LIBELED LADY: Blu-ray (MGM, 1936) Warner Archive

 

A quartet of MGM’s brightest box office bell-ringers chew up the screwball scenery in director, Jack Conway’s deliciously off-kilter rom/com, Libeled Lady (1936), costarring Spencer Tracy, William Powell, Myrna Loy and Jean Harlow. For each, the picture would prove fortuitously profitable, yet, only in hindsight, a tipping point in their respective careers. Only the year before, studio chief, Louis B. Mayer had been generally displeased with the decision to sign Tracy to a long-term contract, suggesting, “Why do we need another galoot? We already got Wallace Beery!” Much to Mayer’s chagrin and Tracy’s relief, his debut, Fury (1936) was a smashing success, fast-tracking the actor to A-list status, though, as yet, struggling and find his on-screen persona. Behind the scenes, Tracy’s alcoholism was increasingly getting the better of him, intermittently to affect his health, and thus, delay shooting. But by then, Mayer had warmed to Tracy as a talent he could successfully market to the public. And thus, at least on-camera, Metro’s latest acquisition could do no wrong. Libeled Lady also marked the fifth screen-teaming of Myrna Loy and William Powell who, after 1934’s Manhattan Melodrama, had fast become Metro’s go-to coupling for slick and stylish badinage. So convincing were they as playful marrieds in the The Thin Man (1934) audiences fervently believed the stars were an item off screen as well. In reality, Loy was, as yet, happily wed to producer, Arthur Hornblow Jr. while Powell had since become smitten with his other costar in this movie, the uber-cheeky Jean Harlow.  

For Powell, Libeled Lady would serve as something of ‘an end’ to his first period in ‘sound’ pictures, diagnosed with co-rectal cancer the following year to further delay his already sketchy plans to wed Harlow, whom he had been seeing rather passionately since 1934. Mercifully, Powell’s aggressive treatment cured his affliction. Alas, for Harlow, Libeled Lady was a final celebration of this one-time/henna-tressed Hannah, dipped platinum, complete with painted birth mark, reconstituted in the post-Code era as a slightly risqué, but devilishly playful – and somewhat ditzy – sexpot.  Interestingly, Harlow’s career was hotter than ever after Hollywood’s institution of its Code of Ethics. This had all but put a period to Harlow’s only real competition for naughty-but-nice byplay, Mae West. Despite Harlow’s pre-Code reputation for representing women of extremely loose moral character, in life, Harlow was the antithesis of this viperous ‘claws out’ mantrap. Editor, Margaret Booth once reflected on Harlow as a “naïve, sweet – sweet, darling girl” who used to sit on her stepfather’s lap in white slacks and no underwear in between takes on the set. With walloping smash hits like Red Dust (1934), China Seas (1935) and Wife vs. Secretary (1936), Harlow’s megawatt popularity at Metro was second only to Greta Garbo, showing virtually no signs of being brought down to a simmer. Not even the shocking ‘suicide’ of Harlow’s husband, executive, Paul Bern in 1932, could scandalize or tarnish her public appeal.

Tragically, this ‘platinum Venus’ had only one picture left to make: 1937’s dazzler, Personal Property. While on a fundraiser for FDR, Harlow contracted what appeared to be influenza, recovering in time to attend the annual Academy Awards and then, embark upon Saratoga (1937), costarring Clark Gable. Sepsis from dental surgery left her depleted and hospitalized. But again, Harlow seemingly rallied to return anew to the shoot. But then, Harlow fell ill for the third and last time, showing definite signs of fluid retention and complaining of abdominal pain. As she began to shoot a ‘bedroom’ scene, costar Clark Gable noted Harlow was running a fever, calling a final halt to the production. Several days later, an alarmed Gable reported Harlow’s condition had worsened. She was bloated and her breath smelled of urine, signs of kidney failure. With William Powell at her side, Harlow quietly slipped into a coma, dying of uremia the following morning – age, 26. The studio went into shock and immediate mourning. Powell, alas, was inconsolable. And Saratoga, after some contemplation in MGM’s front offices regarding it being recast, was instead rather skillfully cobbled together employing a trio of ‘doubles’ for Harlow, including a voice dub to fill in gaps of dialogue. So, technically, Saratoga remains Harlow’s last movie.

