“That Cagney Touch”: Marketing Masculinity in James Cagney’s Warner Bros. Comedies
University of Wisconsin-Madison
Abstract
Although James Cagney was best known as a prototypical “tough guy” with a persona that emphasized gangster roles and an often violently misogynistic masculinity, he also starred in many comic films across his career. This is particularly true of his stints at Warner Bros. in the 1930s and early 1940s, where he was the lead or co-lead in nine comedies. Given the seeming disparity between Cagney's tough gangsters and his comic characters, how were these comedies marketed by Warner Bros. and received by the trade press of the time? Did they embrace his tough guy persona and the violent misogyny inherent in it even for his comic roles or did they complicate that persona? By looking at pressbooks and trade press from Cagney's comedies at Warner Bros. from 1931-1941, I argue that the studio tried to have it both ways as they developed his persona across three phases: creation, refinement, and maintenance. In doing so, they created a friction between continually emphasizing the same old tough, violent masculinity in Cagney's persona, even for his comedies, while also using those roles to try and broaden his audience appeal and appease the disgruntled actor. Ultimately, this study provides insight not only into Cagney's persona but the complex interplay of marketing, masculinity, misogyny, and comedy in the classical Hollywood era and beyond.
Keywords: James Cagney / Masculinity / Star Studies / Warner Bros. / Comedy
In the 1930s he was “Hollywood’s tough boy,” and by the early 1940s it was “traditional” that he should give a “‘Cagney-esque’ knocking-about” to the leading lady in his films (“Bandwagon”; Williams). In subsequent decades, James Cagney’s role as a preeminent Hollywood “tough guy” became further entrenched, from his central role in James Robert Parish’s 1976 book The Tough Guys to Warner Bros.’ claim that Cagney was “Hollywood’s top tough guy” on a 2007 DVD box set of his films (Parish; James Cagney). However, as a star Cagney was more than simply a tough guy. From his unexpected switch to fluent Yiddish as he converses with a cop inTaxi (1931) to rapid wisecracks in Footlight Parade (1933) and One, Two, Three (1961), Cagney’s acting often showcased his comic talents as well.
Nevertheless, today Cagney is still remembered primarily as one of classical Hollywood’s preeminent toughs. Some lament this fact, praising Cagney’s range as an actor while acknowledging that “he never shook off the image of a tough hustler” (Naremore 161); “the tragic irony of Cagney’s career” is that he was marketed as a tough early in his career, forcing on him a persona he was unable to later shake (McGilligan 213).1 Cagney often switched between straightforward tough guy and comedic roles during his stints at Warner Bros. in the 1930s and early 1940s, showcasing his versatility as a gangster icon and a talented comic actor, but his legacy remains that of a prototypical tough in violent roles. Cagney complained to the trade press about being limited by Warner Bros., and the authors of trade stories expressed with diminishing surprise how dissimilar the real-life Cagney was from his tough screen persona.2 Still, trade reviews, audiences, and exhibitors expressed displeasure if Cagney’s characters varied too greatly from their expectations of him as an iconic tough guy. In part, these explicit tensions energized Cagney’s well-publicized conflicts with Warner Bros. in the 1930s and 1940s and his forays into independent production.3
Part of Cagney’s dissatisfaction with his persona relates to the audience reception, and studio positioning, of the tough Cagney persona and its violent, misogynistic masculinity. The (in)famous moment in The Public Enemy (1931) where Cagney’s Tom Powers roughly shoves a grapefruit in the face of his girlfriend Kitty (Mae Clarke) remained central to Cagney’s persona decades later. In the 1970s, Andrew Bergman mused (only half-jokingly) that this scene had “received more scrutiny than the ‘Odessa Steps’ sequence” in Battleship Potemkin (1925), and McGilligan blamed it for immortalizing Cagney “as the cinema’s prototype ‘tough guy’” rather than as a song-and-dance man (Bergman 25; McGilligan 11). Implicit in McGilligan’s observation is the perception that the violence of Cagney’s persona overshadowed his comic roles, evinced both in the frequent use of explicit violence against women as Cagney slapped and pushed them around while audiences eagerly anticipated such misogynistic violence. In describing the Cagney/Bette Davis comedy The Bride Came C.O.D. (1941), a Kansas theater owner bluntly stated that “our customers would rather see Cagney do the beating than take it” from co-star Davis (“What the Picture Did,” 1 Nov. 1941). Not only did Cagney’s persona have to compete with a general emphasis on tough guy violence, even in his comedies, but that persona struggled to escape the specific emphasis on violence toward women that shaped and constrained public expectations of Cagney’s roles.
