HOLY MATRIMONY (1943)

British author Arnold Bennett is probably best-known Stateside for this clever bit of Shavian social/class whimsy about a famous/publicity-shy artist who serendipitously assumes his valet’s identity after the man’s unexpected death . . . then marries the valet’s intended! (The bride mistakenly identifying him from a picture of the two.) All is bliss until an art dealer recognizes the ‘dead’ artist’s style in some brand new ‘posthumous’ pictures and, even worse, when the valet’s abandoned wife & family show up 25 years after last contact. Yikes! Hard to imagine a starless B-pic taking on this sort of sophisticated, delicate comedy and not trouncing it to pieces. Yet the film is something of a minor triumph, with Monty Woolley & Eric Blore getting things off on the right foot as artist & valet, plus an outstanding supporting cast for such a little pic (Franklin Pangborn, Laird Cregar, George Zucco, Una O’Connor, Melville Copper, Alan Mowbray) joining in. As the perfect middle-aged wife, Gracie Fields (a great favorite in Britain) is something of an acquired taste, her down-to-earth act a bit unyielding, but she grows on you. Kudos to scripter Nunnally Johnson for a smart adaptation, director John M. Stahl for finding (and sticking to) just the right tone, and lenser Lucien Ballard for . . . well, for being the great Lucien Ballard! It’s a small, unexpected gem.

DOUBLE-BILL: Two silent versions (one with Lionel Barrymore) are lost/unavailable, and a 1933 version with Roland Young & Lillian Gish is awkwardly handled by legendary theater producer/director Arthur Hopkins in his only try at the movies. Instead, something completely different in a similar whimsical tone: Samuel Fuller’s THE BARON OF ARIZONA/’50 with Vincent Price.

SCREWY THOUGHT OF THE DAY: And speaking of Vincent Price, he starred in a quick flop 1968 B’way musicalization of this (Jules Styne/'Yip' Harburg) called DARLING OF THE DAY against the great Patricia Routledge who won a Tony in spite of its brief one-month run. Watching the film, you’ll spot the problem, Price’s obvious role isn’t the withdrawn artist, but Laird Cregar’s egotistical art dealer.