My Lady of Whims

Aspiring author, Clara Bow (as Prudence "Prue" Severn) leaves her staid home for the wild life in New York's artistic Greenwich Village community. So, her concerned family hires two thrill-seeking ex-dough-boys to look after Ms. Bow, and, hopefully, persuade her to come home. The soldiers of fortune are: cute bow-tied Donald Keith (as Bartley "Bart" Greer) and his comic buddy Lee Moran (as Dick Flynn); they move into Bow's apartment building, where she lives with sculptress Carmelita Geraghty (as Wayne Leigh). Mr. Keith is attracted to the vivacious Bow. Although interested in Keith, Bow senses he is being paid to "watch over her"; so, she decides to elope with handsome Francis McDonald (as Rolf).

Bow is sexy and splendid, in this "youth" comedy. Her often commented on "personification" of the 1920s "flapper" is on full display. Her masquerade party costume and make-up are terrific. Bow, with her light touch and young years, is flush with material that made many contemporary actresses appear foolish. Boyish Keith, a frequent co-star, plays very well with Bow; they were a great romantic team. Bow also brings out the best in Mr. McDonald and Ms. Geraghty. But, the most valuable supporting player has to be the quick-on-his-feet Mr. Moran. He's a rubbery-legged Buster Keaton. "My Lady of Whims" features its star in fine form, with a smart cast.

******** My Lady of Whims (12/25/25) Dallas M. Fitzgerald ~ Clara Bow, Donald Keith, Lee Moran, Francis McDonald

clara's father hires a man to follow her to see that she stays out of trouble. clara catches on to her father's plans and toys with the man for the majority of the film. this is just a so so clara movie. it actually starts out pretty well, but the ending is not very satisfying. she has to make a decision between 2 men. neither one of them is at all appealing. reccomended only for true clara fans.

One of Clara Bow's early movies casts her as a rich woman who moves to Greenwich Village in search of an artistic life. Plenty of wacky things ensue. "My Lady of Whims" isn't anything particularly special, but the zaniness makes up for any shortcomings. Moreover, is there anything not to love about the sight of Clara Bow?

I recommend it.

While the sensibilities of one hundred years ago haven't always aged well, the silent era can boast some of the greatest films ever made, and some of the best comedies. There are also, of course, no shortage of pictures that are mildly enjoyable, but which aren't particularly striking, however they might have been received by contemporary audiences. Even with early screen icon Clara Bow starring, I think it's safe to say that decades later 'My lady of whims' falls into the category of lighter and less remarkable fare. It's not particularly something one needs to go out of their way to see, nor something that will change the minds of those who have a hard time engaging with older cinema - but even with flaws it's still a good time, certainly, and worth checking out for something frivolous on a quiet day.

Splendid situational humor, and witty dialogue or expository intertitles, aren't so robust here as to specifically elicit any full laughs, nor even the occasional sight gag or bit of physical comedy. For titles of this nature, though, a gentle smile can be enough to keep us softly invested, and this 1925 flick successfully encourages some happy little neurons to fire off. Dallas M. Fitzgerald's direction maintains the mirthful energy about it all while the cast give capable performances. Some instances come off better than others - it's not for nothing that the silent era was known for unnaturally exaggerated facial expressions and body language - but Bow is a minor joy all by herself, and more than not her co-stars are just as swell. Why, that same gaiety is reflected even in the art direction and costume design, and I don't refer exclusively to a special spotlighted outfit in which Bow is dressed.

The scene writing is largely fantastic, bearing the preponderance of the vitality that 'My lady of whims' can claim. Not everything is hunky-dory here, however, and this is where it gets thorny as modern norms and values butt up against those of a past era. The narrative follows a tried and true path, timeless and ever-present in fiction, of parents and loved ones expressing concern for the well-being and behavior of someone they judge to be "misguided," and going about safeguarding or overprotecting them; hijinks ensue. Even with that in mind, however, this story's designated voice of Fine Upstanding Morality, Bartley Greer, is written as such a stodgy, soulless stick in the mud that he comes off less as a concerned party (hired or otherwise) and more as a possessive, prudish, judgmental, condescending representative of patriarchal order. I'm sure he was seen as a good guy and a hero in 1925; in 2023, there's no reason for Prudence to give him the time of day once she discovers his ruse, and he consistently comes off as an ill-tempered brute beyond the parameters of the job he's been given. Even if we accept that sometimes "adults" really do know better than "the youth," the entire scenario feels less like earnest worry about the choices another person is making, and more like earnest worry about no longer having absolute control over that person's life. And even if all this consideration of the plot seems like heedless nitpicking of societal values that have changed over time: gosh golly, supporting character Dick Flynn could only be worse if actor Lee Moran were wearing blackface. If there were a single face to put on a poster urgently advocating gun control laws and reform, the mug of this reckless oaf would be the one. And as for the climax, and the ending - well, here's a perfect example of Movie Magic as contemporary mores enforce wild shifts in characters and resolve the plot in a contrived, inauthentic manner that otherwise make no sense. By the way in which characters are introduced, and the typical structure of such features, we know what will happen in the end; the method by which we arrive at that destination is simply confounding.

What it comes down to is that 'My lady of whims' is lightly entertaining for the shenanigans that we get from firm scene writing, and all involved broadly turn in commendable work in bringing this to life in a tale that has grand potential. 'My lady of whims,' as it exists, also gives us a plot, and character writing, that one century later looks emphatically different. Even acknowledging for the sake of argument that these matters are, surely, generally in line with the world of 1925, it still seems to me that they're taken to an extreme in this instance exceeding the bounds of what is acceptable and admirable. The phrase "a product of their time" discounts the fact that there are always in people in every era that know better and are more progressive than those attitudes that the phrase would seek to excuse. In any event, we could endlessly discuss the finer points of how this looks in a time far removed from its own, and the truth remains: this is a bit fun, warts and all, but no must-see by any measure. Even for devotees of the silent era it's best left for something to casually pass an hour as desired, with recognition of how it's a snapshot of another period. 'My lady of whims' is okay, but I'd be more interested in going back in time to see how moviegoers reacted in the middle of the Roaring Twenties.

For the first film venture of his Dallas M. Fitzgerald Productions, Mr Fitzgerald has made over a short story that seems ready made for the talents of Clara Bow. The role requires her to look sexy, titillating, carefree and Bohemian, with lots of pouting and come-hither, but little of actual delivery. You see, she's actually a nice girl at heart, even though she's led her indulgent but worried Dad to believe she's kicking up her heels and living life to the full in the madly arty-tarty surroundings of Greenwich Village.

So Dad hires a muscle man (Donald Keith playing a Chester Morris type and actually enacting it rather well) to track down his "wayward" daughter and bring her flying heels to heel.

That's the story in a nutshell, and even in this abbreviated form, it doesn't sound too interesting. True, the writer has fleshed it out with a caddish but ineffectual rival to romance our heroine. And, of course, he's given our hero a comic sidekick, and our heroine a bosom pal too (even though she has precious little to do).

As a director, Mr Fitzgerald seems to wear a Charles Lamont rather than a Frank Capra mantle; and as a producer, he is certainly no Cecil B. DeMille. But he seems competent enough to get by. In a better print, this picture may well have offered fair-to-average entertainment for rabid Clara Bow fans. But in this 5-reel, ex-Kodascope version—no way!