It is undeniable that comedies made up a secondary, but still important, thread during Cagney’s years at Warner Bros. and beyond, and both the studio and actor engaged in a careful balancing act to reconcile the tension between the violently misogynistic tough and the comic side in Cagney’s persona. Warner Bros. sought to market him as a prototypical tough, especially as his persona solidified, while also giving him comic roles to try to appease Cagney’s desire for greater variety. In doing so, the studio used strategies to highlight the tough Cagney persona and apply it to his comic films as well. While later scholars may have bemoaned this narrow focus, the reception of Cagney’s comedies in the trade press largely followed suit, noting (and at times denigrating) these deviations from the Cagney norm and focusing on the established emphasis on violence toward women in Cagney’s persona irrespective of other generic concerns. Although it would be far too simplistic to credit or blame Warner Bros. solely for making Cagney a model of tough, violent masculinity, I argue that we do see in their marketing and in the reception of Cagney’s films a prominent positioning of his comedies within a larger, violently misogynistic tough guy framework that helped establish his eventual legacy.
Looking at how stars were created and maintained provides a useful way to examine the relationship between Cagney’s persona and the marketing of his comedies. Richard Dyer highlights the role of economics and the media landscape in creating star personas, including media texts such as promotion, publicity, criticism, and commentaries (Dyer, Stars 60). Given how Cagney’s tough guy image was often at odds with both his comedic roles and his “real life” image, Cagney’s career provides a strong example of the “apparent consistency” needed “to permit recognition and identification” across films that Dyer notes as often collapsing together conflicting values for stars (Stars 98). Cagney’s oscillation between dramatic and comic roles and the legacy of violence against women in his persona highlights how “different elements predominate in different star images” and that “they do so at different periods in the star’s career” because a star’s image has “histories that outlive the star’s own lifetime” (Dyer, Heavenly 3). If Cagney became a prototypical tough guy, like fellow actors Edward G. Robinson and Humphrey Bogart, it is due to how, following the coming of sound, the “personality” of a star was foregrounded to create a persona that engaged in “a competition to produce the most definitive iconic embodiment of a type—to become a prototype, the instance of a category that seems composed of its essential qualities” (King 127). Even in his comedies, Warner Bros. showcased this approach by attempting to turn Cagney into the epitome of a tough guy.
The emphasis on masculinity in marketing Cagney’s persona offers several parallels to Humphrey Bogart as well: both were seen as prototypical tough guys, both featured a complicated interplay between their on and offscreen personas, and both responded by alternating between being tired of and leaning into their tough guy type (Cohan, Masked 79-121). The contradictory impulses behind the “tough” and “soft” masculinities of certain Hollywood stars of this period, as in Gene Kelly’s films of the 1940s, likewise offer parallels with the approach to Cagney’s work as it alternated between his tough guy roles and seemingly ‘softer’ comedies while maintaining strong traces of the former in the latter (Cohan, “Dancing” 18-33). Likewise, the emphasis on masculinity in Clark Gable’s star persona during the 1930s provides another useful reference point to Cagney, as the work of both actors served to blur the lines between “the traditionally clear separation between the suave hero and the thuggish villain” previously seen in masculine stars (Becker 248). The legacy of Cagney’s toughness is further evident as he was seen as providing only a tough version of masculinity, especially as the women-beating gangster, while Gable “also carried an image of a man who could be faithful and tender” in addition to his tough side (Becker 248). As we will see, the role of a star’s persona, its shaping by other media texts and paratexts, and the relationship of these to violent forms of masculinity all were a central part of the marketing and reception of Cagney’s comedies.
Investigating the marketing and discourse around Cagney’s comedies and their interaction with his stereotypical tough guy persona shows how complex and contradictory that persona, its construction, and the conflicting versions of masculinity on display in American culture of the 1930s could really be. To do so, this essay examines Warner Bros. pressbooks and trade press discourse relating to the nine comedies which Cagney headlined at the studio from 1933-41. Given the shifting context of Cagney’s popularity and importance over this time, I divide my examination into three periods that best describe Warner Bros.’ approach to handling Cagney’s star persona in comedies over this time: creation, refinement, and maintenance.4 While Warner Bros. was initially interested in marketing the versatility and comedic abilities of Cagney to better exploit his star potential, I show how they and the trade press eventually settled on a much more stable (and limited) approach to Cagney’s persona, forcing his comedies to fit that star persona.5 The marketing of Cagney’s comedies underwent a schism, aiming to maintain the popularity of Cagney’s tough guy persona, including its oft-emphasized misogynistic violence, while also trying to appeal to a broader range of audiences. By looking at how the studio marketed the comedies of an iconic star, we can better understand of the complex interplay between star persona, industry, spectators, masculinity, and comedy in classical Hollywood. Examining these three phases of Warner Bros. approach to Cagney’s comedies captures the general shift the studio and trades would take across these films as they worked to characterize, and eventually contain, contradictory approaches in Cagney’s persona.
