Irene, a Teimosa

Whether we live in the Depression Era or the age of Occupy Wall Street and the Panama Papers, there remains great suspicion of and derision for those conspicuous faces of the upper classes, and few films capture and satirize this better than My Man Godfrey. It begins, as largely it ends, with strong associations- the dump by the waterfront is cluttered and grimy, filled with cynical but tenacious men, while the ballrooms and mansions of the rich are scenes of incredible chaos. Debauched and manic, these petty denizens amuse themselves with idiotic games, notably a scavenger hunt that calls for a "forgotten man," or rather a citizen of the aforementioned dump. This turns out to be our man Godfrey, played by William Powell with masterfully dry humor and proletarian dignity. His counterpart and perfect opposite is Carole Lombard as Irene, who manages her depiction of extreme ditziness and delusion with convincing charm. Godfrey's attempts to pull himself up from the dump lead him into the circus of Irene's family life, and the film is at its best in scenes where he is forced to navigate through their various inanities. It's difficult to choose any particular moment in this company over another, but wouldn't we all like to watch a pretentious Italian artiste imitating a gorilla? It might be nearly impossible for a major Hollywood comedy to be created today that could balance sympathy for the poor with criticism of the rich without coming across as insincere or blandishing, and Godfrey sometimes seems dangerously close to doing the same, but overall the film remains strong in its message, characterizations, and acting, making it one of the most lovable examples of screwball comedy.