Red-Headed Woman (1932)

I hadn't selected this on its own merits; it was simply on the same disc as Waterloo Bridge for being both from the same year and similarly risque. I considered skipping it altogether, but I could afford to kill another 79 minutes that night, and its ratings didn't look too bad. Besides, it featured a bigger name in the lead role.

If the title makes you think of negative stereotypes, that's probably the idea. Lil (Jean Harlow) is a social climber, but she climbs in a horizontal position, if you get my drift. I suppose it's more accurate to say "financial" rather than "social," because the aristocrats who know her game want nothing to do with her. She seduces quite a few men in the course of the story; the one with the most screentime is Bill (Chester Morris), a wealthy heir who wants to call it off before his wife (Leila Hyams) calls something else off, but Lil is too tenacious for his willpower.

Lil is also about the most despicable woman in '30s cinema. She has absolutely no shame, nor does she recognize her own hypocrisy in jealousy among other faults. There seems to be no line she won't cross. She awakened in me a desire for a punishment our society no longer approves.

If the plot wasn't pre-Code enough, things get considerably more overt than in WB. Someone even uses the word "sex" repeatedly in reference to sexual intercourse. But I wouldn't call the picture sexy, because I for one don't swing toward jerks like that.

Only when checking sources later did I understand that RHW was meant as a comedy. It does feature exaggeration, snark, and a wanton disregard for justice in the end. (You may call that a spoiler, but I wish I'd known going in.) Personally, I think I was more tickled by WB, which wasn't even partly comedic. I'm not surprised to learn that the original story, by F. Scott Fitzgerald rather than Anita "Gentlemen Prefer Blondes" Loos, was too serious for Irving Thalberg's liking.

If you check out the Forbidden Films collection, I advise you to pass on the second half of the double feature. It hasn't aged well.