1930s List Discussion and Suggestions (Lists Project Vol. 3)

[Murdoch]

William Wellman's pre-code Safe in Hell is airing on TCM tomorrow at 8 EST.

Caught this and it was a blast, loved the scene where Mackaill and Cook are hiding away in a boat's storage and all you see are their mouths through a small space in the box. Hopefully the Archive will get around to releasing this, the broadcast was in good quality and the fact that it never even got a VHS release is a crime.

[knives]

I recorded it and should watch it this weekend with Lubitsch's The Merry Widow. Glad to hear it's as effective as it sounds.

[matrixschmatrix]

I've just watched Pygmalion, and not having seen the story in any format (other than parodies)- I think the prevalence of class prejudice, in the form in which it's manifest in the movie, is so strange and foreign to me that rather than nodding my head and saying "ah, yes" as it gradually makes the point that class is defined by the trappings of class, I wound up feeling deeply uncomfortable at its presentation of what class means.

I suppose that it's possible that a working class Londoner in the 30s wouldn't ever have bathed, or looked in a mirror, but it comes off like a not very reconstructed cribbing from Tarzan or something. There's no depiction at all of anyone who actually produces anything- no hint that people of Eliza's class prop up the wealth that gives Higgins' class their books and classical music and fancy clothes- so the implication seems less that the poor are just like the rich, only poorer, and more that the poor could be like the rich, if only someone would come and save them.

It's a trickier work than that, of course, and at least Higgins isn't the blindly beatific sort who pops up in those sort of stories a lot- though I do have a hard time seeing what Eliza would want to be around him for- but it does seem fundamentally problematic. I think the idea that all the characters in the work seem to agree on, that there are good accents and bad accents and one can only get ahead with a good one, corresponds closely to one of the ways racism operates in the US- and Eliza is more or less being taught how to pass. That's a deeply uncomfortable narrative for me, and I'm not sure I could watch this and not see that.

I did like the character of Eliza's father, though, and the craftsmanship was uniformly excellent.

[Mr Sausage]

I suppose that it's possible that a working class Londoner in the 30s wouldn't ever have bathed, or looked in a mirror, but it comes off like a not very reconstructed cribbing from Tarzan or something.

Isn't the film set in the early 1910's like the play? Anyway, yes, the poor did rarely bathe (and even the rich bathed much less than is common now).

I think the idea that all the characters in the work seem to agree on, that there are good accents and bad accents and one can only get ahead with a good one, corresponds closely to one of the ways racism operates in the US- and Eliza is more or less being taught how to pass. That's a deeply uncomfortable narrative for me, and I'm not sure I could watch this and not see that.

I don't understand why you're phrasing this as a criticism when it is plainly historical. Your accent in Britain was indeed a social signal and a very powerful one at that. This was true even up until quite recently, when you had trouble getting on British television as a newsanchor and whatever else if you didn't speak in Received Pronounciation. However uncomfortable it may make you, what Pygmalion presents is quite true.

so the implication seems less that the poor are just like the rich, only poorer, and more that the poor could be like the rich, if only someone would come and save them.

I'm sorry, but you seem to be trying awfully hard to find something unsavoury to say about the film, and your efforts aren't turning up much that is accurate. It is a pretty obvious truism that all you need in order to pass for a member of a certain class, high or low, is the outward manners and social signals of that class. Nevertheless, for the higher classes in Britain for many centuries there was the idea (which gets its fullest expression in the Renaissance conception of the Great Chain of Being) that there was something internal and inherent that separated an aristocrat from the lower orders. Shaw's satirical point is that what the upper classes actually use in order to distinguish themselves and to identify each other is superficial and involves little more than social signaling. Moreover, Shaw implies that anyone who'd judge character on such superficial criteria is bound to look a fool. There is nothing very subtle in this.

Now, you seem to think the movie is advising the upper classes to save the lower. My question is: if that is so, why does the film make clear that Higgins is not being philanthropic in the least and that the whole exercise is not only capricious, but in the end harmful to Eliza, who becomes declassed to the point that she fits in nowhere and is in fact worse off in many ways than when she was living poor in the streets? She quite accurately says that her current manners alienate her from her original class, but that she does not have the means to live among the higher classes, with whom she's not much in sympathy anyway. The whole experience has left her isolated and without a clear identity. Not a ringing endorsement of social bettering. If it is the movie's point that the poor can be turned into better people through instruction in speech and manners, why is Eliza given no actual moral instruction? Why are most of the upper class characters such empty fools, why is Higgins clearly not the better person in this movie, and why does Eliza maintain the same personality from beginning to end? Why does Eliza show that she values human connection and sympathy more than the outer trappings of gentility that she's been showered with (and which she repudiates near the end after Higgins fails to show her love)? And, moreover, why does the movie seem to say that she's right to?

