The Women

As has been said before 1939 was a great year for Hollywood classics, "Gone with the Wind", "The Wizard of Oz", "Wuthering Heights", "Stagecoach", et.al but I must admit I'd never heard of this film, or its place in the pantheon before now. It merits its spot. Once the novelty of an all-female cast wears off (there' nary a male extra in the backgrounds either), the movie crackles along as a small group of society women present a kaleidoscopic view of relations with men so that while men are absent physically they're ever-present in the dialogue and thoughts of this contrasting set of women-folk. Introduced wittily over the titles alongside their attributional equivalents in the animal world, the actresses play out of their skins and make a two hour plus set-bound movie simply fly by. Central to the whole is Norma Shearer, whose perfect marriage is shattered by her husband's casual infidelity with on-the-make shop girl Joan Crawford in a terrific, venomous turn. Shearer effectively plays queen bee to the drones around her both in her society set and in the motley assemblage at the divorce farm in Reno. She makes the journey from marriage to divorce and back with dignity and intelligence and even if I personally disagree with her choice and the sickly schmaltzy close-up with which she ends the film, about to fall back into her errant (ex-) husband's arms, this doesn't invalidate the fun and wit that has gone before. As good as Crawford and Shearer are, in their contrasting roles, it's Rosalind Russell as the treacherous, waspish Mrs Fowler, who steals the show and gets many of the best situations (her cat fight with Goddard is priceless!) and lines. Goddard too is radiant and knowing in her part, while a young Joan Fontaine simpers pleasantly as the naive "little child" of the group. A special nod also to the child actress playing Shearer's daughter without artifice and yet with appreciable warmth and naturalness. There are one or two anachronistic moments which jar, reflecting contemporary attitudes towards race and censorship, but on the whole, "woman's director" George Cukor keeps all the ingredients close to or at boiling point throughout. Perhaps too many of the speeches are head and shoulder shots fore square to the camera and having got good play out of two servant staff extemporising the doings of their masters, Cukor makes the mistake of repeating the trick immediately afterwards, thus diminishing the comedic impact. Nevertheless, appreciating that some of these criticisms are merely due to a retrospective eye (obviously cinematic times and styles change) on a film which in some respects is dated, there are still some neat turns in the language and phrases used, which still resonate today.

The fact that Norma Shearer and Joan Crawford would consent to appear in a movie together is amazing. Shearer in 1939 was the queen of MGM, being the widow of studio production chief Irving Thalberg, and had her choice of material and co-stars. Crawford, although a power in her own right, didn't have Shearer's pull and complained bitterly about it. Crawford fought to take the somewhat supporting, albeit juicy, role because she needed an A picture after a string of flops. So she had to suck it up to work with Shearer.

The two stars had only one scene alone together, and there were no reported problems while filming, except one. Director George Cukor sent Crawford home early when she caused a distraction by loudly clicking her knitting needles off camera as Shearer tried to do her close-ups.

Crawford was proved right in taking the movie, it's one of her most memorable and, finally for once, villainous roles. As Crystal Allen, the scheming homewrecker who is out to sleep her way to a Park Avenue penthouse, she was ideally cast. It was her life.

Rosalind Russell, previously not known as a comedienne, surprised everyone with her rapid-fire sarcastic delivery. She would continue to perfect the biting style for 20 years until she reached the pinnacle with Auntie Mame. Roz gives the strongest performance of the film as the spitefully catty Sylvia Fowler, and I don't think Shearer and Crawford knew what hit them.

As for the long-suffering, hair-clutching, heavy-sighing Norma Shearer, even she was able to make the thankless role of noble Mary Haines memorable. One of her best moments is when she raises her nails and growls "I've had two years to grow claws, Mother, and they're Jungle Red!," and then goes to take her husband back from Crawford. Shearer has a few Silent Screen moments that look out of place, such as collapsing and weeping at her mother's knee. But she makes the character warm and likable and we root for her to win.

There are many gems in the all-female supporting cast. Most spectacular is Mary Boland as the heavy-drinking, high-living Countess De Lave. "L'amour L'amour" she wails as she's about to divorce her fourth studly husband -- for trying to kill her.

Paulette Goddard, the most beautiful member of the cast, is the best I've seen her, as the streetwise Miriam Aarons. Like Crawford, she plays a role she understands, the chorus girl who snags a millionaire. But unlike Crystal, Miriam has a heart -- and Goddard is great at doling out straight-shooting advice and rolling out put-downs under her breath.

Marjorie Main gives a preview of the persona she would later use as Ma Kettle. It was the first time she was able to step out and create the character, and she used it the rest of her career. I never tired of her raucous horse laugh.

I hope Hollywood has the good sense not to update this classic with another misguided remake. It is a priceless diamond in a golden setting.

