Classic Films in Focus: THE DIVORCE OF LADY X (1938)

While not on par with the greatest of the screwball comedies, The Divorce of Lady X (1938) delivers a thoroughly engaging British take on the genre with notable performances from two iconic stars. Laurence Olivier and Merle Oberon lead a fairly small cast in this second adaptation of Gilbert Wakefield's play, Counsel's Opinion, the first having appeared under that title in 1933. Alexander Korda produced both versions and even brings back Binnie Barnes, who previously had Oberon's role, as one of the supporting characters, while Tim Whelan provides direction. Gorgeous Technicolor brightens the scenes, especially a fancy dress ball at the beginning of the picture, and the absurd comedy of the mistaken identity plot keeps the mood lively and light, even though Olivier's dialogue occasionally veers into sexist rants about the nature of womankind. Fans of the two stars and screwball comedy in general will appreciate The Divorce of Lady X for its madcap romance and the chance to see Olivier and Oberon paired in a lighter setting than the more famous Wuthering Heights (1939), which would be the last time the two shared the screen.

Olivier plays barrister Everard Logan, who specializes in divorce cases and has returned to London for an important trial when a heavy fog brings the entire city to a standstill for the night. He nabs the last room at a nearby hotel just before a mob of trapped party guests descends on the front desk demanding places to sleep. Unwilling to share his suite with a group of ladies, Everard nonetheless finds himself giving up his bed and his pajamas to the relentlessly charming Leslie (Merle Oberon), who tells him that she's a married woman and refuses to disclose her last name for the sake of discretion. When an incensed Lord Mere (Ralph Richardson) later appears in Everard's office to demand a divorce from his wife, the circumstance lead Everard to assume that Leslie is actually Lady Mere, making him the co-respondent in the impending trial.

Despite accounts of their dislike for one another, Olivier and Oberon generate plenty of chemistry onscreen, perhaps because love and loathing both radiate palpable energy that can be hard for the viewer to differentiate. Oberon's feline smile and wide eyes suit the scheming Leslie perfectly; like most screwball heroines, she takes control of the romance from the start and then upends every aspect of the hero's life. We learn quite early on that Leslie is not Lady Mere and is, in fact, a single young lady and perfectly acceptable love interest, but the ironic comedy of watching Everard suffer under his assumptions delights Leslie and the audience. Our introduction to the barrister sets him up as a selfish cad with a history of questionable liaisons, so we don't judge Leslie too harshly for manipulating him and then forcing him to prove his devotion repeatedly. Everard needs to be taught a few lessons, and Leslie, the granddaughter of a powerful judge, is just the girl to teach them. It's also great fun to watch Olivier, so lionized now for his serious Shakespearean roles, fumble about in pajamas or try to hide his face from the notice of Lady Mere's maid. His physical comedy here never rivals that of Cary Grant or Henry Fonda in their best screwball parts, but Everard has a lot in common with David Huxley and "Hopsy" Pike as he careens between pleasure and panic.

The reveal scene at the end falls a bit flat, and the movie feels like it could do more with its supporting characters, especially Binnie Barnes as the real Lady Mere and Morton Selton as Lord Steele, but the biggest hiccups are the moments of sexist nonsense. Everard has one scene where he humiliates a woman in court solely because of his frustration with Leslie; he rants about the deceptive, irrational nature of women and how they don't deserve independence and respect. Later, when he's happy, he gives the reverse of the same speech, now lauding women as helpmates and loving companions to men but still not recognizing them as human equals in any capacity. Everard wants to read Leslie - and all women - as either evil temptresses or angels in the house, but Leslie's character throughout the movie defies both categories. She's a bit of each, depending on the moment, but mostly she's a very intelligent, ambitious young woman who has no chance of her own career but sees Everard as husband material with potential for greatness. In a modern setting Leslie could be ambitious for herself, and she'd certainly make a cunning lawyer or politician with her ability to talk a complete stranger out of his room, his bed, and his pajamas for the night. It's grating to think that Everard can understand so little about her even after their misadventures end in mutual affection.

