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Preface: I’m very excited to share what will be the first of many collaborations between myself and Francesca, a cherished friend of mine and fellow cineaste. Her wit and insight are invaluable assets that helped to bolster this piece. Thank you, Fran — you can find her work here!
On the surface, LADIES’ MAN appears no different from the other films of the pre-Code era. It’s flashy and sultry, touting sexually precocious women clad in draping gowns that leave little to the imagination. It’s a tale of depravity marked by all the familiar motifs of the era, most notably sex, sin, and largesse. Beneath this veil of opulent flamboyance, however, rests a fascinatingly progressive subtext that teases an open embracement of unconventional values that lay in the convergence of feminism and sapphic expression. It’s a subtle yet prominent delight that weaponizes the moral ambiguity borne of the era, scintillating haphazardly throughout the film’s entirety.
Promotional poster for LADIES’ MAN (1931)
The genius of this subtext is its lack of presence — that is, it gains its entire substance from everything that is left unsaid. There exists no shortage of sexually liberated women in pre-codes, but they ultimately bear an invisible ball and chain to a male character through physical, monetary, or emotional compensation. Though not as explicitly stated as post code films, a woman’s place was clearly marked intact by a series of plot driven devices. The illusion of freedom was achieved through tangible displays of excess expression, a method that helped to ultimately fool the viewer into thinking that the “modern woman” was autonomous in every arena of her life.
LADIES’ MAN presents an ensemble of dynamic women, the majority of whom vye for the affections of society darling and bonafide gigolo Jamie Darcott (William Powell). Mrs. Fendley is a lonely and neglected banker’s wife who takes great pleasure in her secret rendezvous with young Jamie. Her behavior disgusts her younger daughter (Carole Lombard), who in turn desires Jamie for herself. Jamie is rather nonplussed about the whole thing, tolerating Mrs. Fendley’s sycophantic behaviors in order to reap the financial benefits, erstwhile making it known to Carole that he has no interest in her. Here we have the aforementioned illusion encapsulated perfectly in two different facets. Mrs. Fendley’s illicit affair initially evokes a sense of fierce independence and careless abandon for convention, giving the audience the mendacious vision that she is indeed a liberated woman. However, careful examination shows that her behavior, ambitions, and needs are all dominated by Jamie, who ultimately wields power over her by being the object of her affection. She is no more free than any other woman pursuing a relationship, conventional or not.
Her daughter, Rachel, represents the other side of the same coin. Rachel is young, beautiful and desirable — the film makes no secret about that, showcasing the constant male attention she receives. She actively rejects their advances, which once again fallaciously creates a palpable aura of a self-governing woman. Alas, it is at the expense of her obstinate infatuation with Jamie, once again shedding light on the fact that she, like her mother, is not self-motivated or actualized in her pursuits.
Carole Lombard as Rachel in one of many vain attempts to win Jamie’s affections
Enter Norma Page (Kay Francis), a freewheeling dame from out of town. Unlike the other women, she subverts every explicit and implicit expectation of the archetypical precode woman by continually subjugating the men around her.
She’s first introduced to us at one of Rachel’s lavish parties, coolly making her entrance without any fuss or fanfare. She possesses a distinctive aloofness that sets her apart from the other coteries of women, brooding pensively from the sidelines. It is this particular sense of aplomb that intrigues Jamie, who makes a pointed effort to introduce himself to her. Despite his genial charm and wit, she is unphased — making him all the more determined to win her affections, and thus granting her an incredible amount of power over him.
Norma is unfazed and seemingly immune to Jamie’s charms.
Jamie pursues her tirelessly, cornering her in the hotel lobby in an attempt to woo her over with a personal tour of New York. Norma indulges him with casual indifference, making it no surprise to the viewer that she never shows when asked and instead decides to stick to original plan of taking the train back home. Jamie is flummoxed; it is the first time the viewer sees him come to terms with the fact that his charm is not, as he once thought, infallible.
Norma once again catches him off guard at the train station, revealing that she did, in fact, stay behind — only further elucidating that she is a woman who does things on her own terms. Taken by her dominance, Jamie submits and the two venture out on their date. It’s cut short by a crisis with a drunken and jealous Rachel — a saving grace to make a moment so uneventful an ephemeral one. When the couple escort Rachel back home, Norma is unmistakably more invested in tending to the inebriated woman than she is in her ill-fated outing.
Norma and Jamie rather impulsively reconcile to marry, a prospect he seems far more interested in than does she. Naturally, this sets off a cataclysmic chain of events — the union implies that Jamie will no longer abscond with the pitiful Mrs. Fendley, and rules out any chance of him pursuing Rachel, who leverages suicide in a bid to bind him to her. Mr. Fendley, heretofore unphased by the entire situation, decides that “betraying” Rachel is the final straw, placating his hysterical wife who vows to end Jamie’s life in order to avenge her misery.
When everything is seemingly calm and collected, Mr. Fendley confronts an unguarded Jamie in his bedroom, wielding a gun. He shoots and misfires and the two men brawl temporarily before Jamie hurls backward over the balcony, falling to his death. The womanizer is dead, effectively freeing wife and daughter — no longer will they be governed by his charm.
In a much more literal sense, Norma is liberated as well. Though obviously upset by his unexpected and grisly demise, she retains her equanimity throughout the ordeal. After a few brief cathartic sobs, she is once again composed, once again displaying that signature aloofness that set her apart in the beginning. In many ways, it’s a full circle ending, but the loss is downplayed. Norma’s body language conveys an implicit understanding of what has happened. She knows that there is still life and purpose for her out there that exists beyond the confines of her purported relationship. Resilient, strong, and undeterred, she makes peace with what has happened and begins her life as a free woman as the credits roll onto the screen.
Norma is visibly preoccupied, tending to an inebriated Rachel
Her character’s explicit actions alone speak volumes about the unique integrity of her character, but it is through her brief yet emotionally charged encounters with Rachel that we see her come to life with passion. In her interactions with Jamie, she is continually cool — but when she interacts with Rachel, it is all too clear that she loses touch with the stalwart control that guards and governs her feelings. Played out through expression and body language alone, Kay Francis evokes a sensuous and undeniable desire that permeates through the screen and captivates the viewer, much like how she is so taken by the beautiful woman before her.
Kay Francis’ presence takes on an ethereal quality in early scenes with her apathy to the supposedly irresistible charms of Jamie being so at odds with the women we had seen previously, but this is dispelled in the scenes played opposite Rachel where both seem markedly different – in particular, the scene where Norma puts a highly inebriated Rachel to bed after having made the decision to go to her party after the earlier snubs she directed at Jamie. The usually high-strung and frenetic Rachel (playing strongly on the kind of energy Carole would later bring to her screwball comedies, but here in a dramatic tone) takes on a much different aura in her scenes alone with Norma, quickly being soothed by her and settling into sleep while Norma literally tucks her in.
Promotional publicity for LADIES’ MAN that encapsulates the essence of the film: Rachel looking longingly at Jamie, and Norma gazing upon a clueless Rachel.
The conclusion, leaving Norma outside the bounds of the traditional lot of women in post-Code films (where heterosexual marriage is usually the inevitable conclusion of any central romance), is one which is very much of the era and allows the audience a degree of imagination in envisioning the future that would await her. For sapphic fans who responded (and respond) to Kay Francis’ ambiguous persona so strongly, it’s not too hard to see where that might be.
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