Life Begins (1932)

• Directed by James Flood. Co-directed by Elliott Nugent.

• Screen adaptation by Earl Baldwin, from a play by Mary M. Axelson.

• This is a film that is – quite astoundingly, if you take another gander at the date – set primarily in a hospital’s maternity ward. Though the tale introduces us to a diverse (in lifestyle & background – not in race – don’t get too excited) handful of expectant/new mothers, it is loosely centered on a young married couple called the Suttons – Jed (Eric Linden) and Grace (Loretta Young).

• The Suttons’ situation is an inarguably complicated one, and therefore worthy of the slightly more intense spotlight it/they are given: Grace has (relatively) recently begun serving a 20-year prison sentence for killing a dude.

“Well, there’s a lot of men in this world that oughta be killed,” sighs unexpectedly-pregnant-with-twins Florette (Glenda Farrell) jadedly. “And that guy she bumped off certainly deserved it!” she concludes, with an uptick of enthusiasm.

“He certainly had it coming to him,” Ms. Laughton (first name: Rose, played by Ruthelma Stevens) affirms, with knowing, energetic support. (Ms. – a title of which she is sharply, correctively proud, it is awesomely badass to note – Laughton almost expands on this comment to divulge the full truth of the murderee’s underworld dealings & connections – but cuts herself off when she recalls that she is in the presence of older, Bible-quoting Mrs. West (Clara Blandick).)

(For what it’s worth, for her part, Mrs. West states, with an empathetic finality: “Anyway, she’s in the same fix as the rest of us – and we all ought to do what we can to help her. Poor child – she looks half-starved for a little kindness.”)

(Yes, women are amazing.)

• Also present is head maternity nurse Ms. Bowers (the endlessly fantastic Aline MacMahon), Mrs. Banks (first name: Gladys, played by Gloria Shea), complainy Mrs. McGilvary (Vivienne Osborne), and – perhaps the most startlingly affecting character around – a woman identified in the credits merely (tellingly?) as “A Patient” (Dorothy Peterson).

The nameless Patient – who is not pregnant, but is a resident of the Psychiatric Ward who has wandered her way down to the place she believes (and states, with a gentle rapturedness that instantly succeeds in drawing our – and temporarily, the other women’s – compassion) she truly belongs – is psychologically fixated on the idea of becoming a mother. She describes to Grace with whispering, almost tearful concern her worry about getting the size/length of her (non-existent) baby’s blanket correct, and shares how she knits and unknits it, knits and unknits it, over and over, hoping – intensely and lovingly – to get it right.

The way Peterson plays this scene – as well as a subsequent one in which the Patient manages her way into the newborn nursery and delicately, proudly walks away with one of them (don’t worry – she doesn’t try to leave the hospital, and the orderlies catch her quickly) – is beautifully, authentically devastating. We’re never told this woman’s backstory – but our collective heart breaks for her, regardless. It’s a performance that’s haunting and memorable – and, considering its brevity – fabulously impressive. Bravo.

• Speaking of excellent performances – this film can be added to the list containing examples of Glenda Farrell’s maddeningly uncelebrated brilliance as an actor. As Florette Darien, she is asked to play a messy, off-kilter woman who is unhappy and annoyed to learn that she is pregnant…who successfully fills her hospital-issued hot water bottle with liquor, and – yes – proceeds to not-so-clandestinely consume it, to the point of drunkenness. (Eventually, this leads to her somewhat roughly, though actually with a surprising melodiousness, serenade her less-than-thrilled wardmates.)

The perfectly pitched, charismatic un-self-consciousness of Glenda Farrell’s performances continues to both delight and astound me. She is always fresh, always interesting, and always 100% committed to the role she is playing. I will never be able to articulate the amount of adoration and respect I hold for this woman as an actress adamantly – or joyfully – enough.

• Jed is a wee, dopey little thing, isn’t he? I don’t know Grace very well, but I feel like she could do way better.

• (By the way, Loretta Young has a fantastic scene of reaction, in response to Farrell/Florette’s second, more intensely performed (I mean this as a description of both Farrell & Florette’s performances, to be clear) song of serenade – which includes lyrics about a woman shooting a man dead. Young’s alert, engaged, single-tear reaction from the head of her bed is exactly what it needs to be – not more, not less. As is often the case with Young – she manages to hit the emotional sweet spot.)

• Whoa! Gilbert Roland appears for maybe a minute as an Italian man whose wife Rita (an impactfully solid Dorothy Tree) has just survived a problem-wrought childbirth – though their child has not.