Perhaps it is better not to reflect too heavily on what followed Libeled Lady’s high-spirited success at the box office, as the picture in no way seems to herald even a whiff of these various life-altering debacles. Indeed, the stars here shine as only stars from this rarest vintage could; Powell, Loy, Harlow and Tracy, sparkling like a gently shaken cocktail, with inimitable bubbly charm and great finesse. The screenplay pieced together by Maurine Dallas Watkins, Howard Emmett Rogers and George Oppenheimer, based on a story idea by Wallace Sullivan, is a bit of a claptrap, owed some wonderfully kooky vignettes – the best of the lot, Powell’s outrageous fishing excursion, feigning to be an expert angler, all but submerged multiple times while attempt to cast his fly in a picturesque lake. And if Libeled Lady has Powell’s sophisticate and wolf, Bill Chandler falling for Loy’s uber-rich socialite, Connie Allenbury, the predictability in their affair du Coeur was not at first conceded. Indeed, Connie despises Bill for quite some time, believing him just another fortune hunter after her sizable inheritance. Far from the noble pursuer, Bill is, at the outset, chasing this latest skirt under false pretenses – feigning a sham marriage to his best friend’s fiancée, Gladys Benton (Jean Harlow) in order to frame Connie for an ‘alienation of affection’ lawsuit, certain to get her to drop her own $5,000,000 suit for libel against New York Evening Star managing editor, Warren Haggerty (Spencer Tracy) – Bill’s friend, in need of this favor.  

Recycling Walter Donaldson/Harold Adamson’s ‘You’ – a love anthem from MGM’s own titanic Oscar-winning The Great Ziegfeld (made and released this same year) for Libeled Lady’s main titles sets the stage for some wonderfully absurd situations and misdirection, only intermittently marred by Conway’s uneven pacing. Otherwise, Libeled Lady is an urbane and arrogantly splendid screwball, painted in broad brush strokes of fantastical farce.  Spencer Tracy plays the disreputable scab, so absorbed in his self-importance and ego, he would willingly sacrifice even happiness for a solid byline on his morning paper.  Harlow is delightful as the perpetually frazzled and impudent gal/pal on the side, desperate to become someone’s bride. And Powell and Loy again illustrate why audiences found it impossibly easy to fall in love with their romantic diplomacy – part, tastefully tetchy/part, affectingly adult, and, all-encompassing joyful to observe, even at a glance. Of this fantastic foursome, only Loy plays it straight. Her ‘Bud Abbott’ to everyone else’s ‘Lou Costello’ provides the stabilizing core for the remaining 3 players in this comedic mobile to dangle their romantic dalliances and indulge the rest of us with their cream of the jest. And Loy, with her statuesque beauty downplayed by her genuine demeanor is a brilliantly misunderstood offshoot and re-take on movie-land’s oft resurrected ‘pity the rich, for they are dumb’ mavens of the Maison; a thinking man’s intellectual equal, and so very nice to come home to.  

Pictures about the inner workings of the newspaper biz have always been something of a Janus-faced blood sport with the movies. Indeed, MGM’s direct connection to William Randolph Hearst in the early thirties, via Mayer’s promotion of Hearst’s mistress, Marion Davies’ film career, for a brief wrinkle in time afforded the studio a certain level of autonomy as well as ‘protection’ from any scandal to befall its roster of stars after-hour’s carousing. But when Davies’ career proved a bust at Metro, Mayer hedged his bets by promoting the efforts of gossip gorgon, Hedda Hopper, a direct rival to Hearst’s home-grown gargoyle, Louella O. Parsons. After the split between Mayer and Hearst, MGM’s ‘respect’ for ‘freedom of the press’ leaned toward more light-hearted jabs at the possibly corrupt motives of its editors-in-chief; the conspirators re-shaping popular opinion to suit their own good. Libeled Lady uses this milieu of ‘freedom of the press’ as its backbone to launch our quartet of quarrelsome characters into a frenetic reformulation of ‘the truth’. Yellow journalism aside, Warren Haggarty’s claim Connie Allenbury is a home wrecker is going to cost him – but ‘big’ – unless he can aim an even more devious arrow and barb, designed to illuminate his point; so, a lie on top of a lie, however idiotically mislaid. Enter the reluctant trouble-shooter, Bill Chandler, who owes Warren a favor but is not exactly certain framing the amiable, shoot-from-the-hip heiress is the way to achieve that ultimate détente.  

