• The Scoundrel, 3/19/18 (Mon)

An oddball 1935 film by Ben Hecht and Charles MacArthur (The Front Page) featuring a very young Noel Coward as a vicious but irresistible book publisher and womanizer who has no compulsion about – even enjoys – destroying lives to have his way. He has no urge to be loved and is surrounded by equally cynical drinkers and hangers-on who put up with his abuse for either the work or the fascination of watching him steamroller over everyone in his way. He can turn on the charm when needed to bed his prey, even as he tells them up front that he is not to be trusted (“Do you love me?” “That is an ungallant question that women always want answered gallantly”). Most of his former flames are world-weary enough to accept his brutal treatment, hanging out in the office knowing full well he has done the same to others but unable somehow to leave. One aspiring young author (nicely played by Julie Haydon), however, is innocent enough to fall for him and driven to despair when he proves the cad that he had claimed to be. He also humiliates her jealous boyfriend to the point of attempted suicide.

After a sharp-tongued script filled with jaded characters and crackling dialogue, the film takes a sudden turn in the final 20 minutes when the publisher is killed in a plane accident. Heaven somehow allows him one chance at redemption if, during an extra month on earth, he can find just one person to mourn his passing. That sentimental development comes out of nowhere, marking a dizzying shift in tone. It is an intriguing idea but clumsily set up and too brief to be convincing, making it feel tacked on for lack of alternatives. Coward’s final fate hardly seems deserved and is laughable in its misguided direction. The theme was explored more skillfully a year earlier in the film version of the turn-of-the-century play Liliom and a decade or so later in the musical adaptation Carousel (which will be revived on Broadway in the coming weeks). The authors won an Oscar for their script, suggesting that the problem may have been in the direction – but they were also the directors. I wish they had thought harder about those last scenes.

Still, the movie is fascinating for what it is. Coward is entirely believable as the slimy publisher, successful in both business and sexual conquest despite his indifference to the people involved. He is said to have ad-libbed many of his lines in a role that seems tailored to him, but the dialogue overall is of a high order. The film needs a better director and a script editor who could tie the strands together more credibly. But the crisp dialogue, distinctive performances (including the inimitable Lionel Stander and Alexander Woolcott) and bold concept make this well worth watching.