Merrily We Go to Hell

Fredric March and Sylvia Sidney star in Merrily We Go To Hell, the story of a nice rich girl who falls in love with an alcoholic newspaperman who has ambitions for greater things to turn his writing talents to. The title comes from a favorite drinking toast of March's.

Occasionally Fredric March turned in some fine performances of some dissolute characters. Later on he would get Oscar nominations for A Star Is Born and Death Of A Salesman and his part in this film can be seen as a harbinger of things to come.

For once Sylvia Sidney was not a child of the slums, she's a rich girl here who falls for March who keeps falling off the wagon. When he gets his play finally produced slinky actress Adrienne Allen comes between Sylvia and Fred. Incidentally playing a small role as Allen's lead in the play is Cary Grant.

The story verges into the melodramatic, but Dorothy Arzner gets some good performances from her stars and their support. Pay note to March's reporter sidekick Skeets Gallagher who has some interesting observations.

Fans of the stars should be pleased.

Once you get past the appalling title, this is a good picture. It's a Pre-Code film and must have been naughty in its day, but is tame by today's standards. It involves a fairly routine love story pulled out of the doldrums by Director Dorothy Arzner and by exceptional acting performances by the two principals, Frederic March and Sylvia Sidney. Poor Sylvia suffered through countless 30's tearjerkers and she is once again miserable here as the put-upon wife of drunken writer March. Was never a fan of Sylvia's, particularly as she became desiccated and more pathetic in later years, but she never looked lovelier and more appealing than in this movie. Skeets Gallagher plays March's drinking buddy and adds immeasurable stature to the film. He remains one of Hollywood's most shamefully underutilized and overlooked talents.

Was surprised to learn that a strain of Womens Lib flourished in the early 30's, as our heroine declares her independence (more or less) from her inebriated husband and, in addition, her wedding vow did not include the words "honor and obey", which I thought were de rigeur until mid-century. This last may have been a directorial touch of a feminist director.

This is an underrated, under-appreciated movie, especially if you enjoy solid acting and are a sucker for a pretty face, to borrow a phrase.

Everybody here is terrific, and Paramount brought out its A-list stars for the leads, Sylvia Sidney as heiress Joan Prentice and Fredric March as aspiring playwright Jerry Corbett. They are a young couple who marry in spite of the fact that Jerry is an alcoholic who is still stuck on a past heartbreak, stage actress Claire Hempstead.

The plot treads a conventional path full of precode tropes - infidelity, drunkenness, open marriage, the inconvenient pregnancy, and the wealthy family of one spouse distrusting the not so wealthy other spouse and his motives. But yet it is interesting because of several - "Wow did they do that back then?" moments.

For example - Jerry works at a newspaper. When somebody makes an insulting remark about his upcoming wedding, Jerry punches him in the throat. And yet nobody gets fired or arrested. Prohibition is still in force, and everybody drinks everywhere. Nobody even bothers with the discretion of a flask. There is booze at private parties, booze in public places, booze everywhere. When a turkey gets accidentally dropped on the floor, the alternative is... canned chicken??? Ugh. I would think the couple didn't want to have me over for dinner in the first place. Then there is Jerry's hit play up in lights - "When Women Say No - a satirical comedy". Yikes!

Need I mention that the art design and Sylvia Sidney's fashions are gorgeous. With Skeets Gallagher as Jerry's best friend, the great Esther Howard who seems to be in some kind of relationship with Skeets' character and had a marriage end because of her former husband's drinking - she's always memorable, and Cary Grant as one of Joan's extramarital escorts with what seems to be his original nose.

Cleo Lucas wrote 'I, Jerry, take thee Joan', her only novel, at the tender age of twenty-four and it has been adapted by Edwin Justus Mayer for Paramount whilst marking the last film directed for that studio by Dorothy Arzner before going freelance.

Early on in the film the newly engaged Jerry of Fredric March asks: "Have I a right to take a swell girl and make her a wife?" Thus setting the scene for another of Ms. Arzner's stealthy critiques of the married state.

As expected, her direction is impeccable, her editing seamless and the magnificent performances she has drawn from her two leading players makes this emotional rollercoaster riveting viewing.

The all-important chemistry between March and the enchanting Sylvia Sidney as Joan without which the film would not work, is palpable from the outset. Her character develops and grows in strength as the film progresses whilst in his fourth film for this director, his portrayal of a tragic drunk makes him perfect casting for the role of Norman Maine five years later. Classy English actress Adrianne Allen is Jerry's old flame whose reappearance spells disaster.

Ambivalence runs through Ms. Arzner's oeuvre, never more so than in the ending here which is both happy and deeply tragic.

Although this story has been done a million times since, Dorothy Arzner's subtle yet brash film still has something different to say which makes this worth watching.

Being not just that rarest of 1930s Hollywood creatures: a woman film maker but also someone in an openly long term same sex relationship I wonder whether she had to try harder than her male contemporaries? She certainly delivers goods with this, imbuing energy and emotion into this very thoughtful drama. It's not just a simple story about alcoholism as it could easily have been considering this is 1932. It is a surprisingly deep examination of a strained and complex relationship which is particularly insightful for the time. Above all though it is a piece of entertainment. Unlike how this subject might be handled today, it doesn't get too bogged down in depressing misery but instead keeps the story moving forward, keeping your eyes glued to the screen with a really fast pace.

It's not just Ms Arzner's energetic yet thought provoking direction which elevates this above a lot of the output from 1932, it's Frederick March. Sylvia Sidney is fine in this (not as good as she was in CITY STREETS, Rouben Mamoulian's masterpiece made a year earlier) but she and the rest of the cast are just not on the same level as Mr March. His characterisation of someone who knows he could have everything yet also someone who knows he is going to destroy not just his own but his wife's life too and someone who knows he can't do anything to stop himself is incredibly natural, authentic and heartbreaking. He achieves this, even when he's being decidedly horrible by being so endearing and likeable. Of all the actors the 30s, he was one who had real depth and demonstrates this fully here making his character both fun and sad, ambitious yet weak and spineless, devoted yet deceitful... a real person.

Despite my gushing praise for this, or maybe because of it, I can't call this a great film. Because it's good I can't just compare it with other films of that era but have to put it in the same category of all pictures from the last hundred years. It's no MIDNIGHT COWBOY or TRAIN SPOTTING thus my fairly low rating... but as films from 1932 go, it's one of the best.