[matrixschmatrix]

I think the idea that all the characters in the work seem to agree on, that there are good accents and bad accents and one can only get ahead with a good one, corresponds closely to one of the ways racism operates in the US- and Eliza is more or less being taught how to pass. That's a deeply uncomfortable narrative for me, and I'm not sure I could watch this and not see that.

I don't understand why you're phrasing this as a criticism when it is plainly historical. Your accent in Britain was indeed a social signal and a very powerful one at that. This was true even up until quite recently, when you had trouble getting on British television as a newsanchor and whatever else if you didn't speak in Received Pronounciation. However uncomfortable it may make you, everything Pygmalion presents is quite true.

That's probably the crux of it- it's a movie that was making me uncomfortable in a situation where I expected it to be light and charming; I think I noticed even as I was writing that my discomfort was more with the social environment depicted than with the depiction itself. Obviously, it's no critique of a work to note that it's telling unpleasant truths, but I think it engendered a lot of sour feelings that I hadn't properly attributed.

It's also a problem of foreignness, where I can see how what's being shown is problematic and how it's similar to something with which I'm familiar, but it's too far removed for me properly to see where the implicit criticisms of the situation lay.

so the implication seems less that the poor are just like the rich, only poorer, and more that the poor could be like the rich, if only someone would come and save them.

I'm sorry, but you seem to be trying awfully hard to find something unsavoury to say about the film, and your efforts aren't turning up much that is accurate. It is a pretty obvious truism that all you need in order to pass for a member of a certain class, high or low, is the outward manners and social signals of that class. Nevertheless, for the higher classes in Britain for many centuries there was the idea (which gets its fullest expression in the Renaissance conception of the Great Chain of Being) that there was something internal and inherent that separated an aristocrat from the lower orders. Shaw's satirical point is that what the upper classes actually use in order to distinguish themselves and identify each other is superficial and involves little more than social signaling. Moreover, Shaw implies that anyone who'd judge character on such superficial criteria is bound to look a fool. There is nothing very subtle in this.

Again, I think it's a problem of context- while I'm aware that there is historical precedent for believing that the rich are actually inherently different from the poor, it's difficult to remember that it's something anybody took seriously. Shaw's satirical point seems blindingly obvious to me, but that's clearly a problem of historical perception rather than anything inherent to his satire.

Now, you seem to think the movie is advising the upper classes to save the lower. My question is: if that is so, why does the film make clear that Higgins is not being philanthropic in the least and that the whole exercise is not only capricious, but in the end harmful to Eliza, who becomes declassed to the point that she fits in nowhere and is in fact worse off in many ways than when she was living poor in the streets? She quite accurately says that her current manners alienate her from her original class, but that she does not have the means to live among the higher classes, who she's not much in sympathy with anyway. The whole experience has left her isolated and without a clear identity. Not a ringing endorsement of social bettering. If it is the movie's point that the poor can be turned into better people through instruction in speech and manners, why is Eliza given no actual moral instruction? Why are most of the upper class characters such empty fools, why is Higgins clearly not the better person in this movie, and why does Eliza maintain the same personality from beginning to end? Why does Eliza show that she values human connection and sympathy more than the outer trappings of gentility that she's been showered with (and which she repudiates near the end after Higgins fails to show her love)? And, moreover, why does the movie seem to say that she's right to?

I wasn't saying that the movie (or play) actually thought the rich were better people than the poor, by any means- I think it's clear that you're expected to feel enormous sympathy for Eliza throughout, certainly moreso than anyone else. It's possible that once again I was conflating things happening within the narrative for comments the narrative itself was trying to make- Eliza's willingness to accede to Higgins' program, and to return to him in the end, seem like an endorsement of the process, but it's probably more accurately readable as meaning that Eliza believed it was better to have the bearing and manners of the aristocracy, not that Shaw did.

Hmm, perhaps I should have worked my thoughts out more before posting in the first place- the movie inspired strong feelings in me, but I think I hadn't worked out exactly why and tried to feel it out as I wrote. Clearly, that didn't work terribly well.

