Our sixth classic of 2014 is the first and only teaming of comedy legends Mae West and W. C. Fields, in My Little Chickadee. This 1940 film is a Western parody in which “novelties and notions” salesman Cuthbert J. Twillie (Fields) meets wanton woman Flower Belle Lee (West) on a train heading west, instantaneously falls in love with her, then spends the rest of the movie trying to talk her out of her ornate dresses and into bed — even after they are married!
It is a film which comes near the end of both stars’ popularity; Mae West made just one more comedy three years later, The Heat’s On, before retiring from the big screen until 1970, when she returned for Myra Breckinridge (and eight years later, Sextette). W. C. Fields had moved from Paramount to Universal, and was right in the middle of his late-career push; The Bank Dick and Never Give a Sucker an Even Break were still yet to come within the next year and a half. But the big-nosed comedian only made three more movies past those two classics, and in each of those last three 1944 movies (Follow the Boys, Song of the Open Road, Sensations of 1945) he essentially plays himself. West was 46 and Fields almost 60 when they made this movie, and neither star is particularly agile in their roles. To say that they were past their primes may be a fair judgment, especially upon seeing the resulting movie.
That is not say that neither star is appealing. Mae West is quite attractive with her blonde curls, voluptuous curves and flirtatious smirk. Every man and boy in the territory is fascinated by her, and for good reason. The only other woman in the story is sourpuss Mrs. Gideon (Margaret Hamilton), who is no match to Flower Belle in any respect, and who is constantly at odds with Flower Belle’s amorous adventures. West struts, wiggles and smirks across the screen, even singing a song, “Willie of the Valley,” to enchant the citizens of Greasewood, the town where she has been driven by infamy. And yet, West seems subdued, even constricted, in the role.
W. C. Fields is less inhibited. He is full of his usual bluster, blabbing non-stop to anyone who will listen, often saying absolutely nothing of import. He’s the kind of a guy who takes fifty words to say something that could be easily conveyed in seven. Much of this is meant to be entertaining, of course, and audiences of the era found him hilarious. I have, too, on occasion, but this was not one of them. Fields’ bluster works best when it is directed against someone or a strange situation, but here he has no one to work against. Fields was a fan of Mae West and was careful not to antagonize her character. Indeed, Twillie’s flattery of Flower Belle is constant and overwhelming — and eventually irritating — at least to me.
The relationship between Flower Belle and Twillie follows the time-honored tradition of foolishness wherein the love-struck male falls hard for the beautiful female, who has only predatory interest in his assumed wealth. She does call him “kind of cute” (!) on the train before marrying him — in a ceremony conducted by gambler Amos Budge (Donald Meek). Why does anyone think that Budge is a minister? He’s not wearing a collar. This is just one of the movie’s many moments that do not hold up. Flower Belle is only interested in Twillie because she sees him carrying a bag full of money, unaware that his money is trade bait for suckers to buy his cure-all “medicine.” Interestingly, Twillie never carries any of his “Famous Lizard Oil Hair Tonic and Corn Cure” product, which ought to lead any viewer to wonder just what the heck he is doing in the West. He never tries to sell anyone anything, even while carrying around a bag of money which is only good for a discount on his tonic. Mostly he plays cards and gambles, directs his Indian friend Milton (George Moran) to run errands for him, tends bar in one sequence, and tries to win the heart of his erstwhile wife, Flower Belle. Oh, and he becomes the new sheriff of Greasewood.
The whole sheriff thing is bizarre. The train which Twillie, Flower Belle, Mrs. Gideon, Amos Budge and other people are taking to Greasewood is attacked by Indians — for no logical reason. One man is killed in the attack — the new sheriff — but no one else seems to be hurt, except for Indians. They are picked off of their horses by sharpshooting Flower Belle. In town, Twillie takes credit for driving them off, and is quickly named sheriff by the town boss, Jeff Badger (Joseph Calleia), who has obvious eyes for Flower Belle, and wouldn’t mind at all if the newly minted sheriff didn’t last too long in his job. He says as much to his men at the saloon that he runs. Badger’s voice is distinctive, and it should come as no surprise to anyone to recognize it as having been heard in the opening scene, when Flower Belle’s stagecoach was robbed by the Masked Rider. It is yet another disappointment in this movie that the Masked Rider’s identity is so easily guessed.
