Femmes de luxe

Frank Capra directed this Pre-Code romance from Columbia Pictures in which Jerry Strong (Ralph Graves) is a high society scion who has grown bored with the hard-partying ways of his contemporaries. He prefers to focus on his passion for painting, and he asks Kay Arnold (Barbara Stanwyck) to be his latest model. Kay is a good-time girl who earns her living as a "companion" to high-rollers. As the two develop a growing romantic bond, Jerry's parents grow disapproving.

I thought this was very good, and that Stanwyck was fantastic, and not only should have been nominated for the Oscar for Best Actress, but should have won (over Norma Shearer in The Divorcee). I've read that many people disliked Graves in the male lead, but I didn't think he was that terrible, although I think the film would be better remembered and acclaimed if Stanwyck's co-star had been someone more noteworthy. Lowell Sherman, as a tipsy party regular, and Marie Prevost, as Stanwyck's roommate and fellow party girl, are wonderful, and perfect examples of great supporting performances. Capra's camera is also very mobile, moving in and out of the shots, creating a heightened sense of activity. I really enjoyed this one, even if the ending rang a bit false. Recommended.

I'm contributing this mainly to comment on what most of the other reviews say that I disagree with: Ralph Graves was perfect in this role. Yes, he's wooden, but that's what works so perfectly with Barbara Stanwyck. Where it really matters is in their romantic scenes: first on his balcony, then at breakfast and particularly after his father leaves and they really get together for the first time. I'm not saying he's a good actor in general, but they had great chemistry in this film, and that's worth a lot. He's a realistic type of man, very focused and businesslike; some people think an artist couldn't be like that, but that's not true. It's frustrating to see everyone remarking on the clever performances of Marie Prevost and Lowell Sherman and denigrating Graves. The picture hangs together very well precisely because all the roles are ideally cast. Doubtless Stanwyck and Capra supply the magic. It's a film that's new to me, and I keep going back to it.

LADIES OF LEISURE, adapted to the screen from a play, is another in a long line of Frank Capra-directed films that pits the lower orders against the upper through the device of a romantic entanglement. In this case it's "lady of leisure" (read: prostitute or good time gal) Barbara Stanwyck against the slightly bohemian scion of a wealthy banking family (Ralph Graves). The theme of the movie is set right away as we see a bustling Manhattan street at night. Suddenly bottles fall from the sky and explode on the sidewalk, narrowly missing pedestrians. They are coming from a group of drunken young women who are tossing them over a penthouse terrace balcony for kicks. These party girls have been hired by dissolute swell Lowell Sherman, a friend of Graves, who, offended by the crudity of the party scene, hops into his roadster for a drive into the country. He stops by a lake where he sees a young woman (Stanwyck) dressed in an evening gown rowing herself ashore in a canoe. It turns out she too is a party girl and is also escaping a wild party, this time on a yacht. He finds her attractive and offers her a ride back to the city. As is her habit, she picks his pocket while he's driving. Thus the plot line is set. We know what will happen by the end. Along the way we are treated to a beautifully etched characterization by Stanwyck who covers a wide range of acting territory from crude and lowdown to transcendentally idealistic. The equally inventive Marie Prevost provides generous support as her overweight roommate. Lowell Sherman, playing the same type of hard-drinking, pleasure-loving sophisticate as he often did in other movies (Bachelor Apartment, What Price Hollywood), is also excellent.

For whatever reason, Ralph Graves cannot perform like a flesh and blood human being. His movements are stiff and unmotivated, his emotions seem forced and sudden. Even the expression on his face looks pasted on from some other character in some other movie. All wrong. One is not surprised to see that within a few years he was playing uncredited bit parts in third-rate movies. His silent film credits are numerous and go back to the teens so one can only wonder what his appeal was. He is not bad looking, so one must assume that his substantial silent film career owed a lot to his appearance.

It's the old hooker-with-a-heart-of-gold story but Barbara Stanwyck and director Frank Capra make it shine. Not only is Stanwyck great but there isn't a bad performance by anyone in the film, even down to the minor characters. Capra attains a naturalness from his actors rare at this point in the talkies. The only complaint might by that Ralph Graves' accent is more convincing for a cowboy than a son of the upper crust, but that's a quibble. Other pluses are Jo Swerling's smart dialogue with hardly an unnecessary line and John Walker's cinematography, the best of its time (the night scene as Stanwyck spends the night on Graves' couch is a marvel of lighting, pacing and atmosphere).

Reviews of this film do not make clear that it apparently is available in both sound and silent versions. The version of this film borrowed from our local library was the silent version as apparently this film was Capra's 2nd talkie and last silent (per Moviediva web site). It had a very distracting soundtrack that did not match the moods on the screen at all. Still, if you are a Capra or Stanwyck fan, the silent version is better than none at all and worth the time. Hopefully, I will be able to see a sound version on Turner or AMC.