Back during the Golden Age of Hollywood a double standard emerged: when a character pursues a love interest who’s hard to get, it depends on their sex. If a man goes after a woman who’s unattainable, it turns out to be a trap and his life is ruined. On the other hand, when a woman sets her sights on a man who isn’t the right fit, it’s up to her to be patient, so that in the end he changes for her and they live happily ever after.
She Married Her Boss (1935, Gregory La Cava) isn’t quite the sexual harassment comedy one might expect based on its title, but its frank depictions of a woman’s role are played to the height of their potential as scandalous confrontation in the guise of a distinctly provocative screwball woman’s picture. At its core is the tradwife vs. career trope. And its moral is bluntly overt: business crushes the life out of people.
The conflict presents itself when Julia reveals her ulterior bait and switch strategy. Her department of household efficiency ploy was a trojan horse to get her in. She reveals her next phase as stay at home wife, wearing excessively ornate frilly feminine gowns, refusing to go back to work (Barclay’s promoted her to vice president of his company at this point), until she finally surprises him at the office demanding to be taken out to lunch.
Barclay balks. But conveniently for Julia this whole time there’s been this guy ROGERS whom she was sent earlier to handle the merger of a failing business of his in Philadelphia, that’s been aggressively courting her at her office and home. And here like any great screwball comedy She Married Her Boss explores that moment with their main character finding themselves in desperate need of sex. Going into the second act break, the scene in the shop window is so creative. There’s a living room set, and the dummies mirror Julia’s empty existence that her life of luxury has allotted her. So she enlists Rogers to get completely wasted—the aftermath cut to with all of the mannequins holding drinks and falling over is so sad and poignant and fun. At the dummies party, there’s a beat where Julia and Rogers are singing songs and after there’s that female mannequin presenting her posterior frozen in lordosis and Julia corrects it, “Abigail, really.” That coded scene tells us Julia’s needs.
So what does Barclay do after giving up on his marriage? No one could have guessed this one. He gets extremely drunk, kidnaps Julia, goes on a wild drunk driving rampage and coerces her into throwing bricks vandalizing the storefront of his luxury department store then whisks her off to Cuba. Marriage salvaged. Julia’s happy. They’ll undoubtedly live happily ever after.
I hope not to neglect doing my best to emphasize how well She Married Her Boss works as a screwball woman’s picture. The dialogue is ferociously malicious hysterical. This takes the whole insult angle of the screwball even further than thus far scene elsewhere. My favorite.
Julia’s catty best friend MARTHA provides useful counterpoint arguments as advice, and my favorite quip is when she pops off to the little girl and has that line about cannibalism: the only way you’d be nice is roasted, or something like that.
But the little girl ANNABEL BARCLAY is played by this child star Edith Fellows and is such a spoiled evil brat it’s uproarious. Her intro she’s a chronic fibber and accuses the cook of serving cat. She also insults every other adult who comes in their home, calling them stupid and holding her own to the end. Of course at the very beginning when Julia’s cleaning house there’s this memorable scene when she gives the little girl a spanking; the camera pushes in on Annabel; what we hear offscreen is terrifying. But at least this narrative doesn’t skimp on conflict. And it’s always a comedy.
But what’s up with the femcel sister? I love how when her brother Richard gets drunk and she sees him she faints we never see her again. She hates Julia. And that beef is never resolved—that to me is like a bonus joke. It’s not that this movie is saying women shouldn’t work and belong in the home, it’s saying no one should. It’s a fun rebellion.
The conflict presents itself when Julia reveals her ulterior bait and switch strategy. Her department of household efficiency ploy was a trojan horse to get her in. She reveals her next phase as stay at home wife, wearing excessively ornate frilly feminine gowns, refusing to go back to work (Barclay’s promoted her to vice president of his company at this point), until she finally surprises him at the office demanding to be taken out to lunch.
Barclay balks. But conveniently for Julia this whole time there’s been this guy ROGERS whom she was sent earlier to handle the merger of a failing business of his in Philadelphia, that’s been aggressively courting her at her office and home. And here like any great screwball comedy She Married Her Boss explores that moment with their main character finding themselves in desperate need of sex. Going into the second act break, the scene in the shop window is so creative. There’s a living room set, and the dummies mirror Julia’s empty existence that her life of luxury has allotted her. So she enlists Rogers to get completely wasted—the aftermath cut to with all of the mannequins holding drinks and falling over is so sad and poignant and fun. At the dummies party, there’s a beat where Julia and Rogers are singing songs and after there’s that female mannequin presenting her posterior frozen in lordosis and Julia corrects it, “Abigail, really.” That coded scene tells us Julia’s needs.
So what does Barclay do after giving up on his marriage? No one could have guessed this one. He gets extremely drunk, kidnaps Julia, goes on a wild drunk driving rampage and coerces her into throwing bricks vandalizing the storefront of his luxury department store then whisks her off to Cuba. Marriage salvaged. Julia’s happy. They’ll undoubtedly live happily ever after.
I hope not to neglect doing my best to emphasize how well She Married Her Boss works as a screwball woman’s picture. The dialogue is ferociously malicious hysterical. This takes the whole insult angle of the screwball even further than thus far scene elsewhere. My favorite.
Julia’s catty best friend MARTHA provides useful counterpoint arguments as advice, and my favorite quip is when she pops off to the little girl and has that line about cannibalism: the only way you’d be nice is roasted, or something like that.
But the little girl ANNABEL BARCLAY is played by this child star Edith Fellows and is such a spoiled evil brat it’s uproarious. Her intro she’s a chronic fibber and accuses the cook of serving cat. She also insults every other adult who comes in their home, calling them stupid and holding her own to the end. Of course at the very beginning when Julia’s cleaning house there’s this memorable scene when she gives the little girl a spanking; the camera pushes in on Annabel; what we hear offscreen is terrifying. But at least this narrative doesn’t skimp on conflict. And it’s always a comedy.
But what’s up with the femcel sister? I love how when her brother Richard gets drunk and she sees him she faints we never see her again. She hates Julia. And that beef is never resolved—that to me is like a bonus joke. It’s not that this movie is saying women shouldn’t work and belong in the home, it’s saying no one should. It’s a fun rebellion.
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