Ball of Fire (1941)

"The needle of the compass no longer points to the magnetic pole. It points, if I may say so, to your ankles."

After an insanely busy month, I finally was able to sit down and take notes on the first film I will be reviewing, Howard Hawks’ Ball of Fire starring Barbara Stanwyck and Gary Cooper, written by Charles Brackett and Billy Wilder. I fairly recently hopped on the Gary Cooper train after watching him as the delightful titular himbo in Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (1936), but I have been a fan of “Stany” ever since I watched Christmas in Connecticut (1945) in high school which was when I first truly got into Old Hollywood movies. I’ll be going through the plot of the film, adding my own commentary and thoughts throughout. Spoilers ahead—you have been warned!

The film begins with a title card reading:

That “one thing” is sex. It was pretty clear from the get that this film was a Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937) parody. Once we see the professors, this becomes even clearer: there’s a “Dopey” smelling the flowers, a “Happy” (played by the iconic S. Z. Sakall, naturally), and even a “Grumpy.” Considering there are eight of them instead of seven, commented on even within the film, what does that make Gary Cooper? Sexy? Ok, fine, they’re actually distinguished by the different subjects they specialize in for the encyclopedia they are writing for their financial backer, Miss Totten (Mary Field). Her father, who provided the money in the first place, wanted to be among the likes of Edison and Bell as he invented the electric toaster (cue “I don’t think my father, the inventor of the electric toaster, would be too pleased to hear about this”) but apparently only deserves three-quarters of a page. There’s a part during this scene that seems to come out of nowhere: Professor Potts (Cooper) flirting with Miss Totten, even exclaiming “woof!” I’ll give it the benefit of the doubt as “Gurky” or Professor Gurkakoff (Oskar Homolka) was stroking Potts’ back, but the flirting still seemed to come out of nowhere for a man who claims that his youth allows him to “suppress temptation.”

A garbage man, played by Allen Jenkins, walks into the building and starts speaking in all sorts of modern slang, confusing the professors, especially our dear Bertram Potts. He realizes that the 800 slang words he wrote about for the encyclopedia might as well be thrown out as his reference books were 20 years old. For a professor, I would think he would be smarter than to use 20 year old reference books, but what do I know? I only just got my undergraduate degree. He decides to go out and do some investigative research, prompting a great remark from Professor Magenbruch (S. Z. Sakall), the physiologist: “Maybe my data on sex… is a little outdated too!”

Potts goes to all these different places to take notes such as on a street corner with a newsie, Coney Island, a baseball game, etc. He eventually ends up at a club where Gene Krupa and his Orchestra are playing. Out comes the “astounding specimen” that is Barbara Stanwyck as Sugarpuss O’Shea (10/10 name) to sing “Drum Boogie” while wearing a gorgeous gown by Edith Head.

I’m not even someone who tends to be on the lookout for fashion in Old Hollywood movies but wowzers (or maybe that is just my never-ending crush on Barbara Stanwyck speaking). One of the waiters at the club talks to Potts about Sugarpuss, saying “She jives by night, root, zoot, and cute. Solid to boot!” If someone said that about me I’d either swoon or punch them in the nose, I haven’t yet quite decided.

Meanwhile, there’s this whole side plot, which kind of eventually works its way into the main plot, where Sugarpuss’ boyfriend, Joe Lilac (Dana Andrews), is being “framed” for murder, and the pajamas that Sugarpuss had given him were found with the body. Now, the cops are looking for Sugarpuss. This plotline is kind of basic and boring: it’s quite obvious that Joe Lilac is the killer, even if he denies it, and feels completely unnecessary. We could have had a simple Pygmalion/My Fair Lady-esque set up between Sugarpuss and Potts without this added drama. It almost feels as though the film is trying to capitalize on the growing genre that would later become identified as film noir (Billy Wilder of Double Indemnity (1944) fame did write the script after all) with Sugarpuss as some sort of femme fatale without the fatale part, kind of similar to her role in The Lady Eve (1941). She’s sexual, but her sexuality isn’t necessarily a sin, even if she does trap the male lead with her advances.