Creation: Blonde Crazy, Footlight Parade, Hard to Handle
By all accounts, James Cagney’s stardom was a surprise. While tales of him being switched by the film’s screenwriters and director from the supporting to lead role in The Public Enemy only after preliminary shooting had begun may be a mix of Hollywood legend and truth, Warner Bros. clearly had to move quickly to best exploit their new star.6 The studio’s approach to Cagney’s first post-Public Enemy comedy, Blonde Crazy (1931), was thus tentative as it felt out what Cagney’s star persona should be. The film’s marketing reminded audiences of the role that made Cagney famous while also playing up his comic abilities here. A prefabricated story in the Blonde Crazy pressbook captures these dual impulses, referring to Cagney as the actor “who thrilled you not so long ago in ‘The Public Enemy’” before quickly characterizing Blonde Crazy as “a very different play” where Cagney gets to display his “genius for comedy” (Blonde 1). Warner Bros. hedge their bets on Cagney’s ideal persona here by portraying him in potentially opposing ways: as a talented comedian and as the tough guy audiences responded to in The Public Enemy. While hinting at the mixed approach Warner Bros. would continue to take, the Blonde Crazy pressbook is an exception in the studio’s handling of Cagney’s star persona in his comedies given how it highlights Cagney’s comic contributions. Its exploitation page, a space for the pressbook to provide advice on how exhibitors could most effectively advertise the given film, calls for exhibitors to “hit hard on it from the comedy angle,” specifically exhorting them not to present Cagney as a gangster in this film (Blonde 2). Likewise, potential lobby displays encourage exhibitors to push the “winking, laughing, loving and smiling” Cagney featured on many of the studio’s poster designs (Blonde 2). A story to be planted during the film’s run reinforces this, proclaiming in its title that “Cagney Dodges Danger of Becoming Gangster Type by ‘Blonde Crazy’” given that his character in this film, albeit “shady,” is still “far removed” from his star-making gangster role (Blonde 18). Such suggestions are notable for how they do not play up violence against women as part of Cagney’s persona, an approach that they would largely not be repeated for later comedies.
As for the trades, some responded to this approach by echoing the emphasis on Cagney’s popularity as a gangster while simultaneously highlighting his versatility. A picture in Silver Screen shows a smiling Cagney with the caption proclaiming that “James shot his way out of gangster pics” in Blonde Crazy (“James Cagney”). In Picture Play, a profile of Cagney opens by describing him as “the public enemy” taking a rest “between gatling gun skirmishes,” setting a tough guy tone, but it also allows for a more nuanced persona by describing how Cagney was “delighted” that the studio “was not confining him to gangster characterizations” (Oettinger 26). However, reviews of the film provided a more mixed response. Silver Screen called Cagney “a true comedian,” but this explicit acknowledgment of Cagney’s comic abilities was an exception (“Silver”). Variety’s review was more in line with the dominant discourse around later Cagney films: their reviewer refers to the performance as simply being “typically Cagney,” expressing surprise that “he doesn’t push a grapefruit in [his] girl friend’s face” even though “they expect it any time” (“Blonde”). Here we already see the expectation of violence against women becoming one of the dominant aspects of Cagney’s persona, even in his comedies.
Expectations of violent masculinity became further enmeshed with Cagney’s persona in the public imagination leading up to his next comedy, Hard to Handle (1933). A 1932 appreciation of Cagney in the literary magazine Hound & Horn portrayed him as the prototypical “strong silent man” who represented “the action of the American majority;—the semi-literate lower middle class.” When he “slaps his girl” in films “he is, for the time being, the American hero, whom ordinary men and boys recognize as themselves and women consider ‘cute’” (Kirstein 465-67). Nick Roddick would later also credit Taxi, released soon after Blonde Crazy, with helping to establish Cagney’s connection to violent misogyny and class. He described Cagney’s role as a “brash, belligerent, misogynist, with an essential selfishness only partly channelled into more socially conscious behaviour at the end,” turning him into “a kind of wish-fulfilment figure for the low-paid or unemployed male working class” (117-18). McGilligan reinforces this assessment by highlighting a Variety story that claimed Cagney’s main fans (men and boys) were disappointed when he did not hit women in a film given the widespread belief that “the Cagney persona was intended to typify the average American” (161, 184). If Warner Bros. could downplay these aspects of Cagney’s persona for Blonde Crazy, they had become too well established for the studio to ignore by Hard to Handle.