Olivier's big pictures following The Divorce of Lady X include Rebecca (1940), Pride and Prejudice (1940), and That Hamilton Woman (1941), but if you like him as a romantic comedy lead try The Prince and the Showgirl (1957), which pairs him with Marilyn Monroe. Merle Oberon also stars in The Scarlet Pimpernel (1934), The Cowboy and the Lady (1938), and That Uncertain Feeling (1941). Oberon and Binnie Barnes both get beheaded as wives in The Private Life of Henry VIII (1933), which came out the same year that Barnes played Leslie in Counsel's Opinion. Although he's hamming it up here as the foolish Lord Mere, Sir Ralph Richardson is remembered as a great Shakespearean stage actor whose extensive film credits include Anna Karenina (1948), The Heiress (1949), and Doctor Zhivago (1965).

Classic Films in Focus: THE SCARLET PIMPERNEL (1934)

Adapted from the thrilling tales penned by Baroness Orczy in the first years of the twentieth century, The Scarlet Pimpernel (1934) is an essential part of the swashbuckler genre even though it's not exactly an action picture. Instead, Leslie Howard and Merle Oberon, its stars, are primarily involved in the romantic difficulties that arise when couples keep secrets from each other, but their rocky relationship provides plenty of melodrama to make up for the missing fight scenes. The original novel's themes would become ingrained in later swashbucklers and super hero stories, but the 1934 version of The Scarlet Pimpernel is enjoyable for its own merits as well as its influence, and Leslie Howard is particularly fun to watch in his duplicitous role as the daring Pimpernel hiding behind the persona of a superficial fop.

Howard stars as the English gentleman Sir Percy Blakeney, who rescues French aristocrats from the guillotine in the bloodiest days of the French Revolution. To protect his mission, Percy presents himself as a vain, foolish lightweight in London, where French spies are doggedly trying to unmask the hero and his band. Even Percy's beautiful French wife, Marguerite (Merle Oberon), doesn't know the truth, which leaves her unhappy with her seemingly shallow husband. When the villainous Chauvelin (Raymond Massey) offers to trade Marguerite's captured brother for the Pimpernel, she doesn't know that her husband's life is on the line. Percy, meanwhile, launches his own effort to rescue his brother-in-law and other prisoners of Robespierre's merciless regime.

He might not be engaging in any sword fights, but Leslie Howard is very much the star of this picture, and he gives a delightful performance as both daring, brilliant hero and outrageously refined fop. The playboy act that hides a secret identity is, of course, well-known to fans of Zorro and Batman, but Howard's Percy takes pains to be as vapid and useless as possible. He abandons any interest in preserving his dignity or reputation, even to his own wife, mainly because he believes that she exposed a French family to arrest and execution before her departure from France. The tension between Howard and Oberon crackles as they alternately long for and distrust one another; they duel with sharp glances and burning hearts rather than swords, but they're really the chief combatants in this tale. Merle Oberon is perfectly cast as the passionate, fascinating Marguerite; we understand why Percy loves her even when he thinks the worst of her, and she carries the third act in truly heroic fashion. Sir Percy fights with his disguises and schemes rather than weapons, which makes him a more cerebral hero than some of his swashbuckling brethren, but his penchant for dressing up connects him with Robin Hood, Sherlock Holmes, Zorro, and other clever tricksters, and the intellectual nature of the Pimpernel's heroism suits Howard really well.

While it eschews the violence of duels, The Scarlet Pimpernel endeavors to convey the horrors of the French Revolution as poignantly as possible, especially in the opening scenes of the film. You won't actually see heads chopped off and held high for the cheering crowds, but you might think you did because of the careful way the shots are constructed. The most powerful scene unfolds in the prison where the former aristocrats await their fate; the camera lingers especially on women and young children, some innocently playing or passing the time, others posed like martyrs with their eyes turned toward Heaven. Here we are introduced to Suzanne de Tournay (Joan Gardner) and her parents, whom the Pimpernel risks his own life to save. They help us invest in the plight of the overthrown aristocrats and sympathize with Sir Percy's cause even if we know the gross inequality and lofty ideals that first set the Revolution in motion. The movie ends with the Revolution still underway, but most people know that the mastermind, Robespierre, who in the film gives the fictional Chauvelin his orders, would meet the guillotine himself in 1794. By the end of the Reign of Terror, almost 17,000 people had been executed. 

