and an accompanying woman, Mrs. Gideon (played by Margaret Hamilton, of witchy Wizard of Oz Fame), looks on disapprovingly.
Suddenly, a masked robber stops the coach to rob it of its gold. The rest of the passengers race out of the coach with their arms up. Flower Bell just sits there, sure it has nothing to do with her, and more interested in her nails.
The “Masked Bandit” (as he’ll later be called) threatens to kill the others if she doesn’t budge, so she reluctantly does. She doesn’t mind being “held up” she informs the masked bandit, but doesn’t like to be inconvenienced. And thus the delightful double entendres begin.
Of course the bandit notices Flower Bell’s beauty and abducts her. He returns her to her new town outskirts soon after, but clearly, she enjoyed her time away. He comes to visit her in her room at night, Romeo style, and kisses her while still hiding his identity. Unfortunately, her former stagecoach companion, Mrs. Gideon, spies the two in Flower Bell’s bedroom, and informs the town. Flower Bell is forced to defend her actions in court and identify the marauder. She refuses to tell anyone a thing, and gets kicked out of her new town, told she has to stay away till she’s married and respectable. The inflamed Mrs. Gideon also spreads the word to the ladies of the nearby town where Flower Bell is going, Greasewood City, saying Flower Bell won’t even be allowed to get off the train. But Flower Bell doesn’t care, as she makes clear with her parting words to the judge, when he asks if she’s trying to show contempt for his court: “I was doin’ my best to hide it.”
Since this is West, we audience members know she will not only get off the train, but have all of the townsmen in her thrall as well. And that happens. But first she has to fight off Indians attacking the train. Again, she’s buffing her nails, and when arrows almost hit her, she slowly pulls them out of the side of the rail car, rolling her eyes as she does so. Why must these pesky outlaws get in the way of her manicure?
But when a fellow passenger dies, she takes up his two guns, shoots a bunch of Indians with obvious relish, saying she’s dispensed them in a “shower of feathers.” She’s angry because they’ve dared to “intimidate” her (sounds like a typical outlaw response, huh?) Flower Bell’s nonchalance and bravery are hilarious to witness in this strange scene. Even as we viewers flinch at the Indian stereotyping, we know that Flower Bell doesn’t care about race (more on that later). She just doesn’t like any bother, and agrees to be a hero–but only if she must.
Meanwhile, a flirtatious passenger, Twillie (W.C. Fields), has been cozying up to her, and since she sees he has a bag of money, she doesn’t mind, and flirts right back.
He too plays his part in fending off the Indians, but mainly that part is yelling at them for assaulting a private car and bumbling in Fields’s typical physical-comedy way. Twillie has no problem with Indians; his best friend/servant/gambling partner is one (their strange interaction, and the film’s odd combination of racist terms and stereotypes and yet ahead-of-its-time treatment deserves a post of its own).
But even though Twillie doesn’t mind Indians attacking OTHER trains, he does object to being annoyed, much like Flower Bell, though he’s far less accomplished than she in fighting back. Once the danger has passed, the two get closer, as his marriage proposal gives Flower Bell a way to exit the train in peace. She soon ropes another gambling friend on the train into acting as minister. That friend uneasily performs the marital vows. Flower Bell has no intention of sleeping with Twillie, only using him to get a free room and the blameless rep she needs to keep seeing her outlaw and whomever else she pleases. Even Mrs. Gideon, again a fellow passenger, smiles her approval.
Once in Greasewood’s best shady saloon/hotel, a number of antics ensue as Flower Bell keeps Twillie out of her room while helping him with his gambling and lies. When he brags that he saved the train, she lets him take the credit. The town makes him the sheriff, but as the last few have died within months, this honor has more to do with Badger (Joe Calleia), the unscrupulous bar/hotel owner, wanting Flower Bell widowed than any conviction that Twillie has guts. Flower Bell then proceeds to flirt with the muckraking local reporter, even acting as a teacher to help him out in a classic West scene.
Flower Bell enjoys the reporter’s idealism and Badger’s dangerousness, and it’s very unclear which man (if either) will get her in the end. Meanwhile, the Masked Bandit continues his courting, and Twillie, finding out his “wife” likes a man in costume, pretends he’s the bandit himself. Naturally, she discovers the fraud, but can’t save him from the town posse, who is now convinced he’s the villain. Well, she can’t save him at first. Just as she defended him when he lied and cheated gambling, Flower Bell comes to his aid again. She claims he’s no bandit, and after getting put in jail for defending him and her own shady associations, she busts out and saves the day, without giving away her lover.
