"Catastroph!": Faking Domestic Bliss in 'Christmas in Connecticut' (1945)

This is Elizabeth Lane. She has a husband, a baby and a farm in Connecticut. She's the finest home-maker around; knows about raising a baby, can flip a flapjack, owns 36 rocking chairs, is America's best cook and has her own column in Smart Magazine where she writes about all of this. All women want to be her and all men want to marry her.

This is the image of Elizabeth Lane that is projected upon us, before we even see her. When we do see her for the first time, she most certainly is not in a farm in Connecticut, but in a small New York apartment — the habitat a career woman ought to have, apparently. Instead of wasting time by fixing a proper breakfast, she is eating sardines (presumingly canned) whilst typing up her new column. Her Uncle Felix, who owns a restaurant, even drops in to bring her breakfast so she can continue working, switching gender roles in a not too provocative way. She is even paying for her new mink coat herself, even though it will cost her six months' salary, because "it's very important to keep promises, especially to yourself."

Due to circumstances I won't go into detail about, Mrs. Lane later finds herself doing her patriotic duty of hosting a sailor for Christmas. In order to do this she has to pretend to be living in the Connecticut farm of a stuffy friend who keeps asking her to marry him. She has to pretend to be married with (and actually getting engaged to) this man and borrow a baby from another woman. Also Felix has to be taken along with her to Connecticut to provide the food for the Christmas feast. She goes through all of this just to keep her job. "The things a girl does for a mink coat."

We become fully aware of how clueless as a mother Elizabeth is when it's time for the baby's bath. After taking off its diaper, Elizabeth casually tosses it in the air, not knowing what else to do with it. When she's struggling to put the baby in the tub, Jones offers to test the temperature for her, already rolling up his sleeve. Apparently he's a self-proclaimed expert at bathing babies, making him a better housewife than Elizabeth. She gladly hands the baby over to her guest, once again switching gender roles. Returning after Jones successfully bathed the baby, the struggle with the fresh diaper begins. Not knowing how to fold it, Elizabeth hands over the diaper to Jones, with the excuse that she will in the mean time fix the baby's dinner. Once again her hero knows how to handle the situation and Elizabeth is convinced: what a man.

One of the very housewifely acts described by Elizabeth in her column was the flipping of flapjacks. This strikes a nostalgic chord with both Mr. Yardley (Mrs. Lane's publisher who invited himself over) and Mr. Jones, persistently requesting Mrs. Lane to flip just one pancake for them. The word "persistently" is added deliberately to point out that the men won't take no for an answer, not caring for Elizabeth's excuses of not being in the mood for it or being out of practice. They want to see "America's most resourceful home-maker" do her tricks.

When Felix tried to teach Elizabeth to "flip-flop the flop-flips" that morning, she failed numerous times, with the flapjacks always ending up everywhere but in the pan. However, the men get what they wish for, and with three anticipating and one very nervous man looking on, she successfully flips the flapjack. This, I might add, doesn't do anything for the story, apart from letting her keep up the illusion longer.

Christmas in Connecticut is a Wartime Christmas classic and starts of differently than others of the same type. The first scene of the film has a German submarine torpedoing a US ship. Even though we start off with American men at war, the real battle takes place back at home, where the gender that needs saving is the American woman.

What we have here is a film rather mockingly telling us what the ideal post-war wife, the domestic goddess, should be and should be able to do. Remember that during the war, women's roles were of less domestic nature. When the men left to fight in the war, they left behind their jobs with only women to do them. Not only it became acceptable for women to become taxi drivers, operate heavy machinery, make munition and more; it was expected of them: "Do the job HE left behind." War, for many US women, was about gaining mobility, strength and freedom. It got women out of the home where they had been confined to.

After WWII ended, women were expected to go back to the place that society had destined for them, meaning: back to their domestic tasks, while the men would get back to their manly jobs. While some of them returned, things had definitely changed. Women had changed.

An article in LIFE dating from 1947 wrote about a woman's work, visualizing the 100-hour workweek of a housewife:

"Mrs. John McWeeney of Rye, N.Y. has a big, good-looking husband who works in a nut and bolt company, and three children, Shawn, a grave little 4-year-old; John, called “Rusty,” almost 2, and baby Mark, 4 months old. She lives in a bright new seven-room house that has a safe backyard for Shawn and Rusty to play in and a number of modern machines to help her with her household chores. She uses a diaper service and she can afford a cleaning woman once a week who does the heavy laundry.

