The Lady Says No

Producer Frank Ross makes his only effort at directing with this feathery comedy, a vanity piece for his wife Joan Caulfield, wherein the lovely and customarily demure actress displays a widened working range disparate from her normal personae, playing here as Dorinda Hatch, feminist author of an anti-male best-seller who becomes unsettled when a rakish photographer for Life Magazine, Bill Shelby (David Niven), attempts to woo her through a sly method of blackmail. During a picture taking session for the periodical Dorinda does some mugging designed to put the impudent Shelby in his place, but the latter turns the tables on her by using a daft face made by the writer as the proof for an upcoming Life cover, refusing to give the negative to her unless she allows him to kiss her, an act leading to romantic complications that raise doubts as to the sincerity of Dorinda's feminist beliefs. The work has a simple storyline, with some fatuous scenes of slapstick, but roles are well-performed by all members of the cast, despite a great deal of predictability in the dialogue, Caulfield earning the acting laurels as she and Niven luff toward each other in romantic folly, and there are skillful turns from Henry Jones and Lenore Lonergan as a comedic pair still in love, although not without conflict. The action moves briskly with nary a break and producer/director Ross has assembled top-tier technicians to showcase Caulfield, among them James Wong Howe, cinematographer, and Orry-Kelly, costumer, in addition to production designer Perry Ferguson, and a terrific score is contributed by Arthur Lange to cap off this pleasant and humorous soufflé.

The Lady Says No is the type of post World War II film that tackled issues the movies would not focus on. In this case, it's feminism. Beautiful Joan Caulfield (Blue Skies, The Unsuspected) was directed by her husband, Frank Ross, to play a man-hating writer of a book telling women to be cautious of a man's desires. David Niven is a photographer for a magazine who tries to do a story on her, but romance steps in...with complications. He gets embarrassed for whistling at her, she takes the heat for her book causing a marital break-up. But, ultimately, things turn around, as a sergeant reunites with his wife and writer and photographer get back together, as well.

Also in the cast are Francis Bavier (Aunt Bee-The Andy Griffith Show), James Robertson Justice, Henry Jones, Lenore Lonergan, and Peggy Malley, with Bavier and Justice as Caulfield's aunt and uncle, Jones and Lonergan as a military couple, and Malley as a friend of the military couple.

Mostly hilarious and predictable (Caulfield's dream of her fighting off jungle women to get to Niven), but stoic in some areas (Niven's lack of comic response), the film was written as a showpiece for Caulfield, who carried the movie. Wouldn't mind seeing it again. In other words, I would love to see Caulfield flaunt her style in Orry-Kelly fashions, while she defends her position of feminism, while a different actor could have been used as a comic foil, maybe Fred MacMurray. A film slightly ahead of its time.

There were two things at least I enjoyed about this frivolous romantic comedy about the author of a book attacking men and her involvement with the type of man she despises most, the jaunty and catchy intro music, and the performance from the stunning Joan Caulfield, who managed to extract the maximum from an inconsistent and under-written part. A pity she didn't become a greater star than she did. By contrast her co-star David Niven appeared understandably rather uncomfortable throughout. The first half was fairly amusing, albeit dated, with the dream sequence the highlight, but the attempts at humour become increasingly feeble and finally moribund some time before the inevitable conclusion is reached.

As another reviewer once noted, "The Lady Says No" is "a listless raspberry at feminism circa 1951." This is a good description as far as it goes. The film is uninspired and quite predictable. Pretty Joan Caulfield plays feminist author Dorinda Hatch who has written a book advising women to avoid romances with men. Handsome David Niven plays wolfish Bill Shelby who is attracted to this man-hater and soon has her reluctantly returning his desires.

The film has a lackluster script. Caulfield does the best she can with the part but Niven appears just plain bored as if he has mentally checked out from this trite material.

One thing about it is that it reminds people of how feminism made a strange turn in the 1970s. Giving up on the idea of persuading women en mass to eschew intimate relations with men, feminism adopted legalized abortion as its cause. Obviously, abortion would have little market if it were really possible to get women to "say no."

Although the film isn't terrific, IT SHOULD BE WATCHED! It should be watched to see what people in the 1950s thought a feminist would look like and be like and what feminism would champion. Does anyone in this era think a feminist is a dowdy stout woman in a long dress who stays home and knits? As I've already pointed out, a feminist movement that successfully championed celibacy would not be tied to "abortion rights."

I want to add that I saw this routine programmer because I'm a fan of the relatively little-known Peggy Maley, the blonde beauty cast as Midge. I thought Maley did well with her lively but small part. She certainly looked sexy and bright but she almost always did. Here's to Peggy!

Short on laughs, sometimes even embarrassing to watch, it makes me wonder what this film would have been like WITHOUT David Niven. His performance is so wooden and he seems so bored with the whole thing. Joan Caulfield, not a well known name, does a really good job, actually, playing the ying and yang of her character.

Niven seems TOTALLY OUT OF PLACE, a part someone like Tony Randall or Jack Lemmon could have banged out of the park (maybe it was a bit before their time...) Not a bad premise, has been stolen and used repeatedly in movie history, but it seems listless and lifeless when Niven is on screen. Oh, well.