Claudette Colbert

It’s a Wonderful World (1939)

(On Cable TV, November 2020) As far as 1930s screwball comedies go, It’s a Wonderful World is a competent but not particularly striking example of the form. The crime shenanigans propelling the plot have less to do with a rich businessman and a private eye being framed for murder than they do with getting James Stewart playing alongside Claudette Colbert for much of the film. The ever-cute Colbert is up to her usual standard here, a curly blonde haircut acting complementing some good banter back and forth. Stewart is a bit off-persona here, playing his PI character with a bit more roughness than usual, less drawling and with more cutting remarks. Still, it’s a decent-enough romantic caper, as both run from the law in order to establish the protagonists’ innocence. The comic convolutions get a bit overdone by the end—especially as Stewart goes undercover in an actor’s troupe, all to justify a third act with theatrical jokes. Still, there’s real fun to be had watching Colbert and Stewart play off each other, each of them bringing a different style to it. If you’re a fan of the form, It’s a Wonderful World should be fun enough.

Boom Town (1940)

(On Cable TV, September 2020) There’s something fun in seeing Clark Gable and Spencer Tracy play frenemies on-screen in Boom Town, each of them bringing their usual persona to the fore in a tale of duelling oil tycoons throughout the years. The story spans more than a decade, and sees them make a large fortune at a time when oil madness was sweeping the United States. Women, business deals and even revenge tie their characters as much as it compels them to competition, and if the film has a narrative backbone, it had to be the character played by Claudette Colbert who becomes a prize for them. (Meanwhile, Hedy Lamarr gets an early good role as the temptress that comes in between the lead trio.) Boom Town gets a while to get going, something that is not at all helped by a cyclical structure that keeps getting back to familiar ground, suggesting an unsatisfactory lack of growth for the characters. Both Gable and Tracy are good at being themselves and playing off each other (this was their third collaboration after San Francisco and Jet Pilot, and perhaps the best) while Lamarr is striking in a limited role, but Colbert is wasted in a role that barely touches upon her comic talents. The result is not bad, but it misses being better than good by a wide margin—not enough development, a repetitive structure and a disappointing ending. I still liked the look at the wild oil fields of the early twentieth century and the character interplay (Gable had worked with his father on such fields, so he had a better than average understanding of how that worked), but Boom Town could have been better.

The Egg and I (1947)

The Egg and I (1947)

(On Cable TV, August 2020) The dream of moving from the city to the bucolic countryside “to raise chicken or something” has long been a horrifying illusion, and there are decades of Hollywood movies to make the point. One of the funniest remains The Egg and I, featuring Fred MacMurray and Claudette Colbert as two city mice grappling with the not-so-much-fun reality of becoming chicken-and-egg farmers on a dilapidated property. It is, from a certain perspective, a horror movie – the newlywed bride (Colbert) barely has a say as she’s whisked off to rural depths, forced to slave away to support her husband’s crazy scheme, rebuffed in her basic desires and suffers the further indignity of thinking that her husband is being seduced by a local poultry queen. But it’s also very, very funny (plus, she gets what she wants in the end) – Colbert’s near-hysterical reactions are the perfect complement to MacMurray’s infuriatingly goofy charm and the film is further bolstered by strong performances from Marjorie Main and Percy Kilbride as “Ma and Pa Kettle” (a spinoff series would lead to nine more films for their characters). The episodic comedy-of-error can be repetitive at times (and there’s definitely a limit to the amount of humour you can wring out of poor Colbert being ignored and humiliated) but The Egg and I eventually succeeds by going back to the basics. After all, it is a “city mouse gets humbled by the country” kind of thing – the dated humour may be more visible now, but the underpinning of the subgenre always leads to an improvement by the end.

Bluebeard’s Eighth Wife (1938)

(On Cable TV, March 2020) Now here’s a dream creative pairing: Director Ernst Lubitsch working with a story co-written by Billy Wilder. That should be enough, but when Bluebeard’s Eighth Wife raises the ante by throwing in Claudette Colbert and Gary Cooper in the lead roles, well, it’s impossible to resist. Fortunately, the film does manage to meet expectations: it’s a fine screwball film with the expected wisecracks, romantic complications and remarriage humour—much of the plot, slowly revealed, has to do with a rich man trying to tame his newest (eighth) wife, as he suspects her of having married him for the money she’ll get after their divorce. (The twist, gradually revealed, is that she’s trying to break him out of his bad habits—and the film is much funnier knowing this.) The French Riviera atmosphere is lush and evocative, with Cooper turning in a more sophisticated performance than the aw-shuck material he became famous for—and Colbert being equal to her funny, sexy self. (Plus, a fourth-billed David Niven.) The script is what we would expect from a Billy Wilder collaboration with Charles Brackett—great dialogue, very clever characters (especially Colbert’s scheming young woman) and a script that’s not entirely predictable, especially during the middle act. Although not much of a commercial success at the time of its release, Bluebeard’s Eighth Wife has since then reached an enviable and much-deserved place in the pantheon of 1930s comedies.