"The picture [below] shows the household tasks that Marjorie must accomplish every week. She has a crib and four beds to make up each day, totaling 35 complete bed-makings a week. She has hundreds of knives, forks and utensils to wash, food to buy and prepare for a healthy family of five and a whole house to dust and sweep. . . "

The article emphasized the dilemma women of 1947 had. Before the war the only big decision a woman had to make was choosing her husband and after marriage her duties were confined to the household. After the war, however, a growing number of women were confused and frustrated by the conflict between traditional ideas about a woman's place and the increasing reality of female involvement in activities outside the home. Although she still wanted to marry and have children, she also wanted to take part in the world beyond the domestic. The problem was that society's norms and values didn't yet offer women decent alternatives to being a homemaker.

Housewife Marjorie McWeeney amid symbolic display of her week’s housework. Photo by Nina Leen for Life, June 16, 1947, p. 105

It seems silly to talk about this when discussing a lighthearted comedy like Christmas in Connecticut, but the many traces of wartime (and even feminism) in this film can't go unnoticed, although they are presented in the form of gags. The film's comedy depends on the domestic shortcomings of Elizabeth, but she never loses her desirability, apart from to Mr. Sloane. Sloane, the conventional type, is glad that in the end he didn't mary Elizabeth, because she isn't "how Mrs. Sloane should be". "You've disrupted my household!" he even accuses Elizabeth. But the sailor will gladly marry her, even though she can't cook. Felix even tells her never to learn how to cook, for if she does, she won't be able to write about it the same way she does now, "all easy and fun".

She may not be able to change a diaper, she can't flip a flapjack and most of all: she can't cook, but "what a wife!", to speak in Uncle Felix' words.

Next week a post about The More The Merrier (1943), also staying in the spirit of war, where torpedoes and wartime housing shortage play a big role.

Credits:

Produced by William Jacobs & Jack L. Warner; Directed by Peter Godfrey; Story by Aileen Hamilton; Screenplay by Lionel Houser & Adele Comandini; Cinematography by Carl E. Guthrie; Art direction by Stanley Fleischer; Starring Barbara Stanwyck, Dennis Morgan and Sydney Greenstreet

Sources:

1. “25 Days of Christmas: Christmas in Connecticut (1945).” Journeys in Classic Film. Accessed January 3, 2016. http://journeysinclassicfilm.com/2015/12/12/25-days-of-christmas-christmas-in-connecticut-1945/.
2. “A Film Celebrating Bad Cooks: Christmas in Connecticut.” Cary Grant Won’t Eat You. Accessed January 3, 2016. http://carygrantwonteatyou.com/christmas-in-connecticut/.
3. Bryant, Joyce. “How War Changed the Role of Women in the United States.” Yale-New Haven Teachers Institute, n.d. http://www.yale.edu/ynhti/curriculum/units/2002/3/02.03.09.x.html.
4. Chafe, William H., and William Henry Chafe. The Paradox of Change: American Women in the 20th Century. Oxford University Press, 1992.
5. “Coleman’s Corner in Cinema...: Christmas in Connecticut (1945).” Accessed January 4, 2016. http://colemancornerincinema.blogspot.be/2008/12/christmas-in-connecticut-1945.html.
6. Godfrey, Peter. Christmas in Connecticut. Comedy, Romance, 1945.
7. Levison, Frances. “American Woman’s Dilemma.” Life, June 16, 1947.
8. Ptak, John F. “‘Her Work’ Visualizing the100-Hour Work Week of the 1947 Housewife.” JF Ptak Science Books, June 1, 2010. http://longstreet.typepad.com/thesciencebookstore/2010/06/jf.html.
9. says, Kelly. “1940’s Fashion - Housewifes Daily Routine | Glamourdaze.” Accessed January 4, 2016. http://glamourdaze.com/2011/02/1940s-fashion-housewifes-daily-routine.html.
10. Stein, Sadie. “Silver Belles.” Paris Review Daily, December 19, 2013. http://www.theparisreview.org/blog/2013/12/19/silver-belles/.

There's No Place For Them Here: Home, Order and Independency in Harriet Craig (1950)

In last week's post I mentioned how Rebecca's bedroom (in Hitchcock's Rebecca, 1940) had become a shrine, with a place for everything and everything in its place. This surely counts for the Craig's household as well. Harriet Craig (played by Joan Crawford) is the perfect mistress of the house, with a talent for running a household.

