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Theodora Goes Wild (1936, dir. Richard Boleslawski, US) by Matt Olsen

Last week’s post on 1941’s Penny Serenade closed out the outstanding trilogy of films starring Irene Dunne and Cary Grant. Grant has, of course, justly earned a place in the firmament but it frequently seems that Irene Dunne is too widely unappreciated as one of the great film actresses of the 1930s/1940s. While she also excels at dramatic fare, she truly stands out, for me, in her comic performances and, specifically, those of the Screwball Era.

Between 1939 and 1944, Dunne made another trilogy of films with the actor Charles Boyer, but, well, I don’t really like Charles Boyer. So, instead, as a way to close out this series, I’d like to draw attention to Dunne’s first outright comedy role – absolutely smashing the lead in 1936’s Theodora Goes Wild, for which she received her second of five Academy Award nominations. 

It’s impossible to discuss this film at any length without exposing many of the plot turns so caveat emptor and what not but, in my defense, this film has been available for eighty-six years. At this point, if you haven’t seen it, that’s entirely your own fault.

To succinctly summarize the story: a small town young woman’s life is riotously upended when she’s revealed to be the secret author of a scandalous novel. This is all true but omits one of the most intriguing aspects of this film. At its heart, Theodora Goes Wild is a story of revenge as unforgiving, in its own way, as Death Wish or Kill Bill. Theodora’s weapon of destruction isn’t a gun or a sword, though, it’s chaos – fueled by a glancing proto-feminism.

Theodora Lynn is leading a double life. In Lynnfield, Connecticut, she’s the constricted niece of a pair of morally stringent dowager aunts, descendants of the town’s founders. On her occasional trips into New York City – under the guise of collecting a check from the aunts’ more worldly brother and manager of their income – she is known to her publisher (and no one else) as Caroline Adams, author of the racy bestselling sensation, The Sinner. The novel has recently begun serialization in her hometown newspaper, the Lynnfield Bugle, much to the vehement opposition of the town’s Literary Circle – a gaggle of pious gossips of which Theodora’s aunts are members. As instigating complications goes, it’s fully loaded. But, it’s only the first ten minutes.

The Sinner’s jacket designer, Michael Grant, crashes Theodora’s meeting to uncover the “real” Caroline Adams. He immediately becomes obsessed with Theodora, badgering her for information and pressing her into uncomfortable situations. Eventually, he tracks her back to Lynnfield where he insinuates himself into her life under threat of revealing her identity. In the end, her secret remains secret but he manages to destroy Theodora’s reputation in the town under the irritatingly paternalistic claim of “freeing” her.  It’s possible that his cocksure pursuit was fun and charming in 1936 but, viewed from 2022, he comes off as a narcissistic bully. 

Of course, as is predictable in these stories, Theodora eventually succumbs and declares her love to Michael. Here, however, the narrative takes an unexpected turn. Michael’s bluff has been called and, in fear of a mature relationship, he flees Lynnfield to retreat to his bachelor life in New York City. Days later, Theodora appears at his door. She has fully embraced her Caroline Adams persona and, regardless of his complaints, moves herself into his apartment, forcing him out.

For the remainder of the film, she turns his methods against him. She surrounds him along with his family in scandal and refuses his pleas of relief. She shows no remorse. Empowered with celebrity as Caroline Adams, she effectively annihilates his life and withers his pseudo-masculinity into submission. It’s like the reverse of Bewitched or I Dream of Jeannie. In this case, the man utterly fails to tame his woman’s magic and she achieves her full and, at times, terrifying power. 

There are (at least) two very intriguing specific moments that demonstrate the movie’s lean toward whatever nascent idea of feminism existed at the time. The first is a fly-fishing scene between Theodora and Michael that neatly depicts and ridicules “mansplaining” – which, obviously, is not a new phenomenon. The second is a bit more difficult for me to fully parse as it’s presented without much context or resolution. During a press interview with a glamorously costumed Caroline Adams, the lone female reporter begins to ask a question. She only gets as far as a polite “Miss Adams – “ before one of her male colleagues lays a restraining hand on her shoulder and directs her to “Just relax, sister.” A few moments later, the scene repeats itself, ending with the smallest exhalation of exasperation from the female reporter. It’s only unclear because it’s not demonstrably played for laughs or empathy and that reporter doesn’t appear anywhere else, outside of that scene. The film’s early observation of casual sexism is fascinating and, lest it becomes overlooked, the movie is also very funny. 

Dunne is wonderfully alive in the film, reacting and thinking in every moment. Her delivery is simultaneously surprising and natural. Her mastery of tone and timing is extraordinary for any performer, much less one in her first comedic role. 

As in The Awful Truth and My Favorite Wife she’s given opportunities to play different personas. She wears many hats. Both, figuratively and literally. One of the more ridiculous aspects that I neglected to mention in the previous films – which exists in this one, as well – is the totally over the top costumes they assign her. The hats alone… I mean… File them under “Sheesh!”, for sure. A lesser actress would be dominated by that wardrobe. That Dunne can wear the most ludicrous headpieces imaginable and still seem human, hilarious, and relatable is only one mote of the billion bits of testimony to her talent.

Matt Olsen is a largely unemployed part-time writer and even more part-time commercial actor living once again in Seattle after escaping from Los Angeles like Kurt Russell in that movie about the guy who escapes from Los Angeles.

Josh Oakley