Kay Francis: The Best of 1937-1946

Disc 2

Confession (1937)
Secrets of an Actress (1938)
In Name Only (1939)
It’s a Date (1940)
The Feminine Touch (1941)
Always in My Heart (1942)
Four Jills in a Jeep (1943)
(Interlude) (1944)
Allotment Wives (1945)
Wife Wanted (1946)

Preface

This is Part 2 in a comprehensive career assessment of classic film actress Kay Francis. Part 1 covered the years 1929 to 1936, where Kay starred in some of her best known and most beloved films. Part 2 will cover 1937 to 1946, a tumultuous period that saw Kay battling with her studio and working sporadically through the Second World War.

I have taken inspiration from various “Best of” musical albums to create my own version of Kay Francis’ greatest cinematic hits. These are my personal selections, plus reviews, for my favorite film from each year of her career. Think of it as a chronological, double disc collection.

Much thanks to Lynn Kear and John Rossman, the authors of Kay Francis: A Passionate Life and Career, who did all the hard research and painstakingly cataloged Kay’s extensive personal journals. I would also like to thank Michael Ohanlon, the host of the fanpage KayFrancisFilms.com for his collection of photographs and quotes related to Kay’s filmography.

It is highly recommended to read the introduction from Part 1 before proceeding.

1937

Confession

Quite possibly the Mt. Everest of the Kay Francis weepie, Confession is the closest thing to Kay starring in a classic Josef von Sternberg picture. A remake of the Pola Negri German expressionist film, Mazurka, director Joe May was insistent on recreating it almost shot-for-shot, with stopwatch in hand (to the entire cast and crew’s consternation). Despite a difficult production, Confession turned out to be the last great Kay Francis work, as Michael Ohanlon, host of KayFrancisFilms.com writes, “it was the ideal Kay Francis melodrama in which she proved she was more than a glamorous clothes-horse, but a serious actress capable of damn good work.” He goes on to call it an “unappreciated classic” and I see no lie. It’s a dramatic doozy of a film, featuring Kay as a bright, young Warsaw ingénue crashing hard. Confession features, to name a few: drunken indiscretions, cheap cabarets, foster children, and amputee Ian Hunter. Her career was on the decline here, but you wouldn’t know it by the feeling you get when the orchestra swells, the tears well up in her eyes and the final credits roll. She looks like the biggest movie star in the world.

1938

Secrets of an Actress

As great as 1937’s Confession was, it also appears to have been the film that finally pushed Kay Francis over the edge. Tired of “suffering for her art,” she begged Warner Bros. for lighter fare. She got the political comedy First Lady, which critics and fans hated (I don’t think it’s that bad). Studio head Jack Warner lost faith in Kay as a top star, and began to actively try to run her out of her expensive contract by giving her lackluster, sometimes even downright embarrassing, roles. So obvious was Warner’s ruse that fans began to publicly complain about the ignoble treatment of Warner Bros’ top paid star. But Jack didn’t budge, therefore it’s hard to pick a “best” film from one of her most dismal years as an actress.

Thus we have Secrets of an Actress, certainly not a great film, maybe not even a good film, but definitely better than the other films released that year (My Bill, Women Are Like That). It’s best to remember that even in Kay’s darkest times in her battle with the studio, she held her head high, showed up to work promptly each day, and was an utmost professional. Here she’s once again paired with George Brent, but the script can’t muster any chemistry between the two. It doesn’t help that said script seems to be poking fun at Kay’s character being…thirty-years-old. An age that is apparently close to ninety in Hollywood years. Don’t dismay, things would look a little brighter come next year, with Kay freed from her contract and excited by the possibility of becoming a freelance actress.

1939

In Name Only

With her contract to Warner Bros. complete, Kay Francis was now free to work wherever she’d like. Her first project was a friendly gesture from director John Cromwell, whom she worked with on two of her very early Paramount pictures, and friend/actress Carole Lombard. Kay loved the role, as it allowed her to play what she called “the heavy,” a cold, calculating, gold-digging wife to poor rich boy, Cary Grant. In the hands of any other actress the role could have easily become a caricature, an unsympathetic villain, but for a pro like Kay it ends up being the film’s most fascinating characterizations.

