Árbitro do Amor

It may be 1931, but there's no hint of an economic depression among the well-upholstered lounge lizards of Manhattan. It's pretty much a steady round of casual couplings and uncouplings among the urban sophisticates. Not much of a plot except for middle-aged Lothario (Sherman) slowly falling for nice girl Helene (Dunne). Movie's main interest is in its provocative pre-Code liberties—innuendoes fly fast, while some clinging gowns leave little to the imagination. It's a talky script with some clever lines, and if there's little action, at least director Sherman keeps things moving. The comedy is more occasional than sparkling, but does have its moments, even though Dunne surprisingly gets few laugh lines. All in all, it's a fairly entertaining antique with a good glimpse of bygone fashions.

Another of the movies I would not think of watching but for Irene Dunne, playing anything but swank comedy here. It consists of basically two types of characters. One is ladies in lingerie or revealing gowns. (Dunne wears neither but at one point we see her in her boss's bathrobe.) The other is gentlemen who appear to prefer other gentlemen.

One of these is its director and star, Lowell Sherman. He had a solid hand as a director and is likable as a performer. But he's a little hard to buy as a ladies' man. And in one scene, he goes to a friend's apartment, demanding to see who's in the bedroom. Instead of the woman he's looking for, two men are there. They're fully clothed and maybe the audience at the time thought they were sleeping off hangovers. Maybe that's what the script meant, for all I know. But it's not the way they come across in the context of the movie.

The print I saw was fuzzy but it's chic and entertaining -- dated but also risqué.

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.

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 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.