Summary
A suffocating cloud of marital compromise hangs over Jack (Cullen Landis), a reformed tobacconist coerced into abstinence by his well-intentioned but overbearing bride, Mary (Billie Rhodes). Their honeymoon's glow scarcely fades before Jack's clandestine puffs betray his pledge, sparking a domestic arms race. Mary deploys 'Nico Not'—a sinister antidote surreptitiously slipped into his coffee—inducing violent spasms Jack mistakes for neurological collapse. Upon discovering the bottle's malevolent label, our nicotine-starved protagonist engineers elaborate psychological warfare. He replaces the powder with benign sugar, then strategically plants alarming literature about patent medicine dangers. The stage set, Jack executes a theatrical seizure, bottle clutched dramatically, prompting Mary's hysterical summons of a physician. As Jack gleefully unveils his ruse to the doctor, Mary overhears, her eyes narrowing with vengeance. Her retaliation manifests as a diabolically loaded cigar; its explosive ignition propels Jack into authentic, flailing trauma. Amidst sulfurous smoke and his genuine convulsions, Mary's laughter rings cruel and cathartic. Defeated, Jack renounces his vice anew, both spouses then breaking the fourth wall to implore audiences toward temperance and tobacco donations for war-ravaged soldiers abroad.
Synopsis
Jack had to swear off smoking when he became engaged to Mary, but broke his pledge after the honeymoon. Mary put some Nico Not, a cure for the smoking habit, in his coffee, and Jack thinks he has an acute case of the falling sickness until he discovers the dope in the kitchen cabinet. He substitutes sugar for the Nico Not, and leaves an article on the dangers of patent medicines where Mary can find it. She returns, reads the article, finds Jack in an apparent fit on the floor with the bottle of Nico Not in his hand, and frantically calls a doctor. Jack tells the doctor the joke, but Mary overhears, gets a loaded cigar and presents it to Jack. The explosion throws him into a real fit, and wife laughs. Jack swears off, and they both ask the audience to do likewise and send the smokes to the boys "over there" in the trenches.
Review Excerpt
"
Watching My Lady Nicotine feels like uncorking a volatile chemical compound—part Victorian propriety, part anarchic slapstick, wholly unstable. Director John S. Robertson crafts a suffocating domestic arena where love curdles into control, and a cigar becomes both phallic symbol and weapon of mass matrimonial destruction. The film’s genius lies not in subtlety, but in how it weaponizes the everyday: coffee cups transform into vessels of betrayal, kitchen cabinets hide pharmacological treacher..."
