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6.3/10
Senior Film Conservator
A definitive 6.3/10 rating for a film that redefined the boundaries of cult cinema. My Woman remains a cornerstone of transgressive art.
If you have about seventy minutes to kill and you like movies where people talk really fast into giant metal microphones, My Woman is actually a solid pick.
It’s definitely for people who enjoy those Pre-Code movies where the morality is a little blurry and the drinks are always poured heavy. 🥃
If you hate old-fashioned acting or movies where the plot moves like a caffeinated squirrel, you should probably skip this one.
I watched it last night on a whim and I’m still thinking about Helen Twelvetrees’ face. She has these eyes that always look like they are about to leak tears, even when she’s smiling.
The movie starts in Panama, which looks suspiciously like a Hollywood backlot with a few palm fronds glued to the walls.
Connie (Helen) is singing and dancing in this nightclub that looks like it smells like cheap cigars and humidity. 💃
Then enters John Bradley, played by Victor Jory, who is a radio executive from the big city.
He sees her, likes her, and basically tells her she belongs in New York. It’s that classic 'star is born' setup, but it feels more desperate here.
I noticed the background extras in the Panama scene looked genuinely bored, like they had been sitting in that fake heat for ten hours. One guy in the back is just staring at his drink like he’s trying to solve a math problem.
Anyway, Connie goes to New York, but she’s not alone. She brings along her husband, Chick, played by Wallace Ford.
Chick is the worst. I mean, really, he’s just a loud-mouthed parasite who wants to ride her coattails to fame.
The movie gets way more interesting when they get into the radio station stuff. It’s 1933, so radio was the high-tech frontier back then.
The microphones look like heavy pieces of industrial machinery. 🎙️
There is this one scene where Connie is trying to get Chick a job as a radio comedian. It’s painful to watch because he’s just not funny, and you can see the secondary characters cringing.
The way the movie handles the 'fame' aspect is pretty cynical. It reminded me a bit of the energy in The Ridin' Comet, even though that’s a totally different genre.
There’s a lot of focus on the technical side of the broadcast. You see the guys in the glass booths twisting knobs and looking very serious about sound levels.
I love those little details, like how they had to stand perfectly still so they wouldn't mess up the audio. It feels so primitive and honest compared to how we record stuff now.
Victor Jory plays the executive with this weird, stiff charm. He has a mustache that looks like it was drawn on with a very expensive pencil.
He clearly wants Connie, but he’s being a 'gentleman' about it, which in 1930s movies usually means he just looms nearby and sighs a lot.
The dialogue is snappy, but sometimes it’s so fast I had to rewind a second to catch what Chick was yelling about. Wallace Ford really leans into that 'annoying guy' persona.
I think the movie struggles a bit with its tone. One minute it’s a light romance, and the next it feels like a heavy drama about a woman trapped in a bad marriage.
It’s not as dark as something like After Dark, but it has its moments of real sadness.
There is a specific shot where Connie is standing by a window in a fancy apartment, looking out at the city she thought she wanted. The lighting is perfect—lots of shadows and very dramatic.
It’s funny how these movies always make New York look like both a dream and a nightmare at the same time.
I did find myself wondering why Connie stayed with Chick for so long. The movie doesn't really explain their history, so you just have to accept that she’s loyal to a fault.
The pacing is a bit like Yes or No, where it feels like it’s rushing to get to the next big emotional beat.
One thing that bothered me was the sound of the singing. It’s clearly dubbed, and sometimes Helen’s mouth doesn't quite match the notes.
But that’s part of the charm of these early talkies, I guess. They were still figuring out how to make everything work together.
There is a scene near the end where everything falls apart during a live broadcast. It’s genuinely tense!
You can feel the panic of the live format, where one mistake means thousands of people hear you fail. It’s the original 'going viral' but with more static.
I liked how the movie didn't try to wrap everything up in a perfectly neat bow. It feels a bit messy, just like real life.
Is it a masterpiece? No, probably not. But it’s got a lot of heart and some really great hats.
Helen Twelvetrees really carries the whole thing on her shoulders. Without her, it would just be another forgotten melodrama about radio waves.
I’d say give it a watch if you’re in the mood for something short and punchy. It’s a nice window into a world that doesn’t exist anymore.
Just be prepared to really, really dislike Wallace Ford by the time the credits roll. He’s that good at being bad. 📺
IMDb 5.2
1918
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