NR | 1 h 36 min | Comedy | 1940
David Snell’s boisterous score hints early on that director Robert Leonard’s film, “Third Finger, Left Hand,” despite the solemn pretensions of his pretty protagonist, is a romcom. You’ll enjoy her every pretense, even if she doesn’t—not every bit, that is.
New York magazine editor, the young, impossibly beautiful Mrs. Margot Sherwood Merrick (Myrna Loy) is neither a Merrick nor a Mrs. She’s masquerading as the wife of an imaginary Mr. Tony Merrick.
As one of the most desirable women around, she figures the ring on the third finger of her left hand, wards off advances from what she calls “the wolf pack”: undesirable men. Her staff photographer, August Winkel (Felix Bressart), props up this charade, regularly penning letters to her, allegedly from “Tony.”
Funnily, no one’s met Tony. He’s always on some faraway business tour, much like their faraway wedding that no one attended.
Why the pretense? Margot’s balding, pot-bellied boss, Mr. Russell, loves his publishing company. But, it seems, he loves the company of attractive young women even more. Mrs. Russell keeps him on a tight leash. That includes firing pretty women editors, like the two who preceded Margot.
Career-minded Margot, though, isn’t about to divorce her job that easily. In fact, she’s wedded to the idea of a fictitious husband; after all, she wonders, who needs a real one?
Margot’s farce works for a while. Then, a rustic young artist from Ohio, Jeff Thompson (Melvyn Douglas), is attracted to her. He stumbles upon her ruse and shows up at her family’s door pretending to be Tony. She’s married to him, isn’t she? Isn’t she?! Cover nearly blown, Margot discovers she’s not as sophisticated or in control as she thinks.
Light Touch
Director Leonard’s light touch prevents comical moments from degenerating into slapstick. Margot’s exceedingly gentle father, Mr. Sherwood (Raymond Walburn), on finally meeting Jeff, er … Tony, for the first time, strides up to him as if about to deliver an upper cut to the chin.After a cursory handshake, he places his hands behind his back, then gently rebukes Tony for neglecting his husbandly duties toward Margot. The most he can come up with, physically, is to rock forward and up on his toes, then back and down on his heels. Not to be outdone, Jeff, as Tony, responds as gently as he can, also rocking back and forth, up and down.
Later, standing in the cramped aisle of a train coach, Jeff and Margot nearly repeat that little routine. Jeff wonders whether Margot secretly likes him in return. Except, it’s the rocking motion of the train that must do the job for Margot; all-too-eager Jeff needs less help in swaying toward her.
The audience cares so much about Jeff and Margot in the very first scenes that the preposterous situations they put themselves and others in don’t matter after a point. Douglas excels.
Watch him carry his bride over the threshold, or carry on a discussion with rival suitor Philip Booth (Lee Bowman) while sporting a nasal block from a severe cold.
Consider Loy’s Margot, sipping chocolate-malted milk alongside Douglas’s Jeff at a cool bar. It’s a masterclass, showing why Loy was the darling of directors who knew how to get the best out of her. Leonard lavishes a three-minute scene on this chat. Margot’s explaining why women should be career-minded, Jeff’s clarifying why they shouldn’t. Of course, she’s sizing him up.
Douglas does most of the talking. But watch Loy’s micro-reactions. She’s expressive with everything: her eyes, eyebrows, lips, cheeks, even her famously animated nostrils. She’s talking with her neck, hatted head, padded shoulders, gloved fingers, and fluttering eyelashes. She’s not just waiting to deliver her lines.
Done watching? Now, watch her again, this time with the volume turned off.
