predetermination, in Leisen's hands, the film becomes a lot less predictable. In fact,

Sturges did not like working with Leisen because of the unconventional way in which

Leisen treated his screenplays. He thought Leisen "cared more about the background ...

than the scene in front of it" (Harvey 524). In fact, Leisen's preoccupation with the

details of a scene left many of his screenwriters disappointed.26 Sometimes, Ronald Davis

notes, he "might spend two hours adjusting a drape on a window, rather than rehearsing

his actors" (73). But that is because Leisen's method did not necessarily conform to the

studio system's linear mode of filmmaking. Although his films did follow the plot,

having been a designer, he was also interested in the minutest details and would often

momentarily surrender the narrative to them. While he was known primarily for making

social satires, he did not like being restricted by the plot's significance. "If I want to send

a message," he would say, "I'll call Western Union." 27 Indeed, his films often showed

disregard for the script in favor of unplanned moments that reflected an appreciation not

of kismet but of chance.28

 The initial fur coat moment can be seen as Leisen's way of allowing chance to

appear on the screen, momentarily suspending the narrative order. The unmotivated

overhead shot takes on the qualities of what Rene Crevel calls "a single moment of

lyricism," "capable of making us forget all sorts of wretched [or funny] stories" (57). The

enigmatic fur coat is certainly capable of making us forget the screwball script-but just

for a moment, because Leisen cuts back to Jean Arthur and the plot resumes. This

moment shows the negotiation that is at the heart of 1930s Hollywood filmmaking: on the

one hand, it tries to move from one joke to the next, in classic screwball fashion. On the

other hand, the moment becomes the script's "screwball."