ginger, in person (not really)

thoughts on ‘In Person’, the perfect vehicle for its larger-than-life lead.

Hi! This post originally went live January 23, 2024 on mads.haus. mads.haus is where my research essays will continue to live; I will also share reviews on there for posterity.

However, the newsletter backends I’ve used for WordPress have all left me cold. Simply put, I think the newsletter marketplace has become too tiered and too privatized for the lackluster services being offered. Therefore, this Substack will be active again for my long-form reviews due to my continued frustrations and desire to focus on the writing, first and foremost.

As for my previous statements on Substack as a platform — I’ve always been more libertarian when it comes to freedom of speech, if I’m being blunt (and possibly distancing myself from a few friends.) In other words — a platform being available to fascists doesn’t mean that the platform is fascist. Anyone can make money anywhere saying anything, just about.

Also? I can’t throw away the momentum I spent all last year building. Not the things and people who tried to stop it from happening almost succeeded. Fuck them — we ball.

Going into 2024, this will hopefully be the lay of the land. Research essays on mads.haus; reviews in your inbox; pitches wherever I can get ‘em. Now — enjoy this taste of Ginger.

1935 was an interesting year for Ginger Rogers.

It was the tail-end of her breakout, an intersection of all her creative aspirations as an actress. A little comedy, a little drama, a little mystery, and two of the popular Astaire collaborations.

In Person actually hails from the director of that year’s Roberta – William Seiter. That picture is one of the duo’s highlights, with a pitch perfect balance of deft comedy and romantic tension. Here, however, Seiter provides audiences with a front row VIP ticket to the greatest show on earth. That show? Ginger Rogers with a movie all to herself during the height of her physical theatricality.

The charming screwball comedy hails from screenwriter Allan Scott, whose numerous credits include Top Hat and Primrose Path. The Roberta scribe reunites with Seiter for a comedy of error, misdirection, and (brace yourself) gaslighting. It follows Carol Corliss, an actress in the midst of a personality breakdown – or so it seems, anyway. She’s overwhelmed from the overwhelming pressure of being Hollywood’s ‘it’ girl, so she dons a disguise and latches onto an unsuspecting amateur ornithologist.

These bits are generally funny, if only for their absurdity. We’re expected to believe that Ginger Rogers is simply hideous with more pronounced teeth, brunette hair, and some glasses. She looks like about five girls I’ve had crushes on when incognito, so some suspension of disbelief was required. But what makes this work is how much fun Ginger has doing the ‘ugly girl’ routine. She chews scenery with her prosthetic teeth, affecting a mousy yet commanding presence that’s as charming as it is fleeting.

Of course, the teeth come out before too long and the film begins in proper. Alleged outdoorsman Emory Muir is the aforementioned ornithologist, who gets duped into taking Carol away to his lake house for some time away from the public. This is where the plot begins in earnest, as Emory initially doesn’t realize he’s helping a celebrity hide from fame. Carol lets him believe this at first, as he continues to task her with cooking and chores as part of a “rehabilitation.”

But just who’s rehabilitating who, exactly? In Person deliberately blurs the lines there. For every meal Carol cooks or appliance she cleans, she’s handily able to wrap Emory around her finger for an equivalent task. Where this narrative could be yet another rehash of a Taming of the Shrew structure, here it plays out in a more egalitarian fashion. Neither Carol nor Emory are particularly great nor clever, but their curious chance fixation brings out those traits in each other. Throughout, Emory becomes less of a clueless boor; Carol, too, gains a degree of self-sufficiency and common sense know-how.

Rogers embodies Carol as a broad pastiche of herself. There are several nods to her success with Astaire sprinkled throughout, like “Lovely To Look At” on the radio that Carol notes – proudly – is from a hit picture. Further, she’s faced with supporting and minor characters who underestimate both her acting ability and her intelligence. These are analogous for the ways the actress herself was discussed and treated by some, which is unfathomably frustrating. Here’s a performer who made it a point to always have a book in her hand, who pushed herself to a physical breaking point to match toes with a less experienced actor. How insulting, then, to have her meteoric rise and self-sufficiency reduced so frequently by critics and the general public alike.

In Person gives her a chance to vent those frustrations through a bouquet of emotional range the script demands. The actress heightens her feelings for comedic effect almost constantly; in one particularly funny sequence, she responds to being called a “bad actress” by shrieking and feigning an assault. Her “assailant” then gets decked across the kitchen by Emory, who comes running. Rogers – triumphant – sneers, “still think I’m a bad actress?” Within a minute, she’s been tired, frustrated, angry, scared, explosive, then triumphant – a full emotional cycle that would drain a more rigid actor. But her naturalistic chops make it all feel effortless.

It wasn’t, of course – Rogers was pushed hard by her directors, her partners, her mother, and herself. Nowhere is that more evident than In Person’s three wonderful musical sequences, all designed as showcases for Ginger and Ginger alone.

