You're invited to a final viewing, said Metro in Summer 1937, and so they came to ponder over Jean Harlow graveyard bound in Saratoga, a talking screen's first post-mortem for all to enjoy. What else but pure morbid fascination drove numbers higher than any yet recorded for a Harlow film? I confess to being more engaged by JH's death than with her life, especially the selling end of a vehicle she didn't live to complete. Imagine corporate reaction upon getting the news. They were close enough to a Saratoga finish line to sniff receipts. Banner obit headlines referred to her last so near done. Appropriate this should be a horse race story, with Harlow the prize filly pushed to on-set collapse over a grueling course of production. Would it be too, too cruel for MGM to release this chronicle of her suffering? A dark side of moviegoing was/still is that desire to ponder idols in the grip of mortal concerns visited upon us all. What was crowd response to Wallace Reid's posthumous offerings? He and Harlow shared the lure of having been gravely sick, yet reporting still for work. A public watched them die in effect on the screen. That was as intimate a glimpse into celebrity private life as fans could hope for.
Her death came June 7, 1937. Harlow's last day working Saratoga had been May 29. She'd been in bad enough shape for co-workers to notice for weeks. David Stenn tells the entire harrowing story in his wonderful Bombshell biography. Press reaction to the passing can be imagined. Harlow was only 26 and nobody outside Metro circles saw this coming. A decision seems to have been reached pretty quickly to square away Saratoga with a Harlow double and photographic sleight-of-hand. That had to be made right to fans who might cry foul, but in fact, these were the very ones most eager to receive what was done of Saratoga. Two things MGM emphasized: A public's insistence that they release the film, and technical brilliance applied toward making that possible. You'd think they were remaking King Kong for all this emphasis on camera effects. Really, it was just a Harlow-esque dye job with sunglasses and floppy hats on unknown Mary Dees (press described as the late star's "understudy") that carried the day, along with script changes for Act Three taking the JH character largely out of action. Fortunately for MGM, they'd done a Gable/Harlow two-shot for the fade, so crowds could file out from a happy clinch and send-off for their departed favorite.
Metro's trailer host Lewis Stone was assurance that all had been conducted with dignity and decorum. Again it was our demand his employers were accommodating, not their own desire to reap profits from a star's untimely departure. Weeks of June and part of July had been spent rushing through scenes necessary for Saratoga to make narrative sense. Clark Gable and Walter Pidgeon flanked the Harlow ghost and must have spent by far creepiest days of respective careers doing so. Neither appear to have spoken of it later, but you can imagine how they felt plodding through shots jerry-rigged to cover for essential presence now absent. Making it worse was fact that Metro's work force appear to have liked Harlow and so were all the more off-put by these not-so magic tricks. MGM kept low trade profiles until they were sure it could be pulled off. The Motion Picture Herald didn't list a release date for Saratoga until July 10, and then the announced August 6 bow was moved up when Metro booked the show into their New York flagship, the Capitol, for July 23 (ad for that shown here). Time as essence was upon them, for how long would patrons' grim curiosity abide?
They previewed Saratoga in Glendale, California during mid-July. A respectful burst of applause greeted the title, cast listing, and Miss Harlow's first appearance, said a trade reviewer ... It was obvious the audience was watching every move she made (no doubt, since folks knew by then how ill she'd been and wanted to diagnose the patient for themselves). Yet this interest did not prevent it from enjoying the picture as a whole and being appreciative of the efforts of the other stars and members of the supporting cast. It was as though press coverage wanted to let viewers off the hook for gaping at Harlow as she approached death. The audience psychology seemed to denote that the picture would be a potent boxoffice feature, was the Herald's summation. Here was tactful assurance to Metro that they were in the chips. MGM Breathes A Little Easier was a follow-up headline for July 31 after Saratoga's conquest of the Capitol became apparent (... Mr. Schenck's company today is a little less nervous in fear that the public might criticize the release). In fact, they'd seldom seen crowds like these at the Capitol, where the Loew-Metro management stationed several police guards at all points of the lobby to prevent souvenir hunters from carrying away Harlow photographs or other materials.
Summer was ordinarily dog days for show-going, that owing to most theatres' lack of air-conditioning. MGM liked boasting all year round hits and made good, as reflected in this trade ad, with stellar attractions that would highlight any venue's season. Captains Courageous, A Day At The Races, and Broadway Melody Of 1938 were offered during warmest months, and now there'd be a bonus of Saratoga and waiver of run/clearance policy that kept smaller showmen in back of the line. This time, Leo would make more prints and get them into circulation faster ... a saturation play-off long before such strategy was generally embraced by distributors. These were "unusual circumstances" (per MGM's trade declaration) unique to a feature that mere weeks before looked as though it would have to be abandoned or completely reshot. Word got round fast that Saratoga was a must-see. Harrison's Report called it just fair as entertainment and quite choppy in the bargain, but critics maybe failed to realize that patron's fun of watching was bound up in just that, for Saratoga quickly evolved into a nationwide hide-and-seek for the real Harlow versus the woman impersonating her. Newspapers got in on the grisly game. Which Is Jean, Which Is Double? asked Fort Worth editors as they dispatched a photographer to capture shots (supposedly) from the Worth Theatre's fifth row, these published for readership's sport of spotting Metro's gambit. So went dignified tribute into a cocked hat, despite ads (as here) promising same. At least the money was good. Since when had MGM collected anything approaching $3.2 worldwide rentals for a Harlow pic, let alone profits exceeding a million? To Clark Gable's benefit, Saratoga provided welcome fumigation for theatres having played recent released Parnell, a stench still fresh in viewer nostrils. The windfall blew through by close of 1937 and Saratoga remained vault-bound from there until release to television in 1956, by which time most had forgotten the fluke success, and reason for same, that had accompanied Jean Harlow's last film nearly twenty years before.
