I wonder how this played in 1933, when it opened, the bottom of the Depression? It's not clever. It's just a lot of very spoiled aristocrats or American nouveaux-riches pretending to be aristocrats, filling up their days with empty chatter and not much else. Occasionally one is hurtful, but not cleverly so. You could never mistake this for good Oscar Wilde. (I wonder if the original play, which had a success on Broadway, is any more interesting?) It reminds me of nothing so much as the sort of English drawing-room drama spoofed in *Auntie Mame* (I think it was called *Midsummer Madness* there.)Constance Bennett is very beautiful, but that's about all I can find to recommend here.

The pre-code Hollywood film "Our Betters" deals with an idle set of upper-crust society types who while away their time with teas, card games, and gossip. While sipping hot cha, they chat about their sexual dalliances, discarded spouses, and kept lovers. Based on a play by Somerset Maugham, the well-written dialog is often ripe and bitchy, and a fine cast, headed by Constance Bennett, makes the lighter-than-air fluff more entertaining than it should be.If that were the sum total of "Our Betters," then the film would be a harmless entertainment, viewed with amusement, and forgotten faster than a buttered scone. However, a character that is referenced early in the film appears on screen in the final scene and transforms the film into prime evidence of the vile gay stereotyping that Hollywood pursued before all gay portrayals on screen were prohibited by the production code.A dance instructor named Ernest, played by Tyrell Davis, arrives at Bennett's country manor in time to delay the departure of the duchess, deliciously portrayed by Violet Kemble Cooper. Ernest is not only dressed like a dandified pouffe, but he has thickly rouged lips that form a rosebud beneath his tiny clipped mustache. His broad effeminate mannerisms would embarrass a drag queen, and perceptive viewers can smell the lavender perfume that reeks from the screen. If Bogart rolled his eyes after a whiff of gardenia off Peter Lorre, he would pass out cold if Ernest minced into his office. Like Stepin Fetchit to African-Americans, Ernest is patently offensive to gays. He is the stereotyped concept of a bigoted society; he is a badly drawn cartoon image created by a studio system that profited from the talents of gays, but vilified their public images.However, as offensive as Ernest's characterization is, the film should be preserved and shown to illustrate the advances that on-screen portrayals of minorities have made. While the earlier drawing room scenes are light and forgettable, Ernest is an indelible image that should not be forgotten or repeated.

Constance Bennett is a disillusioned socialite in "Our Betters," based on Somerset Maugham's play. Bennett plays a beautiful woman (in absolutely knockout gowns) who, on her wedding day, discovers that her husband has a mistress, a Charles-Diana-Camilla thing. Bennett's got the cash, and the girlfriend's poor. Constance, who plays Lady Pearl, throws herself into the London social scene, where nobody behaves. Her husband is always off with his girlfriend, and she has a lover who keeps her since her husband went through her money. And everyone else behaves the same way. The only thing that matters is knowing the right people, having money, getting invited to the right parties, and marrying titles. When Pearl's sister arrives from America, she's dazzled by the life and brushes off an old beau, played by Charles Starrett, who is the moral voice of the movie.This was the world of Elliot Templeton in "The Razor's Edge" and it's visited here fully with a brittle humor but not a great deal of energy. Bennett is perfect in her role. There are some scenes between Violet Kemble, who plays Minnie, and her much younger gigolo boyfriend, Gilbert Roland, where he manipulates her, that are overly long but quite funny. The final scene, with the dancing Ernest, is the best in the film.

This is a delightfully bitter and witty play by Maugham, adapted to film almost exactly as it appeared on stage. Kemble as Minnie steals the show. And the last scene, between Minnie and the dance instructor, is simply hilarious. Charles Starrett, later a Western star in "B" movies, is wooden, and poor Gilbert Roland doesn't have a lot to work with in the script. But the others sparkle and shine, telling us what sophisticated light comedy can be at its best. What a shame this has not appeared on VHS.