Potts arrives backstage to talk to Sugarpuss and invite her to be part of his experiment. She initially thinks he is from the DA’s office and as desperate as she is to hide, she eventually decides to stay with Potts. What police officer would ever dare ask about a young, sexy lady at this bachelor mansion (not to be confused with The Bachelor Mansion). The professors, at the absolute horniest they will be at during the film, ask Potts all about the girl, however he claims that he never noticed her appearance, only her vocabulary, using words so “bizarre” they made his “mouth water.” We’ll be circling back to this claim.

Soon Sugarpuss arrives at the building, frightening the professors in their cute old men nightgowns. A little “motif” that develops for Sugarpuss is a double click with her mouth, acting as almost a sly wink to her naughty side that isn’t appropriate for a movie produced under the Hays Code.

“Hi-de-ho!”

Thus begins perhaps the most iconic scene to have come out of Ball of Fire, if Instagram reels are to tell you anything. We learn that no woman has ever stayed the night, not even their housekeeper Miss Bragg (Kathleen Howard) and that all of the men are bachelors except for one widower, Professor Oddly (Richard Haydn). Sugarpuss, taking off her heel, insists that she stay the night. As she takes off her stocking, Potts claims that “even the most, uh, free-thinking people must respect the, um—” Sugarpuss retorts, “All right, feel that” and sticks her bare leg up in front of Potts. Potts does, eventually, “feel that foot.”

There’s the precarious positioning of the foot, Potts’ sweaty and unkept hair, his undone collar… The movie, especially in this moment, feels more like a precode film, the scene itself easily fitting within a film like Baby Face (1933). Sugarpuss describes her foot as cold and wet before beckoning Potts even closer, eventually pulling him down by his shirt, telling him to “give.” Seriously, how did this film get past the censors? According to the Motion Picture Production Code of 1930 “suggestive postures and gestures” are not permitted. What, however, would you call Sugarpuss asking Potts to look down her throat, described by Magenbruch (as the other professors crowd around) to have a “slight rosiness,” though she finds it to be red and sore? It doesn’t necessarily add anything to the plot other than establish her character as overly sexual. And yet she never gets her comeuppance. She gets the boy (and not just any boy, Gary Cooper of all boys). She even says, with a tinge of naughtiness in her voice, “I’ll get to know them,” letting the mind wonder what the hell she even means by that. She uses these tactics into convincing Potts that she’ll get a cold if she goes out in the rain so he must let her stay the night. I can’t say that I’m convinced that’s why she did it and that’s what it all meant, but on the other hand, Barbara Stanwyck has a way of convincing men anything in her movies (and the professors are most certainly convinced). The scene concludes with Sugarpuss reminding the men that this is all for research and to look at her as one of Newton’s apples.

I’m not going to go too in depth regarding the murder plot because I find it fairly boring and unnecessary. What you do need to know is that Joe gets Sugar a diamond engagement ring and the two plan to get married as she wouldn’t be able to testify against her husband. Meanwhile, Sugarpuss teaches Potts about the word “corny” and the professors how to conga dance. We’ve entered the first “hijinks ensue” portion of the screwball comedy. Miss Bragg threatens to leave, claiming that Sugarpuss is “the kind of woman that makes whole civilizations topple” and I have never wanted someone to call me something so badly before. Potts, and the other men, who have no ability to take care of themselves apparently, must ask Sugarpuss to leave.

He looks down at her throat just as he did the night before (kinky) to confirm that her throat is “normal” so he can send her back on her way. Potts explains the creation of the encyclopedia as a long voyage in an equally as long metaphor. The institution decided that there be no women aboard the ship and for four days (it’s been four days?) the men have been drifting as the needle of the metaphorical compass has been pointing to Sugarpuss’ very real ankles, ankles of which the men have not seen in nine years. She says she’s willing to sit on her legs but Potts claims it’s too late. Sugarpuss, however, reminds Potts that there are many slang words and phrases she has yet to teach him like, “I’ll get you on the Ameche,” a phrase she learned moments ago, that references actor Don Ameche’s role as telephone inventor Alexander Graham Bell.