Thanks to the co-stars of Grant and Lombard, this has become one of Kay’s most-seen films. For Kay, it’s a good showing, for her partners, not so much. Most viewers find the non-screwball, melodramatic plot disappointing. I don’t disagree that with this cast, maybe they should have made it funnier, and that the last act featuring Grant on death’s door, suffering from a case of falling-asleep-in-front-of-a-window, and Lombard acting as his loving savior, is a bit eye-rolling. Still, Kay comes out unscathed (the actress, not the character). She got good reviews for the part. It’s a shame this didn’t lead to more roles in this vein. Kay could obviously play the vamp, and In Name Only showed she could also play a more mature, 40s-style bad girl.

1940

It’s a Date

An underrated joy of a film. Despite the initial premise—Kay once again playing an aging actress and mother to a grown woman (played by Deanna Durbin)—It’s a Date is a refreshing, fun and surprisingly heartfelt story about a still young, unwed mother, competing for parts (and men) with her 19-year-old daughter. There’s an unspoken point about Kay’s character having given birth to her daughter at a very young age, most likely out of wedlock, but even in these Code-enforced years, she is never shamed for it, and instead seems to have become a stronger person because of it.

It’s a great performance by Kay, and although she personally never had any children, I imagine she could easily relate to the situation: growing older, feelings of inadequacy and an endless search for true love. There’s something so comforting in watching a Hollywood film in which two adults hovering around 40-years-old are allowed to be awkward and sexy together. Truly, an underrated Kay Francis film, one not to be skipped by even those that are allergic to musicals and and/or Ms. Durbin.

1941

The Feminine Touch

A film that comes so close to a kinky foursome you want to kick the TV. Also, a film that is almost overshadowed by the wonderfully ridiculous head pieces that Kay Francis wears. On paper, a Rosalind Russell, Don Ameche, Van Heflin and Kay Francis comedic cocktail directed by the reliable W.S. Van Dyke sounds like a home-run. It’s not exactly that (maybe a strong double), but it comes close to greatness, with Kay playing the straight woman to Russell’s screwball. It’s a tad overlong on both ends, but there is some very funny stuff once our core four get together in the middle section. Kay plays the torch carrier for “honest neurotic” book publisher Van Heflin, who is love-blinded by his proximity to her (they work together) and his own immaturity. Kay still comes off like a bankable star. For all its pacing faults and overly-punchy plotting it’s an entertaining film. It’s hard to imagine that less than five years later Kay Francis would be gone from Hollywood.

1942

Always in My Heart

There’s not much to choose from in 1942. Bored, depressed and fearful about the war, Kay Francis made only two films that year: Always in My Heart and the downright annoying Diana Barrymore vehicle, Between Us Girls. The former is not great, but is noteworthy for the reunion between Kay and old play Walter Huston. The two came up on the stage and screen, and reportedly had a few mostly one-sided affairs (on Huston’s end), but remained longtime friends. Many Kay Francis fans consider this her career nadir, or at least, very close to it. The children in the film are borderline evil, Huston plays harmonica nearly non-stop, and Kay’s character of Marjorie is given the unattractive moniker of “Mudge.” I can’t recommend, but like I said, 1942 was slim pickings in the career of Kay Francis, and it’s still better than Between Us Girls.

1943

(Interlude)

Much of Kay Francis’ year was spent doing USO work, either grueling, in-person appearances overseas, or charity efforts at home. When she returned from her time overseas she made several appearances on popular radio broadcasts including Cavalcade of America, The Silver Theatre and the Lux Radio Show. These were lucrative jobs, but by no means easy money grabs for an out-of-work actress. They often involving weeks-long rehearsals and nerve-wracking live broadcasts.

1944

Four Jills in a Jeep

The only film Kay Francis released in 1944 is a very loose recreation of the previous year’s USO tour. Kay reprises her role as the tour’s mistress of ceremonies. As noted, “she doesn’t sing, dance or recite, but is willing to stick out her neck, if necking is entertainment.” Carole Landis sighs, sings, and gets the central romance. Martha Raye is the comedic relief. Mitzi Mayfair kicks up her heels. There is a wonderfully awkward moment when Kay meets a former pediatrician (“oh, a baby doctor!”) now sergeant and her idea of small talk is mentioning how she’s “been a mother so often…dozens and dozens of times. I’ve even been Deanna Durbin’s mother!” (not to mention Jane Bryan’s, Sybil Jason’s, Margaret Lindsay’s, Dickie Moore’s, Anita Louise’s…)

Jokes aside, Kay was deeply affected by the real life tour, and initially found it hard to integrate back into her high Hollywood society upon returning. But soon enough she was back to her old self, attending parties at Pickfair and juggling eligible men (one being actor/director/ladies man Otto Preminger). But back to the film itself, I’m happy to report, it’s not terrible. It’s a throwback to the revue-style films of the early talkies era, with a frivolous romance plot interspersed with frequent singing and dancing vignettes. Kay is wonderful as the M.C., the veteran of the cast, really classing up the joint. And where else can you see Kay Francis ride a camel?

