|Director: Preston Sturges|
|Screenplay: Preston Sturges (based on a story by Monckton Hoffe)|
|Stars: Barbara Stanwyck (Jean Harrington / Lady Eve), Henry Fonda (Charles "Hopsie" Pike), Charles Coburn (Colonel Harrington), William Demarest (Muggsy Murgatroyd), Eugene Palette (Mr. Pike), Eric Blore (Sir Alfred McGlennan-Keith)|
|MPAA Rating: NR|
|Year of Release: 1941|
The Lady Eve is writer-director Preston Sturges' ode to romance as the greatest con game of all. Always the ironic satirist with a love of great characters and improbably wild scenarios, in The Lady Eve Sturges dreamt up a classical Hollywood screwball comedy with such overt overtones about the appeals of dishonesty and criminality that it's a wonder the Production Code Administration ever let it through. Of course, Joe Breen and the other moral guardians at the PCA were too wrapped up trying to discern the thinly veiled sexual innuendo in Sturges' perfectly tuned dialogue, so they missed the big picture that The Lady Eve breaks one of the cardinal rules of the Production Code, that the audience's sympathy should never be "thrown on the side of crime" or "throw sympathy against goodness, honor, innocence, purity, honesty."
This is, of course, exactly what Sturges does by establishing a romance between a beautiful and wily con artist named Jean Harrington (Barbara Stanwyck) and her prey, a naive sucker named Charles Pike (Henry Fonda) who is wealthy beyond belief, but only because he was lucky enough to have been born into a family fortune built on Pike's Ale ("The Ale That Won For Yale"). Charles, nicknamed "Hopsie" in college because of his family background, has little interest in ale. He wants to be a herpetologist, someone who studies snakes, and when the movie opens he is leaving South American after a year "up the Amazon" studying rare reptiles.
To get home, he boards the cruise ship Southern Queen, setting off quite a stir, especially among all the women on board who hope to catch his eye and marry into his fortune (one of the movie's most inspired scenes involves Jean providing a sardonic voice-over narration while watching in a mirror as woman after woman tries in vain to catch Hopsie's eye). Jean and her father and mentor, "Colonel" Harrington (Charles Coburn), immediately set their sights on Hopsie. Jean goes to work on him at once, but the tables are turned on her when her attempts to seduce Hopsie in order to fleece him develops into real love.
Sturges isn't satisfied with this turn of events, so his script introduces a new twist by having Hopsie and Jean's romance turn sour once he is told that she is a professional con artist. The story then moves off the cruise ship and into the Pike family mansion in Connecticut, where Jean re-emerges disguised as an English heiress named Lady Eve who then seduces Hopsie again and gets him to marry her only so she can devastate him as retribution for his having deserted her earlier.
The Lady Eve, being a screwball comedy, pushes the envelop in terms of plot plausibility, but Sturges' sophisticated dialogue and the wonderful performances by Stanwyck, Fonda, and Coburn bring us in so close to the characters that we can ignore such utterly implausible scenarios as Hopsie somehow not realizing that the Lady Eve is actually Jean (Sturges does exert a great effort to explain why he doesn't, and he comes close at times to making it credible). However, this is all par for the course in screwball, and we understand that the pleasure in The Lady Eve is not its fidelity to realism, but rather its rapid pace, witty dialogue, and overall sexiness.
Without a doubt, The Lady Eve is one of Sturges' sexiest movies (owing in great part to Stanwyck, who glides naturally between sensual sophistication and girlish excitement), and considering the tenor of the times in terms of censorship, he got away with a lot. Weaving in numerous references to the Biblical story of humankind's fall from grace (it's not by accident that Jean takes the name "Eve"), Sturges foregrounds sexuality in a way that few filmmakers dared at the time. Although it appears tame by today's standards, Sturges' use of displaced anatomy fetishes (shoes, stockings, etc.) and his comical employment of the blackout ellipsis to suggest what is happening behind closed doors gives the movie, in Andrew Sarris' words, its "ribaldry and gusto" without ever being "coarse and tasteless."
For example, Jean meets Hopsie by purposefully tripping him in the dining room on the cruise ship and then asking him to come down to her cabin to help her pick out a new pair of shoes because her heel broke off. The sequence in her cabin is a moment of sly sensuality that generates great heat with the simple act of Hopsie changing Jean's shoes. As Parker Tyler has noted, "In the annals of sex symbolism, a lady's foot is a truly historic fetish," and Sturges uses Stanwyck's for all it's worth. The shoe changing is a deeply intimate moment—especially for two people who just met each other five minutes earlier—but it is also comical in how it works to contrast Hopsie's awe-struck innocence and vulnerability with Jean's street-smart confidence and complete control. The tables, of course, will be turned once Jean lets her defenses down when she falls in love.
The Lady Eve features some of Sturges' most memorable sequences, including my favorite, a card game among Colonel Harrington, Jean, and Hopsie, in which the Colonel is aiming to con Hopsie out of all of his money while Jean tries to protect him. Sturges has never been known as a particularly innovative or stylish director visually, but here he constructs an elaborate sequence using editing and camera angles to depict the war of cons between father and daughter as they both cheat for different purposes while Hopsie blindly plays along, thinking he is in the midst of a heated, but perfectly legitimate card game. It's an interesting scene to view along gender lines, as Jean effectively assumes the typically masculine role of protecting her love interest from harm (in this case, economic harm) and, in a sense, "rescuing" him.