Of course, we find out who the bandit is, and there are no surprises there. The fact that the bandit’s accent makes it clear he’s Latino (even if the actor isn’t) doesn’t bother West’s Flower Bell. She may be portraying a woman from the last century, but West doesn’t even bother to defend interracial romance in the film, which clearly condones it. The fact that Flower Bell repeatedly breaks the law—in harboring the bandit, in escaping from jail, etc.–never gives the heroine (or her creator) a moment’s worry. In fact, Flower Bell takes the bandit’s gold with pleasure as a reward for her kisses, and encourages the town (when he leaves a bundle of goodies for them) to do the same.
But the transgressive nature of this film goes so much further. The female lead is the hero, the brave town leader and both defender against and abettor of outlaws. W.C. Fields at points seems to be in his own movie (and from what we know of how little the two got along, and how much they wrote their own parts, he basically was). But in all of their interactions, she bests him with no more effort than pushing back a cuticle. Her character’s name highlights her extreme femininity, which clearly doesn’t stop her from having mad skills with guns or enough bravery to face TWO towns full of people eager to attack her. Flower Bell does everything without a trace of fear; in fact, she performs dangerous acts with BOREDOM, proving, lest any males doubt it, that Mae West will always be the biggest, baddest outlaw of them all.
Check out all the fun outlaw entries at the Classic Movie Blog Association’s site.
I had another fun talk with Grace Collins of True Stories of Tinseltown! We chatted about women who love too much–from Tierney’s character in Leave Her to Heaven to Irene Dunne’s in Back Street (1932 version). Grace is a wonderful host and we had so much to say, especially about the dreadful narcissists John Boles liked to play, and how Bette Davis could really be a post of her own on this topic.
Clearly, this is a subject that needs much, much more discussion! Check it out here:
And definitely check out Grace’s other posts and other podcasts. She’s so witty and so knowledgeable about so many things!
I assume those of you horrified by 2017 headlines have been fighting back with the help of political action sites. But sometimes what you need is to reset your equilibrium just so that you can get through the day, and if that’s what you’re looking for, here are my current (admittedly often silly) survival routines. (Note: I don’t expect my suggestions to be yours, but maybe your disagreement about mine will lead to suggestions of your own, which I’d love to hear.) Here are mine:
Enjoy a Little Snark Tom and Lorenzo are this fashion police duo who are hilariously harsh. As someone who hasn’t been knowledgeable about fashion since middle school, and never any good at it, I’m not sure why I find fashion critiques so funny. My shoes alone would give them years of fodder. But I love them anyway, and their TV reviews, which originally brought me to their site (Mad Men and Downton Abbey tributes/slams in particular), are always on point.
When I can’t find the sarcasm I need, I head over to someecards or bad reviews on Metacritic. Go to the most negative reviews, and try not to laugh, such as those giving 0% ratings for Collateral Beauty. How about this from the usually affable Peter Travers?: “The unholy mess that director David Frankel and screenwriter Allan Loeb have unleashed for the holidays strands an all-star cast…on a sinking ship that churns the waters from absurd to zombified with frequent stops at pretentious.”
Ask Friends/Family for a Cute Photo of the Day—Over Email On terrible news days, I now demand, “Cute photos needed!” of my sister with young toddlers, and presto! They arrive. Seriously, what parents will say no to sharing how adorable their children are? On Facebook or Instagram, you need to wade through other things you should avoid, so stick with Old School, my friends: Email. If you’re not a fan of children, you will find friends and family equally willing to share cute pet snapshots. Get to it.
Celebrate a Pal for No Reason My friend Kerry once stopped by my door with a package and a smile, and announced, “It’s Leah Appreciation Day!” I burst out laughing, as she knew I would. I can remember few times I was so amused and touched, and I made a mental note at the time: This is a fabulous idea. I can’t say I do it enough, or with the aplomb Kerry—a master of silly joy—has mastered, but it’s surprisingly recuperative on a day you’ve watched too much news to buy a dumb card or film for a pal, and announce how much you appreciate him/her with over-the-top fanfare. Birthdays you may feel pressure to get it right. Random days? It’s just fun.
Break Out Some Silly TV I thought the Psych movie was a remarkably timely gift, but now Amazon has put all the episodes on Prime! Score!
Other light favorites (given Netflix’s recent trends of show ditching, these are only true as of Jan 2018):
Netflix:
Arrested Development
Schitt’s Creek
The Good Place
Master of None
The IT Crowd
Sirens
The Office (British & American)
Hulu:
30 Rock
Parks and Recreation
Party Down
Amazon Prime:
Leverage (Prime, Season 1)
Head Case (with Alexandra Wentworth; pay only)
Psych, of course! (Prime)
Invest in Some Cinematic Feminism It’s easy to just cry at the #MeToo movement; instead, seek inspiration. Check out some awesome blogathons to discover feminist icons of film. Check out the The Anti-Damsel Blogathon from 2015, as just one example. Commit to discovering the work of female filmmakers, as did Girls Do Film two years ago for her New Year’s resolution.