[myrnaloyisdope]

Rewatched City Streets and it's a delight as always. It's probably a notch below Dr. Jekyll, Applause and Love Me Tonight, but it's neat to see Mamoulian's take on the gangster film, Gary Cooper is fun as per usual, and darned if Sylvia Sidney doesn't have the saddest eyes in Hollywood. It's interesting in it's lack of fatalism, as the film's climax is probably the most optimistic ending you'll see from a gangster film, yet it doesn't feel hollow either. Somehow the prospect of Coop and Sylvia leaving the racket and living happily ever after seems almost probable. Perhaps it's the general absence of violence throughout the film, there are a couple of murders, but they are more incidental to plot advancement. It seems that the worst thing about the film's lead gangster (Paul Lukas), is that he's trying to steal Coop's girl.

Afraid To Talk is quite a doozy. I'm not sure there's anything darker out there for pre-codes and even the optimism of the ending seems more ironic than anything. Louis Calhern is pretty astonishing as the slimy, detached and impossibly corrupt D.A. It's the kind of role Warren William would play, but Calhern gives it a more understated and elegant quality, so in place of William's bluster you are left with an all the more menacing character, an honest to goodness sociopath. Thanks for the recommendation HerrSchreck, I'm certain this would have passed me by!

[Murdoch]

re: Pygmalion

Can't speak about the film which I haven't seen, but the play takes every chance to make Higgins into a clueless elitist, I recall one line where he is absconding Eliza for her dialect, saying "your native language is that of Shakespeare and Milton and the Bible!"

The ending of the film though does seem problematic, I hate to judge a film I haven't seen but for me the play's ending/epilogue was a perfect affront to the wish fulfillment usually present in these rags-to-riches stories and allowed Eliza to assert her independence from Higgins. Altering the ending to the coupling of Higgins and Eliza comes off as a pessimistic conclusion in which Eliza has doomed herself to living with a man she has nothing in common with and who caused her to be an outcast, where she would do little else but fetch his slippers and tolerate his pig-headedness.

[knives]

If you've read the play you know the film. Except for the last minute or so and a sequence showing the ball the movie follows the play to the letter.
Also on this topic has anyone seen the Ludwig Berger version from 1937.

[Mr Sausage]

That's probably the crux of it- it's a movie that was making me uncomfortable in a situation where I expected it to be light and charming;

I think the movie is one of those things where the execution, at least in the beginning, is playful and light, but which slowly reveals unpleasant undercurrents until by the end everything is more sad than funny. Evidently your social sympathies were activated to the point where the fun was overwhelmed by the undercurrents.

Eliza's willingness to accede to Higgins' program, and to return to him in the end, seem like an endorsement of the process, but it's probably more accurately readable as meaning that Eliza believed it was better to have the bearing and manners of the aristocracy, not that Shaw did

Well, it's easy enough to understand why she accepted the program: she was being offered luxery, comfort, and whatever else. As for why she goes back, well, in the play she doesn't. As for the film, the reason she goes back is because she loves Higgens and he her (tho' the stubborn ass won't admit it). Part of the movie's drama is that for Higgins it's all about the bet (at least consciously), while for Eliza it's about human connection. I don't think the content of the lessons matters to her one way or the other. It's the concern and attention, the hope and value placed on her, that she responds to and which bring affections out of her that she would like returned. One gets the sense she's spent much of her life alone without anyone to actually care about her. She values Higgins' affection and attention more than anything else, and is shattered when it seems like he never gave a thought to her as a human at all.

Shaw's satirical point seems blindingly obvious to me, but that's clearly a problem of historical perception rather than anything inherent to his satire.

The satirical point was also blindingly obvious when Swift recommended everyone combat food shortage by eating babies. That doesn't mean it's not good satire nor terribly amusing. It makes no difference if the object of satire is obvious: satire is all in the execution. Anyway, Pygmalion's satire is a hinge more than anything for comical scenes and for a rather good human drama.

