Kitty Foyle, likable though it is, makes a few decisions that could steer contemporary viewers away (and may have turned some off even when it originally came out in 1940).
The biggest, undoubtedly, is opening a romantic drama about a working-class woman’s core of self-respect with a “cheeky” silent film turned faux-newsreel intro about how women used to be domestic goddesses and now that the suffragettes have had their way, they have to slog it out on public transportation like everyone else. What a lousy deal, right, ladies? I would not go so far as to say Kitty Foyle is a feminist classic, but it’s far less retrograde overall than this sour opening seems to promise. It’s not like it spends its whole runtime scolding Kitty for not demurely waiting at home.
In fact, to the extent that Kitty Foyle has a message at all, it’s that generational wealth breeds a certain self-indulgent carelessness, and so the rich will always disappoint you (and they will even disappoint each other).
That’s a lesson Ginger Rogers’s Kitty learns slowly and painfully. Her father–a cranky doctor with a heart of gold and an unfortunate habit of exclaiming, “Judas Priest!” (an eventual running “joke”)–accidentally introduces her to the sunny, affable magazine editor Wyn Strafford (Dennis Morgan), who hires her as an office secretary. But Wyn is also Wynnewood Strafford VI, the most hilariously old money name in existence, and the magazine is a kind of dalliance with independence, one he’s destined to inevitably give up before he fades back into the family establishment. Kitty’s father (Ernest Cossart) says as much: the upper-crust may want other things, and they may try other things, but in the end, they always stick with their own.
Wyn does love Kitty, and Morgan plays him with enough sincere charm that it’s easy to focus only on that and overlook the fact that he never makes plans for her, not really. Kitty realizes early on that, intentionally or not, he’s keeping her cordoned off from his “real” life in Philadelphia. Their biggest romantic moment is when he duplicates the society Assembly there for her in New York by renting out a club so they can dance together all night. In another context, recreating the experience without the social tension and ostracism she’d experience if he brought her along to the real thing could be touching. Here, it plays as another sign that while he cares, she’s still a private, expensively maintained daydream to him.
That doesn’t change even as he whisks her into an impulsive marriage: we find out afterwards that his family (trying in their own hidebound way to be accepting) gave him advice on helping her integrate into society, but he didn’t take it. He has no real plan for going forward. Deep down, he knows the dream will evaporate like mist.
But does Kitty know? At the beginning of the film, in the present day, she has a choice to make, between marrying (relatively) poor striving do-gooder doctor Mark (James Craig) and running off for good to play house in Buenos Aires with the now-married Wyn. It’s 1940, so you know what choice she’s supposed to make, but what’s surprising–beyond that the film lets her get divorced even after she’s slept with Wyn–is how much realistic emotional texture her decision-making gets. Some of her concerns are grounded in a pragmatic acceptance of how much scandal she wants to put up with (her jaundiced reflection on when the tag of “Wyn’s girlfriend” would fade to “Wyn’s woman,” for example), and some are more about the future she hopes for (her father has a sharp line about how she looks ahead whereas Wyn, by nature and training, cannot), but all of it is rendered sympathetically and with interest and care.
It’s a very human portrayal, one that’s laser-focused on her needs and concerns, and you wouldn’t think I’d get to that sentence after the description of how this opens. It’s not Rogers at her fizziest and most irresistible, but I can see how this won her that Academy Award.
Kitty Foyle is streaming on HBO Max.
About the writer
Lauren James
Lauren James is a writer who wears many different hats (and pen names). She lives in Connecticut with her wife and two cats.
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What did we watch?
Justified, Season Four, Episode Two, “The Kids Aren’t All Right”
Boyd is starting to get very Vic here; he’s desperately trying to convince Ava he’s got things under control. Curious to see where this goes. I really enjoy Raylan’s relationship with Loretta, because he’s legitimately invested in trying to help her improve herself and live up to her potential, but he’s also outside his area of expertise and knows it. He relates to her and her frustrations, and that means he knows condescending to her isn’t gonna help her. He repeatedly stresses throughout the episode that he’s not actually a cop, and he doesn’t have that cliche cop need to actually try and ‘fix’ people’s hearts and minds.
