Tuesday, April 10, 2018

Hot Saturday (1932)


Oh, Hot Saturday. You are a tease. You take us on a moonlight boat ride and then refuse to pet. You promise scandal and instead give us honorable matrimony. What’s a girl to do? But you do deliver on Cary Grant in a kimono robe, and for that I am eternally grateful.

Ha-cha-cha-cha!

This pre-code is slight in terms of plot and script, but I still got suckered in by Nancy Carroll’s pluck and Cary Grant’s chin. Hot Saturday earns its pre-code credentials with only modest doses of drinking, necking, lingerie, and sex. It was based — very loosely — on the 1926 novel by Harvey Fergusson, but more on that later.

Hot Saturday gives us one of our first chances of seeing Cary Grant as, well, Cary Grant. He had been in a few films by this time, but this is his first top billing role. He is delicious.

I don’t mean to ignore Nancy Carroll, who plays the real main character of our story. Carroll is charming, but I keep feeling as though I am watching a under-carbonated version of Clara Bow. There’s a sweet toughness to her character, though, that won me over by the end. That, plus an impressive ability to keep her outfits uncreased, despite the grabbiness of her costars. 
Keeping that organdy collar so crisp must require superhuman effort.

Hot Saturday is set in the small town of Marysville (principle exports: boredom, gossip, mild hooliganism). Ruth works in the local bank, and deflects the advances of handsy men in her spare time. But even a technically virtuous flapper needs to have fun, so she spends the weekends at the dance hall with the local mashers. 
I hope Ruth brought a spatula to scrape herself off from Conny at the end of this foxtrot.

In the opening scene, Ruth’s coworker passes her a note about going out on a date; this is intercepted by the next clerk down, who erases Joe’s name and writes in his own. Ruth turns Bachelor #2 down (“One session of your football technique lasts a lifetime!”), but accepts an invitation from Conny, yet another smarmy colleague. The trouble with Ruth is that she is quite careful about keeping her virtue intact, without bothering to do the same with her reputation. 

Ruth also attracts the attention of Romer Sheffield, a wealthy lothario who is spending the summer at his posh lake house. The locals are shocked — shocked — that he would bring his mistress, Camille, to stay with him. (They would faint dead away if they knew that Romer eventually sends Camille packing with a $10,000 check as a farewell gift.)

Not only that, Romer is clearly angling to add our winsome bank clerk to his to-do list. Accordingly, he throws a party for “the gang,” including Ruth and Conny. Romer spirits her away for an intimate stroll along the lakeshore, and then turns on the charm. “Why, I’d murder just to see the soft green shadows through that pine tree on your lovely hair.” Sheesh. He even more charmingly concedes defeat when Ruth mocks his transparently faux-suaveness. She likes him much better when he treats her like an actual human being, which appears to be a novel experience for her. 
Romer's pickup lines are only dangerously corny.

Meanwhile, Conny has been fuming over Ruth’s neglect during the party. He is mollified when they go off to Willow Springs for a little dancing, torch singing, and bad boundaries. If you pegged Conny as a cad and a sneak at first sight, you can imagine how awkward the rest of the evening will be for Ruth.
Of course Willow Springs has a light-up dance floor. This place was designed by mashers. 

You're an asshole, Conny.

After a friendly boat ride becomes a little too friendly (by which I mean an attempted date-rape scenario), Ruth gets abandoned by Conny on the opposite shore of the lake. She limps her way to Romer’s house, where he is conveniently waiting on the porch with a drink and silk kimono.
Trust in me, trruussst in meeee...
They talk about the intrinsic worth of “being happy” (which is clearly code for sex). Knowing the realities of small-town life, Ruth is afraid of the inevitable scandal that would follow. Romer extracts a promise from Ruth that she will call him, should she ever decide that her reputation isn’t worth the trouble anymore. The wait will be shorter than either of them expect.

Before Ruth can make up her mind about how stalwart she plans to be about defending her virtue, Conny arrives. Ruth slips out the back door, and has Romer’s chauffeur drive her home. Of course she gets caught in the act of coming home by her frenemy Eva — who has been scrimmaging with Archie, judging from the lipstick smears.
Eva rather enjoys Archie's football technique.

The next day, the local gossip machine cranks into high gear, with a montage of old biddies burning up the telephone exchange. 
The woman in glasses reminds me of that scene of screaming Odessians in Battleship Potemkin.