Still, when watching The Lady Eve, despite all its romance and pratfalls, it's hard to get away from Sturges' themes about corruption and dishonesty, which he had explored more fully in his directorial debut, The Great McGinty (1940). Sturges never fully defends conning people out of their money as a noble way of life, yet he never condemns it, either. He allows Colonel Harrington and Jean to stand on their own merits as human beings, and even though their means of earning a living would be considered "dishonest" by most, even "criminal," Sturges draws them as such interesting and deeply felt people that it's impossible to pass judgment on them. On the other side, it's hard not to feel that naive saps like Hopsie are simply asking for it when they get taken advantage of. Sturges' sly commentary seems to be a form of economic Darwinism, in which con artists like Colonel Harrington and others simply feed off the system that makes some people obscenely wealthy. Conning, like any other form of business, is a skill that has its economic rewards in the capitalist system.
Yet, the movie wouldn't work if Sturges weren't such a good writer who could infuse traditional genre material with such thematic concerns. On the surface, The Lady Eve is a wonderfully enjoyable madcap farce, even though its weakest moments are its most obvious, including a series of pratfalls and slapstick moments that seem almost superfluous when compared to the comical brilliance of the dialogue. The Lady Eve was released in 1941, near the beginning of Sturges' amazing seven-movie run between 1940 and 1944, in which he seemed to exhaust his creativity in what is still one of the most amazing periods of success for a single filmmaker. Even though his career slowly deteriorated after those five years, during that time Sturges produced a lasting body of work that, at least since the 1970s, has elevated him to the highest ranks of American auteurs. The Lady Eve is but one testament to his cinematic brilliance and lasting impact on the Hollywood comedy.
|The Lady Eve: Criterion Collection Special Edition DVD|
|Audio||Dolby Digital 1.0 Monaural|
|Supplements||Audio commentary by film scholar Marian Keane |
Video introduction by director Peter Bogdanovich
Complete 1942 Lux Radio Theater adaptation broadcast
Edith Head costume designs
Scrapbook of original publicity materials and production stills
|Distributor|| Criterion Collection / Home Vision Entertainment|
|Release Date||October 16, 2001|
| Transferred from a 35mm duplicate negative and presented in its original 1.33:1 aspect ratio, The Lady Eve looks better on this DVD than it ever has before. The image is clean and clear, with only a slight amount of speckling and a few barely noticeable vertical lines that crop up every once in a while. The general look of the film is somewhat soft, but this is likely due to the original cinematography, rather than the transfer. Detail is still quite good, even though lighter grays dominate the image, rather than sharp blacks and whites. Overall, this is a superb transfer, equal in quality to Criterion's magnificent work on Sturges' Sullivan's Travels.|
| The soundtrack, transferred from a 35mm sweetened magnetic track and presented in Dolby Digital one-channel monaural, sounds very good for its age. All the dialogue and sound effects are clear and crisp. There is only minor distortion and a slightly audible hiss, but nothing unexpected from a film of this age.|
|As with their release of Preston Sturges' Sullivan's Travels, Criterion has released The Lady Eve as a special edition with a nice array of supplements.|
Marian Keane, an assistant professor of film studies at the University of Colorado who has also done a great deal of work on Hitchcock (including recording a commentary for Criterion's DVD of The 39 Steps), guides us through the film in her screen-specific audio commentary. Keane is obviously deeply familiar with the film, and she makes a number of solid points that deepen the film's meaning and make us that much more aware of what an accomplishment Sturges' best work really is.
Director and film historian Peter Bogdanovich provides an eight-minute video introduction to the film, pointing out his favorite scenes and what he thinks sets the film apart. This is not part of the Janus Films' Directors Introduction series, such as the ones Terry Jones did for Jacques Tati's Hulot trilogy, but rather an interview that happens to work as a good introduction (parts of this same interview were used in the documentary on Sturges that appeared on the Sullivan's Travels DVD).
Another nice inclusion is the complete Lux Radio Theater adaptation that was broadcast in 1942 with Barbara Stanwyck reprising her role as Jean and Ray Milland filling in for Henry Fonda's role. Although not nearly as good as the movie itself (it had to be trimmed down to 45 minutes so it could be squeezed in before President Roosevelt made a war-time radio address), it is a fun reimagining of the story that works quite well even without the visuals.
One of the more fascinating supplements is a scrapbook of still images that include production photographs, behind-the-scenes stills, personal correspondence, and even the sheet music used for the movie's theme. Of particular interest are a series of inner-office memos distributed during the film's preproduction that warned of potential problems with the Production Code Administration regarding the sexual innuendo in the dialogue. Interestingly enough, most of it ended up staying in the film exactly as written.
Another section titled "Edith Head's Costume Designs" features photographs of Stanwyck in her various costumes along with Head's original design sketches interspersed with direct quotes from Head taken from Paddy Calistro's book Edith Head's Hollywood. This section includes two of Stanwyck's costumes that were designed and created, but never used in the film.
Lastly, the disc includes a re-release theatrical trailer that is in somewhat shoddy condition, further emphasizing how good the movie's transfer looks.
Copyright © 2001 James Kendrick