A TV movie adaptation of The Scarlet Pimpernel appeared in 1982 and is beloved by many Gen Xers; it's well worth tracking down if you want a different take on the story. If you enjoy seeing Leslie Howard in quirkier roles, see It's Love I'm After (1937) and Pygmalion (1938). Howard returned to a Pimpernel inspired role in Pimpernel Smith (1941), this time rescuing victims of the Nazis in Germany. Don't miss Merle Oberon in The Dark Angel (1935), Wuthering Heights (1939), and The Lodger (1944). Harold Young, who directed The Scarlet Pimpernel, is not particularly well known today, but his career includes some minor horror entries like The Mummy's Tomb (1942), The Frozen Ghost (1945), and The Jungle Captive (1945). 

 

Classic Films in Focus: DARK WATERS (1944)

Somewhere between Lifeboat (1944) and Gaslight (1944) lies the plot of Dark Waters (1944), in which Merle Oberon stars as the survivor of a U-boat attack whose fragile sanity is tested by a collection of nefarious characters. All three pictures appeared in the same year, but the first two are decidedly better films, while Dark Waters holds interest primarily for its cast. Joining Oberon for this wartime swamp Gothic are Franchot Tone, Thomas Mitchell, Elisha Cook, Jr., and Fay Bainter, with Rex Ingram making sporadic but memorable appearances as a former employee who suspects that something is amiss at the old plantation. Dark Waters fails to deliver enough creepy atmosphere to achieve its Gothic ambitions, and the ending is more a hard stop than a proper conclusion, but Oberon is fascinating to watch as she tries to figure out whether she's going or being driven insane.

Oberon's perpetually imperiled heroine is Leslie Calvin, whose family flees the Japanese descent on Batavia (present day Jakarta) only to fall victim to a German U-boat attack at sea. Leslie survives many days in an open boat before ending up in a New Orleans hospital. After months of convalescence she travels to a nearby plantation owned by her aunt and uncle, where she hopes to recover from her post traumatic stress. She meets a handsome doctor (Franchot Tone), who quickly falls for her, but everything else goes awry as she is constantly exposed to situations that recall her ordeal and unsettle her sense of reality. Leslie begins to suspect that the manipulative Mr. Sydney (Thomas Mitchell) and his sidekick, Cleeve (Elisha Cook, Jr.), are tormenting her on purpose, but to what end?

Gothic mystery is a fine setting for Oberon's exotic beauty, but she gets better material to work with in both Wuthering Heights (1939) and The Lodger (1944), where her characters have more energy and more successfully developed plots. Franchot Tone's country doctor, George, doesn't spark much chemistry, but he seems to be the only available man in the area aside from Elisha Cook Jr.'s creepy Cleeve. It doesn't take two minutes to recognize both Cleeve and Sydney as the villains of this piece, and Thomas Mitchell has a handful of effectively menacing scenes, but Fay Bainter's Aunt Emily is neither disturbing nor reassuring, and it's hard to justify John Qualen's presence as Uncle Norbert, since he barely comes out of his room to utter a few lines at dinner. Fine actors inhabiting the background don't get enough to do, either, especially Rex Ingram and Odette Myrtil, who turns up as the mother of a large, friendly Cajun family.

There's enough potential in Dark Waters to see the movie it could be, and that warrants a viewing, especially for contrast with moodier explorations of similar plots and atmospheres. The Louisiana bayou makes an evocative setting, and the premise of Leslie's very justified anxiety about water and boats creates numerous opportunities for her to be tormented. We know from the beginning where the third act of this story will inevitably end (hence the title), but when the film finally reaches that point it seems in a hurry to wrap things up, and quite a few loose ends are left dangling. The pacing is more of a shock because there had apparently been plenty of time to linger on an earlier fais do-do sequence that adds nothing to the story. It's hard to say if director Andre De Toth or the writers are to blame for these issues, but De Toth certainly made tighter pictures over the course of his career.

