Stars: Three out of five stars  

Derived from a play by A.E. Thomas, "No More Ladies" is a cute, but somewhat static and stagy society comedy with haughty sophisticates waltzing around opulent Cedric Gibbons sets in high glamour and arch distress about marriage.  In spite of the glorious production values, priceless character actors and leads who fill their tuxedos and Adrian gowns with the requisite thoroughbred panache, there’s a banality and insincerity about this film that makes it somewhat dull or forgettable, although it has its high points.  The sheer elegance and sparkle of the stars, gowns and sets is a draw, for one.  If only such glamour was still the norm!  Supposedly, MGM was churning out this sort of thing because of the popularity of comedy-of-manners playwright Philip Barry (who went on to do "The Philadelphia Story") on Broadway.  Joan Crawford stars as Marcia Townsend Warren who falls in love with and marries, as described by her grandmother Fanny (the delightful horse-faced Edna May Oliver), “man-about-town, scamp, heartbreaker [and] worthless rake” Sherry (what else?  it's the upper crust!) Warren (Robert Montgomery).  Although pledging to be faithful when he takes the plunge with Marcia, Sherry shortly proves to be the same rascal as ever and Marcia, not one to take things lying down, conspires to give him a taste of his own medicine by inviting all his old flames to the house for the weekend and starting her own fire.  Charades, anyone?

Interestingly, George Cukor (although not listed in the credits) took over for director Edward H. Griffith midway and Crawford at first bristled at this motion picture novice criticizing her line readings, but came to really respect and appreciate him and vice versa.  In that "butterfly lashes" phase of her MGM career, she looks incredible in the gowns Adrian designed for her and in the beginning she undresses to her undies -- lace-lined, satin lingerie (naturally) (she did have an adorable body and great legs which were often showcased).  At this point, she was required mainly to look gorgeous and chic (which she does, her hairstyle alternating from tight curls to loose with bangs, the style changing like her costumes), and she's particularly breathtaking dressed to the nines in a form-fitting ensemble with a picture hat that emphasizes her porcelain face.  Given that the script doesn't offer much tour de force opportunity, she is actually quite good in spots (is that Cukor's influence?), such as when she tries to pretend all is okay with hubby again yet her pain and distrust shows. 

Crawford and Montgomery get double billing, paired again as they are frequently, and have about as much chemistry for me as they usually do -- next to none.  One can well imagine Montgomery was better served playing a psycho, as he did in "When Night Falls."  I sympathize, however, with contract players like the two leads stuck in these cardboard roles again and again, imagining their frustration at not being able to expand.  Montgomery, as playboy Sherry, is doing the boyish thing, but the problem is he's not particularly boyish.  Slightly paunchy with a receding hairline and good manners, he's not dashing or dangerous enough either to explain why women are practically throwing themselves at him.  By contrast Clark Gable had a way with women and exuded so much virility and sexuality that  even as a cad, his allure was undeniable.   In some of their big confrontational scenes as husband and wife (which are never impolite or above tepid), Montgomery is as stiff as a martini whereas Crawford's own proletarian familiarity with struggle seems to leak through even when she looks and acts to the manor born.  Franchot Tone (who married Crawford at the close of this film) plays Jim Salston, one of the men Sherry cuckolded who believes Marcia deserves better (meaning, himself) and whom she uses as ammunition.  Tone, as an actor, has always struck me as either too smug and gruff or unbearably hammy (as in “Love on the Run” and “Phantom Lady”).  This is one of his better performances.

Once again it’s the character actors who stop the show.  Edna May Oliver, in fact, steals it and her dancing duet with Arthur Treacher (appearing like a breath of fresh air as “Ducky”) is a huge highlight.  These supporting actors are the cream of the crop, trained stage actors and genuine comedians.  When stodgy Oliver (Reginald Denny) inquires cagily about Marcia, Fanny says, “You and Marcia – splendid.  Why not Jean Harlow and Mahatma Ghandi!”  And Golden Age British culture (which did more to advance civilization than perhaps any other on earth) informs everything from the delivery and dialogue (“It was beastly of me!”  “Right-o!”) to the way characters play bridge as in Agatha Christie novels.  It is rampant in the dry wit:

Fanny to the butler (as Marcia’s weekend coupe is in full swing):  “What’s Mrs. Warren doing?”

The butler:  “Well, after dinner she was in the conservatory with Mr. Salsten showing her orchids.  Then she showed him the Japanese perbula.”

Fanny:  “Well, what’s she showing him now?”

In sum, featherweight nonsense perhaps, but even the most mediocre of these MGM parlor hoohas is a class act.  There's the genius of a designer like Adrian, of an art director like Cedric Gibbons, of character actors who come from English music halls and stage backgrounds, of actresses and actors like Joan Crawford and Robert Montgomery who have more elegance in their pinkies than most do in their entire bodies and who embody an old-style glamour that simply doesn’t exist anymore.  (One dressing gown here is satin and fur-lined!)  Gail Patrick, a beauty who resembles Julie Newmar and Paula Prentiss, appears as one of Sherry’s paramours, Therese Germane.  - D. Nowak