The Palm Beach Story (1942)

The Palm Beach Story (1942)

(On Cable TV, February 2020) It’s not often that a classic Hollywood movie has me blinking in confusion, rewinding and starting again to make sure that I hadn’t missed anything, but then again very few Hollywood movies have as fast-paced an opening as writer-director Preston Sturges’ The Palm Beach Story, which crams a film’s worth of romantic comedy hijinks into a three-minute-long summary (if that), then proceeds to tell the sequel to that non-existing first film. (Pay attention, though, because there are a lot of clues in that opening flash to foreshadow the otherwise confounding last minute of the film.) Not that things get any sedate after that, considering that our happily married couple at the end of that film summary find themselves out of cash to develop an invention. In the finest screwball tradition, they have a flash of inspiration—why not divorce, let her find a rich husband, and allow that new guy to finance the development of the invention? If you think that’s insane, you haven’t met the other characters of the tale—including a shooting-obsessed hunting club eager to transform a train car into a shooting gallery. Part of Sturges’ miraculous first years, The Palm Beach Story is very, very funny from beginning to end. It’s filled with characters acting in ways we’d consider crazy, good lines of dialogue and plenty of screwball sequences—and it doesn’t skimp on a very romantic and satisfying ending. This is all enlivened by a charming throwback view of the 1930s as seen from the upper-class, from nighttime trains to fancy yachts and elaborate aristocratic entanglements. Claudette Colbert is utterly adorable in the lead role here, with Joel McRae providing good support as a nominally less-crazy husband. I know a lot of viewers have their favourites in Sturges’ filmography—either The Lady Eve or Sullivan’s Travels or maybe even The Big McGuinty. I’ll have to re-watch all of them to make up my mind, but for now I’m putting up The Palm Beach Story as my favourite by a nose—perhaps, unlike the better-known others, because it came out of nowhere and hooked me so quickly.

Imitation of Life (1934)

Imitation of Life (1934)

(On Cable TV, September 2019) Being familiar with the 1954 remake of Imitation of Life, I went back to the original film not quite knowing what to expect—considering the ebb and flow of Hollywood racial sensitivity, would the black theme be presented with greater or lesser fidelity? As it turns out, the 1930s version of Imitation of Life has a lot of qualities of its own. It may not be as slick or well-directed as the Douglas Sirk film, but it does have earnestness, and the courage to tackle racial issues just as the Hays Code was cracking down on anything too daring. (One wonders if the film would have been made even a year or two later.) Compared to its successor, this early version feels gentler, but make no mistake—the question of passing is central to Imitation of Life and explored in as much detail at the 1930s could tolerate. Of course, other aspects of the film remain problematic—the whole business of, well, a white person profiting handsomely from a black person’s invention is not remarked upon, and the Delilah character is not only presented as a maid but remains as such even after considerable financial success. (On the other hand, she’s an absolutely central character with her own agenda, mitigating some of the clichés.)  Claudette Colbert is fine in the lead role, but whatever happens to her seems like padding for her black friend’s story that forms the backbone of the film—a modern take on the same story would wisely relegate her in a supporting role to someone else’s story and that’s how we assess the limits of this version. Still, grading the film on a historical curve, Imitation of Life doesn’t seem too bad for the time.

It Happened One Night (1934)

It Happened One Night (1934)

(On Cable TV, February 2018) There’s nothing new under the sun and that’s even truer when it comes to Hollywood movies, but it’s still a shock to see in It Happened One Night a template for the entire subgenre of romantic comedies as they’ve been made for the past eight decades. Clark Gable and Claudette Colbert star as (respectively) a rich spoiler heiress and a suave roguish newspaperman stuck together on a bus ride from Florida to New York. Their initial animosity eventually become something else, which complicates an upcoming high-society wedding. We’ve all seen what happens because the basic structure of the film has been reused time and time again. Frank Capra’s direction is as sure-footed as anything else he’s done (and still rivals many modern directors), while the film’s pre-Code status makes it just a bit franker and just a bit more alluring than the following three decades of movies. It has aged remarkably well—Gable and Colbert have good chemistry, and the script is strong on dialogue and single moments. (Ah, that hitchhiking scene…)  I’m not so fond of the third-act shift away from the bus, but it does lead the film to its climactic finale. As I’m discovering more and more older movies, the nineteen-thirties are earning a special place in my own version of Hollywood history—a decade where the basics of cinema had been mastered to a level still recognizable as competent today, and (for a brief period before the Hays code) increasingly willing to push the envelope of what was permissible on-screen. It Happened One Night still feels fresh and fun—I can see it being a hit with wide audiences even today.