When it comes to Hollywood in the 1930s, any devotee is likely to have a good working knowledge of the Pre-Code era, the time between the peak of silent cinema and the introduction of the Hays Code, which sought to dictate what could be portrayed on screen, placing particular emphasis on stringent rules that prevented any suggestive or even vaguely lewd or profane content. The films that existed between these two temporal poles are often considered to be some of the most subversive in the history of the medium, where many filmmakers took advantage of the laissez-faire mentality and told stories that they knew wouldn’t be possible once the inevitable rise of censorship occurred, which was always a threat to the freedom afforded to the industry. One film that straddles the line between the two is The Girl from Missouri, which quite literally occurs between them – it was technically made during the Pre-Code era, but released a mere few weeks later after the official establishment of an office dedicated to ensuring all films released by major studios met the strict criteria defined by the Production Code Administration, who used conservative Christian morals as the foundation for their decisions. Few films represent the shift better than The Girl from Missouri, with director Jack Conway clearly having designed something far more cutting-edge, but forced to remove large passages of the film, while still quietly sneaking in a few sequences that would otherwise be considered far too lewd had it been made even a month later. The ambigious space between the two periods in film history brought out some fascinating works, and this one in particular stands as an immense achievement that is as earnest as it is insightful and funny, which only helps guide along the feeling that there is something deeper to this story.

The film tells the story of a young woman, played by Jean Harlow, who escapes her humdrum life in rural Missouri, and makes her way to New York City, where she hopes to marry a rich man and lead a life of luxury, which she has always dreamed about from her youngest years. It’s important to mention that The Girl from Missouri was clearly not designed as a feminist statement, at least not in theory (the execution is another matter entirely), and a great deal of the content can be considered somewhat regressive. However, this is really only an issue if we’re viewing it from a contemporary perspective, where such storylines would rouse up very strong reactions. This isn’t to suggest that Conway and the extensive team of screenwriters designed this film to be some sexist account of a woman seeking out wealth through marriage rather than effort to make it herself, but rather a light and breezy comedy that played off perceptions at the time – and in practice, there are some very compelling developments that prevent the film from being all that myopic, with the director ensuring that every scene actually contributes to a deeper discussion, rather than skirting around the bigger issues. Feminism was still a relatively new concept in cinema, especially since major studios didn’t have much interest in telling stories of fiercely determined women – they made films that reflected what they believed audiences wanted to see, and their assumptions were built from the same conservative, patriarchal values that inspired the eventual Hays Code to come into effect. It’s a complex discussion, and one that perhaps wasn’t intended to be facilitated by a film like The Girl from Missouri – but its simple and effective premise, and breezy execution make it a perfect candidate to represent these issues in a way that is non-confrontational, and mostly extremely fascinating.

Looking beyond the meta-narrative and how it represents a particularly bleak moment in American cinema history, The Girl from Missouri is a wonderfully fun film, an effervescent and endearing romantic comedy that makes up for its simple story by having a lot of grit, as well as an abundance of well-calibrated humour that makes it seem profoundly modern, at least in the more intricate details. Putting aside the surface-level premise, we can see how this film is less about a woman seeking wealth, and more about someone defying expectations and going in search of her own fortune, even if it means gaining it through slightly unconventional means. The character of Eadie doesn’t necessarily long for wealth, but rather the freedom that comes with it – she desires to be at liberty, allowed to choose whatever partner she likes, which is where the central premise of being caught between a rich businessman and his playful son comes into effect. There’s an interesting binary the comes about through the gradual elevation of this premise from a simple “rags-to-riches” story into a more acerbic and insightful satire of society – and like any film from this era that looked at the generally cliched concept of the smalltown girl venturing into the big city in the hopes of finding fame, fortune and friendship, there’s a degree of classism that is valuable to discussions on the binary between wealth and poverty. This may not seem like a particularly impactful difference, but considering The Girl from Missouri was made during the Great Depression, where it was very likely that many people from the impoverished regions of the country saw this film as a beacon of hope, we can easily understand precisely why it holds some importance in that particular era of cinema. Conway’s ability to use this binary as the foundation for a very funny comedy only further proves the escapist nature of film, and how it can often make even the most dire of situations come across as beautifully entertaining.

The Girl from Missouri also features arguably Jean Harlow’s most well-known performances. Having only been a part of Hollywood for less than a decade before her tragic and untimely passing, Harlow left a legacy that very few performers have been able to match. While she is mostly known for dying upsettingly young, those who have seen any of her films know what a ferociously talented actress she was – and even when working in as simple a film as this, she manages to find ways to leave an indelible impression. Undeniably, The Girl from Missouri was designed to be a star vehicle for her, an opportunity for Harlow to showcase her immense talents in the form of a film that was constructed around her particular charms, highlighting all the reasons she was such a powerful screen presence. It’s difficult to argue with those that consider her one of the most compelling sirens of the Golden Age of Hollywood – her ability to play characters that were deep, mature and honest, while being very young herself, made her an instant film icon, and which this particular performance never fails to showcase. Not even the presence of formidable actors like Lionel Barrymore or Franchot Tone could distract from the incredible work Harlow was doing. It’s an impeccable performance that may not be particularly complex, but rather the kind of instance where someone doesn’t need to extend themselves too far in playing a role, since their inherent gifts are more than enough to be engrossing, and help guide us through the film on the sheer virtue of her ingrained talents.

Harlow’s career was cut too short, and considering the depth she was able to bring to as simple a film as The Girl from Missouri, one needs to wonder how far she could’ve gone with a few more years on her résumé. This film is built entirely from her talents, so it’s difficult to imagine anyone else occupying the role – and as far as anything goes, it seems to be little more than a typical star vehicle designed for the major box office candidates at the time. Yet, actually looking into the film, we see how unexpectedly layered it is – on a surface-level, it seems to just be a straightforward romantic comedy, but as we look deeper, we see there are nuances relating to socio-economic perspectives, with the real-world events around this time serving as the backdrop to a very clever comedy that quietly but effectively satirizes common perceptions on wealth and freedom, which continue to be prominent discussions, especially when looking at the elusive concept of the American Dream, yet another literary device woven into the narrative of this film. It’s not particularly complex, and it can sometimes be quite flippant about some of its issues relating to gender roles – but it had its heart in the right place, and judging a film like The Girl from Missouri by making use of modern perspectives is only going to complicate our feelings towards the film, and force it to lose the ethereal charm that is far more impactful than its misguided but otherwise inconsequential portrayal of gender issues at a time when this was barely a conversation many major studios were willing to have. Taken on its own terms, The Girl from Missouri is an absolute delight, and a film well worth one’s time, especially in how it manages to draw a combination of insightful commentary and endearing comedy from the most simple of narratives.