And if you haven’t yet encountered some of the fantastic feminist TV series out there, do so now. Here are a few from Netflix (TheHandmaid’s Tale is obviously next for me):
Jessica Jones (a superhero who survived rape and combats her rapist and those he’s harming)
Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries (a woman in her 40s in 1920s Australia who is portrayed as both sexy and empowered)
Alias Grace (an intriguing fictionalization of a true-life 1840s murder, and the male treatment that may have contributed to it)
Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (a musical comedy that breaks boundaries in its portrayal of romance, feminism, and mental illness)
Tune out Everything But Your Pets Guess who doesn’t know what’s going on out there? Guess who isn’t too blame? Too often I am watching TV or my computer while petting my cat, but when I give my high-spirited feline my full attention, there’s no low-grade stress accompanying my actions, and he’s more likely to cuddle and comfort. Also, he’s less angry.
View Silly YouTube Clips My favorite clips are Key and Peele’s, and if you’ve experienced the brilliance of Get Out! or found yourself falling for Obama’s Anger Translator, Luther, during that White House Correspondents Dinner, you’ll know why I love this amazing comic duo. My personal favorite is the substitute teacher episode, but there are so many.
If you’re a fan of Issa Rae and her HBO hit, Insecure, you’ll love her earlier webisodes, The Misadventures of Awkward Black Girl. “The Hallway” (fewer than 6 minutes) may be my favorite illustration of social awkwardness ever. If all else fails, you’ve got cat videos.
Dust off Those Stamps Lately, I’ve been getting cards and books in the mail, with thoughtful notes from friends and family. Maybe we’re just so Internet and texting crazy that we forget how wonderful it is to see something that’s NOT a bill or junk in that mailbox. For a while, I’ll forget this need, and stop sending anything, and when I do again, I remember, I love mail. So does everyone else. I believe this need is one of the unspoken reasons for the rise of Amazon. Too lazy for cards? Grumpy Cat postcards. 5 minutes.
Reread Favorite Books and Discover New Comic Ones Jane Austen is restorative for me; in fact, she knows I’m stressed before I do. Usually, she’s my canary in a coal mine; when I have a strong desire to read her, I know I need to consider some serious downtime or therapy or re-examination of my existence. Lately, she’s just a news recovery mechanism, as have been my favorite mysteries. Walter Mosley’s insightful detective, Easy Rawlins, is on my bedside table now, right next to some new (not depressing) memoirs I can’t wait to read: Lindy West’s, Adrian Shirk’s, and Amy Tan’s.
Put that Phone Down at Night You know you shouldn’t read news before you go to sleep. Put that phone far enough from your hands that you can’t access it if you’re sleepless. You can read the headlines and delve into those depressing articles in the morning, when work will soon take you away. Not at night, when you’ll dwell and toss and turn. There are even studies on how that glare keeps you up. Move the phone.
Go to a Ridiculous Festival/Museum/Parade There’s a museum down the street from me that is just full of things hoarders have offloaded. Last time I visited, there was a room full of dolls. It was vaguely horrifying, with old Troll dolls and Cabbage Patches. Yeah, I was freaked out, but it was also magic. See a poutine or bacon festival in your area? Sure, it’s about as healthy as mainlining Crisco, but it’s one day: Go.
Set a New Friend/Family Ritual—and Keep to It A weekly karaoke night? A Stranger Things viewing party? A regular football watching ritual at the bar? It doesn’t matter. We need company right now. Make sure you have it.
Listen to Awesome Podcasts
If you’re a classic movie fan and haven’t been listening to Karina Longworth’s You Must Remember This (Podcast), what are you waiting for? Her series on the blacklist alone is enough to enthrall, and there’s so much more. The Atlantic includes a long list of awesome podcasts for those with any and all interests.
Watch Depression-Era Comedies This is a movie blog after all, and I’ve found both eerily prescient warnings and relief from stress in classic favorites. I know some of you classic movie doubters think we’ve evolved so much that there’s no way those almost a 100 years ago were like you. But during the Depression, people were watching some decadently clothed folks doing silly things, just like you are now. Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers were wowing with their fancy footwork and quick barbs, and then easing their fans into a little romance. Mae West, pioneering screenwriter and star, was sashaying her way across the stage and then the screen, seducing men almost half her age with lines so funny we’re quoting them now. I highly recommend these two options as regular fare, and you can search through this site for much more, but if you’re smart, you’ll find the work of my peers at the Classic Movie Blog Association and discover new favorite film recs from those much more knowledgeable than I. It’s no accident that film comedies from the 30s are among the best ever made: They were needed.
Share
What strategies are helping you get through the news? Post here, or share with others. Let’s get by, as the Beatles have told us in my least favorite of their songs (but a wise one nonetheless), with a little help from one another.
