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From the initial release of this extraordinary one-of-a-kind MGM movie directed by Cecil B. DeMille, one question has begged for an answer: why was Madam Satan (MS) ever made? Apparently the explanation was that following the prior modest success of DeMille's first sound film Dynamite in 1929, Louis B. Mayer requested him to next tackle a musical movie---following the then current trend to make films that coupled a song fest with extravagant climactic visual scenes. This was the dawn of sound in Hollywood as well as its early use of the primitive two strip Technicolor process to enhance the public's moviegoing experience. It was a time when the story-driven narrative approach to movie-making gave way to one providing a showcase that demonstrated the recent technical advances in presenting Hollywood cinema.
MS defies explanation. Its combining of seemingly disparate plot lines foreshadows later films that utilized the same idea (see, e.g. History Is Made at Night (1937) where an ordinary romantic melodrama is combined with a passenger ship iceberg collision and The Barkleys of Broadway (1949) where the trials and tribulations of a married song and dance couple are linked to one involving an extended presentation of the French national anthem Marseillaise). In its lighter moments, MS harkens back to an earlier silent phase of DeMille's career while at the same time anticipating his future disaster spectacles such as Reap the Wild Wind (1942) and Samson and Delilah (1949). MS also illustrates a common criticism of DeMille's---that he was too preoccupied with the technical details of movie making to be concerned with crafting memorable acting performances. Finally, it must be readily admitted that MS contains in its pre-disaster early portion a narrative that was almost unbearably slow, somewhat flat at times and more often than not outright dull and uninteresting. This has to be primarily attributed to screen writer Jeanie MacPherson---but DeMille as the film's producer bears shared responsibility by shepherding MS to its final release presentation.
At this point in time, MS remains a valuable archive of how DeMille adapted to early sound moviemaking. It was not a critical or financial success, and after the flop of his next film for MGM ( The Squaw Man III!)----DeMille's contractual arrangement with them ended and he then moved over to Paramount. It was with that studio that DeMille realized the film accomplishments for which he is best remembered today.
MS defies explanation. Its combining of seemingly disparate plot lines foreshadows later films that utilized the same idea (see, e.g. History Is Made at Night (1937) where an ordinary romantic melodrama is combined with a passenger ship iceberg collision and The Barkleys of Broadway (1949) where the trials and tribulations of a married song and dance couple are linked to one involving an extended presentation of the French national anthem Marseillaise). In its lighter moments, MS harkens back to an earlier silent phase of DeMille's career while at the same time anticipating his future disaster spectacles such as Reap the Wild Wind (1942) and Samson and Delilah (1949). MS also illustrates a common criticism of DeMille's---that he was too preoccupied with the technical details of movie making to be concerned with crafting memorable acting performances. Finally, it must be readily admitted that MS contains in its pre-disaster early portion a narrative that was almost unbearably slow, somewhat flat at times and more often than not outright dull and uninteresting. This has to be primarily attributed to screen writer Jeanie MacPherson---but DeMille as the film's producer bears shared responsibility by shepherding MS to its final release presentation.
At this point in time, MS remains a valuable archive of how DeMille adapted to early sound moviemaking. It was not a critical or financial success, and after the flop of his next film for MGM ( The Squaw Man III!)----DeMille's contractual arrangement with them ended and he then moved over to Paramount. It was with that studio that DeMille realized the film accomplishments for which he is best remembered today.
To consider what Lady with a Past (LWAP) might have otherwise looked like, you must go back to 1931 and have viewed an early comedy success made by Frank Capra at Columbia titled Platinum Blond (PB). In PB, a neophyte film actor named Robert Williams (who did however have an extensive Broadway resume) absolutely nailed his role as a breezy and charismatic newspaper reporter. He so impressed audiences and critics alike that Williams was uniformly being identified as an up and coming major comedy star. In PB he literally stole the film from his much better known co-stars Jean Harlow and Loretta Young. He was only 37 years old, and seemed destined to have a film career of the first rank.
Before his sensational performance in PB was ever seen by the world, Williams was assigned to RKO to co-star with the glamorous beauty Constance Bennett in her next film--LWAP. During pre-production rehearsals, Williams began to experience severe abdominal discomfort. He was rushed to a hospital where the problem was diagnosed as appendicitis. Before the surgery was concluded, Williams's appendix burst. He then developed peritonitis and subsequently died on Nov.3, 1931. Four days later, PB went into general release--and a star was born! Alas, that star burned out before its light could be shared with the wider public. The death of Robert Williams was one of Hollywood's great tragedies. It ranks along with the premature demise of actors like James Dean, Mario Lanza, Tyrone Power and Laird Cregar as yet another example of a lost career "that might have been." It is quite easy to imagine Williams playing the Clark Gable part in It Happened One Night, and doing so by possibly achieving even greater acclaim and distinction.
As for LWAP, the studio enlisted stalwart Ben Lyon to replace Williams in the film. Lyon had a track record as a reliable if rather undistinguished leading man (see e.g. Hell's Angels, Night Nurse, etc.). Probably most informed moviegoers would not have considered him to be in the same acting league as Williams. Whether Williams could have succeeded in making LWAP a better movie vehicle is difficult to determine. But to get an idea as to how you might answer that question, check out PB and imagine Ben Lyon in the Williams part. Would PB then be recalled with any unique fondness today other than as perhaps one of Jean Harlow's lesser early efforts? And as it is, LWAP exists today just as a typically enjoyable Constance Bennett film from her early 1930s period that paired her with a leading man who did no harm to her performance. To her many fans who delighted in just seeing Constance Bennett on the screen---LWAP will not prove to be a disappointment. But with Williams as her co-star---things could have been decidedly different---and for the better!
