Irene Dunne used to be a huge star, so much so that she was billed over Cary Grant for screwball comedy classic The Awful Truth in 1937. She was still top-billed in the similarly madcap Lady in a Jam five years later, though this is nowhere near as sharp as that earlier film.
Something feels off about this entire production, though it is hard to pinpoint exactly what went wrong. Perhaps it is the overarching plot, which is a daft concept that strains credulity even for this genre.
Dunne plays an heiress who lives in a world of delusion, oblivious to the fact she has squandered her inheritance. Eugene Pallette serves her in an advisory capacity, but it appears she has been consistently ignoring that advice. He ropes in psychiatrist Patric Knowles to stop her before it’s too late, though that’s an action he should have taken much earlier.
Knowles arrives at a jewelry store where they have just now refused to extend Dunne’s credit. I’m not sure it is intended to be ironic, but here this doctor is sent to stop a woman from spending when, only a few minutes before, he had been advising women in a group therapy session to find solace in a spending spree.
When she goes back to her car waiting outside, her chauffer quits on the spot. Perhaps she only needed to be a bit nicer to the guy than how we see her treat him in this scene. The phrase “check your privilege” comes to mind.
In what is one of the funnier moments in the film, she tries to drive back to her mansion, despite never having been behind the wheel before. The car had been parallel parked, so you can guess how this goes. The guy who had the car behind hers says, “Look, lady, I don’t know who you think you are”, and her reply, “I know perfectly well who I am, thank you.”
Knowles drives Dunne back to her home in her own car. When they get there, two men are inventorying the contents of the house in preparation for a bankruptcy auction. With her spirit of denial going strong, she will treat the auction as if it was a party, telling a guest it was nice of them to come. That woman responds with, “Well, auctions bring out the vulture in me.” This seems to put the lie to Dunne’s belief she will just buy back the contents of the house later.
I was never sure why Knowles is so intent on trying to help Dunne. She doesn’t seem to want his help or advice. Honestly, he doesn’t seem to do much to help, either, despite tagging along when she goes to her grandmother’s house in Arizona. This is where she intends to work the abandoned gold mine that was her grandfather’s. I found it weird Knowles just seems to abandon his practice for what appears to be weeks, perhaps months, on end.
To her credit, Dunne throws herself into the dirty work of panning for gold, despite everybody around her thinking she’s out of her mind. I loved this comment from her: “Too bad gold doesn’t grow near the surface, like cabbage.”
It is obvious she also wants the attentions of Knowles, who seems to be paying little mind to her despite, once again, turning his back on all his other patients just to be near her in Arizona, only to ignore her. I’m not sure which one is more confused: the script or Knowles. That the doctor is usually preoccupied with various lab equipment suggests both are also uncertain as to what a psychoanalyst does.
Like so many movies, I found some of the supporting characters to be more interesting than our leads. Ralph Bellamy essentially reprises his role from The Awful Truth as a loudmouth who tries to sweep Dunne off her feet. His best moments are where he performs yet another verse of a horrible cowboy dirge he claims to have written for her.
Also on the periphery is Jane Garland, a little girl with a wry, running commentary on the proceedings. Curiously, this is the only screen credit for this actress on IMDB. I wonder what happened to this stepdaughter of director Gregory La Cava, as she was alive until 2016.
Perhaps the strangest aspect of his picture is Knowles’s general appearance, as something about him makes him look like he was dropped into this from a film at least a decade earlier, maybe even one from the silent era. I could overlook this if I didn’t find his performance so unconvincing. Then again, that may be the fault of the script, as his character is not given much depth nor sufficient motives for his actions.
Lady in a Jam is a nice enough film, but a few elements of it consistently kept me at arm’s length from fully enjoying it. Even for a screwball comedy, the setup is too unbelievable and the execution of it is too clumsy. By reuniting Dunne and Belamy, I assume the filmmakers were hoping to recapture the magic of The Awful Truth. Similarly, I imagine they hoped to channel some of what made My Man Godfrey so special in that has the same director. Alas, as the saying goes, lightning did not strike twice.
Dir: Gregory La Cava
Starring Irene Dunne, Patric Knowles, Ralph Bellamy
Watched on Kino Lorber blu-ray