Night Life in Reno (1931) and Peach-o-Reno (1931)
From The Road to Reno (see previous post), we move next to the weak member of the trio of of Reno divorce movies of 1931. Night Life in Reno is a mostly plodding film with a rudimentary script. It has some of the cynicism of The Road to Reno without its strengths, though it hints at better narrative possibilities that are compressed with odd inertness into its final fifteen minutes. Nevertheless, as in other cases, it is sometimes the less inspired films that show more clearly what aspects of American divorce have become widely understood tropes at a given time.
When husband John strays, wife June takes off from California to Reno in order to get a quick—six weeks—divorce. The unctuous divorce lawyer she hires there holds forth on the injustice of having to wait six weeks for a divorce. Why, he asks, should it take any longer to get a divorce than to get married? He brightens up when they discuss the retainer. He also grins when hearing that June is from Los Angeles: “A splendid suburban market for Reno!”
John tracks June down in Reno, expressing his genuine contrition, but she refuses to forgive him. Later, in a casino, the unhappy (and inebriated) John meets Roy, a similarly drunk but jollier fellow, who convinces John to accompany him on a double date. To John’s dismay, it turns out that Roy’s date is his wife June. After a miserable evening, John returns to his hotel. June, on the other hand, agrees to go back with Roy to his suite. When Roy presses his attention on her, she regrets her decision and, excusing herself to “go change,” sneaks out.
Now things get more interesting. As June leaves, she is witnessed by Roy’s jealous and unstable wife, who enters the suite and shoots Roy. Roy’s body is later discovered by the maid, and June, the last person seen in his company, is charged with murder.
When John learns what has happened, he selflessly tells the police that he, and not June, is the one who committed the murder. The next day, Roy’s wife shows up at June’s hotel room, intending to murder her and complete her revenge. Fortunately, June was in the middle of making a phone call when Roy’s wife arrives, so the operator hears what is going on and alerts the house detectives, who quickly apprehend Roy’s wife.
The best touch in the film is the final shot, from the rear of the moving train carrying a reunited John and June away from Reno. From the point of view of the couple we see the divorce lawyer running after them, calling: “If you should change your mind…!”
Finally, we have Peach-o-Reno, directed for RKO by dependable B-comedy workhorse William Seiter, and starring the comedy duo of (Robert) Woolsey and (Bert) Wheeler. With their vaudeville DNA and penchant for chaos, Woolsey and Wheeler provide interesting juxtaposition with the Marx Brothers who they sometimes resemble without gaining the latter’s comic summits.
Here, Woolsey and Wheeler are Reno divorce lawyers. Woolsey, a fast-talking, irreverent cigar smoker in the Groucho mode, has Mrs. Bruno as a client. His partner Wheeler has been retained by Mr. Bruno. Each lawyer tells his client that they will arrange to have them seen that night in the company of a “gigolo” or “correspondent”—an essential bit of legal theater prior to no-fault divorce—so as to secure the divorce quickly.
The film isn’t blessed with the likes of Kaufman and Ryskind as writers, but there are plenty of good vaudeville lines and pre-Code double entendres, e.g.:
“You see, nowadays, Mr. Bruno, everything has changed. Even at a wedding, no one gives the bride away.”
“No one gives the bride away?”
“No, they keep their mouths shut.”
Or
“Somehow I don’t seem to getting anywhere with you.”
“Well, you musn’t get discouraged. Look at the little bee. He puts in his whole life making his honey.”
At night, the duo’s law office transforms quite astonishingly into a casino: desks flip into roulette and card tables, office girls strip down into negligee, the walls sprout a well-stocked bar, and a bookshelf revolves to reveal a jazz band.
Mr. and Mrs. Bruno’s two pretty daughters show up to the party, enlisting the lawyers to prevent their parents from divorcing. Also showing up is a big, gun-toting brute seeking revenge on Wheeler for getting his wife her divorce. Wheeler therefore is dressed as a woman—Mr. Bruno’s “correspondent,” in fact—in order to hide from the angry ex-husband while keeping up his legal duties, such as they are. Wheeler in drag is quite funny, and reminds me of Jack Lemmon in Some Like It Hot. There are some entertaining comic dance numbers, building up to pandemonium and a non-fatal shootout.
The two daughters take a shine to the two lawyers, and one (Dorothy Lee, a Wheeler & Woolsey regular) does a cute little tap with Wheeler. There is a climactic courtroom scene that is all silliness, though it strains and fails to achieve the Marx Brothers level of entropy. There is lots of “I object!” and using the judge’s gavel to crack walnuts, until Mr. and Mrs. Bruno recall their honeymoon and fall into each other’s arms, the jury breaks out jazz instruments and strikes up a Charleston, and all the couples line up to get (or stay) married.
A happy ending, but the lyrics of the film’s main song indicate the seriousness of this comedy’s subject, and the reason that the other two films find so little to laugh at:
From Niagara Falls to Reno
used to be far away
From Niagara Falls to Reno
is only a step today.