Jeanine Basinger, in her wonderful book "A woman's view: how Hollywood spoke to women, 1930-1960," spends three pages analyzing this strange brew of a film, which centers on what Basinger refers to as "one of the great crackpot deals." Alcoholic playboy Brent wakes up after a 3-day wedding binge with concert pianist Astor to discover their marriage is invalid: Astor had mixed up her divorce decree dates, and she was still legally married to her first husband. For reasons unclear, this makes Brent fly down to see old friend Davis, who is attended to by Hattie McDaniel in a role that out-Mammies Mammy from "Gone with the Wind." We learn that Davis, though in love with Brent, has refused to marry him because of his drunkenness--she doesn't want to be a nagging mother of a wife to him. Brent returns to Astor, saying he'll marry her on the day her divorce is final, but she is adamant about playing a concert in Philly that day.
So Brent marries Davis instead. Not long after their wedding, Astor tells Davis she's pregnant. Not long after that, Brent flies off on some mysterious mission over Brazil, and disappears, feared dead. This is where the crackpot deal comes in: Davis convinces Astor to give birth to Brent's baby and turn it over to Davis, who will support Astor financially in exchange. Astor, astonishingly, agrees.
This gives Davis the chance to be a nagging mother of a wife to Astor, in a shack in Arizona that serves as a birthing room, culminating in a marvelous bitch-fest as Astor rebels against Davis' control. It also gives Davis a chance to play expectant papa, pacing up and down in her jodhpurs as Astor gives birth. Very strange gender role mixing here! Brent, of course, is found, only slightly grayer at the temples, and Davis allows him to assume the baby is theirs--not such a Great Lie, really, but a lie. But when Astor discovers that Brent is alive, she decides she wants the baby back, thinking it will get her Brent as well. Who will he choose?
Brent is much less wooden than usual in this film; in fact, he's almost delightful in the opening scenes. Davis and Astor are simply tremendous, Davis having asked that Astor's part be built up from its minor role in the original story. Lubitsch had suggested Astor for the role, and Davis was thrilled with the choice. Astor takes the ball she's been given and runs with it, chewing scenery right left and sideways. Davis is...well, she's Davis, and that's never a bad thing.
Astor makes a surprisingly convincing concert pianist, although she did not do her own playing, nor did the keyboard close-ups use her hands. Brent, a licensed pilot, actually did do his own takeoffs and landings.
Basically, the film is insane and implausible and ridiculous, although lord knows it did work within the framework that Hollywood had created. If you willingly suspend your disbelief and your understanding of human nature, you can sit back and enjoy a surreal romp.
So Brent marries Davis instead. Not long after their wedding, Astor tells Davis she's pregnant. Not long after that, Brent flies off on some mysterious mission over Brazil, and disappears, feared dead. This is where the crackpot deal comes in: Davis convinces Astor to give birth to Brent's baby and turn it over to Davis, who will support Astor financially in exchange. Astor, astonishingly, agrees.
This gives Davis the chance to be a nagging mother of a wife to Astor, in a shack in Arizona that serves as a birthing room, culminating in a marvelous bitch-fest as Astor rebels against Davis' control. It also gives Davis a chance to play expectant papa, pacing up and down in her jodhpurs as Astor gives birth. Very strange gender role mixing here! Brent, of course, is found, only slightly grayer at the temples, and Davis allows him to assume the baby is theirs--not such a Great Lie, really, but a lie. But when Astor discovers that Brent is alive, she decides she wants the baby back, thinking it will get her Brent as well. Who will he choose?
Brent is much less wooden than usual in this film; in fact, he's almost delightful in the opening scenes. Davis and Astor are simply tremendous, Davis having asked that Astor's part be built up from its minor role in the original story. Lubitsch had suggested Astor for the role, and Davis was thrilled with the choice. Astor takes the ball she's been given and runs with it, chewing scenery right left and sideways. Davis is...well, she's Davis, and that's never a bad thing.
Astor makes a surprisingly convincing concert pianist, although she did not do her own playing, nor did the keyboard close-ups use her hands. Brent, a licensed pilot, actually did do his own takeoffs and landings.
Basically, the film is insane and implausible and ridiculous, although lord knows it did work within the framework that Hollywood had created. If you willingly suspend your disbelief and your understanding of human nature, you can sit back and enjoy a surreal romp.