THE LADY EVE: Blu-ray (Paramount, 1941) Criterion

An utterly delicious buffet of sexy screwball misdirection from the creative genius of Preston Sturges' The Lady Eve (1941) remains one of those truly iconic rom/com’s from the legendary writer/director who, within less than a decade, showed Hollywood how to laugh at the battle of the sexes. And quite a battle it remains, what with Barbara Stanwyck playing both sides against the middle – literally, as the well-groomed con artist extraordinaire, Jean Harrington and her alter ego, the well-heeled duchess of everybody, Eve. As the unwitting dupe to Jean/Eve’s tsunami of feminine wiles, all Henry Fonda’s chronically befuddled millionaire, Charles Poncefort Pike can do is to tread water and tread, as lightly, on his suspicions he is being taken for a ride. The Lady Eve is wickedly smart, its razor-sharp honesty about women, who desire men for their wallets, and the men who cannot resist them, in spite of their trophy status, leads to all sorts of fickle complications along the way. Jean’s introduction to Charles, projecting thoughts he is having while being scoped by the eligible maidens aboard ship, remains an affecting non sequitur to what follows, as Jean ingratiates herself into Chuck’s good graces, only to fumble the valentine on the ‘eve’ of a proposal. Spurned, though refusing to give in, Jean – reincarnating herself as a variation on that infamous first temptress from the garden of Eden – emerges as the only romantic prospect for our short-sighted Lochinvar to reconsider, precisely the gal he ought not have, but cannot help but to wind up loving in the end.

And it stands to reason too, Charles is the only man who could so completely be lulled by one woman, playing him for the fool twice; having spent too many summers in the jungle, or so it would seem, searching for 'snakes', while completely to ignore the veritable weight in solid gold bullion Jean represents for a man of his stature and wealth, if hardly his outlook. Sturges, here, is working with exquisite archetypes; the befuddled boob and ravenous sex bomb – a match made in heaven…or some such place just west of all those rainbows and sunsets. And Fonda plays comedy with a startling and unanticipated generosity for its lithe precepts. There have been many great dramatic stars, miserably to fail when adapting their skills to comedy. But Fonda proves he can do ‘silly’, leaving the slink and ‘come hither’ slither to Stanwyck – no stranger to its darkly purposed elixir. And Stanwyck remains a revelation – her rapid-fire ‘shoot from the hip’ analysis of guys with disposable cash, ripe for the asking, a real surprise when she begins to harbor an untapped sincerity for her target. At the crux of our story, Sturges plants a MacGuffin: Jean’s singular desire to be rich – or rather, lighten the purse of her intended to his everlasting detriment and her very great advantage. But in this champagne cocktail of fantasy rom/com, the pursuer quickly reassesses her needs as less superficial, even as the hapless male, suddenly acquires something of a backbone, to throw all of the leading lady’s well-oiled plans off kilter.  

Sturges’ great gift to cinema has always been his rare ability to diffuse the tartness in his decidedly cynical outlook on life in general - romance, in particular, infusing his socially stunted but self-professed intellectuals with an almost elfin-like charisma. Sturges takes a man – buffoonish and rich, and a woman, enterprising and self-assured, and, brings them together under the unlikeliest of circumstances, then mixes up the trajectory of their thoughts and purpose until our empathy aligns, most curiously, with both sides – the argument for love exposed for what it is, and thereafter, to be further complicated by the disingenuous games men and women play on each other, meant to bring them, rather precisely, to the brink of either marital joy or calamity – but with a little sex. In a perfect world, even a movie-land reconstitution of it, Jean – not Eve – would have wound up with Charles. And, indeed, she nearly does. The Lady Eve represents Struges’ third bite at the comedy apple, having already conquered the rom/com with 1941’s Sullivan’s Travels. The women in a Sturges’ comedy always fascinate, perhaps because Sturges, having been reared in the artistic lair of his divorcee/mum and her creative entourage, finds the fairer sex’s mystique more alluring, devious and rife for analysis and deconstruction. Stanwyck’s Jean, therefore, is not so much an archetype as a curious amalgam of traits Sturges deems worthy of exploitation, plucked from life and his own experiences – reformulated ever so slightly to reveal a maxim pertinent to all womanhood in the microcosm of this unique design.   

