The Girl from Missouri Reviews

This is the Jean Harlow that I know and love! The Pre-Code siren with the self-aware sexuality, smart mouth, and likeability that allowed you to forgive or root for some of her more questionable choices, except The Girl from Missouri was released after the Production Code took effect. In a way, The Girl from Missouri is our last look with this particular Harlow, shortly afterwards her hair would be toned down, her parts leaning more towards dramatics, and her sexuality tempered. Yet this one still feels as sassy, breezy and fun as one of her Pre-Code features.

The story sees Harlow’s showgirl trying to land a rich husband and secure a position for herself. She and her best gal-pal (Pasty Kelly, a charmer with great rapport with Harlow) travel to New York City, get involved in a man’s suicide, go on the run to Florida, meet a rich playboy, and more zany hijinks ensue. It is a quintessential Harlow vehicle, maybe not as famous as Dinner at Eight or Bombshell, but I found it to be utterly charming.

Harlow’s showgirl is basically decent despite her compromising past, so a lot of the jokes and sexy costumes seem to get a pass. The film calls for her to be both comedic and dramatic, and she nails both. A sequence where she says goodbye to her mother proves that she had more talent for dramatic parts than we give her credit for. Granted, early appearances like The Public Enemy were filled with bizarre line readings, but all Harlow needed was a steady hand to guide her and she shone brightly.

Once more Franchot Tone is playing her wealthy suitor, and he’s very handsome and sells his being struck-dumb romance with Harlow. Tone never seems to have much more to do than chase after Harlow, promising love and wealth, but he does well and sells the glibness of his playboy. Lionel Barrymore as Tone’s father is dead-set against his son marrying a girl like Harlow, and he blusters and overacts like only a Barrymore could. That’s not a ding against him, Barrymore’s histrionics are wildly entertaining in this film, no more so than when he finally meets his match in Harlow’s scheming and she humbles him. Yet it’s Patsy Kelly who makes the most out of what little she’s given, her caustic best friend hammers home some delicious quips and her back-and-forth with Harlow is pretty fantastic. One wishes for an entire film of just the two of them pulling a Lucy-and-Ethel in various situations.

While made after the Production Code was enforced, Missouri still feels like a Pre-Code film. It’s not just that Harlow’s sexuality hasn’t been brought down from boiling hot to simmering under dowdy clothes like in Riffraff, but the film throws out explicit references to cocaine, strongly hints that Harlow and Kelly may make a living as whores on the side in the beginning, and has the kind of anything-goes charms that defined the films of the previous three years. It’s not perfect, but it’s solidly made and highly enjoyable vehicle in which Jean Harlow’s special brand of sex symbol gets free reign to be as loopy and brassy as she wanted to be.