A Lost Lady

'A Lost Lady' starts off strong, with Barbara Stanwyck and Phillip Reed in love and about to get married, only to have their plans tragically changed. As Stanwyck goes into seclusion in order to pick up the pieces, she's approached by Frank Morgan (who you may recognize as the Wizard of Oz), an older man whose love for her is pure yet platonic. From there the film attempts to troll the depths of friendship, love, duty, and marriage, as other men (Ricardo Cortez and Lyle Talbot) are also attracted to Stanwyck. The plot seems to have little to do with the Willa Cather novel of the same name, and as the film progresses, it seems melodramatic and not all that authentic. It's always great to see early Barbara Stanwyck, and in this one you'll see her hit a few tennis balls among other things, but not even she can raise this above being pretty tepid. It was made right at the outset of the production code, which undoubtedly played a role. At 61 minutes it breezes by, and, having failed to develop some of the potential of the story, ends abruptly.

When book author Willa Cather saw this film she immediately banned all adaptations of her work, screen or otherwise, and more than forty years passed before another was attempted. It is easy to see why once you compare her novel with this soapy love yarn -- there is practically no connection in story, or tone. I loved the cast in this picture and there were parts that moved even unsentimental me; it was nice to see Frank Morgan play a role so far from his most celebrated turn as the avuncular, but sexless Wizard of Oz. Here Morgan is a mature man that is used to holding his passions in check, but sets himself up in a situation that brings him disillusioned loneliness and self-doubt. Barbara Stanwyck is ravishing in every frame of the movie, and she has to be, as she's set up as being a girl so beautiful that no man can resist her. But then we have the scene with Barbara working in the garden in white high-heeled shoes and a bright, floral print dress and we begin to wonder -- "What's up with that?" Do we have to keep propping up this concept of her as perpetually dressed for a cocktail party in order reinforce this idea of her irresistible beauty? Lyle Talbot, God love him, puts his all into the minor part of Nial, and that's what got me interested in looking up Cather's book. Actually, Nial is the major character in the novel, so Talbot's reduced role is a demotion indeed. It can be an enjoyable picture if you concentrate on the performances and not worry about where the story is going; the pacing in the first half is swift, and builds interest. But if you look at it through the lens of somehow representing the work of Willa Cather, then this version of "A Lost Lady" falls flat on its ass. Apparently the now lost silent version was closer to its source.

Warner Brothers (WB) release demonstrating what the studio system did right with these small dramas. Tight script and running time sixty-one (61) minutes did not allow any FAT. This was reinforced by a very competent cast led by Barbara Stanwyck and Frank Morgan, supported by Ricardo Cortez, Lyle Talbot with Rafaela Ottiano (maid as usual). Hobart Cavanaugh and Willy Fung provide comedy relief (as usual and thankfully brief).

Plot revolves around Stanwycks characters loss of love. Resurrection by the love of Frank Morgan. Temptation from first Lyle Talbot then Ricardo Cortez and redemption back to Frank Morgan. This is told in a brisk style that holds interest all the way through. It is a quick time soap opera.

It is great to see is Frank Morgan in a role that was more akin to his early stage presence. Most people only think of him as 'Professor Marvel' from THE WIZARD OF OZ, or some other eccentric character usually over acting. Barbara Stanwyck is looking very 'chic' in a role that would normally be played by WB clotheshorse Kay Francis. Ms. Stanwyck is not what you would call a conventual beauty, but there is something about her sex appeal that is irresistible. We can't exactly put our finger on it, but obviously Robert Taylor did.

No movie with the great Barbara Stanwyck is completely without interest, but there is little else to recommend this misbegotten movie. Willa Cather was so horrified at what had been done to her novel that she refused to sell any of her other books to the movies, and one can see why. The story, characterisations, time span, plot, and tone have all been changed, for the worse, in a trite Hollywood way. For example, the house in the book, which is a nice-size house whose distinction is the beautiful scenery around it, is here a huge mansion with the standard Thirties-mansion double-height curving staircase. Complex relationships in the novel are here so oversimplified as to be almost meaningless. The movie adheres to a post-Code morality, also very simple, good vs. bad, where the book was much more subtle and complex.

In what I think is the only case of this I have seen, Stanwyck has a different hairstle in every scene, which changes her appearance greatly. It makes you feel that trivial details like these, at the expense of consistency, are what most concerned the film-maker (Alfred Green-- who?).

Barbara Stanwyck is young and a lovely as a woman whose fiancée is killed by an angry husband just before their wedding. Embittered, she retreats to the mountains and finds healing in the affections of Frank Morgan, who plays a wealthy attorney who falls in love with her.

Stanwyck marries him, though explains to poor Frank that she doesn't love him. Their bedrooms, therefore, are across the hall from one another. With money, social standing, beauty, and being married, which makes her unattainable, Stanwyck soon finds the men are crawling out of the woodwork, including a very young Lyle Talbot and Ricardo Cortez, who lands his plane on her lawn.

Morgan and Stanwyck are excellent and give the story a very touching quality. One scene struck me as a little odd, censorship wise: At the beginning of the film, Morgan rescues Stanwyck from a fall. The next day, he walks by her house and pokes his head in her bedroom to see how she's doing. She's in bed, recovering. He's invited in. The maid leaves the bedroom and closes the door.

Either I'm getting too old or my sensibility is too modern, but I found this scene peculiar for 1934. I'd love to know how this got past the code since there was a big argument about "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn." An unmarried woman, in her pajamas, entertaining a gentleman caller in her bedroom. Oh, well.