Smarty

Perhaps too many folks are getting their things in an uproar about this zippy, fast-paced little comedy about the battle of the sexes. Yes, there are slaps in the film, but Blondell's character seems intent on getting them-- which to modern eyes seems bizarre indeed, and offensive in too many ways. But there is no indication that wife-beating is really the focus of this film, but instead the games people play when they discover relationship kinks that are not mainstream.

In many ways, this is a deeply cynical film (witness the running commentary from the two constant house guests) about public and private lives, the last gasp of pre-code comedy before the censors came down hard on creative expression of and shuttered them into the kitchen with their aprons for the next thirty years or so, when Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton exposed a more modern version of the S/M games that can develop when love is stunted by circumstance. This is not a great film by any measure, but viewed in an unusual context can be great fun.

A bored & beautiful SMARTY enjoys goading both of her husbands into fits of jealous rage.

This very bizarre little comedy from Warner Bros., which sneaked in under the wire before the imposition of the Production Code, actually espouses physical abuse as the secret ingredient needed in keeping the romantic spark alive in marriage. This distressful assertion is promoted by skillful players and smug dialogue, but to no avail.

Joan Blondell, as blonde & curvaceous as ever, is portrayed as an intensely annoying young virago with all the charm of an acid bath. Endlessly nagging, the script gives her one shrill note to play, which she does with unnerving tenacity. In most of her other roles of the period she played a smart & sassy gal who has to fight her way to happiness by final fadeout. Here, Blondell starts with everything and seems determined to claw her way to the bottom again. Must be some sort of mental aberration.

Patrician Warren William & nervous Edward Everett Horton supplied wonderful moments in dozens of Golden Age films. Here, as the two men caught in Blondell's web, although they make valiant efforts, they seem out of place in the rather sordid storyline.

Rounding out the cast as two friends seemingly without meaningful lives of their own, viewers will probably find Frank McHugh to be distressingly simpleminded and pretty Claire Dodd vindictive & catty. Neither exemplify the sort of friend one would want to have during a time of domestic crisis.

Perhaps it would be well to quote a single paragraph from celebrated journalist Harriet Hubbard Ayer's essay `What Not To Do,' published in CORRECT SOCIAL USAGE (The New York Society Of Self-Culture, 1903) `Don't nag; there's nothing in it but hateful thoughts for all concerned, and such thoughts are germs that breed deceit on one side and ungovernable temper on the other. At the end of the road is division of hearts, often a divorce court.' Blondell & Company should have paid heed.

With such a short running time, there's no time for character development or background - you're instantly thrown into a very private scene of a failing marriage. You're instantly thrown into their slightly surreal, privileged and fake world. You want to know why are they like this. This is explained in this first scene where Joan Blondell is provocatively putting on her stockings in front of her husband who is unable to insert his cufflinks - this and the diced carrots analogy tells you everything you need to know about this marriage.

Apart from Frank McHugh's comedy relief character, none of the other characters are that likeable - they're not black and white but a lot more multi dimensional than is typical from films of this era. Even Joan Blondell is horrible whilst at the same time being utterly desirable and makes her character completely believable as someone who can manipulate these weak men, well to be honest, all men.

In typical 1930s penny-pinching WB style, this was all put together in just three weeks with people working 14 hour days. Joan was having her own serious marriage problems at the time and was so over-worked that she collapsed from mental exhaustion shortly after this was finished. Despite this and the perceived light-hearted approach to violence towards women - which is a little uncomfortable to watch (but when viewed in the context of these damaged characters makes sense), Smarty is still fun to watch and Joan somehow manages to look amazing and be convincing.

Considering it's a rush-job, it's reasonably well directed although a bit stagey at times and well acted even by WE and EEH who are out of their usual comfort zones. Overall - an enjoyable fun picture that's also a lot deeper and more thought provoking than you'd expect.

Interesting if bizarre dark comedy. This has been well reviewed by others. Two comments. The first is Warren Williams vacillating character, one minute dismissive of his ex-wife, then next expressing his undying love. This is not his most forceful or consistent role. The next is Joan Blondell and her motivation. She divorces her husband one minute and marries another shortly thereafter. Was she trying to make her husband more romantic, or was she living out her masochistic fantasies?

The dimpled Claire Dodd does a good job as the divorced friend of the couple. It was also nice to note Edward Everett Horton toning down his usual effete, fuss-budget persona.

This early screwball comedy is infuriating for two reasons: 1) the lead female character, who manages to be more irritating than the Hepburn character in BRINGING UP BABY, and 2) the way she's treated by the men in her life. At a party, Joan Blondell has a fight with her husband (Warren William) and he slaps her in the face (something to do with diced carrots). She doesn't actually seem to be all that hurt, physically or emotionally, but she nevertheless decides to get a divorce, egged on by lawyer friend Edward Everett Horton, who is himself in love with Blondell. After the divorce, Horton marries Blondell and is eventually driven to slap her as well, which sends her back to William, who not only slaps her again, but also rips her dress off of her before carting her off to the bedroom. The message, honest to God, is that some women just need to be slapped around every so often, and when they (and their husbands) realize that, happiness will reign supreme.

Despite my intense dislike of the character, Joan Blondell is very good, a little different in tone than I've ever seen her. She's not quite tough, but she's certainly not weak. She's not dumb, but she's not all that smart, either (I have no idea where the title comes from; the British title, HIT ME AGAIN, makes much more sense). I laughed out loud several times, even while I was grinding my teeth at the Blondell character and the way she was treated. The acting all around is quite good. Claire Dodd and Frank McHugh provide nice comic relief (relief, that is, from the "comic" slapping and arguing that occurs among the three leads). I don't think I've ever enjoyed a movie and been so exasperated by it at the same time.