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I got into '30s movies by happenstance; there was a glut of ghosted autobiographies of that era's stars, the magazines Modern Screen and Photoplay on rainy afternoons, and a paperback copy of the life of Louis B. Mayer. (I did not know then the autobiographies were ghostwritten.) I became fascinated by the rich descriptions of these movies, and when I could, I sought them out on TV, although some, like Grand Hotel, were only shown at 3:00 AM.
(Sorry; I keep doing that.)
Eventually I noticed that the films of the Depression had, er, problems. There was the relegation of actors of color to servant roles. There was a certain amount of handwaving around class. There was the way women's roles were contorted into specific shapes. (Other issues exist, but this is not a term paper.)
OK. The Women. Certain things were dictated by the 1934 Production Code; a number of movies have their characters divorce, but the divorce disappears when the original characters get back together, or find themselves in court the day the decree is supposed to go into effect. Similarly, Joan Crawford's character's parting shot is occasioned by the inability to say 'bitch' on screen.
Where was I? Oh, right. The Women is fast-paced in the manner of classic screwball comedy; actually the slower portions meant to show emotion are pretty snappy. The sound was slightly muddy, which meant that when the lines were layered over each other, they were unintelligible. There's a fashion show in the middle (because in a movie about women, there must be fashion), in color, with some items that would still look good now, and some that would require a funeral pyre to destroy even the memories of ugly.
Then there's the ending.
Which we can spoil now.
A choir? As she runs to meet offstage Steven? And the look on her face...
By the way, even though there are no men appearing on-screen, this movie would still fail the Bechdel test.
Links laid on in the morning; also, slightly edited for clarity because I know better than to write at 1 am...
(Sorry; I keep doing that.)
Eventually I noticed that the films of the Depression had, er, problems. There was the relegation of actors of color to servant roles. There was a certain amount of handwaving around class. There was the way women's roles were contorted into specific shapes. (Other issues exist, but this is not a term paper.)
OK. The Women. Certain things were dictated by the 1934 Production Code; a number of movies have their characters divorce, but the divorce disappears when the original characters get back together, or find themselves in court the day the decree is supposed to go into effect. Similarly, Joan Crawford's character's parting shot is occasioned by the inability to say 'bitch' on screen.
Where was I? Oh, right. The Women is fast-paced in the manner of classic screwball comedy; actually the slower portions meant to show emotion are pretty snappy. The sound was slightly muddy, which meant that when the lines were layered over each other, they were unintelligible. There's a fashion show in the middle (because in a movie about women, there must be fashion), in color, with some items that would still look good now, and some that would require a funeral pyre to destroy even the memories of ugly.
Then there's the ending.
Which we can spoil now.
A choir? As she runs to meet offstage Steven? And the look on her face...
By the way, even though there are no men appearing on-screen, this movie would still fail the Bechdel test.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-08 03:13 pm (UTC)Thanks for the write-up--I love responses to movies that include a personal context.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-10 07:18 pm (UTC)and yeah. that ending. ugh.
but the fashion show. cracks me up every single time.