Dorothy Arzner and the Hollywood System

(An essay on Dorothy Arzner’s Merrily We Go to Hell (1932) and The Bride Wore Red (1937) discussed in relation to their social, cultural and historical conditions of production, written Summer 2017)

(Photograph of Dorothy Arzner)

Born in California in 1897, Dorothy Arzner entered the world shortly after the 'Seventh Art' did, and subsequently became a part of one of the first generations engulfed in the fascination of film. Having been educated in Los Angeles, Arzner found herself living in a city inextricably tied to film. As Hollywood grew to become a dominating, central force in the world of movie production, so did Arzner’s ambition to become a successful female director in a medium dominated by men. Arzner’s career spanned from the Jazz Age to World War Two, and after the transition to sound, she was the only female director working in Hollywood until the 1940s. Furthermore, she can be correctly referred to as an innovator of the talkies. Her invention of the fishpole, a device that aloud mobile sound recording, smoothed Hollywood’s transition to sound and transformed production methods by allowing more freedom to actors and the camera (Byrant, 2013). She was also “known as a star maker” (Mayne, 1995, p. 348), progressing the careers of Clara Bow, Joan Crawford, and Lucille Ball among others. Quite simply, as a director she “succeeded where few women had before” (Mayne, p. 13) in Hollywood.

The two of Arzner’s films in question belong to the early period of classical Hollywood cinema, a turbulent time in cinema history. Hollywood was struggling to abide by the Hays code, attempting to evolve the studio system, and make the industry’s transition to sound complete. However, it was not just these obstacles that American cinema had to overcome. The 1929 Wall Street crash trapped the nation in almost a decade of melancholy, and plunged the industry into a state of financial uncertainty.

The impact of the crash of 1929 upon American society was severe and deep, immersing every level of society into a state of panic with the poorest being hit the hardest. The country suffered from mass unemployment, leading to widespread hunger and desolation. Thomas Doherty poignantly sums up the situation as “the frenetic excess of the Jazz Age lead inevitably into the long penance of the Great Depression” (1999, p. 2). Furthermore, Doherty observes that to most areas of society the Great Depression was “punishment for straying so far from then traditional American virtues of temperance, hard work, and deferred gratification” (1999). Most of the American public came to blame the crash on the unchecked excess of the roaring ‘20s, that a bubble of decadence had inevitably burst. This view was reciprocated by Hollywood and is reflected in these two Arzner films. Later, it will become apparent that there is a definite attempt by Arzner and Hollywood to reaffirm these traditional American values, evident in their depictions of class and excess. Also, we shall observe that this social awareness is not just merely a natural occurrence, but is an attempt by Hollywood to capitalise on the social conditions to give the masses the escapism, as well as the moral message they desired in return for mass capital.

The spine of Hollywood, the big studios, were confronted with a dire economic forecast after the crash that presented challenges they never before had to navigate. In 1930 Samuel Katz, the then president of Paramount, declared to the rest of the industry that “we are passing through a temporary period of changing values and confusion” (Doherty, p. 27), and this confusion referred in particular to the survival of Hollywood. By 1931 “box office returns had dropped 10 percent to 35 percent in most localities” as once loyal moviegoers “foreswore the luxury of motion picture entertainment” (Doherty, p. 28). Leisure activities that boomed in the 1920s, such as cinema, were now viewed as economic risks to many consumers. It was in this period of instability and gloom that Merrily We Go to Hell (1932), a pre-Code comedy-drama about alcoholism, was released.

Shot in academy ratio, Merrily We Go to Hell is a time capsule of early 1930s America, and is representative of the stylistic and narrative conventions associated with classical Hollywood. Throughout the film Arzner approaches the dark subject of alcoholism in a tragicomic manner, ultimately reflecting the liberated censorship of the time whilst still expressing a strong, moral message that the days of excess and decadence are over.

Although the Hays code was published in 1930, it did not uphold morality in cinema until 1934 when every studio agreed to adopt it. In these four years “censorship was lax and Hollywood made the most of it” (Doherty, p. 2) delivering explicit subjects such as sex and vice implicitly. Without this context, Arzner would never have been able to express humour and sympathy for the films characters who were defying prohibition, and entertainingly revelling in vice. In the scene where Jerry (Fredric March) and Joan (Sylvia Sidney) drive out to an isolated, romantic spot in the suburbs, the motion picture production code is trivialised. As the code outlines, the “inference of sex perversion” is a “don’t” (Doherty, p. 7), but in this scene pre-marital sex is openly discussed, and as the screen fades, is implied to have happened. At first they kiss, but before they go further, Jerry accidentally leans on the horn that censors out all other sound. The dialogue then becomes overtly sexual as Joan freely asks whether he 'makes love' to every girl he takes for a drive, suggesting promiscuity and normalising it. After a conversation, they passionately kiss again as the camera dollys forward intensely and the horn rings out again as the screen fades. The camera movement suggests sexual arousal and excitement, and, coupled with the dialogue, it becomes apparent that they commit an anti-Catholic perversion, pre-marital sex. Furthermore, the outraged horn is a comic device that exists within the scene as a force of sexual restraint. The horn is then ignored by the pair, becoming a metaphor of the Code that was consistently refused by filmmakers. Summarising Hays’ inability to properly enforce censorship was his ineffective objection to the film’s title, and when scenes were cut in Ohio, the “public objected to the censorship, and the cut scenes were restored” (Mayne, 59). The censor’s assumption of power, but actual lack of it, is an irony played with by Arzner, and most of American cinema in the pre-Code era.