Nevertheless, pressed into service, Bill’s conspiracy to manipulate Connie into being alone with him when ‘his wife’ shows up, proves problematic since Bill is not married. No problem.  Warren martyrs his own fiancée, Gladys Benton to the cause. Bill and Gladys will marry ‘in name only’ until Connie’s frame-up can occur. Then, with the greatest of blessings – and likely relief – Warren will arrange for the annulment and divorce, leaving him to wed Gladys instead. One problem: Gladys is not the accommodating type. Indeed, she is frustrated with Warren’s lack of resolve to become her husband and outspoken in her objections to this ugly little con. Setting their dodge into motion, Bill arranges to return to America from England on the same luxury liner as Connie who, at present, is accompanied by her father, J.B. (Walter Connolly). Connie is immediately suspicious of Bill, refusing to entertain his advances. Paying off a small contingent to act as heckling reporters at the docks affords Bill the opportunity to play chivalry to the hilt. His gallant ‘rescue’ of Connie from their probing interrogation momentarily impresses her. Despite her initial contempt, Connie begins to warm to Bill’s designs. The wrinkle: Connie and Bill actually do fall in love. Blissfully wed, Connie is startled when Gladys appears, having a change of heart, and now, desperate to reclaim Bill for her own. Bill exposes Gladys' Yucatán divorce as illegitimate. Thus, she cannot claim to be his wife now. Alas, much to Bill’s chagrin, Gladys reveals she had a second divorce from hubby #1 in Reno. So, she and Bill are legally man and wife. Desperate to escape a public scandal, Connie and Bill manage to sway Gladys into revealing her one true love is, was, and will always be Warren Haggarty. In the end, Gladys concurs and Warren acquiesces to marry her…well, sort of.

Libeled Lady was another smash hit for Metro. Interesting to consider what the movie might have been had Lionel Barrymore and Rosalind Russell been cast instead, respectively in the parts of Mr. Allenbury and Connie.  Indeed, each had been announced in the trades.  Harlow had aimed even higher in her aspirations to play Connie, believing the role would afford her the opportunity to explore the other side of her own feminine wiles. Retrospectively, Harlow’s post-Code career fitted her into a mold as the smarmy ‘his gal Friday’ – prone to saucy, and occasionally spiteful barbs. She did, however, prove highly capable as the nobler, bright young thing in Wife vs. Secretary – forsaking the transparent, if temporary advances of her boss (Clark Gable) to restore him to his stubbornly resolved, but adoring wife (also played by Myrna Loy). So, ostensibly, Harlow might have clicked as the cultured Connie. But then, who to cast as Gladys, a role Harlow knew like the back of her hand, and, so charmingly, so neatly and so completely fitted her acting style at a glance? No, MGM in its prime was all about writing to type, and Harlow was undeniably the perfect typecasting here. For her acquiescence, Harlow was given top-billing, legally changing her name from Harlean Carpenter McGrew Bern Rosson to Jean Harlow.