Although more than a year had passed since Blonde Crazy, the studio’s pressbook for Hard to Handle continued to connect the new film to, and differentiate it from, The Public Enemy. A suggested feature story titled “A Grapefruit Started James Cagney to Fame” includes a drawing of the incident from Public Enemy, reinforcing the notion that this moment, and its concomitant violent masculinity, was the start of Cagney’s rise to stardom (Hard to Handle 17). As Cagney’s stock as a major Hollywood star rose between Blonde Crazy and Hard to Handle, the studio’s willingness to distance his rapidly crystallizing persona from the model of a gangster tough in Public Enemy declined. We also see this in numerous smaller, and not always subtle, ways that reinforce the misogynistic violence of Cagney’s persona. Another pressbook story claims that Cagney “proves that he can take it as well as give it” in Hard to Handle, a reference to the abuse that he receives from women in the film (Hard to Handle 7). Publicity art entitled “A Kiss from Cagney” features him locking lips with a woman, but a fist underneath her chin projects an ambivalent message of romance and violence (Hard to Handle 5). [Figure 1] Beneath another poster, featuring a drawing of Cagney with his hat at a rakish angle, the caption claims “when that red-headed sex menace kisses ‘em, they stay kissed!” (Hard to Handle 11). While Cagney’s persona still may not have been fully formed yet, Warner Bros. continued to emphasize violent masculinity as a key element of it.
Trade discourse around Hard to Handle followed a similar track, more clearly defining Cagney’s persona (and concomitant audience expectations around it) than they did for Blonde Crazy. Some reviews called the film another “of the typical James Cagney stock in trade,” but others singled out its variations from his “established” tough roles (Burns). Motion Picture Herald welcomed these variations, noting that Cagney had been “taken out of his ‘tough mug’ roles” for this film, but quickly adding that, for exhibitors, “it shouldn’t be difficult to pick up on his established popularity” since Cagney’s star power was enough to overcome any “deviations” in genre (McCarthy 27). Picture Play, however, disdained the film’s “surprising” role for him and how it tried to “force recognition” of his abilities in “lighter” comic roles since, as they bluntly put it, “Mr. Cagney isn’t a comedian” (Lusk, “Screen,” May 1933). These subtle, but significant, changes in Warner Bros.’ marketing of Cagney’s second comedy highlights an increasing unwillingness by the trade press to accept a comic rather than tough Cagney.
Although Cagney’s persona had largely solidified by 1933, the studio continued to test out his versatility in the musical comedy Footlight Parade. The film’s pressbook is filled with stories, ads, and even publicity stunts that highlight the novelty of seeing Cagney as singer and a dancer, but it does not focus on Cagney specifically as a comic actor (Footlight Parade 38).7 If the studio continued to offer the public comic Cagney roles after Blonde Crazy, they nevertheless did not consider comedy to be a major part of his star persona. Instead, Warner Bros. doubled down on Cagney’s tough guy image, even for his comedies. Roto art for Footlight Parade played up the novelty of Cagney as a dancer and the tough, violent side of his persona via artwork showing Cagney in a top hat and tails with the caption “James Cagney has hot feet for the first time in his life in ‘Footlight Parade.’ (And hot fists, too.)” (Footlight Parade 4). Suggestions for ad copy accompanying publicity stills further reinforce this. According to one option, “Singers never quit. They just hang on until somebody shoots ‘em,” while another declares that “James Cagney shuffles his feet— Hollywood’s bad bad [sic] boy turns to song and dance in ‘Footlight Parade’” (Footlight Parade 44). Studio marketing continued to present a dual image of Cagney, allowing different audiences to latch onto their preferred version of the star, either the new dancer or the familiar gangster.
Gangster elements were present in the marketing of earlier Cagney comedies, but they become even more pronounced for Footlight Parade, especially the violently misogynistic side of his persona. A pressbook feature titled “‘Don’t Want To Sock Any More Dames,’ Says Cagney,” putatively by Cagney himself, addresses the abusive aspects of Cagney’s persona more than the film itself (Footlight Parade 16). Cagney complains about having to “sock” women in “every one of my pictures” over the last two years, accusing audiences of finding this “novel” in The Public Enemy and then “clamor[ing] for it ever since.” He acknowledges its current popularity but claims that the public will soon get tired of seeing women “knocked about at every turn” in his films. Whether or not the piece is truly written by Cagney is immaterial; its presence in the pressbook indicates that it is at least a part of how the studio wanted to present their star. However, Warner Bros. also undercuts this presentation elsewhere. The caption for an advance publicity photo featuring Cagney seated at a piano with four chorus girls standing around him claims that the girls “want to see his technique with a grapefruit,” a Public Enemy reference that attributes a masochistic desire to these women as they seem eager to be beaten by Cagney (Footlight Parade 19). [Figure 2] The pressbook’s exploitation page also singles out the Strand theater in New York for its elaborate promotional campaign, including a set of four figures underneath the marquee that are animated via lights, with Cagney’s figure “seen punching a girl” (Footlight Parade 43). Although the studio endorsed the view that Cagney wanted to stop hitting women, their advertising approaches (and those of exhibitors) simultaneously endorsed the misogynistic status quo. Across Cagney’s early comedies for Warner Bros., there is thus a clear sense of both tentative exploration as the studio developed his star persona and a notable tendency to favor the tough, violent side of other Cagney roles over his comic abilities.