In the annals of film history, much has been written about the Wyler and/or Lubitsch ‘touch’ – distinctly to have served as the creative framework for the films of William Wyler and Ernst Lubitsch respectively. Sturges, here, deserves such branding and consideration – particularly, as a retrospective of his movies reveals a bent toward uber-sophistication turned asunder by some lowbrow types aspiring to rise like cream to the top of their chosen aspirations. Based loosely on a story by Monckton Hoffe, Sturges’ original screenplay is a razor-backed work of genius, teeming in slippery circumstances and superficially spur-of-the-moment dialog with a few pratfalls, some farce, a tinge of classic screwball and, of course, uber-witty interplay to establish the infectious and simmering chemistry between these fictional cohorts in their delightful derby of ‘he said/she told’. The Lady Eve is one of the nattiest noodles devoted to diffusing the male initiative with feminine vigor ever put on the screen. Sturges never misses an opportunity to illustrate the exuberant folly in that old maxim ‘opposites attract’, counterbalanced by Jean’s rather unscrupulous ‘if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em’ second bite at the same apple (pun intended).  And Fonda’s Charles Pike, aptly named as the flounder fish – despite his best intentions, still on the same hook – never falls into that screen claptrap as a second string fop, because Sturges respects this certain weakness ingrained in all men for a pretty face, long enough to infer a fallible dignity in their inevitable fall from grace.

The Lady Eve begins with card-sharping American adventuress, Jean Harrington, sailing aboard a luxury liner with her as larcenous pater, the ‘Colonel’ (the effervescently devious, Charles Coburn), and his partner Gerald (wry, Melville Cooper). These cons need a new dupe, and thus, we are introduced to Charles Pike, the heir to the Pike ‘the Ale that won for Yale’ fortune. Aside: despite Struges’ own privileged upbringing, he frequently appears to have a certain joyful contempt for the idle rich, enough to poke holes at their ‘achievements,’ if hardly their affluence. So, Pike’s business, however successful, is made trivial, as similarly, Sturges would later quip about ‘the Wienie King’ in The Palm Beach Story (1942) – Robert Dudley’s diminutive Texan declaring, “Lay off of ‘em, you’ll live longer.”  But back to the lady – Jean, that is, determined to conquer the introspective Charles. He is as naïve where women are concerned, but an expert ophiologist. A pity, having only just returned from a year-long expedition up the Amazon, Charles still cannot spot a snake in his midst. And thus, he becomes proverbial putty to be molded between Jean’s pliable fingers. Alas, even her best laid plans go astray as Jean discovers her own affections for Charles are stirred, and thereafter, shields him from the Colonel’s influences. Hence, when Charles' suspicious minder/valet, Ambrose ‘Muggsy’ Murgatroyd (William Demarest) unearths the truth about Jean, Charles promptly dumps her. Incensed by this rebuke, Jean elects to re-enter Charles’ life, reincarnated as the piss-elegant Lady Eve Sidwich, niece of Sir Alfred McGlennan Keith (Eric Blore), another con, presently swindling the idle rich in Connecticut. Determined to drive Charles wild to distraction, Jean assesses, “I need him like the axe needs the turkey.”

Charles is so puzzled by Eve he becomes a tongue-tied and very clumsy oaf. Muggsy tries to explain to Charles that Eve and Jean are one in the same. However, Charles, working from the false assumption a sophisticated con like Jean would not dare make a second attempt without a new disguise, elects to accept the physical likeness between these ‘two’ women, as an uncanny coincidence. A whirlwind courtship follows. Eve and Charles are wed and take a train on their honeymoon. Only now, Eve sets about a delicious revenge, ‘confessing’ to her new husband the names of a seemingly endless roster of suitors, old flames and more recent lovers. Disgusted by his wife’s easy virtue, Charles promptly abandons the bride and returns to his posh digs – sadder, although not much wiser to the game played against him. The cons, of course, are delighted, urging Jean return to the scene to demand a hefty settlement in exchange for her silence. While Charles' father, Horace (Eugene Pallette) is desperate to finagle some hush money, Jean insists she wants nothing more except Charles to admit it is over between them to her face. Stubbornly refusing to concede defeat, Charles plans for another jungle expedition and Jean, having discovered as much from Horace, now packs her things in haste. Eve – playing herself – Jean – again, accidentally/on purpose ‘bumps’ into Charles aboard ship. Calling him by his nickname - ‘Hopsie’ – Charles, still unaware he is being played, is overjoyed to see Jean again. Impetuously, the couple darts to Jean’s cabin to affirm their love, whereupon Charles sheepishly confides he is married, and Jean, knowing too well the truth in this, pleasantly affirms, “So am I, darling.”

