A LADY TAKES A CHANCE: Blu-ray (RKO, 1943) Kino Lorber

Before delving into director William A. Seiter’s delightful little programmer, A Lady Takes a Chance (1943), it is perhaps necessary to recall the turbulent back story of the production house footing its bills. RKO Radio Pictures hit a major creative snag immediately following the exodus of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers – also, production chief, Pandro S. Berman.  RKO, always considered a ‘fringe’ major in Hollywood, despite having produced some of the most enduring and endearing masterworks from the mid-1930’s, and, serving as the home of David O. Selznick Productions, was never a stable studio – either financially or in its executive brain trust. Indeed, when Selznick arrived there in 1931, he effectively set into motion his own brand of the Reichstag firing, leading to an exodus of creatives that Selznick firmly believed had not lived up to expectations. Mercifully, Berman was not among the casualties and would go on to oversee virtually the entire spate of Astaire/Rogers’ musicals that put RKO back in business. But in 1939, the honeymoon was over. Profits were down and even Fred and Ginger’s tripping of the light fantastic could not sustain the studio. So, Berman left for presumably ‘greener pastures’ at MGM. Orson Welles was handed the keys to the kingdom and effectively produced two masterworks – Citizen Kane (1941) and The Magnificent Ambersons (1942), in rapid succession, to be thoroughly undervalued in their own time and virtually undo all of the financial good the Astaire/Rogers’ pictures had wrought.  

The uneven trajectory of RKO (Radio-Keith-Orpheum) remains baffling. The last of the ‘integrated’ majors, it was also the first to vanish from the Hollywood landscape, thanks largely to the disastrous micromanagement of its penultimate owner, Howard Hughes – who only ‘thought’ he understood the picture-making business, but actually, hastened this studio’s decline. The ‘unofficial’ rumor about RKO is that it was the $300 million brainchild of RCA president, David Sarnoff and a Boston financier, Joseph P. Kennedy, its origins inked on a cocktail napkin inside the Oyster Bar in New York's Grand Central Station in 1928. And while history recalls Sarnoff and Kennedy would initially reign over this new amalgam of corporate statesmanship, much of the studio’s production facilities had already been established in 1921 by Robertson-Cole, a British import/export firm, and, US film distributor, Exhibitors Mutual, later, reorganized and rechristened The Film Booking Offices of America (FBO). Kennedy bought the FBO in 1926, installing William LeBaron (1883–1958) as its president. And now Kennedy and Sarnoff were in the movies. Alas, and in hindsight, the stock market crash of 1929 weighed heavily on the new RKO’s debut. Most certainly, it crippled its cash flow, resulting in bankruptcy in 1931 from which the studio’s reputation would never entirely recover. The pall of this early cataclysm was to linger, despite the studio’s lavish efforts to compete and, even more astoundingly, their actual ability to produce quality fare under an ever-revolving executive roster that came and went, seemingly with the consistency of the wind. In the mid-1940’s, with war raid sirens blaring all around, popular crooner and film personality, Bing Crosby jokingly urged inhabitants to seek refuge at RKO – “They haven’t had a hit in years!” Such hyperbole overshadowed the memorable classics produced throughout the 1930’s and 40’s, among them, King Kong (1933), Bringing Up Baby (1938, but initially a colossal flop) The Bells of St. Mary’s (1945) and the Oscar-winning The Best Years of Our Lives (1946).

Interestingly, while RKO's chronic fiscal woes restricted its ability to retain A-list talent, it nevertheless managed, through lucrative loan outs, to acquire the on-going services of Irene Dunne, Cary Grant and Carole Lombard, and via alliances with then indie producers, Walt Disney and Sam Goldwyn, and directors, John Ford, George Stevens, to exude an air of confidence and respectability. Although RKO lacked a trademarked ‘studio style’, the segue from the lavishly appointed Astaire/Rogers spectacles of the 1930’s to a more restrained spate of low-budgeted noir thrillers and horror movies in the mid-1940’s kept the company’s activity – as well as its name – alive for another ten plus years. But it was the foresight of the company’s first president, Joseph I. Schnitzer, outbidding his contemporaries for the screen rights to produce several major Broadway shows like Rio Rita, that gave RKO its early cache as a ‘force’ to be reckoned with. And even after the crash of ’29, immediately to hamper the studio’s future, it did nothing to stave off Sarnoff's ambitions, developing both RKO and RCA's other media subsidiary, NBC as America's first entertainment conglomerate. Arguably, Sarnoff’s most savvy executive decision was to hire David O. Selznick as V.P in Charge of Production in 1931. Selznick pruned the dead wood, cut production costs and hired both Merian C. Cooper and Pandro Berman. He also wooed director, George Cukor and his protegee, Katharine Hepburn, whom the studio aggressively promoted in high-class adaptations of A Bill of Divorcement and Little Women (both in 1933) – early hits that established Hepburn’s box office cache. The crisis arose in 1931, when Sarnoff anointed Merlin ‘Deac’ Aylesworth as a chief executive of the studio’s parent company, placing the as aggressive Aylesworth in Selznick’s sites. Unaccustomed to begin ‘governed’, Selznick withdrew to establish his own company.