[Gregory]

Thanks to tojoed for prompting me to finally see Gance's Un grand amour de Beethoven. I think in recent years I devoted so much effort to obtaining Napoleon and Gance's films before it that I neglected the Image DVD of Beethoven. Well, it's a lovely film, with photography, montage, and sound that are bold and effective. Baur, as expected, gives an outstanding performance. The problem with the film, on first viewing at least, is that it seemed too maudlin. It's too much about Beethoven as an object of suffering and not enough about him as a person and a creative mind. I realize that no film can effectively show all sides of a person (and I would argue that this is not a "biopic" in any normal sense), but I think Gance may have been a bit too exclusively concerned throughout the film with fitting Beethoven into the archetype of the artist-martyr. That would be my main criticism -- but it's a gorgeous film, well worth seeking out.
I don't think I'll list a swapsie (I've had few takers in the past, or at least few among them have had a comment about what they saw) but if I were to name one, it would probably be Son of Frankenstein, lest it get overlooked as a presumed second-rate sequel (I think it's easily one of the best horror films of the whole era of the 1930s and '40s) or Ruggles of Red Gap in case some might avoid it because it's only available as an Amazon exclusive DVD-R, an iTunes download, or an inferior French DVD.

[matrixschmatrix]

I brought up having watched it earlier, but Ruggles is absolutely worth seeking out- and the print on the Amazon copy is perfectly serviceable.

[Gregory]

Yeah, it's hardly a thousand-to-one shot, but there are disincentives to seeking it out, like I said, but these are well worth overcoming. It surely has a disadvantage being available as it is, rather than the possibility that many of us had hoped for, that Criterion would pick it up, but that's the way it goes.

[Gregory]

I'd hoped that Microcinema would get out Buñuel's Las Hurdes (Land Without Bread) in time for it to be seen it for this list. It's been delayed for years now, so I emailed Microcinema to check in with them. Unfortunately, they still don't know when it will be released, but I'd urge everyone to check this out any way they can. It's unsubtitled on an NTSC R0 disc from Films Sans Frontiers. There are probably ways around this for those who need subs for the French narration.

I saw it on VHS a few years back and it made such an impression that it'll be on my list for sure, ranked higher than L'Age d'or. Among other things it's a blazing shot of truth to urban, cosmopolitan viewers who would suppose they live in a world and a nation-state that is modern and "enlightened."

[tojoed]

Gregory, there's a very nice Australian disc, which has Las Hurdes on it. Well worth shelling out for.

[zedz]

There's a subtitled Australian disc of Las Hurdes, which includes that same (I think) Bunuel doc that's on Criterion's Discreet Charm disc. I haven't watched the disc yet, but there aren't many transfers of the film out there to port, so it's quite likely derived from the FSF disc.

EDIT: Oh snap.

EDIT the second: Actually, the Aussie disc I've got is a standalone Las Hurdes release, not that set.

[knives]

I saw it on VHS a few years back and it made such an impression that it'll be on my list for sure, ranked higher than L'Age d'or. Among other things it's a blazing shot of truth to urban, cosmopolitan viewers who would suppose they live in a world and a nation-state that is modern and "enlightened."

What shot of truth is that? You know the film is more mock than doc right?

[Gregory]

Yes, but I think that, at its best, fiction is true. And straightforward "documentary" truth is problematic (and I don't think saying this devalues documentary as a medium, but perhaps its value is a bit different and more complicated than people have generally tended to assume) -- Las Hurdes was one of the earliest films to consciously show that.

[Murdoch]

Anyone know which is the best release of Wellman's Nothing Sacred?

[domino harvey]

Anyone know which is the best release of Wellman's Nothing Sacred?

This Sling Shot/Lumivision one with the bonus Mack Sennett shorts (Make sure you get UPC confirmation on a PD title like this before you order from anyone)

[Murdoch]

Thanks (dig the new 'tar)

[matrixschmatrix]

I just watched It's a Gift, the third WC Fields movie I've seen (after The Bank Dick and My Little Chickadee.)

I've heard comparisons between Fields and modern cringe comedy, and while it's not quite the same- by and large, you're not in agony during It's a Gift because Fields is making an ass of himself, but there's a similar unrelenting quality to the way the gags push through the normal threshhold of humor. Though it's largely a series of unconnected vignettes, it still seems very taut, because the individual scenes have the tension of a good horror movie, The standout is Fields trying to sleep- you see the coconut on the windowsill and know exactly what will happen, but waiting for it to fall, and then fall to the next step, and then to the next. It's a masterpiece of timing, pausing for exactly the right length of time between each crash to you allow you to feel settled down enough for the next one to feel like a calamity. And the scene goes on and on, one irritation after another, until Fields' evident desire to murder the vegetable salesman for shouting his trade seems not only understandable but totally justifiable.

