Dancers in the Dark (1932)

This is part of Hot and Bothered: The Films of 1932 Blogathon hosted by Aurora at Once Upon a Screen and Theresa at CineMaven's Essays from the Couch. For more steamy posts, click Day 1 and Day 2.

The Task

*To write about a film from 1932
*I chose Dancers in the Dark sight unseen because of the topic (dancers!) and Miriam Hopkins.

The Film

In the film, taxi dancer Gloria (Miriam Hopkins) and saxophone player Floyd (William Collier Jr.) are in love and want to get married. He is willing to forgive her past, which may be worse than he thinks, but he insists he doesn't need to know. Bandleader Duke (Jack Oakie) grew up with Floyd and sees him as a brother. He believes Floyd deserves better than the fallen Gloria. Duke arranges for Floyd to take a four-week out-of-town job, hoping his absence will cause Gloria to reveal her true colors. Side note: At one time, Duke was also in love with Gloria, and she had a crush on him.

Miriam Hopkins, William Collier Jr., Jack Oakie

Unresolved Love Triangles

Part of January Viewing

When two handsome men are vying for your affection, what's a gal to do? If you're Jean Arthur, you bask in the attention. If you are pre-code Miriam Hopkins, however, you take the triangle as far as it can go--all the way. 

In Design for Living (1933), Gilda (Hopkins) meets a pair of struggling artists, painter George (Gary Cooper) and playwright Tom (Frederic March). Both make her tingle--one from toe to head, the other head to foot, and she cannot decide whom she likes best. So what does she do? Moves in with them to act as their muse. Nothing more per a "Gentleman's Agreement." It works fine until Tom is called away on business and carnal desire proves too strong for the remaining two.

Hopkins dramatically proclaims, "I am no gentleman."

The triad is broken up. Gilda and George go one way, Tom the other. All is well until Tom turns up one day while George is away. Gilda's bell still rings for Tom--figuratively and literally--she really does ring the bell of his old typewriter.  

All that is needed to land March in the sack: a little ring-a-ding-ding.