Refinement: Jimmy the Gent, Here Comes the Navy, The Irish in Us
The next phase of Cagney’s comedies at Warner Bros. covers a trio of mid-1930s films. Given how his roles in these comedies reverted to more “typical” ones that fit closer to the tough guy aspects of his persona, I see these three films as an attempt by the studio to refine the essentially complete star image of Cagney, a move further signaled by Cagney’s successful teaming with Pat O’Brien in the latter two comedies and in other non-comic films. The Cagney-O’Brien films, though still comic, also mark a shift away from “pure” comedy and towards a greater generic mixture of comedy with romance or sentimental drama.8 They provide not only a wider range of possible appeals for Warner Bros. to sell their star to the broadest possible audience, but they also moved Cagney’s comic roles away from those that had been, in many ways, seen as more “atypical” in relation to his overall persona.
Jimmy the Gent (1934) is a transitional case between these two periods. If the studio’s pressbook still identifies the film as a “laugh riot,” it complicates that emphasis by referring to Cagney’s toughness and more uncouth, “muggish [sic]” appeal. The pressbook states that Cagney will “pull his usual amount of rough stuff,” but adds that “he is also called upon to take it” from the film’s female star, Bette Davis (Jimmy 3). The violent masculinity of Cagney’s persona is invoked again in a feature story about Davis getting to hit Cagney, subtitled “Screen’s Most Famous Lady Smacker Finally Gets His in ‘Jimmy the Gent’” (Jimmy 5). As with the marketing of his earlier films, however, other stories try to distance Cagney from this violent persona, even emphasizing how the real Cagney (against “professional” child-rearing advice) “wouldn’t even spank a little baby” (Jimmy 7). Studio attempts to moderate Cagney’s image remained largely unsuccessful, and Cagney continued to complain in the trades about being limited by Warner Bros.’ typecasting. In Movie Classic, Cagney griped that the studio would not let him move on from tough roles emphasizing gangsterism and woman-beating, instead insisting that he would “always have comedy in my roles” (Hartley 79). Some trades focused on this aspect of Jimmy the Gent, as Motion Picture Herald called on exhibitors to put “all [their] emphasis on Cagney and Comedy” to sell the film (“Showmen’s Reviews”). However, other trades complained about the film’s inability to stray from the “Cagney formula” that, as we have seen, explicitly eschews comedy. New Movie Magazine called Jimmy the Gent “another Cagney film and just like all previous Cagney films,” while a review of the film goes on to characterize Cagney as playing “the same glib, tough role” seen before (Van de Water 48, 70). A review in Picture Play emphasizes the humor of the film early on before calling Cagney “as vivid and ruthless as ever” in his role, signaling a dual approach that embraces the contradictory comic and tough elements of Cagney in the film, akin to what studio pressbooks were wont to do (Lusk, “Screen,” June 1934).
Trying to inject new life into their Cagney vehicles, Warner Bros. would pair him with Pat O’Brien in a series of box office hits: Here Comes the Navy (1934) and The Irish in Us (1935). The Irish in Us pressbook repeats many of the same tactics previously used to promote Cagney, but this time he is measured him against his most recent hit, G-Men (1935). A sample review for the film urges readers to not compare the G-Men Cagney with the one in Irish, instead praising his “rare talent […] to portray so naturally such utterly different roles” in this film (Irish 4). Of course, studio posters ignore this difference and continually refer to Cagney as the star of G-Men while also promising more toughness (via images of Cagney boxing with O’Brien) and more comedy (“Now Jimmy hands you a laugh for every thrill he gave in ‘G-Men’!”) (Irish 8). Studio stories again played up the “novelty” of Cagney not beating a woman in this film, with one publicity story describing Irish co-star Olivia De Havilland as being “jubilant” that she “emerged unscathed to take her place among the ranks of those few feminine players who did not get socked” by Cagney (Irish 3). Yet again, readers and audience members are reminded of Cagney’s tough, violently masculine persona even when, ostensibly, the film being advertised is at least partially going against it.
Reception of Cagney’s image in the trades remained subdued for the O’Brien comedies. A production still of Olivia de Havilland from The Irish in Us bluntly describes her in the caption as “she who’ll get slapped,” but this was more the exception than the rule (“News”). Instead, trades emphasized the teaming of Cagney and O’Brien, with Hollywood Filmograph expressing hope that Cagney and O’Brien would become a permanent comedy duo (Hersholt). Although an ad in Motion Picture Daily claimed that Irish’s appeal came at least in part from Cagney getting “to swap punches” again with O’Brien, most discourse for these films plays down the tough, overtly violent aspects of Cagney’s star persona (“Picture”). They are instead received as more broadly appealing, family-friendly fare, likely due to the industry changes in the wake of more stringent self-censorship beginning in 1934. Several trades even noted Warner Bros.’ unique decision to put ads for The Irish in Us in four different sections of the paper to target men (in the sports section), older women (in the women’s section), younger women (on the love story page), and general audiences (in the general entertainment section.)9 Although still often associated with the same tough persona, Cagney was a big enough star for the studio to try and market him to an even broader audience.