The case can be made that by the time director, William A. Seiter was preparing to shoot A Lady Takes a Chance, RKO was already a studio past its prime. Indeed, the picture has neither the production values nor the moniker of 'prestige' to recommend it and relies solely on the chemistry between John Wayne and Jean Arthur to make it salable.  The creative clashes between Berman and Schaefer had effectively deprived RKO of its sole creative continuity as Berman made the switch to MGM – the king of all the majors, and, eager to absorb his creative juices into their fold. While home-grown product was still actively being produced at RKO, budgets were pared from modest to skinflint. And Seiter, while an accomplished director, could hardly be considered in the same class as Cukor, George Stevens, John Ford or Leo McCarey – all, of whom had worked for RKO at one point; most, now having permanently departed for other, more financially lucrative, contract work found elsewhere by 1943. A Lady Takes a Chance is an amiable movie of the ‘little gem’ class that, in 1943, could still be considered a profit center, provided its lithe and frothy tale sold tickets. To ensure its success, producers Richard and Frank Ross hired two of Hollywood’s hit-makers from this period: John Wayne and Jean Arthur. Interestingly, while Wayne today is rightly regarded as a titan in the industry whose career longevity is impressive to say the least, it was Arthur – top-billed - who had the bigger name in Hollywood then. Arthur’s allure as a romantic madcap was honed on a series of screwball comedies, including two for Frank Capra, that established her slightly cynical and tenderly devious public persona. And while Wayne had been rather prolific in pictures since the mid-1920’s, it was really only with his debut in John Ford’s Stagecoach (1939) that he began to be taken seriously as an actor in Hollywood.

A Lady Takes a Chance is based on a story by Jo Swerling, its screenplay by Robert Ardrey (with a rumored, though never qualified assist from Garson Kanin), moving rather effortlessly through 86 minutes of ‘cute meets’ and joyously obtuse miscommunication – predictably, to lead to the proverbial ‘happy ending’.  We waste no time at being introduced to the whimsical Molly J. Truesdale (Jean Arthur); an appealing lass, pursued at the bus terminal by three unlikely suitors: the dandy, Malcolm Scott (Grady Sutton), male ingenue, Gregg Stone (Hans Conried) and boorish cabby, Bob Hastings (Grant Withers). Alas, their attempts, each to leave a lasting impression on Molly before her departure on an eighteen-day holiday to the west coast, go nowhere fast.  Aside: one sincerely wonders how our Molly ever became inveigled with these foppish frauds. But now, aboard her Greyhound, Molly is off to see the world…or, at least, another corner of it – enduring the sycophantic chatter of coordinator, Smiley Lambert (Phil Silver at his annoying best). Mercifully, she also befriends, Florrie Bendix (Mary Field), of the kind-hearted sort and not too talkative. After several days of staring out the window at trees, fields, flat lands and the like, Molly’s vacation is shaping up to be more of a dud than an experience. All that changes, however, when – briefly delayed in Fairfield, Oregon, Molly takes in a rodeo, mildly enthralled with performer, Duke Hudkins (John Wayne) who is throw from his bucking bronco into the crowd, landing square on top of her. In tandem, Duke manages to break both Molly’s camera and her heart. After the rodeo, she pursues him for an autograph. Retrieving a discarded program from the dust, Duke asks for Molly’s too, suggesting she is the first girl he has ever sat on during a public performance. She accompanies him to the local watering hole and is introduced to his right-hand; the loveable coot, Waco (the queerly crotchety yet effervescent comedian, Charles Winninger).  

Alas, Molly’s envisioned ‘romantic’ dinner for two turns into a meal for four when Duke nervously invites Waco and his gal, Jitterbug (Peggy Caroll) to partake, and thereafter, begins to assemble an even greater roster of ex-flames and gal pals to pad out his comfort zone. Deeply wounded by this display of male machismo run amok, Molly withdraws; Duke, discovering her sobbing on the outskirts of town. Too bad Molly has completely forgotten the time. Her bus already pulled out of station several hours before, Molly is now invited by Duke to travel with them to the next city where she can rejoin her tour. Defiantly, Molly resists, hitchhiking with several strangers along the open road – always, to bypass Duke and Waco, who are transporting Duke’s beloved horse, Sammy (Mysty Shot). Regrettably, none of Molly’s rides is going the distance. So, Molly begrudgingly accepts Duke’s invitation to travel with them. As night falls, this triumvirate take refuge under the starry night skies of the desert. Feeling a chill, Molly unthinkingly borrows the blanket protecting Duke’s horse.  Realizing what has happened too late at daybreak, Duke roughly disentangles the still sleeping Molly from the blanket. But Sammy has caught a cold. Rushing the animal to the out-of-the-way veterinarian stables of Dr. G.W. Humboldt (Charles D. Brown), Duke is informed things could go either way. Sammy is gravely ill.