Potts smiles and says to Sugarpuss, “Make no mistake, I shall regret the absence of your keen mind. Unfortunately, it is inseparable from an extremely disturbing body.” Throughout the film, the writers have tried to claim that Potts is first and foremost attracted to Sugarpuss’ mind, not her body, though that is an added plus. As accurate to the character of Bertram Potts that may be, I find the claim a direct result of the Hays Code: Potts cannot be attracted to her sexuality; he must be attracted to her mind. This brings to question the role of Sugarpuss’ sexuality as an element of female agency. The Code clearly has a goal of restricting the female body and even a film as sexual as Ball of Fire, falls victim. The tension between character development and the Code is clear: Potts is attracted to Sugarpuss’ mind, yet her sexuality is what ultimately wins him over, “an extremely disturbing body” that continuously inches closer and closer; the Code prohibits an initial attraction to her body, however, it is also a claim that works for the character of Bertram Potts. The way the writers were able to play within and play with the Code in this film is something worth paying attention to when watching the film.

Sugarpuss refers to Potts as “Crabapple Annie,” or narrow-minded, to which he replies, “I am a perfectly normal man with perfectly normal instincts.” What exactly are those “perfectly normal instincts?” Teenage boy-level horniness, is my conclusion. He, too, has been “acutely aware” of her presence, when she leaned over his shoulder and breathed on him and when she stood by the window with the sun shining on her hair, and seeing Barbara Stanwyck, those would have done me in too and also would have made me have to water my neck. Potts believes that his youthfulness allows him to suppress temptation which is weird because more often than not the opposite is true. Being the absolute queen that she is, Sugarpuss walks towards the window and stands with the sunlight in her hair, shutting Potts up instantly.

Sugarpuss decides she might as well confess that she is in love with Potts. I guess. And that she came because she wanted to see him again and thought him to be “big and cute and… pretty.” Gary Cooper is most certainly “big and cute and… pretty,” but this seems to come completely out of nowhere. We know why she came to see him again, but was this also an added factor? Why can she be sexually attracted to Potts from the get but not vice versa? Sexism! Sugarpuss seems to have fun practically torturing the men, and particularly Potts, with her sexuality, but her romantic feelings seem sudden and a way to make her character seem less villainous. I’ll only buy it because I’m intrigued by the chemistry between these two. It isn’t great chemistry like Stanwyck had with Dennis Morgan in Christmas in Connecticut but it sure is unique and fascinating to watch.

Sugarpuss says she’s wacky about Potts and call him a “regular yum-yum type.” What’s “yum-yum” you may ask? Sugarpuss pulls out some books and stands on them (the height difference!!!) and wraps her arms around Potts. She kisses him, one for each “yum,” and then a long, passionate kiss for “yum-yum,” my thoughts exactly as I watched this.

The two fall backwards on the couch with Sugarpuss laying on top of Potts, who is very soon to become Pottsy. He runs off to go, say it with me, water! his! neck! Although her “further presence here would be fateful,” she notices his wet hair and he completely gives in, claiming that he feels the same affection for her strongly and asks her to “yum” him just once more, acting all giggly and flustered. Honestly, the rest of the film could just be shenanigans with the two of them and I would be thrilled. This scene happens roughly halfway through the movie. The second half is largely, thus, dedicated to the murder subplot, which is honestly a shame, considering the situation of Sugarpuss in the professors’ house is enough to fill the whole story. Not only is this the halfway point, it is about an hour into a two hour movie. Thirty minutes could easily be shaved off this film and I wouldn’t complain. The rest is a bit of a slog, in all honesty, so I will try to make the rest of this review on the briefer side.

The next day, after sending the actual “Crabapple Annie” Miss Bragg away, Potts buys an engagement ring for Sugarpuss and brings her breakfast in bed. Joe Lilac calls the building and tells them “Daddy” is on the phone. Unfortunately, it took me until this movie to realize that “Daddy” has had a very similar meaning to the modern “Daddy” since the Old Hollywood days (one of my favorites is in the film Forty Little Mothers (1940), the clip available on my Instagram). The innocent and naive Potts thinks Joe is actually Sugarpuss’ father and essentially asks for his blessing. He eventually is able to convince Potts to take Sugarpuss to New Jersey for the wedding (how romantic…). All the professors ask for a kiss from the bride in an awkward moment.