At the beginning of the film we see a beautiful house with the servants running up and down the stairs. We hear the mistress of the house being irritated because the tissue paper she asked for is taking so long. Then we find out what all of the commotion is about: Mrs. Craig's mother has been moved to a sanitarium and she wants to catch the next train to visit her mother. The shouting for tissue paper is forgiven, because we all know the stress of catching a train, and especially to visit a parent in a sanitarium, although the majority of us probably doesn't stuff every shoe and dress with tissue paper. This is just a lady that takes really good care of her possessions: she's immaculately groomed, her wardrobe looks perfect, she packs her luggage with care and she is leery about her interior. For when everything looks nice, it is nice and it will be loved.

We soon learn that Harriet values her home to extremes. She knows the place by heart; every painting, every coffee cup and every lamp has been put in its place by her, and in its place it should remain. When entering a room, Harriet scans the interior for changes—in other words: traces—to map out the movements that were made during her absence.

One of Harriet's most prized possessions is an Early Ming Dynasty vase. She notices when the vase is just the tiniest bit too close to the edge of the mantle or when it's not perfectly centered. She proudly tells a party about the old custom of filling the vase with rice from your wedding feast to protect the home. One of the ladies replies that "it takes more than rice these days."

On the train back home from visiting her mother in the sanitarium, Harriet confesses to her cousin: "I don't like trains. I don't like the feeling of being rushed along in the darkness, having no control, putting my life completely in someone else's hands." This confession comes rather out of the blue and is followed by her rational approach to marriage. "The average woman," she says, "does completely put her life into someone else's hands; her husband's." But not Harriet, independent as she is, for marriage is merely a "practical matter" to achieve security; she becomes a wife to get a house.

Upon arriving back home, the first trace that is out of place is spotted before even entering the house: the newspaper is still outside. She leaves it there and enters the house, eager to find out what has happened. She stands still and takes in the view, carefully registering every object that is out of its place. Quickly she maps out a scenario of what has happened the night before.

The house looks like a rather wild party has taken place: The furniture is out of place, there's beer bottles on the floor and on the piano, the lampshade is tilted, the blinds aren't closed (they should be closed by 11 a.m. to prevent the sun from fading the colors in the room) and a full ashtray indicates that people have been smoking heavily indoors. A closer look at the ashtray reveals a cigarette butt with lipstick and then there's a vase full of Mrs. Frazier's roses. Hadn't Harriet clearly told Mrs. Harold, one of the servants, that there was no place for them here?

Mrs. Frazier is the "scheming widow" who lives next door together with her little boy. She can always be found tending her roses. Innocent as she may seem, she's a threat to Harriet's controlled household: she's friendly, her house is being lived in (with traces to prove it) and she's got a son, which is one of Walter Craig's biggest wishes. Naturally Harriet wants to keep Mrs. Frazier from invading their private lives by keeping her roses out of her home and out of her husband's sight.

As a contrast to Mrs. Frazier's cozy home, the Craig's house takes aesthetics over comfort. From the first glance it is clear that a lot of thought has been put into decorating the house. Symmetry can be found everywhere and all of the rooms have the same oriental influences. Throughout the house figurines are displayed, either in glass showcases or as lamp bases. When it comes to the furniture: aesthetics over comfort, once again. This becomes painstakingly clear when we see Walter trying to become comfortable on the sofa, without success, not even when rearranging the throw pillows. Harriet, however, seems perfectly at home on the sofa the way it is. She is comfortable with keeping up appearances.

In reviews of Harriet Craig, Harriet is often written about as the bitch of all bitches, with not a good cell in her body. Indeed, Harriet isn't a warm person and she does some heartless things like feigning infertility, or preventing her cousin from being loved. It's inexcusable, but it doesn't make Harriet heartless.

Early on in her childhood Harriet was hurt by her father when she caught him with "a vulgar blonde". The father left Harriet and her mother alone to make ends meet. From this moment on Harriet decided that no man can be trusted. The only person a woman can rely on is herself. Every part of her life is carefully planned and thought about as if it were a game, and she is playing it by the rules.

Harriet doesn't have to build walls around her to protect herself from getting bruised again for the house provides them for her. Decorated with hand painted oriental wall hangings, it becomes a lovely facade. The house is her safe haven, her territory, so when somebody disrupts her household, it disrupts her. A vase too close to the edge isn't just any object put in a different position, it is someone endangering the security of her home.

When Mr. Craig finally rebels against Harriet, he takes it out on the house, for that is the only way to hurt her. He smokes inside, throws the stub on the carpet and finally finds a way to be comfortable in the sofa; by rearranging the pillows and reclining with his shoes still on. He is taking back control. This is where the importance of the Ming vase and all it stands for comes back. Walter carelessly takes the vase from its pedestal and pours out the rice that was supposed to protect their home. He then smashes it.