“Don’t Mention Love To Me” is a downbeat, somber sort of song the actress rarely performed. She sings it in a slinky black gown in a decidedly modern living room, as part of a film-within-a-film her character leads. It’s a glimpse of a doomed Ginger romance that ends in a Code-unfriendly way. Moments later, Carol takes to the stage as “herself” and meets her theater of adoring fans – all an attempt to show up and prove her fame to Emory. This is another boast, a further demonstration of her range. But it’s also a metatextual one-up. It’s Rogers showing off her ability to deliver a slow, serious number alongside more energetic ones. “I’ve got range for days,” she seems to be telling the audience.

There’s also the adorable and infectious “Got A New Lease on Life,” done in harmony with her own recording on the radio. Half this sequence, she looks to Emory – expectant and impatient – waiting for a response. It evokes the awkward yet expressive silence Rogers often strikes in her Astaire collaborations. Then – she explodes. We get a glimpse into the Roxie Hart showmanship she would demonstrate later with a tremendous tap sequence. (That’s a real sentence I can type and mean now!) Carol bounces up and down elevated floors, balances atop a table, and twirls around a bewildered – but noticeably impressed – Emory. All the while, she sings a precious song that includes such verses as “[…]now I’m stronger than a battleship/I’m Popeye the Sailor girl.” Bars.

For my money, “Out Of Sight, Out Of Mind” is the showstopper of In Person. But it goes a step further – this is one of Rogers’ career highlights, bar none. It starts out as a seductive and deliberate crooning sequence, as Carol sways and preens around a dance floor – cigarette in-hand. She takes this opportunity to show off her slower moves on a large scale, as she freely dances between and grinds up on several men. This gives rise to one of the most imaginative parts, as she grasps string “leashes” attached to each nameless man. As Carol dances around the floor, she has full control over the gaggle of males as a dominant but merciful mistress. Soon, she draws each man into an encirclement.

This is when the sequence erupts into high energy showmanship. Rogers delivers a spectacle of human physicality that rivals her famous screen partner, if not surpasses him in some respects during this particular routine. In a flirty dress, Carol taps her way out of the circle and sails around the dance floor. With boundless enthusiasm and visible glee, Ginger takes the limelight over for herself. Left to her own devices, she delivers an electrifying solo routine that showcases everything she brought to the Rogers-Astaire partnership – just solo. In isolation, one gets a true appreciation for the magnitude of Ginger’s dancing talents, and how much emotion is in it for her. Her steps are ferocious but fun, and even when she clearly loses balance, she laughs it off and keeps going. It showcases an adaptability and fluidity that defined Rogers as a person and a performer.

“I don’t want to be Mr. Carol Corliss,” Emory exclaims during this film. He says this at gunpoint, during a cockamamie scheme Carol has cooked up to pressure him into marriage. She does this with the aid of some local townies that make up the sparse but charming supporting cast. But Emory doesn’t realize that by being a character in a Ginger Rogers solo picture, he’s sacrificed his autonomy. Like so many screen romances Rogers is on the receiving end of – where she turns her nose up at a man only to succumb to his charms – George Brent takes a psychic assault from his co-star’s devilish diva. Even as he has spent a portion of the film gaslighting her (feigning ignorance at her fame even after he discovers it,) he has ultimately had to meet her on her terms and cede ground.

This is what makes In Person such a delightful watch in 2024. It flirts with regressive and toxic ideology, only to come down in a romantic comedy better than most we get today. It’s a dead genre, left to rot under heaps of Netflix chaff. In the mid-30s, it was easy to sell pedigreed writers, performers, and filmmakers to throw their weight behind screwball love stories like this. Not only did they sell, but thanks to the Oscar-winning success of It Happened One Night, there was critical skin in. It was a genre that used to be taken more seriously, even with heightened, comically unlikely circumstances driving the heart of most of them.

And who better to center at the heart of one than Ginger? America wanted to dance with her. But In Person reminded audiences that the girl Rogers was sold as and the woman she was are two different people. Further, she muddies and obfuscates and challenges her image constantly. This leaves us with a picture that’s a monument to Rogers’ complexity, tenacity, and – above all – manifold existence.

In Person is not available to stream on any streaming service. It is not available for rental on any digital platform. It has been released on VHS and DVD via Warner Brothers. The most recent release is a 2020 Warner Archive DVD, which is available through most online retailers.

For more information on Ginger Rogers, keep an eye out on mads.haus for an in-depth retrospective on her career – coming soon. I also took a look back at her partnership with Fred Astaire last week, which you can read on my blog.

If you’re interested in more Gingerology — yes, this is a real term her diehards use — feel free to join r/VirginiaMcNath over on Reddit. I started it simply because there isn’t a dedicated place for Ginger-posting on the site. Because I didn’t do this for any sort of profit, I haven’t been promoting it outside of Ginger-related write-ups and will continue to do so.