Donne

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.

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 female of the species goes jungle red in tooth and claw in this brilliant screen adaptation of Claire Boothe Luce's famous Broadway play--a wickedly funny portrait of 1930s society women whose lives revolve around beauty treatments, luncheons, fashion shows, and each other's men. Socialite Mary Haines is the envy of her set: rich, beautiful, and happily married... but when her husband steps out on her with a gold-digging perfume counter sales clerk, Mary's so-called friends dish enough dirt to make divorce inevitable whether Mary wants it or not.

The script is wickedly, mercilessly funny, fast paced, razor sharp and filled with such memorable invective that you'll be quoting it for weeks and months afterward: "He says he'd like to do Sylvia's nails right down to the wrist with a buzz-saw;" "Why that old gasoline truck, she's sixty if she's a minute;" "Gimme a bromide--and put some gin in it!" And the all-female cast, which includes every one from Cora Witherspoon to Butterfly McQueen to Hedda Hopper, plays it with tremendous spark.

This was the last significant starring role for Norma Shearer, one of MGM's greatest stars of the 1930s, and she acquits herself very well as the much-wronged Mary Haines. But the real winners are the members of the supporting cast. Joan Crawford is truly astonishing as Crystal Allen, the shop girl who leads Mary's husband astray, and Rosalind Russell gives an outrageously funny performance as the back-biting gossip whose nasty comments precipitate Mary's divorce. Indeed, it is hard to do anything except rave about the entire the cast, which includes such diverse performers as Marjorie Main, Paulette Goddard, Joan Fontaine, and Lucille Watson. Even the smallest bit parts score with one-liners that have the impact of a slap in the face, and director George Cukor does an incredible job of keeping everything and every one in sharp focus.

Perhaps one of the most interesting things about THE WOMEN is the way in which director Cukor ties the behavior of its characters to their social status. Possessed of absolute leisure and considerable wealth, their energies are inevitably directed into competition for the ultimate status symbol: a successful man. Cukor allows us to sympathize with Mary (Shearer) and laugh at Sylvia (Russell), but he also requires us to pity them--and indirectly encourages grudging admiration for the devious Crystal (Crawford) and the savvy Miriam (Goddard), characters who are considerably more self-reliant. Consequently, not only does THE WOMEN paint a poisonously funny portrait of women as a sex, it takes a hatchet to the society that has shaped their characters as well.

Unfortunately, this landmark comedy has not received the full benefit of what DVD offers. Although the print is crisp, the film has not been restored, and the extras are spurious and hardly do the film justice; while I would recommend the DVD simply because you're likely to wear out a VHS, the DVD has no great advantage over the VHS release. But whether you have it on VHS or DVD, this is one title that you must have in your collection: you'll watch it again and again. A must-have! Gary F. Taylor, aka GFT, Amazon Reviewer

After choosing George Cukor's "The Women" I was skeptical of its premise at first. I became quickly surprised at how often I found myself enjoying each catty scene or insult along with the characters' prima donna behavior. The story was two hours of hilarious female innuendo's and clever insults along with a deeper story between Mary, her daughter, and the familiar intricacies of divorce. The cast was perfect in their roles, each one bringing their own flair to the script. The all-female cast molded well gabbing amongst one another in a relentless barrage of gossip. I enjoyed this movie much more than I thought and I especially liked the end scene where all the women go at it. I recommend this movie to anybody who enjoys the genre.

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.