Histoire d'un amour

Being a mistress to a married man is a thankless position to be in, according to one of early 1900's more popular novelists, Fanny Hurst. Her 1931 'Back Street was an enormously popular best-selling novel about a confident young woman in Cincinnati who's swept off her feet by a man about to get married. Universal Pictures took the bold step to bring Hurst's book onto the screen in August 1932's "Back Street." Irene Dunne plays the independent Ray Schmidt, whom in modern times was a cinch to be a highly successful business woman. Walter Saxel (John Boles), while stepping off a train a week before he conjoins with a rich socialite in the city, has the temerity to ask the strolling Ms. Schmidt out on a date. So begins Ray's slippery slope down a frustrating rat hole.

Before divorce laws determined that either spouse could cite reasons to split, couples had to BOTH agree for the separation before the courts' ruled the marriage over. If one refused, then no divorce was granted. Many prominent figures, such as William Randolph Hearst and Spencer Tracy, failed to get their spouses to agree on a separation, and would, if the mistresses were lucky, shack up with them. According to "Back Street," playing second fiddle to a married man was a delusory, lonely life. In fact, the term "back streets" derives from Hurst's book. Ms. Schmidt informs her friend, who finds herself in a similar situation with a married man, that "there is no happiness on a back street in anyone's life." Ray Schmidt finds herself in this relationship because, to use a Blaise Pascal phrase, "the heart has its reasons which reason knows nothing of."

John Stahl's adroit direction is aided by, as film reviewer Antti Alanen notes, "Irene Dunne's extraordinary performance. Her film career had started but two years earlier, her performance here reflects she has already a mature approach of great charm, sophistication, and complexity." The American Film Institute nominated Stahl's work as one of 400 to be considered for the top 100 America's Greatest Love Stories.

"Your memory has followed me day and night, like a shadow."

As sympathetic a portrayal of adultery as I think you're going to see, obviously only possible pre-Code, and with a fine performance from Irene Dunne. She plays a character who helps tend to an emergency with her sister one day, and is thus too late to meet a man (John Boles) and his mother in the park, losing her chance to become his fiancée. They've met each other too late, you see, and he continues on with his plan to marry the woman he's engaged to. Flash forward five years and they meet again, becoming lifelong lovers despite his marriage. She gives up her career to be set up in an apartment close to him, a "kept woman," frustrated at times by only getting a slice of his time, but so deeply in love that she stays with him, despite the attentions of a decent, kind guy who's always been crazy about her (George Meeker).

It's a little tough to see just how much Dunne's character sublimates her own life for her lover, as devoted as a puppy dog, but it was refreshing to see the affair not portrayed moralistically, and the two of them as protagonists we empathize with (well, her more than him, but still). Of course, it's an overly idealistic scenario for such an affair: the two are genuinely in love and not doing it because of some damage in their lives, the wife never finds out, and Dunne's character, while sad at times, is content to be the mistress and doesn't create trouble for him. She's certainly not in it for the money, accepting only what's needed to get by. Later in life, we get moral outrage from his adult son directed at both of them, but when the chips are down, he's incredibly kind to her. In the years of the Production Code his moral outrage would have been that of Joseph Breen, and he would never have extended such sympathy. There is tragedy in the story, but it's the natural tragedy of life, not moral comeuppance for having sinned.

At the same time, the film is a cautionary tale about the emotional toll of such an arrangement, and the message seems to be directed more at women than men. In an odd bit of drama, a neighbor has an explosion in her kitchen and is set on fire. As Dunne's character tends to her and consoles her with the fact that her husband will surely nurse her back to health, the other woman confides in her that the man she's seen around isn't really her husband - he's married and carrying on an affair with her, just as in the main storyline. The point is to show that in such an emergency, such a relationship is a disaster, and she will lie there, lonely.

The early voice of wisdom in the film is her father (Paul Weigel), who tells her "I wouldn't fiddle around waiting for something better than Kurt, when it's just like life to hand you something worse. Kurt is a fine, steady boy. He won't ever surprise you maybe, but don't you care. The trouble with most marriages is they've got too many surprises."