Do pause a moment to appreciate the underused Nina Mae McKinney as the housemaid, Florella, who unfortunately disappears from the picture in the third act. For more of Merle Oberon, try The Private Life of Henry VIII (1933), The Scarlet Pimpernel (1934), or That Uncertain Feeling (1941). See earlier roles for Franchot Tone in Bombshell (1933), Dancing Lady (1933), and Dangerous (1935). Thomas Mitchell is best remembered for more sympathetic characters in Stagecoach (1939), Gone with the Wind (1939), and It's a Wonderful Life (1946), while Elisha Cook, Jr. offers more of his usual type in The Maltese Falcon (1941), I Wake Up Screaming (1941), and The Killing (1956). For a more thoughtful and provocative treatment of a similar atmosphere, try I Walked with a Zombie (1943), or, for some really excessive gaslighting bayou horror, go for Hush... Hush, Sweet Charlotte (1964).


* As of February 2019, DARK WATERS is available for streaming on Amazon Prime, but the print is rather muddy, especially in the outdoor night sequences.

Classic Films in Focus: THE LODGER (1944)

There have been plenty of Jack the Ripper movies in the history of cinema, but few can lay claim to the eerie charms of director John Brahm's 1944 picture, The Lodger, which stars the incomparable Laird Cregar as the mysterious title character. Adapted from a novel by Marie Belloc Lowndes (which had already been adapted into a 1927 film by Alfred Hitchcock), this delirious tale of murder and monstrosity basks in the ambience of gaslight London and builds suspense not through any doubt about the killer's identity but through the audience's ironic knowledge of the psychopath hidden in plain sight.

When Mr. Slade (Laird Cregar) first rents a set of rooms, his landlady (Sara Allgood) is only too happy to have the additional income, even though the grisly Ripper murders have set all of London on edge. Slowly, however, the family begins to notice odd parallels between their lodger's activities and the ensuing attacks, although the landlord (Cedric Hardwicke) passes them off as mere coincidence. The landlady's beautiful niece, Kitty (Merle Oberon), tries to engage Mr. Slade's friendship and interest, but his reaction to her is puzzling and sinister. In the meantime, a handsome police inspector (George Sanders) becomes concerned for Kitty's welfare because all of the Ripper's victims have been associated with the stage, but the entire force might not be enough to save her from the deranged killer's dangerous obsession.

Although Merle Oberon and George Sanders get top billing as the picture's leads, the film really belongs to Laird Cregar, and it's his performance that makes The Lodger so effectively creepy and compelling. He brings touches of sadness and humanity to his madman, especially when he laments the tragic death of his beloved brother. Like all great monsters, Slade is all the more terrible for being an object of pity as well as horror; he has that sublime quality so often praised in characters like Frankenstein's monster, the Wolf Man, and Peter Lorre's pathetic serial killer in M (1931). By the end of the movie, as he lurches through the theater trapped and bleeding, we see Cregar's character as his own ultimate victim, and his death is more tragedy than triumph, the inevitable result of urges that could not be controlled. In the last scene, the camera frames him like a wild animal caught in a corner, with the circling policemen closing in like hounds at bay, and his final desperate act creates a fatal poetry that the survivors note in the film's closing lines.

You'll find more of the exotic Merle Oberon in The Dark Angel (1935) and Wuthering Heights (1939). George Sanders, who won a Best Supporting Actor Oscar for his role in All About Eve (1950), turns up in several other memorable films, including Rebecca (1940), The Black Swan (1942), and The Picture of Dorian Gray (1945). Laird Cregar, whose career was cut tragically short, can also be found in The Black Swan (1942), and he makes a delightful Devil in Heaven Can Wait (1943). Cregar, Sanders, Brahms, and screenwriter Barre Lyndon all return for Cregar's final picture, the effective thriller, Hangover Square (1945).

This review was originally posted on Examiner.com. The author retains all rights to this content.