Every Thursday, Chelsea Clearview Cinema shows classic films. At $6.50, it sounded like a great way to broaden my knowledge of film so off I went to see the
exclusive 7 PM showing of Harriet Craig. As I began to search for a seat in the maroon theatre, something felt different….
Finding an aisle seat in the left row, I look around. Two things quickly become clear:

1. The theatre is a lot more crowded than I expected for a film that I’ve never even heard of.

2. Men make up the vast majority of the audience. The woman behind me in the ticket line also ordered a ticket for Harriet Craig, but I don’t see her or any other women in the audience.

I know there’s some sort of pre-show for the Chelsea Classics that came with a warning: “Pre Show for Mature Audiences Only.” What on earth have I gotten myself into? Am I mature enough for whatever is going to happen when Hedda Lettuce begins the pre-show?

“Welcome to the Clearview, where dreams come true!” trills Hedda Lettuce, as if she were standing at the entrance to Disneyland and not some run-of-the-mill city theatre. The spotlight on her, Hedda Lettuce is mesmerizing in a beaded green dress and green highlights in her hair to match her name. “Hello, ladies and gentlemen and everything in between.” Ah, yes, Hedda is a drag queen: “I don’t mind being called anything with the word ‘queen’ in it.”
Turns out the pre-show is nothing raunchier than catty, improvisational banter to get the audience riled up for an old movie. The crowd loves Hedda. I love Hedda. Hedda loves Hedda. It’s clear that in his six years of opening at the Clearview Cinema, Hedda Lettuce has gained quite a loyal following. He seems to know many of the audience members by name. It’s evident that the Chelsea Classics has quite a few regulars (mainly gay men) each Thursday night. Whether they come for Hedda or the movie is unclear.
“How many people who are gay have not seen this film?” Hedda asks the audience, and then polls people’s favorite scenes. Russell has seen Harriet Craig seven or eight times. His favorite scene is when Harriet is having a “fussy” conversation, and in his best Joan Crawford act recites the lines when she scolds her servants for going up and down the stairs. When Steven begins to speak, Hedda interrups, “Oh, what a lisp. You’re so gay!” Then poses the same question, “how many times have you seen this movie?” to which he responds, “Today?” His favorite scene is “when the maid tells her off.”
Then “Bucket Boy” comes out to give away the prizes. Several people win movie tickets. There’s a big shocker.
Harriet Craig is “Martha Stuart on crack,” according to Hedda. As the black-and-white film begins to play, Hedda’s quip seems an understatement. Harriet Craig doesn’t clean or cook — she has servants and a cousin who does that for her. They must keep her house positively spotless. Of course, Harriet’s insistence on having a house that is perfect is a metaphor for wanting to control her home life.
More specifically, Harriet Craig controls her husband. The film is rich with sexual power plays and clever remarks about gender, such as when Harriet says, “No man’s born ready for marriage; he has to be trained.”
Harriet Craig, directed by Vincent Sherman and written by Anne Froelich and James Gunn, is brilliant. A pure cinematic gem. And the audience is delightful. They cheer and clap for Joan Crawford, who plays the domineering housewife. Their robust, over-the-top laughter shows how much they love the film. Seeing Harriet Craig with a bunch of gay men in Chelsea ranks as one of my all-time favorite movie-going experiences.