The Lady Eve is a sublime romantic fantasy, congenially regarding its ‘cat and mouse’ conflict between a husband and wife as nothing more substantial than a fork in the road of true love. Toying with screen censorship – as it is perfectly permissible for Jean to seduce Charles aboard ship, having already wed him as ‘Eve’ – Preston Sturges gets a ton of mileage out of this clear-cut case of merry misdirection, turning prudish, straight-laced conservatism and the unnecessary jealousies in breeds on their head, and, drawing a celebratory conclusion from self-effacing deceptions, otherwise, more easily construed as rather malicious. The trick and the magic here, none of Sturges’ improbable derailments ever appear contrived. Partly, such finesse is owed Sturges’ auteur authorship as the picture’s writer/director. But the other half of the illusion rests squarely with the ability of Babs’ Stanwyck and Hank Fonda’s immeasurable strengths as actors of the first quality and rarest magnitudes to sell the implausible – even, the ridiculous – as truths unfolding. We believe in Charles Pike’s wounded pride, his failure to grasp the simplest concept of being taken advantage – thrice. The need for empathy is even more stealthily achieved by Sturges in presenting Jean – the plotter - as ‘victim’ to Charles’ slum prudery. Twice spurned by Charles’ skewed notions of honor, Sturges and Stanwyck afford Jean/Eve more than a modicum of distinction as so much more than a ‘gold digger’. So, in the end, just as they come together, the audience is brought into perfect focus, as neither of these willful misanthropes will ever do better than what is presently – and actually, always has been – theirs for the asking. Sturges, the purveyor of such sparkling situations and solutions, is blessed to have Stanwyck and Fonda tripping along so merrily and in very fine fashion, plying the audience with a bit of homespun charm and a lot of glamour besides.

Criterion’s new to Blu of The Lady Eve is cribbing from elements that have not altogether endured the ravages of time. There are, regrettably, no original camera negatives, so this 4K scan is derived from the best possible sources, presumably first or second-generation prints, as exemplified by the generally ‘thick’ characteristic in these visuals – slightly brighter than on Criterion’s DVD release from 2001. Overall, the image is pleasing, though contrast appears slightly anemic at times.  In projection, The Lady Eve’s deficits become more obvious; its grain structure, very heavy and, occasionally distracting. But on most TV monitors, these shortcomings are held in check and the image appears, mostly solid, with an absence of age-related artifacts. Criterion offers up a PCM 1.0 mono audio. It sounds slightly more refined with clearly delineated dialogue. Criterion has ported over their extras from 2001; a clinical commentary from Marian Keane, 8-mins. with Peter Bogdanovich, the Lux Radio adaptation and a 6-min. puff piece on Edith Head. New to Blu, 40-mins. of audio with Sturges’ son, Tom, chatting up a storm with Bogdanovich, and a select group of Struges aficionados, including Susan King, Kenneth Turan, Leonard Maltin, Ron Shelton, and James L. Brooks. We also get a 30-min. video essay from critic/filmmaker, David Cairns, exclusively produced for this release. Cairns’ insights represent the best extra on this disc. Finally, we get an oddity – ‘Up the Amazon’ – a ditty written by Rick Chertoff and David J. Forman for a pending theatrical musical project based on this movie. Bottom line: The Lady Eve is a seminal masterwork from Preston Sturges, long overdue for rediscovery on Blu-ray. This one’s a ‘no brainer’. Just buy it and enjoy.

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

5+

VIDEO/AUDIO

3.5

EXTRAS

4