I laughed at that scene and in a lot of other places, but the movie as a whole is a perversely uncomic comedy, and in its way as much an attack on the audience's settled comfort as anything Brecht ever did. An interesting analysis of the X-Files I read discussed how conspiracy movies have a perverse way of reassuring you, as a viewer, that the natural state of things is for everything to be nice, and all the awful things that happen are because there's a specific group of malevolent people who want them to happen. It's a Gift does exactly the opposite- almost nobody is actually trying to annoy anyone, Fields included, yet everything from objects to animals to people seem to be in a conspiracy to make life as unpleasant as possible. The world is just inherently a very, very annoying place.

The happy ending is as much a black joke as the ending to The Last Laugh- it's never believable that the universe would allow Fields any kind of meaningful luck. And, of course, in a hell like the world Fields inhabits, the nicest reward he can imagine is to be allowed to sit around, with nobody annoying him, and drink himself into a stupor.

In Hannah and Her Sisters, Woody Allen's character is convinced that life is worth living by Duck Soup. It's a Gift provides a pretty goddamn compelling counterargument. I don't know that I'm in a rush to rewatch it, but it's a great movie all the same.

[knives]

Scenes 1932.
For those like myself who were introduced to the world of Sr. Val del Omar via Fuego en Castilla such as myself this film may come as something of a shock. Not only is this the earliest surviving film of his, but also the first he allowed public screenings for. The movie at first appears plain and ordinary, a reel long documentary in the Schoedsack mold, definitely makes one question why this is the film he planned on introducing himself with.

The answer to that question much like the film is so subtle that most may not figure it out. The film is a statement, a code of conduct and ideals told through gentle visuals. Cinema will allow people to become equals sharing in each others happiness and pain. Even before that graces the screen we get a written manifesto stating that the film makers will get movies to even the poorest of villagers. It could easily be interpreted as a communist statement which considering the environment is very risque and self aware.

Immediately after we get a view of one of these villages, or at least it appears as one village though it is suggested that it is many villages, first at a distance showing the town's scope and then at the intimate level showing building and people as they run off frame. We must wait for the villagers to be comfortable having their photos taken before they enter the frame completely, but with a strong looking female sheep herder we finally get a full view of these 'humble people'. They go about their business ignoring the film crew. Even the goats seem to not care. There's distance in how they are shot, but also more than a little curiosity in how they live and work. There appears to be an emphasis on the women as we see several do the same job in the same sort of framing in the period of about a minute. There are men, but they never hog the space.

Sadly, but with a happy heart these proceedings don't last forever and a group of engineers ride into town with their gramophones and projectors to set up a theater. First comes a clumsy truck looking like it will fall over in one of the many puddles it barely passes over. While it is always an assured thing that success will come to the people it is never an easy thing. Eventually for instance all traces of modernity must be dropped as the equipment is lugged over by mules.

This entire sequence and the next few to follow is done with a quiet sense of humour that reminds me heavily of Bunuel in it's nodding at the natural absurdities in life. Easily the sturdiest laugh comes from when the crew rides into town on bicycles wearing suits and umbrellas that absolutely clash with their surroundings. During parts of this modern march the film is split so that we see the tiniest sliver of the previous frame up top.

I'm not sure if this is intentional on Val del Omar's part or a problem with the transfer itself, but it does give the humble suggestion that the past is always affecting the view of the present. These modern men may slowly take this village into contemporary times, at first only the smallest of children are willing to 'act' for the camera, but it still is a poor village that is being ignored by the rest of the world. Their existence will become a past existence again if we choose to pat ourselves on the back for one good deed. The film finally closes on the image of a massive crowd after witnessing the first educational film shown at their new movie theater.

[knives]

Fiestas Cristianas/Fiestas Profanas
The movie starts off rough and naturalistic like it's predecessor and only as he moves from location to location that a more mature and savvy voice develops. One that asks the legitimacy of the world around it. By the end of the film Val del Omar treats his human subjects no different from the objects they carry around.

The movie itself shows how different missionary sites celebrate various christian holidays. Some of the film is missing, but what remains, saved by Val del Omar's assistant during the civil war, is from three different sites that totals to about fifty minutes in length. Over this remaining time we see a great development of grammar particularly in his editing techniques. The film also manages to much more silently express its themes with the entirety of thought coming from the visuals. The story, or what can be considered a story, is still indebted to intertitles, but this is perhaps a necessary evil in explaining where and why different things take place.

