Wednesday, October 7, 2026

Love Crazy (Loew's, MGM, 1939)


by Mark Gabrish Conlan • Copyright © 2026 by Mark Gabrish Conlan • All rights reserved

Two nights ago (Monday, October 5) my husband Charles and I watched Love Crazy, a quirky 1941 movie from MGM and the 11th of the 14 films William Powell and Myrna Loy made together. It was shown on Turner Classic Movies as part of their “Star of the Month” tribute not to William Powell, as I’d expected, but to Myrna Loy. It was the immediate follow-up to I Love You Again (1940), in which the gimmick that briefly put a damper on the Powell-Loy relationship (in both films, as in their six Thin Man movies and many of their others, they played a married couple) was amnesia. Here it’s insanity, or at least feigned insanity. When the film opens Steve and Susan Ireland (William Powell and Myrna Loy) are celebrating their fourth wedding anniversary by re-enacting their activities the night that Steve originally proposed to Susan. Only this time around they’ve decided to do the ritual backwards, and as part of that they tell their cook, Cecelia Landis (Sara Haden), to serve them their dinner backwards, starting with dessert (singularly unappetizing-looking slices of pie). Susan’s mother, Mrs. Cooper (Florence Bates), arrives, bearing a wedding gift – a round rug she puts in the middle of their hallway, so over the course of the movie just about everyone slips and falls on it – even though she’s never liked Steve and has always thought her daughter could have done better. Steve runs into Isobel Grayson (Gail Patrick), the ex he dumped four years before to marry Susan, and who’s just moved into the same apartment building as the Irelands. Needless to say, Isobel wants to change that “ex” part even though she’s also got married in the meantime, to artist “Pinky” Grayson (Donald MacBride, which definitely seems to me to be trading “down” after William Powell!). Steve and Isobel got stuck in a sporadically working elevator run by Joe (an instantly recognizable Elisha Cook, Jr., the same year he made The Maltese Falcon and changed his typecasting from comic-relief juvenile to hard-bitten criminal). In order to get out of it again, Steve and Isobel have to climb through its escape hatch to get to a floor in the building, and Steve gets his head stuck in the elevator door and is uneasily suspended and in danger of falling to his death until he’s able to get the door open and pull himself to safety. In the course of their rescue Isobel has shed her high-heeled shoes and Steve has put them in his pockets. They fall out again when Steve and Susan reunite, and of course Susan jumps to the wrong conclusion, especially once Steve and Isobel spend several hours together outside. They actually just hung out at a bar and reminisced about old times, but Susan didn’t know that.

She decides to get back at Steve by vamping Isobel’s husband, only by mistake she ends up cruising Ward Willoughby (Jack Carson), the world’s champion archer. Needless to say, Willoughby is delighted that a woman of Myrna Loy’s obvious attractiveness is going after him. Susan decides to divorce Steve and even engages Steve’s lawyer, George Renny (Sidney Blackmer), to represent her. The case zips through the courts until Steve hits on the idea of slowing it down by pretending to be insane. At a fancy dinner party hosted by Mrs. Bristol (Kathleen Lockhart) Steve grabs the top hats the male guests have checked and throws them into a swimming pool, claiming that he’s Abraham Lincoln and the hats are the slaves he’s freed. Since Steve had already built a reputation for off-the-wall behavior, all his old friends think it’s just Steve being Steve again. The only one who thinks he’s really crazy is Dr. Klugle (Vladimir Sokoloff). At the next court hearing in Steve’s and Susan’s divorce case Steve is sentenced to be examined by the so-called “Lunacy Board,” and needless to say Dr. Klugle turns out to be the head of it and orders that Steve either be released into the custody of his wife or be sent to a sanitarium run by Dr. Wuthering (Sig Ruman). When Susan refuses to take custody of him, he’s bundled off to the mental hospital, where Ward Willoughby follows him and ends up getting incarcerated there by mistake. Willoughby works out an escape plan involving a large net with which he intends to catapult himself over the fence, but Steve not only uses the escape plan himself but tricks Dr. Wuthering into getting caught in the net (literally!). The police declare Steve Ireland an escaped homicidal maniac, and Steve returns to the apartment building where he lives, steals some women’s clothes from a mannequin in the Graysons’ apartment (“Pinky” uses it as a model for his paintings), and even shaves off the trademark William Powell moustache to make his drag complete. Steve poses as his (nonexistent) sister, but in the end Willoughby and Mrs. Cooper show up and are fooled by Steve’s drag, but Susan isn’t and announces she’s going to sleep in the same bedroom as her supposed sister-in-law. Love Crazy was written by William Ludwig, David Hertz, and Charles Lederer – the first two are credited with the “original” story and all three with the actual script.

It was directed by Jack Conway, who according to writer Anita Loos was a hard-core Christian Scientist whom MGM assigned to films they thought would get them in trouble with the censors, hoping that he’d tone them down in his directing. Loos told one story about Conway and their film Red-Headed Woman (1932), in which he flatly refused to direct one particular scene (Loos didn’t say which one) and told her, “If you want that scene in the movie, you’ll have to direct it yourself.” Loos said, “Pardon me while I powder my nose,” did so, and then headed to the set to direct the scene. Love Crazy is an obvious example of a film with some pretty racy script elements that Conway could be relied on to soft-pedal, and it holds up rather well even though the whole concept of screwball comedy was getting rather threadbare by 1941. As I’ve noted before in these pages, screwball democratized movie comedy by allowing stars with reputations in drama to play comedy as well instead of leaving that to the specialists like Chaplin, Keaton, Lloyd, and Laurel and Hardy. I’d ended up watching Love Crazy by mistake – I’d misread the TCM schedule and thought I’d be seeing The Kennel Murder Case, also starring William Powell, instead – but it was a delight if not an altogether unalloyed one. Charles noted that Love Crazy was a great movie for degrees-of-separation buffs, since it contains two actors who worked with The Marx Brothers (Sig Ruman and Donald MacBride) as well as one (Elisha Cook, Jr.) who over the course of a long career worked with Humphrey Bogart in both The Maltese Falcon and The Big Sleep and lasted long enough to make The Killing for director Stanley Kubrick and Rosemary’s Baby for Roman Polanski (as well as repeating his Maltese Falcon role as he’d naturally aged in David Giler’s underrated 1976 part-sequel, part-spoof The Black Bird). Another quirk about Love Crazy is it introduces William Powell’s character with the song “It’s Delightful to Be Married,” which had appeared in Powell’s Florenz Ziegfeld biopic The Great Ziegfeld (1936). There it had been sung by Luise Rainer as Ziegfeld’s first wife, singer Anna Held, in the first of two movies for which Rainer won two thoroughly undeserved Academy Awards – though when I posted on The Great Ziegfeld (I wrote about it on the moviemagg blog at https://moviemagg.blogspot.com/2010/01/great-ziegfeld-mgm-1936.html) I learned through my research that Florenz Ziegfeld and Anna Held had never legally married and the only woman Ziegfeld had married officially was actress Billie Burke (played by Myrna Loy, who doesn’t enter The Great Ziegfeld until 127 minutes into a 172-minute film but still easily turns in the best female performance in the movie).