‘Dodsworth’ or — Love and Marriage… And a Bucket-Load of Sex?
Dodsworth has spent his entire working life building up the Dodsworth motor company into a huge success. He has not only provided a life for himself and his family but for the countless workers at his factories, who all admire the guy. But now Dodsworth has decided to sell off Dodsworth Motors so he can retire and not have anything to think about, have any form of responsibility, other than how cold is his drink. He has decided to enjoy his life rather than be shackled to work and so, ignoring his banker’s advice, walks away from the plant, takes his wife Fran in his arms and tells her he loves and adores her and that this is the start of their new life together. It’s sweet and touching.
It’s also decidedly bloody unnerving because all this takes place in the opening 7 minutes so we KNOW something is going to happen to Dodsworth’s plans to take it easy and the chances are they ain’t going to be good.
And at first he succeeds at living without a care with he and his wife setting sail across the Atlantic for a tour of Europe where they can live in a Continental manner (if you know what I mean).
Dodsworth doesn’t even seem fazed when his wife, who’s obviously been deeply frustrated in many ways at their Midwestern life, starts flirting like crazy with David Niven on board. I guess she’s entitled to want to feel young and desired after supporting her husband for so long. Let her enjoy herself, even when it seems she might not just be wanting some light flirtation but is, in fact, so sexually ravenous that she might be taking this trip to fuck her way through all of Europe. All Dodsworth wants to do is see all the sights he’s read about in books, to explore his Anglophilia, whereas Mrs Dodsworth is shagging her way through men with such fury you get the feeling something is chasing her which, in a way, it is.
Arriving in Europe it’s obvious these are two people who have shared their lives together but never gotten to know each other. But Dodsworth is so determined to be happy and carefree he shrugs off his wife’s behaviour; they did come to Europe to expand their horizons after all and isn’t that what she’s doing, albeit getting a view of the horizon on her back? The only question is how much can a marriage take before it starts to irrevocably collapse due to differing strains, pressures and personality types? And there’s a big difference between expanding your horizon’s and attempting to escape the inescapable.
‘Dodsworth’ (1936) starts relatively low-key and hinting it’s going to be one of those ‘re-marriage’ love stories — you know, a husband and wife learn to fall in love again after thrashing out years of resentments and differences. But that’s not what happens in Dodsworth’, not what happens at all as despite some crackling dialogue and very funny lines this is a very mature and serious work with extraordinary psychological complexity. It’s a piercing look at how relationships can disintegrate from the effects of over-familiarity (there’s a very eye-opening moment where we realise Dodsworth might have just shown his wife his anus because director Wyler keeps us somewhat uncertain as to if he’s wearing underwear or not). You could write about what’s really going on in this film for hours.
It’s also an exceptionally sexual film with the fact that human beings are, fundamentally, sexual creatures thrust front and centre. The only issue with this is that as it is Dodsworth who is wanting to relax and is still happy in the marriage that it is poor Fran, Mrs Dodsworth, who gets lumbered with the ridiculously ravenous libido and enough sexual energy for the two of them. She might be the most sexually voracious character I’ve seen on screen in… well, I don’t know how long but good god, this woman is a machine.
She’s also a social climbing snob which is another aspect of ‘Dodsworth’, namely the clash between the “unsophistacted” Midwest America against urbane Europe; it feels similar to Leo McCarey’s ‘Ruggles of Red Gap’ (1935) but with the direction of travel reversed. Yet, as the film goes on it is Dodsworth himself who seems to be genuinely affected by the European life, specifically the Italian, and one of the film’s many joys is watching him unknowingly adapting to this new Old World, watching the mannerisms seep in through his membrane.
Another joy is William Wyler’s directing which is off the charts impressive in terms of skill and precision. It’s only in the last few years I’ve come to know Wyler as anything other than the director of ‘Ben Hur’ (1959) but having now seen a number of his other movies I can understand why he was so lauded, especially in his ability to deal with complex relationships and portray them cinematically. You get the feeling Wyler loves it when he treats his characters as adults, fully realised and with a push to shine a light on their thoughts to revealing their inner secrets (notice how many characters turn on a light, rather than off, when entering a room).
Wyler also ramps up the sexual innuendo, of which this film is rammed to choking point. This is easily one of the naughtiest films I’ve seen this year. Notice when Fran is chatting to charming playboy Iselin — when he sits at her table just where do you think his right hand is and what do you think it’s doing to her under the table?
‘Dodsworth’ is fucking brilliant. It’s a seriously smart and very daring film that takes an unflinching view not just of marriage but of human behaviour and the link between sex and mortality and how life is a game we choose how to play in order to deal with these unquenchable passions. It is a film filled with life and honesty but also the ever present spectre of total devastation.
