Spoiler alert!!
Lil Andrews (Jean Harlow) is a working class gal with the ambition of Napoleon and the body of...well...Jean Harlow. Lil wants to climb the ladder of success, and the first wrong on that ladder is mine-owner Bill Legendre (Chester Morris). Bill isn't much of a catch--he thinks with the little head and is prone to wallowing in not very deeply felt remorse--but he does have a couple of personality traits in his favor. He's very, very rich, and he's the local version of an aristocrat. Before you know it, Bill is divorced and Lil's wearing Adrian and scooting around town in a snappy roadster with matching dog.
Lil figures out pretty darned quickly that the old home town isn't big enough for her, so she hitches a ride on the nearest millionaire and hot-foots it to New York, a town that provides a little scope for her genius. Along the way she picks up a hunky French chauffeur (accessories are so important) and finally loses patience with her wimp of a husband. He returns to his sexless wife, who seems to have nothing better to do than take him back. (She couldn't have taken up quilting?) The unrepentant Lil moves on to bigger and better things. Crime may not pay...but sex does, and Lil is a gal who knows how to make a profit.
Red Headed Woman was Harlow's first foray into comedy, and she's a vulgar, brassy delight. The critics--previously unmoved by the Bombshell's charms--sat up and took notice. So did The People Who Want to Mind Your Business For You. This film, along with several other naughty pre-code offerings, sent them into tailspins of moral outrage.
What bit the Guardians of Public Morality in the butt (and bit hard) was not so much Lil's success as the spectacular failure, moral and personal, of her victims. They're a reprehensible bunch of wienies who richly deserve the treatment Lil gives them. You have to wonder how many of the Guardians saw themselves in Bill Legendre and were terribly afraid that others might make the same connection. It's OK to be a wienie as long as no one else notices you're clothing-free.
Harlow went on to make the pre-code classics Red Dust and Bombshell before the Moralistas finally managed to clip her bawdy wings. She made many films in her regrettably short career, but she's never better than she is in her pre-code days, and the pre-codes don't come any better than Red Headed Woman.
If you've never seen a Harlow film, you're in for a treat. If you think Hollywood didn't know about sex until the 70s, you're in for a surprise. Whether you're a Harlow neophyte or a veteran, Red Headed Woman is an amoral delight. See it.
Lil Andrews (Jean Harlow) is a working class gal with the ambition of Napoleon and the body of...well...Jean Harlow. Lil wants to climb the ladder of success, and the first wrong on that ladder is mine-owner Bill Legendre (Chester Morris). Bill isn't much of a catch--he thinks with the little head and is prone to wallowing in not very deeply felt remorse--but he does have a couple of personality traits in his favor. He's very, very rich, and he's the local version of an aristocrat. Before you know it, Bill is divorced and Lil's wearing Adrian and scooting around town in a snappy roadster with matching dog.
Lil figures out pretty darned quickly that the old home town isn't big enough for her, so she hitches a ride on the nearest millionaire and hot-foots it to New York, a town that provides a little scope for her genius. Along the way she picks up a hunky French chauffeur (accessories are so important) and finally loses patience with her wimp of a husband. He returns to his sexless wife, who seems to have nothing better to do than take him back. (She couldn't have taken up quilting?) The unrepentant Lil moves on to bigger and better things. Crime may not pay...but sex does, and Lil is a gal who knows how to make a profit.
Red Headed Woman was Harlow's first foray into comedy, and she's a vulgar, brassy delight. The critics--previously unmoved by the Bombshell's charms--sat up and took notice. So did The People Who Want to Mind Your Business For You. This film, along with several other naughty pre-code offerings, sent them into tailspins of moral outrage.
What bit the Guardians of Public Morality in the butt (and bit hard) was not so much Lil's success as the spectacular failure, moral and personal, of her victims. They're a reprehensible bunch of wienies who richly deserve the treatment Lil gives them. You have to wonder how many of the Guardians saw themselves in Bill Legendre and were terribly afraid that others might make the same connection. It's OK to be a wienie as long as no one else notices you're clothing-free.
Harlow went on to make the pre-code classics Red Dust and Bombshell before the Moralistas finally managed to clip her bawdy wings. She made many films in her regrettably short career, but she's never better than she is in her pre-code days, and the pre-codes don't come any better than Red Headed Woman.
If you've never seen a Harlow film, you're in for a treat. If you think Hollywood didn't know about sex until the 70s, you're in for a surprise. Whether you're a Harlow neophyte or a veteran, Red Headed Woman is an amoral delight. See it.