For decades, rumors have circulated Myrna Loy and Spencer Tracy were heavily ‘involved’ behind the scenes. If this is true, then Tracy, a devout Catholic, suffering from his own guilt and built-in bouts with the bottle, did not stay the course and the tryst was likely brief and unfulfilling to either party.  But likelier still, the insinuation of an affair between these costars was completely false and stemmed from a celebrated – and very public – prank Tracy played on Loy on the set, claiming she had broken his heart by wedding Arthur Hornblow Jr. and even going so far as to erect an ‘I Hate Hornblow’ booth in the studio commissary, erroneously reserved for ‘all’ the men whose egos had been decimated by Loy’s decision to marry. Loy took it all in stride. Indeed, she was no stranger to being the brunt of harmless humor. When, in 1935, Look Magazine ran a contest, declaring Clark Gable and Myrna Loy as the ‘king’ and ‘queen’ of the movies, Loy received what appeared to be a florist’s box from Powell, presumably to contain long-stemmed roses. Instead, the box housed dirty, old grapes and a hand-written card of congratulations from Powell, marked “From William – the fourth” – as Powell had come in fourth in the contest and was offering his salutations for having lost with ‘sour grapes!’

Libeled Lady was Oscar-nominated as Best Picture – the only nominee not to receive any other nominations, except for MGM’s Grand Hotel (1932).  And if Libeled Lady did indeed lose out, it did so in service to the coveted award being bestowed upon another Powell/Loy masterpiece – The Great Ziegfeld. Harlow, however, was the real winner of this show; not only top-billed, but also to receive a $5,000 bonus (akin to $93,625.90 today!!!) from Mayer in recognition of her runaway smash, Suzy (also in 1936), which had managed to earn back more than 3-times its production cost. Even before its premiere, Libeled Lady garnered a bit of flak from Joseph Breen and the Hollywood censors, citing the picture’s flippancy with the sanctity of taking vows. While a few of Breen’s ‘tweaks’ were adhered to for the general release, Conway’s original vision remained largely intact. The picture’s box office performance practically ensured MGM would revisit the well again. And indeed, in 1946, MGM retooled the tale as Easy to Wed – splashy in Technicolor, but otherwise a rather limpid musical remake, costarring Van Johnson (as Bill), Lucille Ball (Gladys), Esther Williams (Connie) and Keenan Wynn (Warren).

I have enjoyed Libeled Lady immensely over the years as vintage Metro kitsch and coo of the highest order. Sadly, its popularity over the years, through countless theatrical reissues and on television, also ensured endless reprinting off the original camera negative, and then, a series of poorly contrasted dupe masters, resulting in a devastating loss of fine detail, blown out contrast, and a generally dull, ugly, softly focused image, further marred by a barrage of age-related artifacts. When Warner Home Video elected to put out a DVD in 1998, virtually nothing was done to reverse these ravages of time and the DVD release, in addition to the aforementioned shortcomings, was plagued by a severe bout of edge-enhancement, creating disturbing halos and shimmering of fine detail. Worse, the audio was so brutally affected by age-related damage the Westrex recording became painfully strident and grating on the acoustic nerve. So, realistically, there was really no place to go but ‘up’ for this new-to-Blu release. And ‘up’ is exactly where both the image and sound quality has gone. The Warner Archive (WAC) has pulled another rabbit out of their hat – a 4K scan from the best surviving elements. That said, the image quality here lags behind what is usually par for the course of WAC’s mastering efforts. Contrast is still slightly blown out, resulting in a loss of fine detail. The image is also marginally soft, and plagued by intermittent shimmer and edge enhancement. It’s not egregious, but it is present and distracting when it appears. The 1.0 DTS audio sounds much better than it ever has – a blessing, indeed. I had high – perhaps unreasonable – hopes WAC’s decision to bring Libeled Lady to Blu-ray was predicated on fixing all of the offending shortcomings on their tired old DVD release. While much work has obviously been done, this remains a definite down tick in quality from WAC’s usual high standards. Extras are all ported over from the old DVD release, and include several short subjects, an audio-only promo, and the movie’s original theatrical trailer, but have been given virtually no consideration and look awful! Bottom line: a let-down, if still an improvement.

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

4.5

VIDEO/AUDIO

3.5

EXTRAS

2