That Certain Woman (1937): Bette is “Fonda” Henry

That Certain Woman is a quintessential 1930’s Warner Brothers soap opera. It is a definitive example of what was called in the day, a “woman’s picture.” Finally, it is a “Bette Davis” movie in the early stage of her career. Bette was just on the cusp of real stardom when this movie was made in 1937. She already had a couple of real dramatic winners under her belt with Of Human Bondage (1934) and The Petrified Forest (1936) and an actual winner with Dangerous (1935), for which she gained her first Academy Award. With this film and Marked Woman, made the same year, Davis was rapidly rising the ranks in Hollywood.

 Mary Donnell is the widow of a notorious gangster who was killed in the famed St. Valentine’s Day Massacre. She married her hoodlum at a very young age and when the picture begins, has avoided the press for years in an attempt to have a normal life. She finds some solace as the secretary of a very successful attorney, Lloyd Rogers (the always dependable Ian Hunter). The married Rogers has it bad for the dependable, soft-spoken Mary but she falls for the wealthy, young Jack Merrick (Henry Fonda).

When she and Jack marry, his snotty, upper-crust father (also always dependable Donald Crisp) follows them on their honeymoon and demands the marriage be annulled. While the two men thrash it out, Mary leaves, hoping Jack will follow. He does not, and when she has his son, she keeps the secret of who its father is, as not to hold Jack by that connection. Jack marries a pretty socialite named Flip (lovely Anita Louise) but a car accident leaves her wheel-chair bound. When it is discovered that little Jack is his father’s namesake, wealthy control-freak, Grandpa Merrick tries to take the child from Mary. It’s a big mess with lawyer Lloyd playing a big part as well.

That Certain Woman has the flavor of Stella Dallas, Madame X and other “mother love” soapers of the era. Some might call it schmaltzy or melodramatic and it is, but in the best possible way. Don’t get me wrong. Key points in the story don’t make realistic sense or aren’t explained as to why they are there. For instance, the character of Amy (played by Mary Philips) is conveniently interjected into the story, I assume, as a sounding board for Davis’ thoughts and as nanny/babysitter for little Jack while Bette is out wringing her hands and sacrificing all she has in the most noble way. When times are lean, in the earlier part of the movie, how does she support herself? How does Bette’s Mary support them both? It is like Imitation of Life without the racial theme. Still, Amy’s presence is pleasant and almost essential for Mary’s mental and emotional well-being.

 Another point: WHY Mary and Flip would want Fonda’s Jack Merrick. Spineless he was against his father, against his loving crippled wife. Oh, he attempted a crack at a spine but half-heartedly and when the slightest wind of aggression came up, POOF!, gone spine. Yet, both these women, whom he had emotionally wronged, want his happiness at all cost. Thirties Hollywood tearjerker… go figure.

That Certain Woman has all the elements to make it a great rainy day picture, real couch-potato and hot coffee material. Music by Max Steiner, direction by Edmund Goulding (who would also direct Davis in other Warners weepies, including The Old Maid), dress design by Orry-Kelly and a supporting cast of WB regulars. Though both Davis and Fonda weren’t quite at that superstar stage yet, it would only be a matter of months, when both re-teamed for the ante-bellum Southern sashay called Jezebel.

Bette vs. Miriam, Bout of the Divas: Meow

About a year ago, I wrote a short piece on the legendary feud of two legendary Hollywood actresses, Bette Davis and Miriam Hopkins. Since then, I have expanded this forum and also, delved deeper into the abyss that was the Davis/Hopkins relationship. Bette was infamous for her battles with certain co-stars, male (paging Mr. Flynn! Mr. Errol Flynn!) as well as female (calling Joan Crawford!), but they seemed to pale in comparison to her feeling for Miriam Hopkins. Their’s was a deep seeded, long standing rivalry, which began even before either woman made a single movie.

Round 1
In 1928 both young actresses were in a stage production on the east coast called Excess Baggage. Both were part of a repertory acting company headed by director George Cukor, although at this point, unlike their future film pairings, Miriam, not Bette, was the big cheese. Hopkins also made leading lady status in Hollywood long before Davis, with star turns in Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1931) and Design for Living (1933), among other notable films of the early 30’s.



Round 2
In 1933, Hopkins starred in Jezebel on Broadway. It was the story of a tempestuous Southern belle (a part tailor made for the real life Southern spitfire) in the era before the Civil War, ala Scarlett O’Hara. The play was unsuccessful, running only a few dozen performances and closing after a month. Not only did Miriam star in the play, but she was part owner of the rights to it. When Warner Brothers studio showed interest in the story as a vehicle for its rising star, none other than Miss Bette Davis, Hopkins balked, refusing to sell the rights unless the deal included her in the lead role of Julie, which she had originated. In order to obtain the rights, she was given the impression that she would be cast, so when top brass gave the plum part to Davis, Miriam was livid. To add insult to injury, Bette won her second Oscar for her performance in Jezebel. The story goes that Miriam cried.

Round 3
In late 1938, with her career in somewhat limbo, Hopkins signed a two picture deal with Warner Brothers. The first film under her new contract was the historical melodrama The Old Maid (1939), based on an Edith Wharton story. In the film, she played second lead to guess who….Bette Davis, Warners reigning queen supreme. But neither actress was a shrinking violet and there was tension aplenty on the set, with director Edmund Goulding at the helm. A studio memo summed up the stressful situation when it relayed, “…Goulding has a tough job on this picture with these two girls. Not that they want to cause him any trouble or worry, but each one is fighting for a scene when they go into it…”

Davis had fought hard with the studio to get where she was professionally, and she wasn’t about to take guff from her rival. But Miriam certainly tried to get a rise out of her at any opportunity. On her first day on the set, Hopkins wore an exact duplicate of the dress Davis had worn in Jezebel. Davis reflected on this time with Hopkins in her autobiography with the following observations: “Miriam used and, I must give her credit, knew every trick in the book. I became fascinated watching them appear one by one…When she was supposed to be listening to me, her eyes would wander off into some other world in which she was the sweetest of them all. Her restless little spirit was impatiently awaiting her next line, her golden curls quivering with expectancy."



Warner Brothers publicity department took full advantage of the dueling divas and played up their feud to boost ticket sales for the upcoming film. They even went as far as to circulate a photo of the actresses in full costume with boxing gloves on, ready to duke it out, with director Goulding looking resigned between them. (above)

Round 4
During the making of The Old Maid, Hopkins was married to director Anatole Litvak. Litvak had directed Bette Davis in her follow up film to Jezebel called The Sisters (1938), and Miriam suspected the two were having an affair, but Davis was too taken with her Jezebel director, William Wyler, at the time to look at Litvak. However, reportedly Litvak and Davis DID have a short affair during the filming of All This and Heaven Too in 1940, but by that time the director and Hopkins had already divorced.

The Old Maid was excellent box office, and Warners signed Miriam on for another spin with her nemesis in 1943 to make Old Acquaintance, the story of two childhood friends/rivals who spar incessantly over men, career, and a child. The romantic yarn was perfect for the pair, but wasn’t without its backstage fireworks. Edmund Goulding was again slated to direct but had a heart attack shortly into the production. Knowing the emotional state of the set and the stress Goulding had been under with the two high maintenance queens, studio head Jack Warner jokingly accused him of having the heart attack on purpose. At 40, the dew was off the lily for Miriam, and when production wrapped on Old Acquaintance, she sold her house in California, packed her bags and went back east to the stage. When she returned to Hollywood, it would be in character roles over half a decade later.