We also have the subplot with her sister Freda (June Clyde), who has come into sexual maturity and thinks it's a pathway to marriage. "Say, mama, Katie Shendler says you can make a man marry you if you..." she says, before getting slapped in the face. Later, it's clear she's had some kind of physical relations with a guy named Hugo and he plans to leave town, making her suicidal. This is the emergency that Dunne's sister sticks around for, to force Hugo into staying, causing her to miss the meeting in the park. We do find out later that Freda did indeed marry Hugo and is now raising a family, clearly the "right path" in the eyes of the film.

Irene Dunne is marvelous here, as we see her strength in fending off unwanted advances from men early on, her flirtation and joy ("Paris always brings out the beast in you"), and her sadness, like those tears in her eyes when her lover goes off to Europe, played with perfect restraint. Director John M. Stahl is mostly workmanlike in telling the story, but does get in a fantastic zoom out shot when she's standing there at the pavilion while the crowd disperses, and he's not there. Also, look for that funny little bit in the beginning, where before Prohibition, the family, including three kids, are all drinking beer.

Lastly, another nice quote from the father: "Ever since I can remember, the younger generation has been 'going to the dogs,' yet somehow it always manages to come out on top."

At our recent film society screening of this film (we very luckily have a 16mm print in The National Film and Sound Archive here in Australia) it was very apparent of the skill of director and his star in what is an subtle and underplayed telling of this Fannie Hurst tearjerker. There is an absence of musical underscore very typical for the period prior to 1934, and this added to the potency of the effect of Dunne's absorbing and masterful performance, illustrating her as not just a star but an actress as well. Overall this film has a very gentle feel with slow fade-outs used frequently in giving this effect. Dunne is wonderful in her playing earlier in a lighter fashion and makes a skillful transformation into the section of the film where she is older and more serious. I had sympathy for her character in spite of the sacrifices she makes for John Boles, remaining in the "back street" of his life. I see director Stahl as a sort of predecessor to Sirk in his handling of solid fare such as this and "Leave her to Heaven" (1945).

This Stahl weeper stars Irene Dunne as John Boles' kept woman, whom George Meeker wants to marry, although I thought that Meeker might be the 6th Marx Brother, judging by his look and voice.

It's from a Fanny Hurst opus, but even though the script is not as intelligent as yesterday's Seed, it's a much better movie. It's tighter -- ten minutes shorter -- with a beautiful set-piece opening which purports to be Cincinnati in 1907, complete with band shell, no automobiles and plenty of horses -- spotless streets, despite the horses. Was you ever in Cincinnati, Charlie?

I still don't like soapers, but Irene's oh-well-it-is-what-it-is attitude when she can't help lovin' dat man o' someone else's is far more affecting than the typical overwrought attitude.

The first of the thrice filmed Fanny Hurst novel under the tasteful direction of John Stahl features a superb performance from Irene Dunne. From carefree youth to dying day Dunne gives an incredibly restrained yet powerfully emotional effort of a woman who signs her own death warrant to the American ideal.

Ray Schmidt is one elusive chick to the men chasing her. On to the traveling salesman con she also rejects the well intentioned local boy with promise Kurt Schlender who nevertheless remains persistent. One day at the train depot she's introduced to Walter Saxel (John Boles). The two hit it off and embark on an on off affair until the day they die.

Dunne endures the highs and lows of the relationship with a low key melancholy, much of it reflected in her eyes and long silences that reaches the audience and speaks volumes. The tragic chemistry between the two is evident in many of their scenes as they knowingly play out the doomed affair that will never attain respectability with a wan despair.

Stahl along with cameraman Karl Freund provide one fine background after the next with some beautiful set pieces as well some tender two shot close-ups of the star crossed lovers conflicted by their desperate passion for each other and the "proper " thing to do. A top rate tearjerker.