In due course, Duke is forced to ride another horse in the rodeo. Nevertheless, word arrives from Waco that Sammy has survived his ordeal and is on the mends. Rejoicing over their good fortune, Duke takes Molly to Mullen’s (Tom Fadden) rental cottages – ensconcing her in a unit next to the one he is sharing with Waco. Only now, Waco cautions Duke, reminding him women are just like socks and need to be changed regularly. Molly has her designs on Duke for the long haul. Duke happily discards Waco’s advice, attending Molly in her cabin for a home-cooked meal. But the evening is fraught with awkwardness. Duke resists to partake of Molly’s lamb chops – expressing an aversion to the meat until she coaxes him to taste it for himself. One crisis avoided; another develops when Molly’s desert causes a strange allergic reaction in which Duke can barely open his mouth to breathe until some hot coffee is poured between his lips. Having survived dinner, Duke offers to help Molly clean up. She gingerly dresses him in an apron so as not to soil his shirt. But Duke, catching a glimpse of his ‘sissified’ self in the mirror, now remembers Waco’s advice, panics at the thought of being settled, and, with nervous anger, bolts from the cottage. Molly is deeply wounded by his departure. She returns home by bus, sadder – and yet – hardly wiser. Gregg, Malcolm and Bob are eagerly awaiting her return and desperately try to outclass one another in her presence. To everyone’s surprise Duke has resurfaced with a change of heart. Informing Molly that he has dumped Waco and is desperately in love with her, Molly’s meager protestations are easily won over. The two board another bus bound for the coast, leaving Smiley to scratch his head with curiosity.

A Lady Takes a Chance is charming but forgettable. The screenplay’s coy situations immensely benefit from the presence of Arthur and Wayne – pros, who can sell such disposable tripe with a breezy ‘feel good’ sensation that sticks to the ribs. Such is the quality known as ‘star power’ and here, its megawatt appeal is working overtime. John Wayne, still young and handsome, shows off a more intangible sex appeal - laid-back masculinity. It warms Molly’s heart but wins him allot of points with the audience too, perhaps not expecting his earthy naturalness to be wed to an all-male charisma. Jean Arthur’s befuddled sex-kitten is a hoot. Ostensibly, she is playing Jean Arthur – or rather, to a persona we have seen her reincarnate over and over again in any number of screwball comedies. It works. We love Jean Arthur – smart, sexy, silly, yet utterly sincere. Seiter’s direction is more than competent. He gets a lot of mileage out of the oft kooky situations, and keeps the pace of the action moving along. The picture never drags. In the end, however, it never entirely impresses either; becoming instantly slight and disposable as soon as the house lights have come up. A Lady Takes A Chance is a great way to pass the time if you have absolutely nothing better to do; its two great stars, never pressed to the limits of their talents.

Kino Lorber needs to seriously rethink the way they promote their discs. A Lady Takes A Chance is advertised as a new HD transfer derived from a 4K mastered original nitrate negative, curated by Paramount Pictures. Aside: I am not entirely certain how Paramount became the custodians of this RKO release, since most every RKO Picture is currently under Warner Bros. control. Regardless of how these rights were resolved, A Lady Takes A Chance has been ‘preserved’ (notice, I did not say – ‘restored’) – actually, neither did Kino – in its current state of disrepair. So, we get intermittent rough patches with amplified grain and a lot of age-related dirt, scratches, speckling and debris scattered throughout. Honestly, I do not see the point of providing a 4K scan if the basic and necessary clean-up is not going to be applied to make the image all that it can be. That said, a lot of the image here looks quite impressive – particularly the tonality of the gray scale and fine details that abound. So, props to Paramount for performing at least the 4K scan. The 1.0 DTS mono is better than adequate, with no hiss or pop. There are NO extras and probably just as well. Bottom line: for Arthur and Wayne completionists only. Others can pass. Again, the Blu-ray’s remastering effort is not entirely up to snuff. Kino’s marketing suggests 4K is the answer. It’s not – especially when the original elements are in rough shape! Judge and buy accordingly.

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

3

VIDEO/AUDIO

3

EXTRAS

0