Before you can say “slut-shaming,” Ruth has lost her job AND her position on the Women’s Social League. At least she gets to deliver this wonderful line: “Immoral women shouldn’t work in banks, you know. They might corrupt the young dollar bills.” You are too good for this damn town, Ruth.
This note is signed by a certain Mrs. Breen. Nice touch, Paramount.
Any relationship to our friend Joseph Breen in the Hays office?

Now is clearly the time for Ruth to do something dramatic about getting the hell out of Marysville. Luckily, her old crush, Bill, has conveniently come back to town for a geology expedition. Even more conveniently, he is holed up on a cave, far away from gossip about Ruth’s shenanigans. Because spending the night in a cave with a geologist is the best reputation-repair that I know of.

Ruth is lucky enough to get caught in a storm along the way, so that she can arrive at Bill’s doorstep (cavestep?) drenched and unconscious. Bill’s chivalry is awakened enough to rescue and revive her, even if it means taking off all her clothes and tucking her into his sleeping bag. So noble! 

That is some graceful fainting, Ruth. Most of us would have ended up face-down in a mud puddle.
Bill, I think she could have gotten warm, even if you had left on her damp underwear. Just saying.

Her clothes were soaked, but her makeup stayed perfectly intact.
Or did Bill reapply mascara while Ruth slept? Is that why she looks so scared?

But since Bill is a gentleman, he also proposes marriage once Ruth regains consciousness. She snatches at the chance to fix her reputation AND get out of Gossipville. Our girl is also canny enough to realize that she needs to seal this matrimonial deal toute de suite. After they apply for a marriage license, Ruth plans to send him straight back to his rumor-proof cave for the three-day waiting period.

Her plans are foiled, however, once Eva and Conny get wind of Ruth’s clever manouvering. They conspire to ruin Ruth’s love life, because spite is its own reward, apparently. They propose a celebration party at Willow Springs, and secretly make sure that Romer gets an invite, too.

Marysville really does bring out the worst in people, doesn't it?

At Willow Springs, Bill ominously admits how jealous he feels about the idea of Ruth dancing or paddling with other men, even in the past. Don’t trust men who get that scowl-ly, possessive look in the eyes, Ruth. It’s a trap!

Circumstances force Ruth to introduce Romer and Bill. The tension is thick enough to cut into love-triangles. 
Ruth, you are clearly de trop here.

I know that Bill is supposed to instantly jealous of Romer, but... but... you guys, Cary and Randy were SUCH a cute couple. Even if you believe that Cary’s long-term domestic arrangement with Randolph Scott was merely a heterosexual bachelor pad — thank you very much — they are still charming together.
Bachelor's paradise, indeed.

They even celebrated their birthdays together!

Of course, Bill overhears Conny making snide remarks about Ruth and Romer, and is immediately furious enough to dump Ruth. 

Bill, I would like to point out that YOU took off Ruth’s clothes and spent the night with her in a cave, and yet no hanky-panky resulted. Give the girl a chance to explain the circumstances, why don’t you? Ugh.

Ruth flags down Romer as he is driving away, and gets in his car.  As a modern-day hussy, I applaud this decision because:
  1. Cary Grant
  2. These two have genuine chemistry and attraction.
  3. Ruth's reputation is already ruined, so she may as well enjoy herself.
  4. She knows that Romer’s last mistress got a check for $10,000 — which would be enough to blow town if things don’t work out.
  5. CARY GRANT
Let's give these lovebirds a hand for doing the right thing.

Sadly for us, we skip right to the next morning. Bill arrives at her family home, appropriately repentant for being a jerk. But Ruth isn't there, because someone didn't come home last night. Even though we skip over the main event, at least we get to see Ruth’s magnificently defiant walk-of-shame moment:
That's her evening gown under Romer's impeccable houndstooth overcoat.

Bill generously offers to forgive Ruth for her imagined transgressions. She spits in his eye, metaphorically speaking, saying, “The things you believed of me last night were lies. But this morning they’re the truth.”
AND IT WAS WORTH IT.

Our heroine drives off with Romer, who surprises Ruth — and the rest of us — by proposing marriage after all. 
Nose-kissing = happy ending

Stray observations

There’s an odd comedy bit between minor characters during the party scene. Romer has a manservant who is clearly this close to bitch-slapping the boisterous party guests. 
This is some impressive side-eye.
Archie calls him over to order drinks, using the most ridiculously insulting faux-Chinese accent. When the server responds in unaccented American English, the camera flashes over to Archie’s dumbfounded reaction shot. 