H: "What was that?!"
W: "Nothing very much."
H: "What do you mean 'nothing very much'? It sounded as though the whole house fell down."
W: "Maybe it did."
[...]
H: "Why would you deliberately destroy a beautiful thing like this?"
W: "I didn't like it."

He has smashed Harriet's safe haven and broken down the facade. Their marriage is over, but "you can keep the house." And so Harriet remains alone in the house. The films end with Harriet drying her tears and straightening her back, trying to repair the facade with all her might. The last shot is of her ascending the stairs, before fading to black.

By the end of the film it is safe to say the house is the center of the film, the main protagonist even, for Harriet is her house: beautiful, but deserted.

In an article in People Weekly (May 30, 1977) Doris Lilly recalls Joan Crawford once telling her that
"there's a little bit of Harriet Craig in all of us." Crawford was known to be a fastidious housekeeper and she didn't shy away from branding herself as one. Next week's post will be about how Joan became known as the Queen of clean.

Question to you:

What I can't seem to figure out is why the interior is so oriental. As far as I know orientalist decor went out of style in the 1930's, so why would Harriet go for something outdated?

Credits:

Produced by William Dozier; Directed by Vincent Sherman; Based on play by George Kelly; Screenplay by Anne Froelich & James Gunn; Cinematography by Joseph Walker; Art direction by Walter Holscher; Starring Joan Crawford and Wendell Corey

Sources:

1. “A ★★★★ Review of Harriet Craig (1950).” Accessed January 3, 2016. http://letterboxd.com/overbreakfast/film/harriet-craig/.
2. Basinger, Jeanine. A Woman’s View: How Hollywood Spoke to Women, 1930-1960. Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group, 2013.
3. Bruno, Giuliana. Atlas of Emotion: Journeys in Art, Architecture, and Film. Verso, 2002.
4. “Harriet Craig (Sony Choice Collection).” DVD Talk. Accessed January 3, 2016. http://www.dvdtalk.com/reviews/61509/harriet-craig/.
5. “I’m Not Patty: Are Harriet Craig and Beth Jarrett Just Ordinary People?” Accessed January 3, 2016. http://imnotpatty.blogspot.be/2010/03/are-harriet-craig-and-beth-jarrett-just.html.
6. Matt. “Films Feminism Forgot: HARRIET CRAIG (1950).” Ruthless Reviews. Accessed January 3, 2016. http://www.ruthlessreviews.com/20730/films-feminism-forgot-harriet-craig-1950/.
7. Matthews, Glenna. “Just a Housewife”: The Rise and Fall of Domesticity in America. USA: Oxford University Press, 1987.
8. “Self-Styled Siren: Harriet Craig (1950).” Accessed January 10, 2016. http://selfstyledsiren.blogspot.be/2011/08/harriet-craig-1950.html.
9. Sherman, Vincent. Harriet Craig. Drama. Columbia Pictures, 1950.

Hollywood Amuses Me*

Laura’s portrait as the investigator’s main obsession. (Laura, 1944)

On the 3rd of October 2015, around 8PM I wrote this:

Research working title: At Home in the Movies: Artificiality of Home in (Classic) Hollywood.

In all honesty I didn't know whether Classic Hollywood or Classical Hollywood was the correct term. In even more honesty; I still don't know which is correct. And whilst we're making confessions, I'd also like to mention that I'm no expert by any means on the subject, I'd just like to become one, eventually.

On this blog the main focus will be how the home is depicted in Hollywood during the golden years, either in films (The Wizard of Oz (1939), Laura (1944), Auntie Mame (1958), and many others) or in the lives of the stars.

How does the set design reflect the part the home or the house plays in the film and what techniques or tricks do they use to make the set look like it does? How do they make something so artificial look like a lived in home? Why should a character have a specific wallpaper in their house? Or how do they decide which flowers would suit the character?

Of course these homes were constructed for the film, but so were the off-screen personalities of these stars. As part of the Star System the film companies controlled the way the domestic lives of the stars were depicted to the public. The lives of the stars were literally as constructed as their onscreen characters and the sets the characters lived in. Can I also learn from —and use— the techniques the studios used to construct these stars?

This research is part of an artistic project about artificially creating domestic traces, but I won't go in details about that. Not yet, at least.

Please don't shy away from comments, for they can be highly educational to me and thus will be appreciated very much.

The next post will be about the presence of Rebecca through her monograms in Rebecca (1940) directed by Alfred Hitchcock and starring Joan Fontaine and Laurence Olivier. It will be published Thursday January 7.

* The title of this post is part of a quote by Grace Kelly that goes:

Hollywood amuses me. Holier-than-thou for the public and unholier-than-the-devil in reality.