There is not just an awareness of the external forces of censorship in this film, but also there is commentary on recent history and contemporary society. In the scene in which Jerry is ironically celebrating his failure as a playwright, both him and Buck (Richard Gallagher) drop the prided over turkey, too drunk to deliver it from one destination to the other. As a revolving door swings into the ignorant pair, Arzner presents us with a Chaplin-esque situation, where men make a fool of themselves as they struggle to navigate around simple objects. This approach to illegal intoxication mocks national law and the uptight morality of the temperance movement. However, the recurring jokes surrounding intoxicated people also manages to be cautionary as well as entertaining. With many characters blinded by the joy of the moment, this representation is allegorical of national ignorance to their own destruction at the hands of excess in 1920s America.

While this film may be considered lurid in the eyes of William Hays, Arzner reinforces a national belief that America must learn from the decadence of the 1920s in order to escape from the Great Depression with no further repeat in the future. Hollywood here is not so much acting out of moral leadership though, but rather is reflecting the widespread beliefs of its audience. Hollywood understood that the masses “determined the general trends of studio production and cinematic expression”(Schatz, 1981, p. 4), so by appeasing the moral beliefs of its audience the industry’s central aims and needs are satiated.

Both Merrily We Go to Hell and The Bride Wore Red were made under the vertical integration system, a framework designed to dominate the market and eliminate any independent competition. Because of the big studio’s control over exhibition, they had the prime asset of knowing exactly what the audience wanted. If Hollywood was to successfully “mass produce and mass distribute movies”, they had to “read the pulse of its popular audience” in order to profit the most from the massive attraction of cinema (Schatz, p. 5). It was under this system that genre and cinematic expression evolved with the needs and desires of the masses. Merrily We Go to Hell flourished at the box office in part due to this, as not only are the conventions of the successful comedy-drama present, but so is the national mood of the time. The films party sequences that aspire to decadence are both a nostalgic farewell to the Jazz Age, and a scrutiny of it. America longed for the past, but was also now conscious that it held the key to understanding its downfall, and so was Hollywood conscious to show this.

A consequence of Hollywood’s financial woes in the early 1930s was that it needed to evolve the ‘studio system’ to a point of great efficiency to cut costs in an unstable market. The change in 1932 to the producer-unit system implemented this much-needed fluidity, and demonstrated that “in the long run, the Great Depression was good for the motion picture industry” (Doherty, p. 31). It was within this system that producers began to thrive as they were given the power to find talent, and mould them into huge commodities. Now their name became, like their star, a source of prestigious product differentiation. With a Joseph. L Mankiewicz film, the audience instinctively knew that stars as popular as Katherine Hepburn or Joan Crawford were present, and that the film was of quality. It is the presence of Mankiewicz as producer and Crawford as lead in The Bride Wore Red that epitomises the relationship between the star and studio system, and demonstrates the unified nature of classical Hollywood production.

When Mankiewicz "helped fashion Joan Crawford movies" (Thomas, 1979, p. 107), it was with an eye on marketing, and an understanding that a star's uniquely crafted persona is “clearly one of the principle commodities” (Butler, 1998, p. 342) to Hollywood. In the 1920s, actors were beginning to have a social presence in media outlets separate from cinema. The intensity of star discourse is exemplified by the Fatty Arbuckle scandal, from which the ‘William Randolph Hearst press’ greatly profited from its witch-hunt against the falsely accused actor. The immense interest in the case, and the tabloid’s many other dramatized stories of Hollywood scandals, signified the public’s obsession with the images and personalities on the screen. Also, the initially different media outlets began to synergise and become part of the studio system as an avenue of marketing. The industry was instinctive to realise a star’s great economic potential, and tailoring a discourse around them in the media, they became another source of product differentiation. During the Great Depression, one of Hollywood’s most important commodities was the idolised Crawford, who starred in an emblematic role in The Bride Wore Red.

