Bachelor Apartment

Lowell Sherman was a star and director of silent films and talkies until his death in 1934. His best-remembered films are probably Way Down East (1920) and What Price Hollywood? (1932). In Bachelor Apartment he stars as a rich New York playboy who seems to have an endless parade of women going through his apartment. At one point he tells is butler (Charles Coleman) that he is "going hunting" and returns with a silly woman (Noel Francis) with whom he dallies until prim Irene Dunne comes hunting for her sister. Funny and risqué, this film deals rather openly about sexuality, teasing, infidelity, and "getting what you want." Sherman and Dunne are terrific as the sparring boss and steno, but Mae Murray bizarrely steals the several scenes she is in. Murray, a silent-film queen of the teens and 20s, made only 3 talkies. At age 40, she's still trying to be the sex goddess and comes off as being unlikely and unlikable. Murray affects a baby lisp and vamps and saunters about. She looks pretty good but she seems very otherworldly.

Claudia Dell is annoying as the dumb sister, Ivan Lebedeff plays a dancer, Norman Kerry (also a silent star) plays a producer, Bess Flowers is the woman who lost her necklace, Lee Phelps is the cop, and Arline Judge is one of the secretaries.

Dunne was always good, and Sherman has a terrific comic roue act that always borders on being quite gay. But watch him closely in this film (which he also directed) and study his comic timing and the pacing of his comebacks. The dialog is snappy and suggestive. Coleman and Francis are also very good indeed.

Lowell Sherman, who also directed Katharine Hepburn in Morning Glory) is long forgotten but certainly deserves to be remembered as a wonderful actor and fine director.

I watched this on TCM for one reason: curiosity about Mae Murray. I had never seen her in a talkie, heard she was exceptionally bad and was expecting her to have a high-pitched or grating voice with a common accent. What a surprise to hear something more like a cross between Billie Burke and Myrna Loy but deeper. She still had "it" in the Thirties, with a fine figure, and I am not alone in wondering why she fizzled out so quickly. Over the top? Yes. Even obnoxious (particularly when she bursts into kooky peals of laughter) - but entertaining. When she's on screen you don't look at anyone else.

The second surprise was the direction by Lowell Sherman and the story by John Howard Lawson. There is a naturalness to the dialogue and a lifelike quality to the characters' frequent and casual banter that brings you inside the world of young ladies struggling in New York City during the early Depression years. Some exteriors are actual location shots of New York City streets and the interiors are depicted in detail, particularly clutter on tables (the aftermath of a wild party in the titular penthouse and breakfast paraphernalia in the humble flat inhabited by Dunne and her sister). Surely the leftwing Lawson was responsible for the haves-vs-have-nots element of the story. It's a witty and somewhat farcical tale about a Park Avenue business executive consumed with the pursuit and avoidance of an army of attractive young women until he meets Miss Right (Irene Dunne - no one ever righter). The supporting cast is mostly excellent, particularly Noel Francis as one of Sherman's pickups. She registered very strongly in a very brief scene as the prostitute in I AM A FUGITIVE FROM A CHAIN GANG.

At first sight one cannot accept the puffy and dissipated Sherman as a desirable ladies' man. Only in his mid-40s when he directed and starred in this film, he looks 10 years older and occasionally slurs his speech but nevertheless manages to be charming and totally in control in the kind of role Robert Montgomery was born to play. I see from IMDb that Sherman was a director of some note and consider it a sad loss for cinema that he died so young, though seeing him here and in WHAT PRICE Hollywood it's obvious he was far from robust. I intend to look for other films he directed based on my happy experience with BACHELOR APARTMENT.

I didn't expect much from this film when I first saw it, not knowing who Lowell Sherman was and figuring it would be extremely dated.

I found out the film provided some good laughs, some clever sarcastic dialog, realistic characters and a certain charm at the same time.

Sherman might have been a bit too old to be playing the role of playboy but he carried it off, being enjoyable to watch. It was fun seeing such a young Irene Dunne, too, complete with the early '30s short hairstyle. Unlike most of the women pictured in this film, Dunne played her typical high-principled character, reflecting the classy lady she was off screen, too.

Lowell Sherman plays wealthy businessman and playboy Wayne Carter who is juggling lots of women. He's not just NOT the marrying kind, he actively uses them and loses them. The easier they are to get the quicker he loses them as it seems the chase is 90% of the thrill for him. Then he meets a woman he cannot get - stenographer Helene Andrews (Irene Dunne). He can't tempt her with nice things, and he can't sweet talk her with his obvious come-ons. So he hires her as an executive secretary at his firm, and even that takes some talking for her to believe that this is anything but what it looks like - a long con attempt to get into her pants.

But then Carter starts to truly fall for Helene. The problem is that he, as part of his long con, has been extremely open about his love life and so any abrupt change in him would be eyed very suspiciously by Helene. The most complicating factor is an old flame of Carter's (Mae Murray) who married a rich man in his circle but who has decided that she wants to stay married to the rich guy but pick up her sex life with Carter where they left off before the marriage. And she's not averse to showing up unannounced at his penthouse, undressing, and jumping into his bed to wait for him. Complications ensue.

Subplots involve Dunne's showbiz sister (Claudia Dell) who, unlike Dunne's character, doesn't have a problem with sleeping her way to the top. Sherman had a breezy delivery of lines and a rapid-fire, almost overlapping way of doing dialog that seems very modern. You also get the feeling he ad libs constantly. The real curiosity here is Murray who was 45+ but is dressed like a woman in her 20s with an odd baby-talk way of speaking. It really is outrageous. Purnell Pratt plays Murray's husband who has murderous intent if he ever finds out who it is that his wife is seeing behind his back.

This was Irene Dunne's third feature film role, and it's not often you would see her pop up in a pre-code film, even with her usual virtuous persona.

John Howard Lawson, later one of the blacklisted Hollywood Ten, composed this screenplay which is ostensibly quite the reverse from his normal proletarian bent, but is actually deeply altered by wordsmith J. Walter Ruben to a suave and somewhat risqué (pre-Code) comedy. Fortunately, some sense of Lawson's customary concerns remains, and is dealt with nicely by Irene Dunne, co-starring with the elegant Lowell Sherman, who also directs with his usual flare in this tale of a Park Avenue man about town struggling with a raft of nubile and aggressive young creatures. An early sound film, it forms the first arrangement of what has become a basic cinema plot device, as we know it, that of the carefree unmarried man being chastened from his rollicking ways by exposure to feelings of romantic love. Cinematography by the brilliant Lee Tover is of particular value here and one should advert to the art direction of Max Ree, who garnered an Academy Award for his characteristic talent during this same year (1931) as a result of his work with CIMARRON. Although Mae Murray's flamboyance is transcendental, the acting is generally quite good, with a particularly strong and stage-accented performance from the lovely Dunne as an older sister attempting to shepherd a wayward sibling while standing her own ground against a playboy's blandishments. One of the final pieces of Sherman's tragically shortened directorial career, the film offers many admirable passages, none less so than the opening scene, with that eternal butler Charles Coleman patiently dealing with an importunate telephone and doorbell, setting the pace in a picture that never pushes too hard or tries too strenuously for its effects.