Small Town Girl: A messy, old-school romantic headache

Is it worth your time?

If you have a soft spot for 1930s romantic dramas that feel like they were written on a napkin during a very long lunch, you might get a kick out of Small Town Girl. Everyone else? Probably not. It’s the kind of movie that asks you to buy into a marriage proposal made by a guy who can barely stand up straight, and then expects you to care about his social reputation for the rest of the runtime.

Honestly, the whole premise is a total disaster. Bob Dakin is supposed to be this charming, rich bachelor, but he just comes off as a grade-A jerk who needs a nap and a reality check. Janet Gaynor tries her best to make Kay feel like a real person, but the script keeps pushing her into these submissive corners that felt a bit dusty even back then.

The pacing is all over the place. One minute they’re married, the next we’re dealing with the parents’ obsession with “bad publicity,” which, let’s be real, is just a lazy way to keep the plot from ending in twenty minutes. It reminds me of the chaotic energy in Sweet Music, though with significantly fewer musical numbers to distract you from the logic holes.

Some random observations:

• The scene where they wake up the next morning? Pure, unfiltered awkwardness. You can practically see the regret oozing out of Robert Taylor’s pores.
• I spent a good chunk of the movie just staring at the background extras. Some of them seem to have no idea where they’re supposed to be standing.
• The lighting in the bedroom scenes is weirdly bright, like they’re trying to hide the lack of chemistry with a giant spotlight.
• Is it just me, or does the father character look like he’s ready to just walk off the set and go home at any second?

There’s a weird, hollow feeling to the house scenes. It’s like the set designers were told to make it look expensive but forgot to add anything that actually looked lived-in. It doesn’t hold a candle to the atmosphere in The Opening Night, which manages to feel claustrophobic in a much more intentional way.

Maybe I’m being too harsh. Maybe it’s just the era. But watching Bob pine for his other fiancée while his new wife is sitting right there in the same room? It’s just kind of gross. I found myself rooting for the divorce, which is probably not the goal of a romantic drama, right? Whoops.

It’s not a complete wash—the supporting cast does a decent job of trying to keep things grounded, even when the dialogue starts feeling like it was pulled from a different movie entirely. It’s a strange, uneven watch. You’ll probably forget half of it by the time the credits roll, but those first twenty minutes? They’re something else.