Skyscraper Souls (1932) is an example of the ironic sense of fun teased out of terrible times—a hallmark of enduring the Great Depression—and the audacious bemusement over immorality that contributed to the adoption of The Code.
A rift in the timeline of cinematic history was torn, and movies like Skyscraper Souls were afterward deemed Pre-Code, not merely to suggest they were of a lesser standard but that they were emblematic of an era of don’t-give-a-damn long before Clark Gable was ever given official, one-time-only, permission to utter the phrase.
We were on our way down in 1932, a few years after the 1929 Wall Street Crash, and not yet hit rock bottom, but we could see which way we were headed. It made many people fearful and others, especially filmmakers, fearless. The setting is a New York City skyscraper, notably a bit taller than the only other building rivaling its height—the real-life Empire State Building, which was finished the previous year.
The fictional building is owned by Seacoast Bank, which is owned by Warren William, whose financial buccaneering life is centered on this massive monument to his investment prowess. His sexual prowess is another thread to the tale.
In this huge building are many businesses, and the several
minor roles comprised of fellow financiers and the massive support system to
their lives including clerks, secretaries, waiters, and elevator operators,
make up the cast of characters. We don’t
get to know all of them well, most are given only a thumbnail sketch, but we
know them because for the most part, they are us, the little guys. Some ride the coattails of the big shots,
others are gullible enough to think that emulating them will make themselves
big shots, too. There is comedy in the
mix, and tragedy.
The story centers on Maureen O’Sullivan, only two years into her Hollywood career and already this was her 12th movie (she had even made one Tarzan film by this time—and will be forever remembered as Jane). She plays the secretary to the assistant of Warren William. The assistant is Verree Teasdale, herself only a few years in Hollywood and her 7th film. She is intelligent, polished, runs her department with efficient and no-nonsense authority, clearly Mr. William’s trusted right-hand man. She has a somewhat motherly relationship with Maureen O’Sullivan, whose family she knew, and so she has taken a protective interest in the young woman, alone in the wicked city. Heaven may protect the working girl, but not if she doesn’t want to be protected, and this is the case with Miss O’Sullivan.
Her boss, Warren William, has designs on her. First, he must dispense with her self-appointed chaperone, Miss Teasdale. Verree Teasdale is his current mistress.
By the way, if you’re new to this blog, there are going to
be so many spoilers it will make your head spin, so discreetly look away
if you don’t want the sordid details and your innocence shattered.
Warren William, tall, so handsome, with sudden surprising dimples and a twinkle in his eyes, reminds one of John Barrymore, but there is even something more suave and impressive. A charming seducer, unrelenting in the chase, but not so lustful as rather being amused by life, as if it is one big joke. Eventually, we will see that his charm disguises a deep and arrogant lack of empathy for others, and that winning is everything no matter what it takes.
This is one of the surprises in the movie and of the
Pre-Code era, in that a character who is essentially a villain can be so likable. He is not the only one who shows more than
one flaw, and yet we can forgive the flaws because everyone here is human. We may not, by the end of the movie, wish to
associate with any of these people, but cannot be angered or repulsed by them,
because they are just people in the rat race.
If the big building is a monument, it is also a trap.
We get our first lesson in flawed character when we see that Warren William, who also has an apartment in the building, shares breakfast with his right-hand…mistress. Verree Teasdale sits across from him in a negligee, chuckling that she will be late for work and need to make excuses, while Mr. William, in his robe, shares companionable conversation in front of a sheer curtain which does not hide the bed in the background. The scene is deftly accomplished with a wink and a nod to the audience.
Warren William is, however, married to Hedda Hopper, who breezes into his office later on for a fill-up on her allowance. They also have a happy relationship, but it is much more open and honest than the one he has with Verree Teasdale. Hedda Hopper knows he has relationships with other women and laughs at him, and takes his money, and they part as good friends. She knows, as she will explain much later in the movie to Miss Teasdale, that Mr. William is not the sort of man who can be tied down, and he will not divorce her because she is his convenient excuse to never get caught in a real marriage. He can always say his wife will never give him a divorce.
This is what he tells Teasdale, and she accepts the
arrangement, until a chance meeting with Hedda Hopper compels her to ask why
she will not give Warren a divorce so that she can marry him. Hedda schools her on the reality of their
marriage arrangement, and Teasdale is shocked.
But there is more gnawing at her. Warren William has, in the meantime, taken a liking to Maureen O’Sullivan, luring her to his apartment during a party where he (and his silly drunken pal played by George Barbier) plies her with champagne to get her drunk. A few scenes later, we see she has accepted the post as his new mistress. This is not a case of an honest girl led astray by love. She doesn’t particularly love him, but he is charming, fun, and…rich.
It's the Great Depression, Charlie Brown, and everybody in
the building is in survival mode.
It’s why she is reticent to marry her new beau, played by Norman Foster, who is a teller in Warren William’s bank on a lower floor. He is a fast-talking wiseacre with a habit of bumping into people, store displays, and generally bumbling his way through the magnificent Art Deco lobby of the building. He is pushy in the manner of early 1930s film boyfriends, to the point where we can understand Maureen O’Sullivan’s annoyance with him. Especially when he does the particularly creepy ploy of calling the security guard to bring her to him so he can find out her name and address under the guise of investigating a theft. Why she suddenly thinks he’s cute and wants to date him is a mystery to any sensible person, but it is necessary for the plot, so we accept it. Why she holds out marrying him is largely due to his $50 per week salary (which was actually pretty good), and his $1,800 in the bank. It’s not enough to live on. Millions of others were living on far less, but they are not Maureen O'Sullivan.
