Watch This Movie: The Divorcee

I watched the Norma Shearer movie The Divorcee (1930) over the weekend believing that the movie's sets included a country house done up in Hollywood Regency decor. Well, wrong movie. The Divorcee did not have such a set. Still, the movie was interesting to watch. A pre-code film, the movie's plot was, for the time, rather scandalous. In a game of tit for tat, Shearer's character cheats on her husband after discovering that he had an affair. (In the scene shown at top, a chipper Shearer had not yet learned about her husband's cheating ways.) Shearer then receives a lesson in society's double standard when it comes to adultery. While her husband's fling was a piffling event, Shearer's affair was a cardinal sin, something that eventually leads her down the road to moral looseness. Let's just say that for the era, the movie was considered to be shocking.

Storyline aside, the movie's Cedric Gibbons designed interiors are a feast of Deco architecture. In both Shearer's apartment as well as the swinging nightclubs, the geometric door surrounds are larger than life, while chevron sconces are quintessential Art Deco.

You know, for such morally challenged people, they certainly lived and partied well. Anyway, have a look:



The fireplace and andirons of Shearer's apartment are so Deco in flavor as is that pair of busts.




Shearer's husband in the kitchen fixing, what else, cocktails. The space is somewhat spartan yet stylish too.




The chevron shaped sconces are also textbook Art Deco, but the real star of this screen shot is that massive piano stool with the low ziggurat back and fluted sides.





A dramatic movie deserves a dramatic entry hall.




The apartment's sofa is definitely unusual. It had two separate backs that fit within the niches; the backs were connected by one large, bow front seat.





One could really make an entrance into the nightclub thanks to the massive door. Classic Moravian star fixtures helped to light the space.




Shearer's apartment after she became The Divorcee. I love the swag to one side of the doorway.

Watch This Movie- Roberta

Over the years, I had seen bits and pieces of the 1935 movie Roberta, but I decided to give the movie my full attention after my friend Ron van Empel encouraged me to do so. Ron, a very talented Dutch lighting designer, loves old movies as much as I do. In fact, unbeknownst to the other, we watched Lost Horizon around the same time and both of us were inspired by the movie's upholstered doors. (I was simply inspired; Ron actually acted upon the inspiration and designed Lost Horizon doors in his own home!)

Roberta's plot revolves around a hayseed American (Randolph Scott) who travels to Paris with his best friend (Fred Astaire) and their band. Scott visits his famous fashion designer aunt, Madame Roberta, who employs a Russian princess played by Irene Dunne. Romance and music and dance numbers ensue. But this post is all about the sets. Ron told me that I would get a kick out of the exuberant sets, and he was right. The art directors of the film were Van Nest Polglase and Carroll Clark. In typical 1930s fashion, the sets were very white. What struck me the most were the number of murals and painted designs on the set backdrops. While painting decorative motifs and murals was certainly cost effective, it would be safe to say that these sets were painted to within an inch of their lives. Most of the film takes place at Madame Roberta's Paris couture house, and the motifs and murals there are a curious mix of Roman, Greek, and pastoral scenes. Madame Roberta's was a far cry from the salons of Mademoiselle Chanel and Madame Lanvin!


To read my post on Lost Horizon, click here. To see Ron's Lost Horizon doors, click here.



The lobby of Madame Roberta was typical for the era. Glamorous zebra print chairs, a banister that is pure pastiche, and an elaborate door surround.




Madame Roberta's living area was probably the most elegant. Columns abound with two holding crystal lamps and one supporting a Deco looking sculpture.




But, the set designer couldn't resist adding something painted. This time, it's a Roman gladiator.





The Salon at Madame Roberta was most interesting. Inexplicably, there was a deer in the snowy woods mural as well as a door painted with a carriage and wagon wheel. I'm not sure what the thought process was behind this. After all, this was a Paris couture house.



One of the atelier's offices with some kind of mural in the background.




Ginger Rogers practicing her nightclub act at Cafe Russe. Russian motifs were (what else?) painted on the backdrop.




I actually like the faux ornamental tree. What kind of fruit is that supposed to be?







The finale was a musical fashion show of Madame Roberta's latest creations. Quite a production. And who would have thought that Madame Roberta's atelier on Avenue Montaigne was so large? I do want to point out the diamond patterned door and Greek key surround in the photo of the model in the lame dress.

She's Ready for Her Close-Up

I've been trying to create a Cedric Gibbons moment in my study. Nothing lavish, mind you. Not like that set above, but rather a small statement.




I wanted it to be something you might see in a Fred and Ginger movie.




Of course, it had to be black and white. After all, most of my favorite movies are black and white.




It needed to cast a dramatic shadow.




And have a touch of the Neoclassical.




Maybe something sculptural?




What, oh what, to do?




Thanks to lamp.work.room, I found it...I mean her. A 1930s Grecian bust lamp with black base. As soon as I saw it on their website, I knew that this was to be my study's MGM moment. I think Cedric would have liked it. Don't you?

Although currently there are not other bust lamps on their website, lamp.work.room has some really fantastic antique, vintage, and contemporary lamps. I encourage you to check out their website. I'm anxious to buy another lamp from them, hopefully sooner rather than later.

(Image #1: Cedric Gibbons' set from "The Single Standard", 1929; #2 Fred and Ginger in "The Gay Divorcee", 1934; #3 "Bottoms Up", 1934; #6 Jean Harlow; #7 Kay Francis in "Girls About Town", 1931- images from Screen Deco: A Celebration of High Style in Hollywood (Architecture and Film, Vol. 3) by Howard Mandelbaum and Eric Myers. #4 Dolores Del Rio publicity shot. #5 "Cabiria", 1941; image from Designing Dreams: Modern Architecture in the Movies (Architecture and Film, 2) by Donald Albrecht.)