Maintenance: Boy Meets Girl, The Strawberry Blonde, The Bride Came C.O.D.
The refinement period at Warner Bros. ended when Cagney successfully sued the studio for breach of contract, allowing him to leave the studio and work independently. After finding limited success, he returned to Warner Bros. for another Pat O’Brien comedy: Boy Meets Girl (1938). Instead of emphasizing Cagney, however, the studio’s pressbook focuses on the film’s source (adapted from a highly successful Broadway play) and its supporting stars. When Cagney does receive attention, it is atypically centered around his comic contributions. Even though several of their previous collaborations had been explicitly marketed as comic, an opening day feature for Boy Meets Girl called prior Cagney/O’Brien films “grim and serious,” in comparison to this film where they “played their roles entirely for entertainment value” (Boy 4). Many of the pressbook’s posters and theater cards show Cagney laughing or in playful poses and situations, again highlighting the comic side of the film rather than Cagney’s tough persona (Boy 17-18). Still, the film was coolly received by audiences and critics alike, enough to potentially explain the absence of clearly comic roles for Cagney over the next three years. Trade reviews were surprisingly quiet about Cagney’s return or his comic talents, instead focusing on the source play’s Broadway success rather than Cagney. Motion Picture Herald’s review devotes an entire paragraph to the play and its renown, offering only a single sentence to Cagney’s return without even mentioning his performance (Weaver). The atypical approach to this film by the studio and the trades makes one wonder if this was an attempt by Warner Bros., at least in part, to undercut Cagney’s typical persona in marketing so as to hamstring the film’s success. While it may seem overly petty and a poor business move in the short term, it did have the benefit of steering Cagney back to successful tough guy roles in films like Angels With Dirty Faces (1938), The Roaring Twenties (1939), and City for Conquest (1940) —films that brought box office success, critical acclaim, and an Academy Award nomination for Angels.
Irrespective of the motivations behind Warner Bros.’ handling of Boy Meets Girl, the next Cagney comedy, The Strawberry Blonde (1941), was on more familiar ground. Pressbook advice on a full page ad tells exhibitors that “Cagney has never had a picture with greater all-around appeal,” recalling the broad audience appeal used to sell films like The Irish in Us (Strawberry Blonde). As with previous comedies, Cagney is framed as playing “a role very different from the hard, tough” characters he played in the past, again measuring Cagney’s comedy against his tough persona rather than his previous comic work (Strawberry Blonde 17). One pressbook even reinforces this supposed “change” by claiming “a different James Cagney makes his debut” in this film (Strawberry Blonde 15). While this supposedly ‘new’ Cagney is in fact nothing new, Warner Bros. was also explicit as to why they were pushing this approach for Strawberry Blonde: as an advance release story proclaims, this is “a new Cagney […] that will win millions of new admirers.” How to further expand the profile of an already major star? Insist that he will be new, different, and more broadly appealing in his newest film. Although this approach complicates King’s notion of stars as prototypes during this era, such an approach would make sound marketing sense for Warners and Cagney.
As before, though, this broad approach is tempered by explicit references to the old, tough, violent Cagney persona that made him a star in the first place, particularly in posters for the film. Many feature an image of Cagney in an old-fashioned boxing pose befitting the film’s 1890s setting, implying that fisticuffs will be present at some point in the film. The text on many such posters make explicit what is already implied in the image with titles like “Times Have Changed but Cagney Hasn’t!” (Strawberry Blonde 9). Other posters proclaim that Cagney will “slug the first mug who laughs,” an ironic statement for a romantic comedy, or that “It’s those good old days . . . plus that same old Cagney!” (Strawberry Blonde 9). [Figure 3, Figure 4] Some posters specifically speak to the violence inherent in the boxing pose by advertising Cagney as “the toughest two fists of the forties!” or by promising that “that good old two-fisted Cagney” will again be on display (Strawberry Blonde 2, 7, 9). While The Strawberry Blonde downplays misogyny given that the emphasis on Cagney beating women is virtually gone, likely due to the film’s more explicit use of romantic comedy and aim for a broader audience appeal, it continues earlier trends of overlapping comedy with several of the associations central to Cagney’s unchanging tough guy persona.
