The female viewpoint and the progressive ending make The Divorcee groundbreaking. Its historical importance as one of the first true pre-code films secured its place in cinematic history.
Censorship in American films is as old as cinema itself. However, until the mid-1930s, filmmakers essentially treated the regulations as guidance rather than a strict mandate. As a result, many films were distributed despite violating the loosely defined rules governing them. The Pre-Code era refers to a period in American Cinema between the Hays Code moral guidelines of 1930 and the formation of the Production Code Administration in mid-1934. This unique four-year period of American film history included some of the boldest and most progressive films ever produced, even by today’s standards.
The Production Code Administration was designed to facilitate the rigid enforcement of the new Code in productions, providing a list of cautions regarding acceptable and unacceptable content for audiences across the United States. The practice began to stall in the late 1950s due to television, foreign films, and a host of directors who pushed the accepted boundaries; as a result, 1968 marked the final year of the Code, which was replaced by the MPAA (Motion Picture Association of America) rating system.
Pre-Code films freely depicted taboo subjects of the time, many of which were prohibited after the Code’s enforcement; for example, abortion was a plot point in Christopher Strong (1933) and Chance at Heaven (1933). At the same time, themes of homosexuality found themselves nervously reflected in Call Her Savage (1932) and Our Betters (1933). Meanwhile, Heroes for Sale (1933) and Three on a Match (1933) depicted illegal drug use on screen, while adultery, infidelity, prostitution and sex found a voice in Mae West’s films and A Free Soul (1931), The Prodigal (1931), Faithless (1932), Baby Face (1933) and Red-Headed Woman (1933).
On a thematic level, these films dared to introduce challenging topics and plotlines while refusing to condemn characters who challenged the moral status quo. The result is a pre-Code era of distinctive films that film historians still discuss at length. Of course, the realism these films portrayed would be replaced by a sugar-coated worldview once the Code emerged. However, pre-code films are not solely the result of lenient censorship; another historical factor enabled their existence.
By the early 1930s, the post-World War One world had begun to splinter as the roaring twenties ended, an era where freedom, corruption and sexual liberation sat beneath the on-screen glamour. As one age died, another was born alongside the darkness of the great depression, one that sparked a new desire for escapist cinema.
In American cinema, three genres benefited the most from this need for escapism: horror, crime and melodrama. The melodramas of the era featured female protagonists and explored themes of liberation. Women in these films transcended the traditional homemaker role previously observed, becoming complex, independent, and strong-willed characters in their own right. Women began to appear in roles formerly considered masculine, a change that proved popular with cinema audiences. Often referred to as a cornerstone of American Cinema, The Divorcee is widely acknowledged by film historians as the first pre-code film, encompassing the elements that made the era distinctive.
Directed by Robert Z. Leonard and written by Nick Grindé, John Meehan and Zelda Sears, The Divorcee is based on a 1929 novel by Ursula Parrot called Ex-Wife. The film begins where most traditional love stories end, with Jerry (Norma Shearer) and Ted (Chester Morris) getting acquainted, falling in love and entering into marriage just fifteen minutes in.
But we then jump years ahead as Ted and Jerry celebrate their third anniversary, conveniently skipping the happiest years of their marriage for something darker. During the party, Jerry finds her husband in a compromising position with his former girlfriend, Janice (Mary Doran). Here, Doran’s performance carries much of the melodrama for which she was famed in the silent era, as she becomes a somewhat over-the-top villain. This contrasts sharply with Norma Shearer’s more modern and subtle performance, further amplifying the difference between the women. Ted eventually admits having had an affair with Janice and begs for Jerry’s forgiveness as he swears ‘it didn’t mean a thing’.
That night, Ted leaves for a business trip, and Jerry impulsively decides to retaliate by cheating on him with Don (Robert Montgomery), a friend she has never previously found attractive. Even by today’s standards, the scene is nothing short of radical, and it was especially groundbreaking for the era; after all, in the Code’s enforcement in 1934, even married couples couldn’t be shown sleeping in the same bed. Jerry admits her affair on Ted’s return, stating she had “balanced their accounts”.
Ted is hypocritically furious in a fascinating example of male double standards. Here, he cannot accept Jerry’s reasoning of “it didn’t mean a thing” while using the same argument; after all, it is okay to commit adultery as long as it is not your wife doing it! The two file for divorce and part ways. Jerry seems less shaken by the events and starts enjoying life as a single woman through partying and travelling. However, the divorce is much more challenging for Ted as he turns to alcohol. Jerry plans on running away with a married man, a friend from their social circle. However, she reevaluates this decision after meeting the man’s disabled wife and reflecting on the damage she would cause in breaking up their marriage. Therefore, Jerry decides to rekindle her relationship with Ted.
While the ending can be interpreted as a regressive compromise, with Jerry returning to her husband in a forced happy ending, I have always read the conclusion as highly provocative. After all, Ted must accept their relationship as equal to get Jerry back. In a typical melodrama, the male protagonist will try everything to win back the woman, diminishing her independence to a mere sexual prize in the act. But here, we have a woman who has had numerous affairs and openly discusses using sex as a weapon. The result is a conclusion that neither punishes nor condemns her actions, as Ted is forced to respect and accept her sexuality, strength and independence.
The film’s star, Norma Shearer, was one of the most prominent and provocative actors of the early 1930s. From 1930 to 1934, she starred in eight talkies, seven of which subverted prevailing views of marriage while questioning the institution’s relevance. These films would use the female protagonist’s viewpoint to portray the frailties of marriage. As Mick LaSalle points out in his book Complicated Women, “Shearer hardly represented traditional family values on-screen – independence, sophistication and adventure being the most consistent elements of her screen image.”
Shearer proposed changing the film’s title from “Ex Lady” to “The Divorcee,” which is undeniably more appropriate, as it emphasises the role of the independent female protagonist. This is especially interesting, given that the 1934 musical The Gay Divorce had to change its title to The Gay Divorcee due to pressure from the Hays Office.
Censors would insist that while a person could be referred to, the act of divorce could not. Shearer loved the role of Jerry, claiming it to be “very strong, almost ruthless” and “Perfect for me.” She was, of course, correct; her performance elevates the film. Shearer perfectly navigates the interface between the innocent wife and the liberated modern woman without losing the audience’s respect. Of course, The Divorcee has its problems, too, especially as filmmakers and scriptwriters (and even some actors) struggle to adapt to the new invention of sound recording. However, the female viewpoint and the progressive ending make The Divorcee groundbreaking. Its historical importance as one of the first true pre-code films secured its place in cinematic history.
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