Miss Bragg finds a newspaper in Sugarpuss’ room that shows that she is being looked for by the police and Sugarpuss punches her. They almost don’t make it to New Jersey and they eventually get into a car crash because this movie needs to be longer than it already is. Professor Oddly talks about his late wife, the men sing, and Potts accidentally walks into Sugarpuss’ room and confesses how he is in love (which I thought we had already covered but I guess not). They kiss in the darkness and in a shocking turn of events, Sugarpuss waters her neck!

Joe and his goons show up and we get the iconic exchange of, “You’re not her father.” “You’re getting warm. I’m her Daddy,” between Joe and Potts. Joe tells Potts that the wedding was a lie and that Sugarpuss is actually engaged to him. Joe is incredibly gross, referring to her as “hot cargo” and expensive, and all of the professors learn about how she used them to circumvent the police. Against his better judgment, Potts sends the police away, telling them Sugarpuss already left and he confronts her. This moment is the only time that Sugarpuss gets her comeuppance in the way one would think. Her prison moment is being told off by the man she truly loves. She gives no excuses and calls herself a tramp. The moment, even if I am not a fan of this plotline, is incredibly effective, thanks to the acting chops of our leads.

All of the professors are sad as they return home and Potts bans any discussion of her in the house. She returned the ring to him, however she actually returned Joe’s ring. He thinks this is a simple mistake but several of the professors believe that she kept the ring she actually wanted, meaning she is in love with Potts. Sugarpuss is in the newspapers and Miss Totten wants to discontinue the encyclopedia. Potts asks for a dishonorable discharge from the publication since the other men had nothing to do with this scheme.

Joe’s goons then break in (named Asthma and Pastrami, by the way) and Sugarpuss is seen refusing to marry Joe. There are still 20 minutes left of this movie. She mentions all of the little things about Potts that she loves, even saying he “looks like a giraffe and I love him.” She’s not wrong; he kind of does look like a giraffe. Joe threatens to kill Potts and when he learns that Joe and Sugarpuss are not yet married, he giggles and gets all giddy and then I giggle and get all giddy. He also starts to yodel a little and I feel as though we were robbed since the start of it sounded pretty solid.

Then our second “hijinks ensue” moment begins as the professors, led by Potts, use their smarts, referencing the Sword of Damocles and the Roman fleet and Archimedes to trap the goons. It’s quite an impressive sequence, however, the it goes on for, once again, way too long, and distracts from the primary storyline, the reason I am watching the film in the first place, Gary Cooper and Barbara Stanwyck. The men get the garbage man to take them to New Jersey and we learn that Professor Magenbruch is an authority on Chinese tortures. It’s not important but I just thought you should know that. Sugarpuss keeps making sarcastic comments during the wedding ceremony and the professors come in singing with the guns.

Potts tells Joe to put up his “dukes,” using the slang he’s learned from Sugarpuss, and the two start physically fighting, ending with Potts beating Joe up ala Ralphie beating up Scut Farkus in A Christmas Story (1983). The men are thrown into a truck and arrested! Hooray, that plot is over!

Sugarpuss is reluctant to marry Potts even though all of the professors are telling them to get married. Why she suddenly doesn’t want to marry Potts makes absolute no sense but I guess they have to end it somehow? The men say they can cite examples and arguments but Potts claims there is only one argument, grabbing books for her to stand on. He yanks her up and starts to kiss her and the professors leave them to it, doing the little double click from the beginning on their way out. The last shot of the film is not them kissing but the men leaving which is a bit deflating, in all honesty.

The film is cute and a fun time despite the lengthy and convoluted side plot. Should you watch it? It’s a Howard Hawks screwball written by Billy Wilder and starring Barbara Stanwyck and Gary Cooper so of course you should! But be prepared to make an evening out of it, rather than as part of a double feature. 4.5/5 stars!

Letterboxd Feature review: “few things as exciting as gary cooper and dana andrews punching each other” 4/5 stars, marycrawleys

Thank you for reading my first review! The format may change as I go on but I hope you had fun with this one. More coming soon! Feel free to discuss the film with me and others in the comments below!

Referenced Films: Ball of Fire (1941), Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (1936), Christmas in Connecticut (1945), Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937), Double Indemnity (1944), The Lady Eve (1941), Baby Face (1933), Forty Little Mothers (1940), A Christmas Story (1983)