Before his sensational performance in PB was ever seen by the world, Williams was assigned to RKO to co-star with the glamorous beauty Constance Bennett in her next film--LWAP. During pre-production rehearsals, Williams began to experience severe abdominal discomfort. He was rushed to a hospital where the problem was diagnosed as appendicitis. Before the surgery was concluded, Williams's appendix burst. He then developed peritonitis and subsequently died on Nov.3, 1931. Four days later, PB went into general release--and a star was born! Alas, that star burned out before its light could be shared with the wider public. The death of Robert Williams was one of Hollywood's great tragedies. It ranks along with the premature demise of actors like James Dean, Mario Lanza, Tyrone Power and Laird Cregar as yet another example of a lost career "that might have been." It is quite easy to imagine Williams playing the Clark Gable part in It Happened One Night, and doing so by possibly achieving even greater acclaim and distinction.
As for LWAP, the studio enlisted stalwart Ben Lyon to replace Williams in the film. Lyon had a track record as a reliable if rather undistinguished leading man (see e.g. Hell's Angels, Night Nurse, etc.). Probably most informed moviegoers would not have considered him to be in the same acting league as Williams. Whether Williams could have succeeded in making LWAP a better movie vehicle is difficult to determine. But to get an idea as to how you might answer that question, check out PB and imagine Ben Lyon in the Williams part. Would PB then be recalled with any unique fondness today other than as perhaps one of Jean Harlow's lesser early efforts? And as it is, LWAP exists today just as a typically enjoyable Constance Bennett film from her early 1930s period that paired her with a leading man who did no harm to her performance. To her many fans who delighted in just seeing Constance Bennett on the screen---LWAP will not prove to be a disappointment. But with Williams as her co-star---things could have been decidedly different---and for the better!
It has been said that there is a small finite number of original plots out there waiting to be made into marketable movie narratives---and that everything else represents a variation of an item from that list. This is probably true. In any event, look no further than to compare Sin Takes a Holiday (STAH) with Bachelor Apartment made just a year later. While the situations and characters are somewhat different (to probably avoid legal copyright issues), the fact that both involve a group of thoroughly jaded women interacting with a similar group of unmistakably lecherous men while the principal cad in the stories finally ends up married to his morally upright secretary clearly illustrates this point.
Constance Bennett became a frequent star in the many early 1930s pre-code Hollywood films exemplified by STAH. She projected the right combination of glamour, cynicism, humanity and humor that was inherent in these roles, and she made them both interesting and watchable even though they often tended to resemble each other. And the now unknown actor Kenneth MacKenna (born Leo Mielziner--the son of a rabbi) was well cast as the amorous divorce lawyer who became his own best client. In addition, the relatively youthful Basil Rathbone (then only 38) displayed considerable evidence of comedic flair and leading man charm that unfortunately was later to be overshadowed by his remarkable prowess as an outstanding screen villain as well as the definitive modern Sherlock Holmes.
While the United States was soon to go through the devastation of the Great Depression, many people continued to take great delight in observing the ridiculously absurd antics of the idle rich in the almost endless body of pre-code films like STAH coming out of Hollywood.. These movies made no attempt to depict reality to the average moviegoer, who likely did not own a tuxedo or an evening gown and never actually knew a fabulously rich person in real life. They provided a means of escape from an ordinary nondescript existence, and allowed many folks to have a good laugh at the expense of a class of people they would never really get to know in their daily experience. It is no wonder that the popularity of pre-code cinema helped Hollywood to survive the economic struggle that was soon to overtake the Nation.
STAH is not a great film or perhaps not even a good one. But as a time capsule from long ago when such tales were actually popular with a large segment of the American public--it is worth your time and attention.
Constance Bennett became a frequent star in the many early 1930s pre-code Hollywood films exemplified by STAH. She projected the right combination of glamour, cynicism, humanity and humor that was inherent in these roles, and she made them both interesting and watchable even though they often tended to resemble each other. And the now unknown actor Kenneth MacKenna (born Leo Mielziner--the son of a rabbi) was well cast as the amorous divorce lawyer who became his own best client. In addition, the relatively youthful Basil Rathbone (then only 38) displayed considerable evidence of comedic flair and leading man charm that unfortunately was later to be overshadowed by his remarkable prowess as an outstanding screen villain as well as the definitive modern Sherlock Holmes.
While the United States was soon to go through the devastation of the Great Depression, many people continued to take great delight in observing the ridiculously absurd antics of the idle rich in the almost endless body of pre-code films like STAH coming out of Hollywood.. These movies made no attempt to depict reality to the average moviegoer, who likely did not own a tuxedo or an evening gown and never actually knew a fabulously rich person in real life. They provided a means of escape from an ordinary nondescript existence, and allowed many folks to have a good laugh at the expense of a class of people they would never really get to know in their daily experience. It is no wonder that the popularity of pre-code cinema helped Hollywood to survive the economic struggle that was soon to overtake the Nation.
STAH is not a great film or perhaps not even a good one. But as a time capsule from long ago when such tales were actually popular with a large segment of the American public--it is worth your time and attention.