(Of passing, intriguing complexity is the film’s inclusion of the language barrier issue experienced by this would-be father, in the most tragically inopportune of times; he cannot speak or understand a drop of English – and the medical staff, therefore, cannot properly – or with as much sensitivity as the situation requires – relay the fact that his child has died. (Wooooof.) This (very real, very troubling) issue isn’t, unfortunately, explored in any depth – but it is nonetheless there…and that, in 1932, I suppose is something.)

• Hahaha – what?!

Jed: “Where’s Dr. Lee? He’s taking care of her, he should…”

Replacement Doctor: “Well, Dr. Lee won’t be able to attend to your wife any longer. Dr. Lee had his eyes badly burned by an explosion in the laboratory a few minutes ago. He’s downstairs now, undergoing treatment himself.”

(What the fuck? Okay, Doc – if you say so!)

• Oh, God…this team o’ doctors is asking Jed to decide between Grace’s life or their baby’s. Jed probably can’t even decide whether or not to wear matching socks every morning – this is not an ideal scenario!

“Never mind the baby,” Jed exclaims, semi-belligerently, without even a second of hesitation. “I want my wife!”

Easy there, slugger – I’m not saying you’re wrong – but, given that we’ve known your wife for less than an hour and yet are distinctly confident that she’d wholeheartedly desire the opposite – you might want to afford the life-and-death call a little more scrutiny.

• Whoa. Like…whoa. Y’all – the doctors exit the conference with Jed, and we’re given the impression that they are going to disregard his clown-ass opinion (er…*cough* – let’s just move on, shall we?) and instead attempt to save the baby – doing so out of disrespect for Grace’s status as a murderess-prisoner…EXCEPT:

Then we are told, via the doctors’ huddle with Nurse Pinty (Mary Philips) that the real basis for them going against Jed’s wishes is the fact that Grace is actually awake and has been lucidly expressing her wish that they prioritize the baby’s life over her own. And the doctor/Pinty huddle is like, ‘We’re going to defer to the mother’s opinions here, over her husband’s’ and then get the fuck to work doing so.

I find this absolutely amazing, for this moment in time. Giving more weight to a woman’s authority over that of her husband?! Shit, man. I was not expecting that!

• If I have major (or, for that matter, minor) surgery – I would 100% want Aline MacMahon as my designated pillar-of-strength hand-holder.

• Sadly, the above-referenced boost of feminine confidence and badassery is not enough to save poor Grace – but her last conscious thought was of these doctors valuing her perspective and opinion over those of a man’s – and that had to be worth a hell of a lot.

• This is a truly unique piece of filmmaking that presents an impressive variety of motherhood scenarios and issues – and does not shy away from communicating the inherent complexity of all of them. Though the movie’s obviously limited by both time and the censors of the era (even the pre-Code years drew lines of appropriateness somewhere) – it’s still able to pack in a ton of topics not often (ever?) covered by the films being made contemporarily.

• Most of all, I appreciate the way the film puts its emphasis squarely on the woman’s experience – by comparison (and for lack of a better phrase) rolling its eyes at the man’s. I’ve already described its treatment of Husband Jed (who – it’s worth nothing further – is a foundationally dopey character)(at one point, he pawns his winter coat to buy Grace an aesthetically pleasing – but functionally impractical – shawl, like a goddamn fool), and the only other male who’s really featured – Mr. Banks (a, perhaps shockingly, straightfacedly effective Frank McHugh) is sent on a made-up errand (a quest for a can of ether) by Nurse Bowers. When questioned (I think by Jed, actually), Ms. Bowers is like, ‘Of course the hospital is not out of ether – I just wanted him to leave this fucking waiting room – and I knew he’d probably be gullible enough to fall for that garbage.’

How many films of this era portray the idea and/or experience of a child being born as: nurse/doctor comes out and informs man – man reacts joyfully or with an overplayed amount of drama, then gets his handshakes and cigar…and the only time we see the mother/true champion is for a minute or two, a little after, perfectly made up and cooing something totally one-dimensional and unrevealing such as ‘Aw, honey – isn’t he/she just perfect?’

This one takes the time to say: No – it is so much more than that.

• Despite the constraints imposed by the inability to physically depict the experience of becoming a mother, the prevailing message of the film seems to be…the un-‘tidy box’-ness and non-‘black and white’-ness of the emotions that accompany – and life circumstances that lead to – motherhood. There is no one simple pathway, there is no one clean-cut result. Mothers are amazing creatures, and we should trust their opinions over Jed’s.