Warren William offers furs, jewels, money, and a trip on his
yacht. She’s raring to go.
We meet one of my favorites, Wallace Ford, as another working stiff in the building, who, in vying for the attention of Helen Coburn, will join a frantic mob at the stockbroker’s office, also conveniently in the building, to attempt to make a killing. Money is everything, and for these folks, the sure path to love.
But not to Jean Hersholt, a mild-mannered jeweler who is trying to woo Anita Page, a street-wise woman of easy virtue, also desperate for cash. In the movie’s most touching scene, she confesses to him her sordid past, and he says he knows but does not care, and she is moved and shamefacedly asks for a dollar so she can buy something to eat. Later, we are told they are on their honeymoon. There seems to be such need and open honesty between them, that we cannot help but believe they are the only ones in the movie who will succeed in finding contentment.
But even they are touched by scandal when Wallace Ford, who
has lost a bundle on the market, sneaks into Jean Hersholt’s open jeweler’s
vault but gets caught there when Hersholt, who does not know he’s there, shuts
and locks the door. Helen Coburn knows
he’s stuck in there, she was helping to create a diversion so he could sneak
in. She was going to share the loot with
him. In a story of scamps and
miscreants, she, a minor character, pulls off the most venial act by walking
away and knowingly letting Wallace Ford suffocate in the vault overnight because
she does not want to be implicated. We see
her afterward parasitically attaching herself to a new prospective suitor.
It is not the only death.
But we’ll get to that in a minute.
Warren William, pressed by his associates as well as his business
rivals, is in danger of losing his bank and his building. He smoothly cuts out his associates and makes
a backdoor deal with George Barbier. It’s
a fun series of shots where they talk business first thing in the morning—to recover
from a night of drinking—in the fitness center in the bowels of the
building. They talk furtively in the gymnasium, in the steam room, get massages by rough masseurs, and swim together in a large pool,
floating on their backs and finalizing their verbal pact to create a
merger. To really capitalize on their
new arrangement, they will launch a stock market scheme that was once called “painting
the tape.” They will send the bank stock
soaring, and then dump it, shorting the market.
Warren William’s character actually reminds one of Jesse Livermore, in
his piratical market maneuverings and his sexual appetite, but I don’t know if
he was patterned on Livermore or only a type.
Later that day, Verree Teasdale, still working on the problem of keeping Warren William away from Maureen O’Sullivan, takes Norman Foster to lunch in the grand restaurant on an upper floor and urges him to continue his relationship with Maureen. When he complains that she will not marry him because of his lack of wealth, Miss Teasdale gives him the tip about putting his cash into the Seacoast stock. Thrilled, he rushes down to the broker’s and buys shares. Wallace Ford observes him, and copies him, doing the same. Jean Hersholt, normally reticent about stock speculation, also joins in, and a crowd of people clamor at the broker’s to get their Seacoast shares as the stock rises and rises throughout the afternoon. It is a fury of greed and high hopes for a high life and dreams coming true.
Then the nightmare.
Warren William skillfully pulls out, the stock tumbles, and so do the
life savings of many a little guy. "More margin!" is the old familiar cry. We see
Norman Foster sobbing into a handful of tickertape.
The next day, Wallace Ford, left with nothing, dies in Jean
Hersholt’s jeweler’s vault he has attempted to rob.
Anita Page confesses her sins to Jean Hersholt, who cares
nothing about his stock losses and everything about her.
Maureen O’Sullivan, blithely jumping over to Warren William’s
caresses and enormous wealth, increased by the merger and the stock swindle,
plans her new life as a pampered mistress.
In Mr. William’s case, it is also out with the old and in
with the new. We see him tell his manager
to arrange for a house in New England for Teasdale and to pension her off. She’s retiring, he says.
When Miss Teasdale becomes aware of her forced “retirement,”
especially with Mr. William’s cold explanation, “A man needs youth. Without it, life is stale, meaningless.”
She tells him to give up Maureen O’Sullivan or she will kill
him. He laughs at her, and she takes the
pistol from his desk and shoots him. Is
it out of hurt and jealousy or is she really just protecting Maureen? Both, I expect.
But he seems not seriously hurt; he is shocked, chuckles,
takes the gun from her when she apologizes, and sits in a chair. When his manager enters, he does perhaps the
only unselfish act in his life when he says it was all an accident, that he
shot himself when he dropped the gun.
The manager runs to get help, and Mr. William takes his handkerchief and
wipes her fingerprints off.
Then he slumps over, collapses to the floor, and dies.
Verree Teasdale, in shock, goes to the roof of his magnificent building, stands precariously on the ledge, and allows herself to fall into oblivion.
In a previous scene, Warren William boasts of the grand accomplishment
in life this skyscraper means to him. “A
million men sweated to build it. I hate
to tell you how many men dropped off these girders when it was being built, but
it was worth it.”
We have barely enough time to catch our breath when the next
scene is many months later, snow is falling softly in the city, and Hedda
Hopper breezes by again, happily concluding a deal to sell the building and
carry on with her immensely privileged life.
Maureen O’Sullivan chases Norman Foster for a second chance, and after some pouting, he agrees. His fifty bucks a week salary is good enough now. They are so shallow, we have a hard time caring about them. Sometimes the very rich and the very poor have a lot in common if all they value is money.
Jacqueline T. Lynch is the author of Ann Blyth: Actress. Singer. Star. and Movies in Our Time - Hollywood Mirrors and Mimics the Twentieth Century and Hollywood Fights Fascism and Christmas in Classic Films. TO JOIN HER READERS' GROUP - follow this link for a free book as a thank-you for joining.
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