It's funny to read people arguing "The Women" is a flawed movie because it no longer speaks to who or what women are today. Does the same metric apply to "The Scarlet Letter" or "Anna Karenina"? Of course not. They are timeless classics. So is "The Women".

The setting is Manhattan, at a time when women enjoyed some newly acquired independence but still had to find their way in a world built by and for men. Mary Haines (Norma Shearer) treasures the company of her loving husband, but the wool is rather roughly pulled from her eyes and she is left to discover he's been stepping out with shopgirl Crystal Allen (Joan Crawford).

What makes "The Women" great? Having an entire film with no male characters is a cool trick, but doesn't guarantee re-watchability. What clicks starts with a zesty, witty script, written by Anita Loos and Jane Murfin from a Claire Booth play. It doesn't conceal the hurt of marital separation so much as send up the associated entanglements stirred up by an idle, jealous set that holds court over Mary's world.

At its vortex, more essential to the comedy's success than either Crawford or Shearer, is Rosalind Russell's performance as Mary's conniving cousin Sylvia Fowler. She shouldn't be so enjoyable, but she is. When you think of it, Sylvia's by far the nastiest character in the film. At least Crystal has a profit motive. "You can't bear Mary's happiness" is how one bystander puts it to Sylvia, and she's right.

Russell's ability to seize the comic high ground throughout, mugging up a storm, taking pratfalls, and even biting Paulette Goddard's calf, goes a large way to making "The Women" such a blast. Russell's as much fun as Olivier was playing Richard III, twisting Mary into a pointless confrontation with Crystal with her cruel dig: "No doubt that girl will make a perfectly good stepmom for your daughter." But just try hating Sylvia. You can't!

I relish the whole cast. It's quite a large one, Dickens-like not only in mass but in the number of distinctive characterizations. It's not an especially deep story, though there are emotional resonances and points worth discussing and debating. That goes especially for Mary's parleys with her mother (Lucile Watson), who tells her to ignore hubby's affair and "keep still". The mother wishes times were simpler, and women didn't have the option of not tolerating a husband's infidelity. You can question the rationale, but their scenes have impact.

Shearer has the toughest job in the film playing the good-hearted victim. She's not as self-conscious there as her critics say; she's limited not by her talent but by the script. She can't even play it too naive as Joan Fontaine has that territory sewn up as Mary's gentlest friend. So Shearer works it down the middle, milks some tears, and hangs around long enough to deliver the film's greatest line, one you know already if you've seen it. And she nails it...purrfectly.

Crawford is surprisingly absent for much of the film, given she has second billing. She does make every scene she's in count. Mary Boland is a wonderfully affected older woman married and dropped by a parade of husbands - including one who pushed her off a mountain. Even Goddard, more pretty than talented in roles I've seen of hers, crafts an effective identity as a Crystal-like character who winds up one of Mary Haines' sisters-in-arms.

The more I see "The Women", the tougher time I have identifying anything really not good about it. Even a lengthy fashion show, a segment that was shot in Technicolor and which director George Cukor is on record regretting, doesn't feel off-the-beam. I love watching Russell in her glasses knitting and pretending not to be bothered by the pretty models she believes are competing for her husband's attention.

There's just a lot to see and enjoy with "The Women". What can I say? I'm a guy. I suspect any woman giving this half a chance will have even more fun than I did.

I just saw this film for the first time a few months ago. I laughed harder than I remember laughing at anything made in the last twenty years. The Women is brilliantly written, brilliantly acted, and a whole lot of fun! Norma Shearer is such a sympathetic Mrs. Haines, and the "Jungle red" scene had me in laughing fits. I just could not stop the video for anything. Rosalind Russell was so funny! I thought the scene in the exercise room was absolutely hysterical. I've always been a fan of the demeure Joan Fontaine of Rebecca, and I was surprised to see her here, though not surprised that she played the lamb! This film is such a delight. I think anyone of any age would enjoy it.

This, by far, is the greatest classic bitch film of all time. It can never be equaled. They tried, but failed, when trying to remake it a musical with a less than glamorous casting of the roles made famous by the all-star female cast of the original written by Clare Boothe Luce. George Cukor, the director, had his hands full with the likes of these dames of fame. Each, in their own right, could steal a scene if left up to them, and they tried. But Cukor, held tight to the reins and kept them all in line. The beginning credits were cleverly done with each star being represented by an animal. Norma Shearer, the doe; the delicious Joan Crawford, a tiger; Roz Russell a cat; Paulette Goddard, a fox; Marjorie Main, a mule; Joan Fontaine, a lamb.

My favorite scenes were the fight scene with Goddard and Russell, bath scene with Crawford, and last scene when all THE WOMEN go at it at the ball. With wonderful, crisp dialogue, beautiful costumes designed by Adrian and a stellar cast, you can see the sparks fly in this all-time classic comedy of 1939.