Lucille Fay LeSuer “sprang from modest beginnings in the mid-west” and, growing up, had “learned to survive in the face of hunger and rejection” (Thomas, p. 80). With perseverance, she was signed by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer in 1925, from which she was transformed by the studio into 'Joan Crawford'. However, it was not until 1931 she gained popularity with the release of the film Possessed. From this, Crawford was “moved to portrayals of girls on the rise from the lower classes, an apt metaphor with America submerged in the Depression” . As noted by Bob Thomas here, she was now given roles that reflected the fantasies of many lower-class Americans who were immersed in poverty, and had little or no prospects in the unequal world around them. It was Crawford’s hardened upbringing that gave MGM a discourse with which they could credibly shape a mythology around her that was both realistic and dreamlike, speaking to the lives of the ordinary person. This background also gave her performances a down to earth honesty, and a deep emotional integrity that was especially rich when her characters were suffering. At the time of working with Arzner on The Bride Wore Red, she was declared by Life Magazine as “the First Queen of the Movies” (Thomas, p. 123), indicating her infectious popularity that matured throughout the depression, and her value to the studio.

A significant part of the star’s relationship with the spectator is the way in which their image is crafted on the screen to instigate psychological identification, and “some form of visual pleasure”. In The Bride Wore Red, the introductory scene of Anna (Joan Crawford) signifies her strong appeal to the audience, and demonstrates how Arzner capitalises on this with stylistic conventions. Anna is singing outside of the frame, the cynical lyrics suggesting her hopes and dreams of pure love have been destroyed by the harshness of her poverty-stricken reality. Here, the "musical accompaniment functions as narration" (Bordwell, 1988, p 33). We cut to a softly lit close-up of her performing that accentuates her beauty. Cutting to a long shot of her, in the centre of the frame her movement is tracked with dutiful attention. Finishing her song, she shrugs off drunk customers with assertiveness and vents anger at her manager with fearless execution. In these thirty seconds, she goes from a fetishised figure tailored for the male spectator, to a powerful woman that in spite of her surroundings, has clung on to courage and struggles for gender power. The latter part of her characterisation appeals directly to the hard-working mothers and suffering women of the time who had to be the strong figure of perseverance in a world of hardship. However, although there is a degree of independence for women in the film, Anna's goal is to find a man she can depend on both economically and emotionally. Ultimately, Arzner is reaffirming the traditional roles of women and remaining within the conventions of the time, whilst still attempting to present a strong, modern woman. It is this representational struggle that was necessary if Arzner was to carry on directing films in a patriarchal art form, whilst aiming to have a sense of artistic independence too.

Further evident in this opening sequence are the stylistic conventions of classical Hollywood cinema. Hollywood aimed to create a universal language through filmic techniques in order to appeal, and dominate, the world market. As noted by David Bordwell, filmmakers concealed "artifice through techniques of continuity and invisible storytelling" (p. 3). In this sequence the spatial simplicity and temporal realism of its continuity editing demonstrates the conventions being adhered to. As well as this, consistently centred compositions of Crawford position her in "the centre of narrative and graphic interest" (Bordwell, p. 51). Furthermore, as mentioned earlier the non-diegetic music in this scene functions and narration, an integral form of expression when attempting to communicate to foreign-language audiences. These cinematic conventions bind the film together with narrative simplicity and spatio-temporal realism, representing the unified artistic form of Hollywood cinema in spite of the purely economic motivations.

In conclusion, both films demonstrate the unified nature of the classical Hollywood system with principally economic motivations. Hollywood was, and still is, constantly aiming to mirror the needs and desires of its audience upon the screen, and from the examples of these two films, contemporary national issues are rarely ignored. Furthermore, the consumer is paramount in dictating the stylistic and narrative conventions too, as Hollywood managed to create a classical, universal film language. Although what drives classical Hollywood is economical, the resulting products are paradoxically works of art too.

Bibliography

Bordwell, D., Staiger, J., Thompson, K. (1988). Classical Hollywood cinema, the: Film style and mode of production to 1960 (1st ed.). London: Taylor & Francis Group.

Bryant, S. (2013). Dorothy Arzner’s Talkies: Gender, technologies of voice, and the modernist Sensorium. MFS Modern Fiction Studies, 59(2), 346–372. doi:10.1353/mfs.2013.0032

Dick, B. F. (2001). Engulfed: The death of paramount pictures and the birth of corporate Hollywood (1st ed.). United States: The University Press of Kentucky.

Doherty, T. (1999). Pre-Code Hollywood: Sex, immorality, and insurrection in American cinema, 1930--1934 (1st ed.). New York: Columbia University Press.

Dyer, R., Kaplan, A., & Willemen, P. (1998). The oxford guide to film studies (1st ed.) (J. Hill & P. C. Gibson, Eds.). New York: Oxford University Press.

Mayne, J. (1995). Directed by Dorothy Arzner (1st ed.). Bloomington: Indiana University Press.

Schatz, T. (1981). Hollywood Genres: Formulas, filmmaking, and the studio System (1st ed.). New York, United States: Random House Inc. Thomas, B. (1979). Joan Crawford: A biography by Bob Thomas (1st ed.). London, Great Britain: Redwood Burn Limited.

Filmography

Merrily We Go to Hell (1932). Directed by Dorothy Arzner. Paramount Pictures, US.

Possessed (1931). Directed by Clarence Brown. Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, US.

The Bride Wore Red (1937). Directed by Dorothy Arzner. Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, US.