Funny, I thought I hid her on the right side, not the left.
I learned something tonight (or last night, depending on when this is published): that it’s not impossible to enjoy the romantic farces made in the 1940s and 50s.
I thought I’d hate Tell It To The Judge (1949) as soon as I saw the first gag, but they were smoothly done and organic to the plot. Oh, the plot? The former Mrs. Peter Webb, now Miss Meredith, is up for a seat on the Federal judiciary – in fact, the first woman to be nominated. Her problem? Her recent divorce from her philandering husband has placed her nomination at risk of rejection by the stodgy, conservative, and patronizing members of the Senate Judiciary Committee. And she’s furious.
Mr. Peter Webb’s problem? He’s not a philanderer. The pretty blonde he was seen with, a material witness in an important case, keeps following him about, begging for protection against mobsters. Which is sort of like how he follows his former wife about, begging for her affections again. Throw in an opposed grandfather, a lighthouse keeper, and a grifter, not to mention the most adorable St. Bernard ever, balanced by some annoying high society types, and he’s in for a rough time.
The details are not important, except as to whether they seem organic or imposed, and, for the most part, they are organic. Are they funny? My Arts Editor burst out laughing at points where I thought we’d be squirming, so this observation suggests that, yes, they are funny. She can be a harsh audience.
Will this make you think for the next few days? I don’t think so. It’s light and fluffy and disappears like smoke. But it was fun while it lasted.
