It's difficult not to be charmed by films that ridicule the institution of marriage, particularly when the ridiculing is done by some of the finest actors of any generation. Libeled Lady is a screwball comedy in which newspaperman Warren Haggerty (Spencer Tracy) not only stands up his fiancee Gladys (Jean Harlow) on what is supposed to be their wedding day, but later begs her to marry another man, Bill Chandler (William Powell) so that when Chandler seduces playgirl Connie Allenbury (Myrna Loy), poor beleaguered Gladys can accuse the heiress of being a homewrecker.

It sounds a lot more confusing than it is; and it's one of those movies that's probably a lot funnier to think about than to watch. The plot is little more than an exercise in wackiness that enables all sorts of shenanigans to transpire, not the least amusing of which is the scene in which Bill Chandler poses as an expert trout-fisher. It is amusing to see the ultra-suave Powell tumble headfirst into a mountain stream as his character struggles to read a book on trout fishing while absent-mindedly wading into unfamiliar waters. When the book gets away from him and starts floating downstream (towards the very people whom he is trying to convince of his outdoorsy aplomb), he turns himself into a frantic soggy mess of wretched hopelessness in his attempt to recover the text. The comic value of the scene is derived entirely from Powell's falling into the water and becoming tangled up in his net, precisely the kind of slapstick that isn't funny these days because no one knows how to pull it off. If Jim Carey (who really is a fairly funny actor) tried to pull off the scene, it would fall flat. But Powell sells it completely.

Viewers familiar with The Thin Man series will not be disappointed by the chemistry between Powell and Loy, but their lines in Libeled Lady simply don't crackle with the same kind of wit that we know to expect from Nick and Nora Charles. The only memorable exchange between them occurs when Chandler rescues Allenbury from an unwanted social engagement by telling a lie on her behalf. He dances away with her and says, "I thought that was rather clever."

"Yes," she replies, "I thought you thought so."

Otherwise, though Powell and Loy do a fairly remarkable job of breathing life into their stale characters (the bon vivant with an ace up his sleeve and the suspicious but vulnerable heiress), Chandler's seduction of Allenbury is a by-the-numbers affair without much in the way of surprises or wit.

Tracy turns in an excellent performance as the slow-witted (but not stupid) Haggerty, who is forever glowering after perfunctorily agreeing with the people who say cutting things about him. He does such a great job of playing a pushover early in the film that the audience may not suspect that he knows what he's doing when he pretends to be a pushover in a key argument between himself, his fiancee and Chandler. Once Haggerty realizes that Gladys appears to be falling for the man that he asked her to marry, he sputters, "She may be his wife, but she's engaged to me." That's supposed to be funny, but it's really nothing more than the film commenting literally on its own premise--so it's only funny for those who didn't notice that the plot was supposed to be funny all along. Either that or it's merely an instance of screenwriting economy: an attempt to get two laughs out of one joke.

But even if the dialogue lacks wit and the absurd developments of the plot aren't as funny as we suspect they were supposed to be, the performances of the major actors are so solid that the film would easily deserve a four-star rating if it weren't for an ending that completely fizzles. Although it's not exactly disappointing to see all the right people ending up in love with all the other right people just in time for the finale, it's not exactly clever or inspiring either. But what's unforgivable is the scene in which Gladys crashes a party at the Allenbury mansion in order to explain that she is already married to the very man who has just agreed to marry Connie Allenbury. The scene is not only completely unnecessary and painfully unfunny, but enables Gladys to meet Mr. Allenbury (Walter Connolly) and to introduce herself to him as Chandler's wife ("with the papers to prove it").

This little interchange does nothing but undermine the look of utter confusion that appears on Mr. Allenbury's face as the film's concluding gag when he is told that Bill Chandler is to be married to his daughter and is then introduced (for the second time) to Gladys as Mrs. Bill Chandler. That look of confusion all by itself is a pretty sorry excuse for a cinematic conclusion, but it's extry-extry bad because of the unnecessary way in which its legs were cut out from under it by the refusal to scrap the party-crashing scene in the editing process.

I'll take Nick and Nora over this kind of nonsense any day.

Recommended: Yes