Can a reckless playboy be redeemed by true love? Will a mean capitalist father stop his son from marrying the daughter of a generous-hearted parson? How many cast members will be left after Reginald Barlow's Mr. Wallace goes on another firing bender?
These are the questions in play in "His Private Secretary," a light comedy which fits in two stories within its one-hour running time. In the first half, we see Dick Wallace (John Wayne) put in a rare day of work only to discover himself smitten by that parson's daughter, Marion (Evalyn Knapp). In the second, Marion works to reconcile Dick and his father by taking a job as Daddy Wallace's personal secretary.
Daddy doesn't know who Marion really is, and she won't tell him. This sets up much of the second-half comedy that gives the film its title and much of its interest.
"Never marry a rich man's worthless son," Daddy tells her. "You'll regret it."
On the surface a pleasant curio for fans of John Wayne interested in his pre-"Stagecoach" career, "His Private Secretary" is something of a curiosity upon closer inspection. Like "Stagecoach," he's billed second behind an actress. Unlike "Stagecoach," the actress actually deserves top billing. Knapp's a pleasure to watch, and makes the most of this program-filler.
Knapp actually had recently co-starred in successful films with the likes of Cagney, Edward G. Robinson, and Joe E. Brown, so it makes sense this cheapo production would tout her services over those of Wayne, who in 1934 had been reduced to Poverty Row titles like this after the abject commercial failure of his early starring vehicle "The Big Trail." It's an adjustment watching Wayne settle into his gadabout role here, and he seems only adequate, smirking to himself as he checks out various ankles and dickers with Daddy. Knapp is what sells the film, with her cat eyes and contagious exuberance.
One special scene doesn't involve Wayne at all. In it, we see Marion help a heretofore unpleasant office manager who has gotten the whack from Daddy Wallace. With a gentleness that's hard to imagine in movies today, she first manages to smooth over the boss, who has come to respect Marion in a way he does no one else, and then glides up to the office manager to tell him as obliquely as possible that he still has his job. The scene is so well acted and shot, office workers straining to listen in the background while the manager in stark close-up struggles to keep his composure, that your heart almost aches in gratitude, as silly as that may read. As good as the scene plays now, it must have been riveting in the midst of the Great Depression.
But the rest of the film, while not chaff entirely, is not nearly as fine. Director Philip H. Whitman for the most part plays this in strict by-the-numbers style, with few cuts and a lot of plot jumps. Characters and subplots are quickly introduced and abandoned after getting a chuckle or two. The last five minutes is a clear rush to get the story resolved under the wire, and really wrecks a lot of the good will established.
It's just not a good movie, but it's not really bad at all. A light tone predominates, along with a simple message of finding forgiveness and human decency that makes the experience of watching it hard to dislike. Certainly people who, like me, force themselves to watch every Wayne film they can will be somewhat impressed, if not on account of Wayne. I think I may try to watch another Knapp film before my next Wayne.
