The Battle of the Sexes (1928)

The picture opens in a barbershop with a slight surprise—Marie (Phyllis Haver) is having her hair cut by a male barber (an unbilled Rolfe Sedan) who is so light in the loafers his head keeps bumping the ceiling. Uni-sex hair cuttery in 1928? We also get a good look at Haver’s legs (and I do mean good). Has director D.W. Griffith morphed into C.B. DeMille?

Marie overhears some other customers saying that the chubby guy over there is Judson the real estate tycoon (Jean Hersholt), who has just closed a $250,000 deal. Marie’s expression indicates her sort-of agreement with Jane Austen that a married man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a flapper.  

But extra-marital canoodling is the last thing on Papa’s mind as he rushes home with gifts for Mama’s birthday. And home is a comfortably upper middle class apartment shared by Papa, Mama (Belle Bennett), adult daughter Ruth (Sally O’Neil), and a grown son (William Bakewell). The birthday celebration is quiet and nicely staged for the camera and not the back row of the balcony.

But guess who moves into the conveniently vacant apartment down the hall? Marie shows her new digs to her pet gigolo Babe Windsor (Don Alvarado), and although she thinks of him as “perfumed ice,” he is really Her Man. You have to love Gerrit J. Lloyd’s title card description that Babe is “the wrong answer to a maiden’s prayer.”

Babe leaves and Marie begins to rehearse the way she wants to “accidently” meet Papa. Griffith cleverly uses double exposure to show us her thoughts, but everything goes kablooey when a mouse runs up her leg and Papa comes to the rescue. There is no subtlety in Haver’s reaction. So obvious is it that Marie is trying to hook a Sugar Daddy, you have to wonder how such a ninny as Judson could have made so much money. His doofusness is underscored during a scene in which he attempts to get into physical shape by working out and ends up looking like he stepped out of one of those “How To” Goofy cartoons. 

Taking the Judson family’s problem seriously would be a lot easier for the audience if Griffith and story writer Daniel Carson Goodman had introduced material indicating that Papa was undergoing a mid-life crisis before meeting Marie. Her flirtation would then have been the straw that broke the back of his middle class respectability instead of the entire hay stack. Not only do we wonder how he’s gotten along successfully in the world of high finance, we wonder how his family has ever seen him as anything but a boob.

Okay, now Papa is “working late” every night so he can step out with Marie. The penny drops when Ruth and her brother take Mama out to a night club and run into Judson and his girlfriend. Papa moves out so he can spend all his free time with Marie. Ruth goes to Marie’s apartment with a gun and the two of them get into a fight. Ruth decides to show Papa what a fool he is (finally) by throwing herself at Babe. I know, but it sort of makes sense in context. Or not.

The picture’s main reason for being is . . . what? Haver’s legs? A warning to middle aged men to not covet the grass on the other side of the fence? A reminder to families that old Dad may be an idiot but he’s better than no Dad at all? That any guy named Babe, with greased down hair and a pencil mustache, will make your typical lounge lizard look like a first year student in a Presbyterian seminary? At a distance of almost 90 years, it’s hard to tell.

The cinematography was by Griffith standout Billy Bitzer working with Karl Struss. James Smith was the editor, and the settings were created by William Cameron Menzies. It’s very slick and professional.

So what’s the problem? The film is a remake, the original having also been directed by Griffith and released in 1914. It was Griffith’s second feature. Starring Donald Crisp, Lillian Gish (as the daughter) and Fay Tincher, the first version was strait melodrama. Not much of it still exists so a meaningful comparison is impossible.

Perhaps grafting on the comedy weakens the theme. Hersholt was a fine comic actor, but in his scene with the exercise equipment he has the look of a performer who was told, “Okay, be funny” and then given no further help.

The Battle of the Sexes is not a terrible movie. It’s just a movie.