Watch This Movie (Sort of): Ziegfeld Follies

I've been wishing a lot lately that I could have a day- just one day- to do nothing. Well, ask and ye shall receive...although I received in the form of a stomach bug. No fun at all. So what else was there to do than to watch a movie? Ziegfeld Follies had been on my list for a while, and I was dying to see Tony Duquette's handiwork on the film's set. In case you're not familiar with it, the 1946 MGM film was a musical tribute to the late Flo Ziegfeld, Broadway producer extraordinaire. The extravaganza included musical numbers and skits by Fred Astaire, Judy Garland, Fanny Brice, Red Skelton, and others. If musicals give you hives, I wouldn't watch this movie. It was good but I was glad when it was over. (I now wish that I had watched a darker movie like Leave Her to Heaven or Born to Be Bad. There is nothing like whiling away an afternoon with a twisted movie.)

But back to Ziegfeld. I captured some screen shots of the Fred Astaire & Lucille Bremer number that is pure Tony Duquette. The scene begins in a red ballroom with enormously tall masked pages keeping watch over the room.

And then there's an impressive chandelier that crowns the room. Another uniquely Duquette flourish:



Outside the ballroom, guests are shown arriving in front of a naive but totally charming blue backdrop with white flowering trees.

When Fred and Lucille decide to take the action outside, the walls of the ballroom close to reveal more Duquette statues:



They dance amongst a faux bois bench with tasseled feet (wouldn't you love to have this on your patio?) I also am taken with the white painted urn with white branches. Hmmm, that might look nice somewhere in my home...



And after much twirling and dancing, the number ends with couples surrounding Astaire and Bremer on a revolving dance floor. How beautiful is this scene with the female dancers and their pink-hued dresses? See how the dancers are arranged according to the shade of pink that they're wearing? And look at white barren trees that they're standing in front of. At first, I thought they were holding horns above their heads.




There was one other number that charmed me- yet another involving Astaire and Bremer, only this time they're supposed to be Chinese. I don't believe that Duquette was involved in this number, or at least not that I have been able to determine. This gorgeous Chinoiserie set may be the work of one of the Art Directors, perhaps Cedric Gibbons or Merrill Pye. Don't you think these shots, below, look like handpainted wallpaper. Perhaps something from de Gournay or Fromental? This has to be one of the most inventive and fantastical sets I've seen.







If something like this were recreated today, it would be computer generated, something which would have far less charm than these sets from sixty years ago. Then again, I doubt anyone would do a Chinoiserie scene like this today. How many theatergoers would want to see something like this? Not many, except perhaps you and me.

(All screen shots from Ziegfeld Follies, MGM, 1946)

Watch This Movie: My Man Godfrey

Who me? A flair for the dramatic? Well, perhaps a little. I tried acting in Junior High. While I wasn't bad, I also wasn't going to win any awards either. So, I guess that I decided to pursue drama in other areas of my life, and what I found is that drama in interiors has fewer consequences and produces fewer headaches than drama in other areas of one's life. We're talking guilt-free drama. Don't you agree?

Perhaps this explains my fascination with set decoration, especially that from the 1930s. One of my favorite sets is that of My Man Godfrey, a 1936 screwball comedy starring William Powell and Carole Lombard. We all know that on movie sets, everything has to be bigger and larger than life in order to register on film. There's drama in scale, color, and in the case of films from the 1930s and 40s, in quirky decorative details too. I think it's this pastiche that captivates me. I mean, on the one hand, it's a little tacky, but it's also charming in an exuberant and hopeful kind of way.

If I had the space, I would seriously consider decorating a few rooms in the spirit of my favorite 1930s movies. Sure people might think I had lost control of my mental faculties, but it would be fun. And more importantly, it would be a most proper venue in which to wear my satin bed jackets, something which recently amused a friend who was touring my house. Who knows, I might even graduate to marabou bed jackets soon à la Carole Lombard. Because you know, I just can't give up the drama.


Do you think this would be ridiculous to wear for lounging and sleeping?



My favorite era of kitchen design is the 1930s. How many kitchens have you seen with such glitz? I'm taken with that chrome trim on the walls.


A kitchen like this would not be complete with a charming butler, plenty of silver serving pieces, and a battalion of cocktail glasses.


Here is a better shot of that modernist handrail that was in the kitchen.



1930s sets were filled with decorative oddities like painted motifs that were stuck everywhere...on doors, screens, walls. Plaster reliefs were also popular- like this one that adorned a door. I think this beats your average paneled door any day.



Something else that fascinates me are 1930s bathrooms. Note the frosted glass shower door; it looks like it has an underwater theme to it. I think I see fish.



Fireplaces were always ripe for high drama. This baroque fantasy had that large circular mirror complete with that plaster figure on a bracket. It's so....theatrical.


A white klismos chair in the spirit of T.H. Robsjohn-Gibbings.


Calla lilies were huge during this decade; this arrangement has me rethinking them.


It might be a little difficult to see, but take a look at that register (or is it a radiator cover?) underneath the window. I think that something like this needs to be put back into production, although I know that the pat answer would be that it costs too much.


This diamond and circular trellis is quintessential Hollywood. It almost looks like a bird cage.

(All images from My Man Godfrey, Universal Pictures)