The trades followed suit, particularly a Motion Picture Daily ad that foregrounds the “same old Cagney” who “scraps as hard as ever—only it looks a lot funnier!,” explicitly conflating toughness and comedy (Untitled Warner Bros. Ad 4-5). However, reviews offered a mixed response to the studio’s attempts to portray this as a “new” role for Cagney. If Showmen’s Trade Review thought this “new kind of role” for Cagney should have broad appeal, Film Daily only considered it to be a “slightly different” characterization for him (“Box Office Slant”; “Reviews,” 13 Feb. 1941). While the film seemed to be successful, audiences also offered some resistance to the “new” Cagney, pointing to the struggles for the broader appeal that Warner Bros. wanted. The manager of the Kenosha Theatre in Kenosha, Wisconsin characterized audience response as merely “fair” and specifically commented on how many audience members were unhappy with Cagney’s role in the film (“Schlax Seeks”). In Oklahoma, another theater owner noted that “Cagney fans expect more action and less singing,” pointing to an audience preference for Cagney’s violence rather than his musical comedy abilities (“What the Picture Did,” 19 Apr. 1941). Even with the continued popularity of Cagney as a star, Warner Bros. still struggled to broaden his appeal as a comic actor to audiences while retaining his previous tough guy admirers.
By the time the studio released their final Cagney comedy during this period, The Bride Came C.O.D., they returned to what had proven more successful in the past: playing up Cagney’s persona as a violent tough against women. Pairing Cagney with Bette Davis for the first time since she became a major star for the studio, the pressbook’s primary ‘novel’ angle was to play up Davis’s appearance in a comedy, but another major supposed novelty was Cagney once again getting hit by his female costar rather than the reverse. One publicity story emphasizes Davis hitting Cagney, “the actor who started all the rough stuff with women in pictures,” and it takes pains to point out how a “reformed” Cagney suggested that Davis slap him since he “flatly refused to hit another woman in or out of pictures” (which Cagney had been saying, supposedly, since at least Footlight Parade) (Bride 8). The pressbook again contradicts, or at least complicates, this elsewhere, with one story about Cagney’s first “real” screen kiss (with Davis) claiming that “there’s no question about it—he slaps more convincingly than he kisses” (Bride 4). Posters for the film also play up Cagney’s relationship with Davis in implicitly violent terms: one portrays the two kissing with a cartoonish, ambivalent “Smack!” plastered above their heads, and numerous others depict Cagney carrying Davis over his shoulder, with Davis appearing to protest this treatment (Bride 9-10). [Figure 5] If misogynistic violence is not explicitly present again in these advertisements, it is clearly still lingering just below the surface.
The pressbook also provides an image of Cagney spanking Davis with the accompanying text, “Bette Gets That Cagney Touch!,” encouraging exhibitors to consider using this (complete with a movable arm) in their exploitation of the film (Bride 5). [Figure 6] Trades further advocated for selling the film in this manner, with Motion Picture Daily calling for “the traditional ‘Cagney-esque’ knocking-about” given to Davis to be the “keynote of the exploitation campaign” for Bride (Williams). Other reviews present Cagney’s manhandling of Davis as a given; Motion Picture Herald called the film “a Cagney comedy with Bette Davis […] on the receiving end” and the National Board of Review assured readers that “of course” Cagney gave Davis some rough handling in the film (Quigley; “Bride,” National Board). By highlighting Cagney’s tough, misogynistic persona, these examples downplay his comedic contributions to the film. Although Showmen’s Trade Review calls on exhibitors to play up the comedy and laughs of the film, most only mention comedy in the context of Davis’s atypical comic role (“Bride,” Showmen’s Trade). Neither Film Daily nor Modern Screen make specific reference to Cagney’s performance (“Reviews,” 2 July 1941; “Movie Reviews” 14-15), while Motion Picture Herald says that Cagney simply “plays the same kind of a part with which he has become identified” (Quigley). Given the ways in which he was advertised in relation to The Bride Came C.O.D., we can assume that this refers to his typical tough guy persona rather than a comic one.
Conclusions
Ironically, the Warner Bros. film that may have come closest to altering Cagney’s persona was another musical, albeit a musical biopic rather than a musical comedy. Yankee Doodle Dandy (1942) won Cagney acclaim, box office success, and an Academy Award, but it also marked the end of his second stint at Warner Bros. By the time Cagney returned to the studio in the late 1940s, the studio system was beginning its slow disintegration, allowing him to move more freely between studios over the remaining years of his career. Although he would go on to star in other comedies (most notably his final role for many years in One, Two, Three) none of these took place within the context of the same stable, prolific studio and star system of his 1931-41 Warner Bros. comedies. For both Cagney and Warner Bros., this system provided several benefits for creating and refining a star’s image. The sheer volume of films in which Cagney starred during this time allowed for a partial balance between roles that reinforced his tough persona (pleasing the studio) and those that allowed for some variations on that persona (to better appease Cagney’s craving for variety.) The large number of films also allowed the studio to better market Cagney’s roles as both old and new, simultaneously evoking the tough guy roles that brought him popularity while playing up the supposed ‘novelty’ of comic roles. However, the system proved frustrating for Cagney because, as the pressbooks clearly show, Warner Bros. continually undercut his pleas for a shift away from his tough, women-beating persona by implicitly or explicitly inviting exhibitors and audiences to recall and embrace that persona. Trade discourse often reinforced this tactic, helping to perpetuate the cycle from which Cagney was unable to extricate himself, thus cementing his status as a representative of violent masculinity for decades to come.