I can’t recall many other jokes in early Hollywood that make fun of casual racism like this, especially at the expense of the white guy. I wish the actor playing this Asian character were credited, but I couldn’t find his name in my online searches. 


Costumes

Romer has some very interesting get-ups. His shirt collar is almost always popped, and he sports a variety of dashing outfits, including a casual evening kimono robe and gratuitous jodhpurs. 

I recognize that I am unusually fixated on this robe. Even though it wasn’t an outrageous piece in terms of embellishment or embroidery, this outfit jumped out at me right away. I spent more time than you might expect, looking up men’s sleepwear trends of the 1930s — without seeing much that compared. [The villain in 1931’s The Cheat wears something similar in the branding scene, but that doesn’t exactly speak in favor of kimono robes as a trend.] Men’s robes of the 20s and 30s almost all had shawl collars and straight sleeves, as we see on Bill later on. Romer’s kimono robe gives him a worldly air, plus a touch of understated decadence. I love it.

Ruth’s taste in clothing skews much more Sears-Roebuck. She favors kicky ensembles with crisp collars and cuffs. Trust me, it would be no joke keeping that white organdy blouse clean, starched, and uncreased, particularly for a popular girl like Ruth. 
Keep your paws off the sleeves, bub.

Ruth’s kid sister Annie figures in two marvelous costuming moments. She is caught stealing Ruth’s new silk undershorts, and then gets wrestled out of them in a surprisingly ferocious tussle. Annie flounces off afterwards, wrathfully declaring that “nobody wears ‘em nowadays anyhow!” 
It's a wonder the silky drawers weren't ripped to shreds in the process.

We also catch Annie play-acting a love scene between herself and Bill, while wearing one of Ruth’s party dresses. I really do wish we had more Annie in Hot Saturday. As a little sister myself, I can vouch that she is an exceptionally accomplished brat.

Source material

There were enough odd details in Hot Saturday (that kimono robe!) that I was curious about the source material. I managed to get a hold of a copy of the 1926 novel, where I discovered... no clarity whatsoever. 
Thank you, inter-library loan!

Both novel and film do feature a slightly-scandalous character named Ruth, but there are only a handful of similarities beyond that. Literary Ruth tries to ensnare Wilbur, a naive youth whose main attraction is his fortune. Wilbur is also new enough in town that he hasn’t heard the whispers about Ruth’s reputation — yet. The character of John Romer (not Romer Sheffield) is a recovering tuberculosis patient, who is only mildly bohemian. It is true that Ruth’s romance with Wilbur is undermined by scandalous gossip, and she does spend an illicit night with Romer. 

But so many of the details that stand out in the movie – Ruth’s self-sufficiency, her greedy family, her position at the bank, and her defiant repudiation of Bill’s prudery – are wholly missing from the original. The original-style Ruth may have snuck over to John Romer’s for the night, but she also accepts Wilbur’s apology the next day without a peep. Boo!

Of course, the US economy had danced into the Depression between Hot Saturday’s 1926 publication and its film release in 1932. Bored flappers with enough money were no longer particularly relevant after the Crash. 

The stakes are higher for the Ruth of 1932: her family depends on her financial support, and her job at the bank depends on her continued good reputation. As a character, the novel’s Ruth reads as a shallow schemer; the Hollywood version of Ruth engages our sympathy with her moxie and sweetness. (Both versions have pretty terrible judgement about men, though.)


Final thoughts

For someone trying to avoid small-town censure, Ruth is terrible at managing her reputation. Even though she refuses to compromise her technical virtue, she still provides plenty of fodder for the gossips:
  • Casually dating all the local creeps? Sure!
  • Close dancing in public at Willow Springs? Love to!
  • Paddling off to make-out point with a smarmy fella? Great idea!
  • Intimate strolls with a modern-day Lord Byron? Yes, please!
  • Late night cave visits? What could go wrong?

Ruth, my darling. You are lucky you made it this far without being shipped off to a facility for the incorrigibly promiscuous. Our Lady of Perpetual Cold Showers, anyone?

Still, I wish this adorable couple the best. Cheers, Hot Saturday!


Oh, Ruth. You know that Romer is going to walk in
while you're pretending to be Greta Garbo, don't you?