Tuya para siempre

Frederick March and Sylvia Sidney star in "Merrily We Go to Hell," from 1932.

For those of us who only remember Sylvia Sidney as an older character actress -- and usually a pretty mouthy one at that -- seeing her as an ingénue is always a revelation.

Jerry Corbett (March) is a reporter and a drunk, still pining for the woman who broke his heart, Claire (Adrienne Allen). When he meets the lovely Joan Prentice (Sidney) from a wealthy family, the two fall for one another and marry.

Jerry wants to write plays, and he eventually is able to have one produced, early in the marriage. Unfortunately, one of the stars is Claire, and she's perfectly willing to take up where they left off. Jerry starts drinking again. Joan is heartbroken as well as hurt and starts drinking and partying herself. Finally, though, she returns to her father's home.

Nothing too surprising in the plot, but good performances all around. Sidney is pretty and vulnerable, taking a chance on a man her father disapproves of but whom she loves. March shows that Jerry is a weak man who in his heart doesn't believe he deserves the happiness he's had with Joan. Can these two find their way back to one another? Just guess.

Dorothy Arzner had a good sense of pacing, so the film doesn't drag or slow down. Worth seeing for the actors, not necessarily the story.

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.

Clever dialogue, fantastic acting, and several great scenes made this film a delight for me, but be forewarned, its main character may have you saying 'grrr', and reduce your enjoyment. Frederic March plays a newspaper reporter / playwright who has a drinking problem, and it's while he's drunk at a party that he meets a charming young lady, played by Sylvia Sidney. The two hit it off and despite the concerns of her rich father (George Irving), get married. Things get complicated when his ex-lover (Adrianne Allen) re-surfaces and he struggles to control his problem.

It's a very strong cast all around, and Sidney in particular turns in a great performance. She ranges from a sweet, naïve, and trusting soul, loving unconditionally, to hurt and confused, to woman whose solution is to give her husband a taste of his own medicine, in a rather shocking development. The scene with her partying with her own young lover (Cary Grant no less) and his friends and quipping "Gentlemen, I give you the holy state of matrimony, modern style: single lives, twin beds and triple bromides in the morning" is sad, empowering, and a little thrilling all at the same time. As they're in a bar that's practically a den of iniquity, it's all clearly pre-code, but there is an intelligence and honesty in this scene, and throughout the movie.

March is also strong as this affable but flawed man, and in early scenes we smile at his partying, at one point yelling "Is there a baritone in the house?" until he finds a barman to fill out a quartet with his friends so that they can break out in song. The warning signs are there in his tardiness and even at his wedding, as he and his best man (Skeets Gallagher) fumble for the ring, which he's forgotten. That scene is one of several that are well directed by Dorothy Arzner, as she cuts to guests making observations and the facial reactions of March and Sidney as they say their vows.

There is a lot of partying and revelry which may put some viewers off, but I found that allowed for some fantastic moments. In one, March asks Sidney to shut the door and hold him back from going to the other woman, and in a strong way she opens it wide and says "I'm no jailer - get out!" In another, as March and Allen 'play-act' a passionate kiss to the merriment of others right in front of her, we feel the shock and humiliation amplified by her brilliant facial reaction.

The title is clearly meant to titillate, but the film has real substance beneath. It's wild, but also realistic, though I didn't care too much for the ending. We see what destructive behavior leads to, and in that I suppose there is a message, but it's delivered without heavy-handed moralizing. The plot is a tad melodramatic, but it's daring and unique in the areas it explores. Well worth checking out, if you're in the mood for pre-code.

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.

A wonderful and unsettling pre-Code film about an alcoholic playboy (Fredric March) who marries a sweet young thing (Sylvia Sidney) and proceeds to drag her down his path of dissolution. The depiction of their marriage is quite shocking, even by today's standards -- not only do they have an "open" marriage, they openly practice that freedom in front of their friends, suggesting a swinging lifestyle that wouldn't become approachable as subject matter in films for another 30+ years. March and Sidney give fantastic performances, and Dorothy Arzner, one of the rare women directors of the time, takes a matter of fact approach that leaves behind the melodrama and sentimentality that might have blunted this same story's impact in the hands of someone else.

One of the most refreshing aspects of "Merrily We Go to Hell," and one of the most shocking, is that Sidney's character does not suffer nobly while we wait for March to see the error of his ways and come back to her a chastened man. Instead, Sidney starts to behave just like him, coming within a stone's throw of alcoholism herself, and doing her own share of philandering. In that way, the film is even a little progressive in its equal treatment of the genders, even if that equality is the equality of debauchery.

Grade: A