Ultimately, this study gives us a greater understanding of the history and trajectory of Cagney’s acting career, providing insight into exactly why Cagney was so often, and so vocally, frustrated with Warner Bros. It also provides a better understanding of the working of a star’s persona (especially across generic boundaries) and the role of gender and masculinity in marketing studio era comedy. For Cagney’s films, comedy appears to function as a genre allowing for more inclusive marketing of a star, at times highlighting a greater range of persona elements than could perhaps be found elsewhere. In other words, while Warner Bros. could sell Cagney’s comic roles as being both comic and tough, it is difficult to imagine pulling off the reverse (i.e., selling his tough roles as comic.) At the same time, we also see studios and the trades struggling (or simply refusing) to move beyond the violent misogyny of Cagney’s toughs, showing the limited range that comedy could provide for a star’s persona. During this interwar period, then, the relationship between stars, studios, the public, and aspects of masculinity and comedy were a particularly complex and important part of the studio system. Unpacking these relationships provides a clearer glimpse into the past—and present—troubled connection between masculinity and misogynistic violence that is deeply intertwined with American culture as a whole.
Notes
1. I largely borrow Martin Shingler and Christine Gledhill’s understanding of the term persona as “a more crafted and consolidated public projection” of the surface traits by which a person becomes known, particularly in relation to their media roles and appearances (Shingler and Gledhill 67-68). However, I also recognize and acknowledge the differences and high degree of overlap between terms like persona, personality, and image in both Shingler and Gledhill’s work and star studies more broadly.
2. See Robbins 52 and Casey for examples.
3. Cagney was unhappy with his Warner Bros. contracts, pay, and roles as early as Blonde Crazy (1931), leading to him threatening to leave both the studio and acting in general. Cagney’s threats, and Warner Bros.’ responses, continued from time to time over the next several years, culminating in a successful breach of contract suit from Cagney against Warner Bros. in 1936. Cagney moved into independent production, but found limited success, leading him to return to the studio in 1938. Following the success of Yankee Doodle Dandy (1942), Cagney would again move into independent production and maintain his position for most of the 1940s. For more on Cagney’s battles with Warner Bros. in the 1930s, see McGilligan 39-40, 44-45, 63-71.
4. My approach to Cagney is particularly indebted to Cathy Klaprat’s examination of the shaping, and various phases, of Bette Davis’s star persona.
5. I use the term “exploit” not in a judgmental sense but as a common term used by studios and trades during the classical Hollywood period, especially in reference to film advertising by exhibitors.
6. For a version of how this role switch took place, see McGilligan 30.
7. Consider one publicity “Stunt of the Week”: a “Cagney dance contest,” complete with supplementary comic strip informing viewers how to do “The Cag Hopp” (Footlight Parade 38).
8. Previous comedies featured a mixed approach as well, but not to the same degree as these, especially the O’Brien films.
9. See “‘Irish in Us’ Ads” for a notable example.
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This page references:
- Fig. 6: The Bride Came C.O.D. Pressbook. United Artists Corporation Records: Series 1.4: Warner Brothers Pressbooks, 1928-1941, Wisconsin Center for Film and Theater Research, Wisconsin Historical Society Archives, Madison, WI, p. 5.
- Fig. 1: Hard to Handle Pressbook. United Artists Corporation Records: Series 1.4: Warner Brothers Pressbooks, 1928-1941, Wisconsin Center for Film and Theater Research, Wisconsin Historical Society Archives, Madison, WI, p. 5.
- Fig. 2: Footlight Parade Pressbook. United Artists Corporation Records: Series 1.4: Warner Brothers Pressbooks, 1928-1941, Wisconsin Center for Film and Theater Research, Wisconsin Historical Society Archives, Madison, WI, p. 19.
- Fig. 3: The Strawberry Blonde Pressbook. United Artists Corporation Records: Series 1.4: Warner Brothers Pressbooks, 1928-1941, Wisconsin Center for Film and Theater Research, Wisconsin Historical Society Archives, Madison, WI, p. 9.
- Fig. 4: The Strawberry Blonde Pressbook. United Artists Corporation Records: Series 1.4: Warner Brothers Pressbooks, 1928-1941, Wisconsin Center for Film and Theater Research, Wisconsin Historical Society Archives, Madison, WI, p. 9.
- Fig. 5 : The Bride Came C.O.D. Pressbook. United Artists Corporation Records: Series 1.4: Warner Brothers Pressbooks, 1928-1941, Wisconsin Center for Film and Theater Research, Wisconsin Historical Society Archives, Madison, WI, p. 9-10.