Flower Belle gains another male admirer in Greasewood: crusading newspaperman Wayne Carter (Dick Foran), ostensibly the only person in the town who desires law and order. Carter is the only one to challenge Jeff Badger publicly, which includes taking romantic carriage drives with the woman that Badger covets. Flower Belle, knowing that her marriage to Twillie is a complete sham, has no scruples about kissing either admirer. Nor about arranging for a substitute bed mate for Twillie when she goes to meet the Masked Rider for a midnight rendezvous. Twillie takes a bath to prepare for his bride, then finds himself sharing a bed with a much hornier partner. This is the one sequence that genuinely lives up to its promise.
The film spends a great deal of time building up these plot lines but fails to provide any satisfactory payoffs for them. Twillie, seeing that the Masked Rider can kiss Flower Belle anytime he appears, dresses as the rogue to do the same and is promptly arrested as the villain. It’s ludicrous that Mrs. Gideon or anyone would mistake fat Twillie for the trim and agile Masked Rider, but they do. It’s up to Flower Belle to escape jail and save the day, along with Twillie’s life. She does, and the Masked Rider inexplicably returns much of the loot that he has stolen. The movie ends with Twillie leaving town, finally realizing that his marriage was not legal, but not before trading inverse quips with Flower Belle. He tells her she can visit him and “come up and see me sometime,” (a famous West tagline from another movie) and she calls him “My little chickadee,” invoking the title and repeating the ridiculous pet name theme he has been calling her the whole time.
My Little Chickadee is, to my view, not a good movie. Granted, comedy tastes have changed over time, but the classic comedies have a lot more life in them than this one does. Perhaps most disappointing is that it is the stars, West and Fields, who wrote this concoction. Nobody else can be blamed for the lack of chemistry, logic or laughs that this film fails to provide. Fields admired West and looked forward to working with her, but West was intimidated by the comedian and would not allow herself to cut loose. Indeed, it is in this film that Mae West seems to begin to imitate her own persona. Over the years the Mae West persona would gather its own momentum in popular culture, particularly in the gay community, to be widely and wildly glamorized and imitated, partly because the original was out of the public eye. West was flamboyant and outrageous even in her earliest films, and within a few years, everyone knew who she was and what she represented. By the time of her 1943 retirement she had become passé. Yet her legend only grew, and soon her persona was being both celebrated and lampooned on stage and on television. With her return to the screen in 1970 and 1978, West, who was by then far too old and stiff to be selling the same schtick, became, bizarrely, an imitator of her imitators. But that was later. It is my view that the process had already begun in My Little Chickadee.
I had seen this movie years ago and had a recollection of liking it, but I was not really prepared for how stiff and stilted it has become. West is fun to watch, especially when she is blasting away at the Indians on the train and actually moving. Much of the time she sits around and poses, surrounded by admiring men. It gets a little old. W. C. Fields is more adroit physically, but just will not keep quiet. His character is so stupid and illogical that I was hoping Jeff Badger would fulfill his promise to make Flower Belle a pretty widow. It is ironic to me that it is Fields who ruins the movie for me, as it is Fields who worked so hard to get the film made in the first place. But there it is. The stars are virtually the whole show, and if you like them, you’ll probably like the movie. Lots of people did, as it was a popular hit in 1940, receiving some very good notices along the way. It has its share of funny lines from West, such as these gems: “I was in a tight spot but I managed to wiggle out of it,” and “I see you’re a man of ideals. I better leave while you still have them.”
Is My Little Chickadee a classic? I vote no. No, because neither star is seen to their best advantage, because the script fails them again and again, because the plot (that they wrote, remember) lacks any cohesion or logic and because the climax makes no sense at all. Am I nitpicking? Perhaps, but comedy should (and often does) evolve naturally from situations just like drama. It’s funnier when it does, in my opinion. All I can say is that I was expecting something better. Much better, considering the legendary talent involved. ☆ ☆. 14 March 2014.