We begin during Holy Week in Lorca where a parade is taking place. Again Val del Omar shoots at a distance allowing the entire town to be absorbed before getting intimate with the architecture and then the people. At first they keep their distance looking mournful. It is not until a man who leans on a building turns his head toward the camera that the film is invited to become a part of the town. Val del Omar will go back to this man several times over the course of this first part showing a desire for repetition.

In a way this repetition takes Soviet montage theory to it's breaking point. We see the same shot at different lengths and in different contexts until the shot becomes a total blank slate that has a sort of joyful meaninglessness. Val del Omar uses montage to create blank spaces. He also uses montage traditionally, weaving a story where there is none. Images are shown which manage to be totally meaningless even in context, but they create a story through mood. After the scene of the beggar not reacting for example we get intercutting footage of villagers preparing for a parade and horses marching all with the shadow of religion overseeing everything. We are reminded constantly of how these images are not related as the true events around their footage is revealed yet somehow the movie still convinces that this is a story rather than several.

Finally though we are left to a single tale as the festivities begin. All three festivals are christian in nature which at first puts the title in an ironic position, but I don't think that's the actual purpose. While some of the jokes come from the same place Val del Omar is not Bunuel. Val del Omar appears to be a true believer, but he's willing to look at the hypocrisy of the situation. Right before the people of the parade enact in religious imagery, some of which does look rather inappropriate within a christian context we get a sign telling the audience that they are not trusted. The audience is warned only once more before the movie goes down the rabbit hole.

We soon move onto to a different holy week parade opening on an amazing thing that is shot in as mundane a fashion as possible. Cloaked men carry crosses on their backs as statues follow. Val del Omar makes no difference between the men and the statues. Even those in the audience are not spared as several shots make it look like a mannequin is watching the parade. On a theoretical level I find this to be the most interesting aspect of the film. Images can pensive and active like people. In film anything can communicate a range of ideas and statements. what does it mean when a child is shown in a full priest garb. It's very possible that the image means nothing or it could just as easily be satire and that's easily the largest joke of the film. What we see only has the meaning that we apply to it and reality be damned.

We end with a spring festival. This seems to be the contrasting secular party of the title. It's more modern and sleek. We have to be reintroduced to the world and in a completely different way with the insects and foliage acting as our guide. Statues again work as people reminding the audience that humans exist in this world. In what must be an attempt at humour as the parade goes on it begins to look more and more like the christian festival with the cross replaced with the farmer's donkey. Even if Val del Omar is a true believer he is smart enough not to care if someone else isn't.

In all the film manages to be like Scenes 1935 in that there's the pleasant surface reading. A tale of humanism where religion and secularism meet and a more complex meta interpretation where Val del Omar is commenting on the nature of documentaries and the essential lying in their DNA. Does it really say anything notable is we are looking at a real man or a doll?


I feel like I'm talking a load of nonsense with it. What I'm trying to say just isn't coming out right. so put simply the movie is really great.

[Murdoch]

Wellman's Nothing Sacred is a fairly indescribable movie, it's like a cross between His Girl Friday and Hail the Conquering Hero but it has this bizarre attitude that I just can't place. I think it's the way that Hazel Flagg's media star plays out:

Spoiler

she fakes sickness to go to New York City, then at the risk of being found out she attempts a fake suicide at which Wally decides to propose to her, and the movie ends with Hazel and Wally on a boat with her assuming a fake identity as the she avoids the public eye.

There's one scene when Hazel and Wally first meet and they're talking in her hometown and a tree branch blocks the view of the actors' heads, and they stand there talking for a good minute with their heads completely blocked by this tree branch while the rest of their bodies are visible, it's such an odd thing that I wonder if it was intentional. The movie works brilliantly, but it seems like it shouldn't, and is a really scathing critique of the media and the celebrity that follows. Plus, Lombard is gorgeous in color.

[lubitsch]

There's one scene when Hazel and Wally first meet and they're talking in her hometown and a tree branch blocks the view of the actors' heads, and they stand there talking for a good minute with their heads completely blocked by this tree branch while the rest of their bodies are visible, it's such an odd thing that I wonder if it was intentional.

Blocking out heads is Wellman's signature shot see the letter reading at the end of Ox Bow Incident.