1945

Allotment Wives

In 1950, Kay Francis starred in a successful Broadway production of Goodbye, My Fancy. A year later, Warner Bros. released a film adaptation starring Joan Crawford. In another universe, the role would have gone to Kay. But by then she was out of the Hollywood system, but five years earlier she starred in and produced Allotment Wives, the closest thing to a traditional (albeit b-movie) film noir.

Kay plays “Mrs. Seymour,” the head of a wide-ranging syndicate that bilks returning WWII soldiers out of their dependency benefits through a little harmless bigamy and fraud. Far from her golden years of Warner Bros’ lead starlet, this would end up being the second to last picture she made before retirement. And honestly, it would have been better if it was her last, because it’s a strong picture, and a much higher note to go out on than next year’s Wife Wanted.

Kay signed a three film deal with Monogram Pictures which gave her a co-producer title and additional control over script rewrites. It’s questionable how far she thought her career could really go with Monogram, but the studio nearly had a smash hit on their hands a year prior with Dillinger, so anything was possible. That said, it feels like this film meant something to Kay. As Sheila Seymour, she’s a woman just looking for her version of the American dream. When she says “You know my rules” to her underlings, the room goes quiet. She’s smart, she’s cautious, but money and power are intoxicating. The mob boss stuff is a little misleading, though. A good chunk of the film is dedicated to her daughter drama (even in her own picture, Kay can’t escape the daughter drama!) and an old reformatory school pal dropping in and threatening to expose her sordid past.

The Mrs. Seymour character, both a crime boss and caring mother trying to hold it all together, gives Francis a lot of emotional space to act in. Those who have only seen Kay in her light, early comedies may be pleasantly surprised at her range. It’s a bit heartbreaking that she never got to play more parts like this—to age gracefully into new, different and dare I say, mature, roles. Francis in bed—hair down, wearing a monogrammed nightshirt and brandishing a pistol—should be as famous a scene as Crawford in furs, descending the staircase.

1946

Wife Wanted

A bittersweet end to the film career of Kay Francis. In a way, Wife Wanted brings it all full circle. Kay was highly appreciative of Warner Bros. believing in her star power, and her first picture with the studio after leaving Paramount was titled Man Wanted. It showed that they made the right decision to invest in her as a leading lady—a modern, sophisticated woman, not just another dark haired vamp. But the two pictures couldn’t be more dissimilar: Wife Wanted is a poverty row Monogram picture, a thoroughly modern “movie-of-the-week” style b-picture, released to second-rate theaters and crickets from the major film publications.

Like Kay’s other poverty row pictures, I found this one just a bit too safe, and at its worst, like a moralizing, too-topical message film. If Divorce was sickeningly pro-marriage, then Wife Wanted is anti-Lonely Hearts Clubs. It’s a thoroughly modern story for the time: faded film star Carole Raymond (Francis) can’t find any suitable roles so her agent suggests she get into…real estate. She is then used as unwitting bait in a Lonely Hearts/Friendship Club ruse that defrauds rich suckers.

I’m a broken record on this point, but it’s worth repeating: it’s a damn shame Francis never got her Joan Crawford second act. Kay did a few proto-noirs like this but they never had the budget or the cast to play like anything but low-budget imitations. I imagine Kay would have been fantastic during the genre’s golden years in the late 40s/early 50s, but instead, frustrated by the roles offered to her, and not as willing to fight for better ones like Crawford did, she quietly retired from film (thanks to wise investments and frugality, something Crawford knew nothing of) and returned to her first love, stage acting.

This is still the closest to what we might have gotten from Francis in the classic noir era, though: frantically driving along darkened California roads; nervously pacing the beach house while draped in fur; the fall girl in a murder/suicide plot. It’s just unfortunate this isn’t a more exciting picture. Robert Shayne is the love interest who goes undercover as a Texas sheep rancher to bust open the crooked matrimonial agency. Paul Cavanagh is the murdering blackmailer. They’re both fine. It’s all fine. But “fine” is maybe the worst thing you can say about a picture like this. The best thing I can say is that at least it’s not embarrassing.

Katharine Edwina Gibbs—born in Oklahoma, raised on the road, a lover of New York, a hesitant resident of California, and for a brief moment in time, one of the brightest stars in Hollywood—still has that glow. Even if everything around her is dim.