I LOST MY GIRLISH LAUGHTER

This delicious satire of old Hollywood, originally published in 1938 and largely unknown even by cinephiles, gets a welcome reissue.

The hijinks start early in this screwball sendup, since, as one Hollywood veteran tells a newbie writer, “We not only preoccupy ourselves with sex at the box office but feel we must live life as we see it on the screen for twenty-four hours a day.” Sidney Brand, the powerful Hollywood producer standing in for legendary real-life producer David O. Selznick (Gone With the Wind; Rebecca), gets the job done but, god, he’s a monster to work for. He’s narcissistic, needy, chauvinist, and a big ole liar, though he does work really hard, to give him a little credit. Allen dishes on the cupidities and venality of daily life in the big studio system of 1930s Hollywood through her protagonist Madge Lawrence’s letters home as well as interoffice memos, telegrams, journal entries, and gossip columns. Madge is new to Hollywood, hunting for a studio job; Brand hires her as his secretary. He’s desperate for a big commercial success but wants it to come off as a prestige number, so he counts on Viennese import Sarya Tarn (a double for Marlene Dietrich) to bring the quality, but she only brings a healthy dose of divadom. Brand’s frenemy at Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, a rival studio, won’t loan him Clark Gable to play opposite Tarn, so the producer has to rely on Broadway success Bruce Anders, who makes Madge’s heart flutter; meanwhile, the studio’s publicity whiz, Jim Palmer, wittily, mordantly pursues her. This novel is the product of two writers, Silvia Schulman Lardner, who was Selznick’s secretary (and was married to writer Ring Lardner Jr.), and screenwriter Jane Shore. The characters and plot are so thinly veiled that the authors decided a single pseudonym was the wisest path to publication, as film scholar J.E. Smyth explains in her thoughtful introduction.

This novel is a hell of a lot of fun.