The Great Lie 1941

 

Mary Astor was having a great time in 1941 especially given the fact that she survived one of the biggest scandals in the history of scandals. Her 1936 court battle to gain custody of her young daughter from her philandering husband brought out the news that our Mary kept a diary of all her love affairs, the most famous being her trysts with the playwright George S. Kaufman. Labeled the “purple” diaries because of the ink she used by the press and public alike the ink was actually brown but looked purple to the press.  Noted and filed away.

She survived and went on to do wonderful movies including “The Maltese Falcon” in 1941 in which she played the tear stained bad girl Brigid O’ Shaughnesy. Even the name reeks of purple ink and hot house love affairs. But Mary didn’t win her Oscar that year for Falcon which she thought she should have. Instead she walked off with her plaque (in the early years Hollywood gave the supporting actors and actresses tacky plaques instead of those glorious statues. Instead she won for “The Great Lie” which I wallowed in the other week. The Warner Bros film was directed  by Edmund Goulding who gives the goods not only to Mary but also to Bette Davis who slinks and stomps through the film giving a good sympathetic turn. Her stiff upper lip nearly touches the tip of her nose. Mary meanwhile is a bitch maybe the bitch to end all bitches. Based on some woman’s novel by a now forgotten author the plot almost defies explanation but I’ll give it a go. So. Mary plays a glamorous head strong nasty but popular classical pianist who enjoys fame and fortune in a sleek Manhattan all black and white and shinny.

When the film opens she has just married the love of Bette’s life George Brent (give me a break). Bette still pines for George who is some sort of an aviator and actually lands his plane on Bette’s property in Maryland where she lives alone on her family estate. Well Bette of course hates Mary and they have a few nice and nasty scenes early on. Meanwhile it turns out that Mary’s divorce from her first hubby was not finalized so Mary and George are not legally married and George and Betty jump for joy and tie the knot themselves. Oh shit it turns out that Mary is Pregnant (they actually say the word)  and George has gone off on some war- time expedition for Uncle Sam and has crash landed in some jungle in South America and is assumed dead.

Bette is distraught but Mary is fine and is off on her concert tours. Betty suggests to Mary in one of the most outrageous plot devices I think I have ever seen in a film that she take Mary’s baby and claim it as her own so she will have something to remember of George. What follows is a great sequence in a cabin in Arizona where Bette plays Midwife to Mary and rules her life with an iron glove. No ham sandwiches for you Mary, and Bette hounds her night and day about her smoking and gives her a hard smack across her face that nearly knocks her out. These scenes are simply hysterical and high pitched and no doubt got Mary her Oscar plaque. They both chew everything is sight including the ham sandwich without pickles though.

Much more plot follows but I won’t give more away here. The cast also includes the regal and wonderful Lucille Watson as Bette’s aunt, and The great Hattie McDaniel who 2 years after winning her own Oscar plaque for Gone With The Wind is still playing a servant (I would rather play a maid then be one, she is suppose to have quipped).   Hattie is of course great and gives the role depth and feeling, and the film treats her and the other African American characters with respect and admiration something very rare in Hollywood at the time. Edmund Goulding directed some classics of Hollywood including Grand Hotel, Dark Victory and The Razor’s Edge and worked right up to the late 50’s but was shadowed and tainted by his secret life of orgies and his bi-sexuality, which was mainly made up of men. He was also taunted for being a “women’s director” which was used as a put down for gay directors including George Cukor and Mitchell Leisen.