“Are you kidding me, coz I can’t tell anymore.”
I get this a lot.
“If that ain’t bad enough, you come in here and paint the walls with my name?” Not quite ownage, not actually funny, but definitely a cool-ass line that needs to be noted. It’s one of those acknowledgements of consequence, where you’re conveying that someone’s actions are coming back on you.
“He screw your daughter?”
“My daughter’s in diapers.”
“Damn, that must be awfully upsettin’ then.”
Wood Harris is incredibly funny here as a guy who really doesn’t give a shit if he lives or dies.
Biggest Laugh: “Am I liable for any damages he causes if I say yes?” / “No.” / “Then yes.”
Biggest Non-Art Laugh: “You gonna make me do the paperwork?”
Top Ownage: The speech that climaxes with “You see this star? That’s gonna make it legal.” The connection between Raylan and Art is that Art treats Raylan the way Raylan treats dipshits o’ the week – “You can do what you want, and I’m gonna do my job.”
No one knows when I’m kidding and it’s so annoying. (I just said something insane, do you REALLY think I’m serious?!)
Absolutely.
Picnic at Hanging Rock – Beautiful cinematography. But the rest of it did nothing at all for me. And I am not sure I have the patience to listen to Blank Check tell me how great this is for 2 1/2 hours.
The Practice, “Special Deliveries” – Two serial killers for the price of one! Lindsay and Claire have to deal with theirs, while facing contempt charges from an imperious judge over the location of the body of the killer’s latest victim and high pressure from a DA. But thankfully, the killer is devoted to Lindsay for saving his neck, sends the body to her office(!), and agrees to leave her alone. But not before apparently killing the other serial killer, who is stalking Helen, and who seems to have killed his mother when she turns on him. Just a weird time of it all around. Plus, the end of Helen and Bobby’s marriage is coming. Looking back at it, I think it’s fair to say that either Kelley always intended to write a marriage that wouldn’t endure or that he realized the lack of chemistry between the actors doomed it.
Fall and Rise of Reggie Dinkins – “I thought this documentary was also about solving my uncle’s murder.” “Everyone knows small dogs are the craziest!” Another good one. Even when the show isn’t at it’s best, it’s extremely funny. Craig Robinson echoes his role on Eastbound & Down as an old rival of Reggie’s who hosts a rival charity unprivileged kids camp just to fuck with him. Highlight is Arthur hooking up with Megan Thee Stallion’s post office worker. (Megan in the background checking him out and sucking on that straw, ah, I’m in love.) “What you doing?” “Me? I’m the director, I’m in charge here. What you doing?”
Broadchurch, end of season 1 – still a little torn on this. It’s compelling viewing but I think it crosses over a little too far into “look at the awful things we’re literally all capable of!” territory for me. I love a murder mystery but I guess I prefer them a little abstracted from real life, give me eccentric characters and strange motives and not just “fucked up things happen all the time when you start to dig below the surface”. I am mildly curious how this continues for two further seasons but I think it’s probably for the best that I stop here while I can admire the craft and not wade further into “look at this community that has been ripped apart!” territory.
Inside No. 9, “The Last Weekend”
A rewatch of what I think was my first-ever episode, back when I just tried out the show on a whim. I think at the time, I didn’t know how to correctly gauge the ending, so the fact that it was too horrifically severe–both in execution and in the level of betrayal–to feel like just deserts hurt it for me a bit, because I reflexively assumed it was meant to count as just deserts. Now that I know the show not infrequently has revenge schemes becoming their own source of horror, this plays even better for me. Fantastic seeding of the eventual development throughout, and some of the duo’s finest acting, with a lot of naked, vulnerable emotion from Shearsmith and a Pemberton turn that gets even better and more complex on repeating viewing as you reinterpret it.