While I was enjoying some Barbara Stanwyck films on Turner Classic Movies (star of the month for March 2025), I saw something that surprised me—a mention of Willa Cather in the opening credits for A Lost Lady (Warner Bros., 1934). I’d heard of the 1923 book that Willa Cather wrote with that title, but I’d assumed this was a coincidence. I don’t know as much about Willa Cather as many other Nebraskans might (who might also be reading this right now—hello everyone, in the state and elsewhere, who has a Google alert for Willa Cather! You are a devoted bunch!), but I didn’t remember seeing Cather’s name associated with a relatively contemporaneous movie before.

(This 1934 movie was the second attempt to bring the hit novel to the screen. The first try was in 1924, directed by Harry Beaumont and starring Irene Rich—but don’t go looking for that version, because according to IMDb and others, there are no existing prints of that 1924 movie—it’s considered as “lost” as its title character.)

According to film critics in 1934, this second attempt to bring the book to the screen was a disappointment, despite the popular cast. The review in the New York Times suggested changing the title and removing Cather’s name from the credits, and that the film lacked “the haunting beauty of the book.” The 1934 movie was such a disappointment to Cather that it is said to be the reason there were no more movies made of her works in her lifetime.

After looking into the adaptation history, I had to pick up the book. Since A Lost Lady is old enough (1923) to be in the public domain, there are many versions online for reading or listening, as well as many reprints and editions in physical form. The Willa Cather Archive at UNL, for one, has it (and many related materials worth looking at) online.

To be fair, it would have been difficult to make A Lost Lady into a successful movie that stayed faithful to the text. The book opens with setting the physical and social scene in a way that would have been a challenge with the film technology at the time. That is soon followed, in the book, by a scene of animal cruelty and body horror that could not have made it onto the screen at the time either, for other reasons. These limitations might explain why the filmmakers re-ordered the narrative events of the text, but that re-ordering takes away an important “reveal” of some character development. Also, Nebraska, as a place, is missing from the movie entirely.

Another challenge for the film is the casting. If someone read a synopsis of the book but didn’t actually read the book, it would sound great to cast Hayes-Code-inspiring, 1930s-era Barbara Stanwyck, who excelled in playing flawed, charismatic women who would do what it takes to survive. This is what her studio and her fans would want from her performance, and they’d be rooting for her through stumbles and successes—and this is not quite what the book is about.

A Lost Lady (the book) is about a young man, Niel Herbert, who is enthralled with, and eventually disillusioned by, the charming Marian Forrester, who indeed does what it takes to survive, and Niel does not like the choices Marian makes. The book succeeds where the movie flounders, because we see Marian’s do-what-it-takes choices through the gaze of Niel—and Niel is the person with whom Cather intends the reader to identify—not Marian. Also, in the movie, Niel is the same age as Marian, which completely changes their dynamic.

This difference gives nuance to the book, while the movie becomes an ineffective morality play (with a very different ending). One could argue the first half of the movie is more fair to Marian than the book ever is (and then falls apart in a frustrating fashion that I had to re-wind twice so make sure I wasn’t missing something), but, to be fair, the book is never really trying to make excuses for Marian. It’s up to the reader to complete any circuit of sympathy and understanding for the choices she feels she must make. I think the reader can handle this responsibility better than Niel does.

Reviews of the book see symbolism that don’t follow through to the film adaptation. In the book, the reader can see how Niel might represent the American westerner of the era, who’s been promised a promise—a future that’s as bright as one wants it to be. And the Marian of the book might represent the American West—charming, wild, just out of reach, something the protagonist could fall in love with the idea of—but which can’t live up to unreasonable expectations projected upon it, at least not for a member of the current generation, born too late to enjoy what the previous generation seems to have handed to them (of course, it wasn’t handed to them either, and not in any lasting way).

In that sense, A Lost Lady, published in 1923, is an emblematic story for the 1920s, even though much of the action happens earlier. (Correspondence between Cather and F. Scott Fitzgerald noted the similarities of Marian Forrester and Daisy Buchanan, another Roaring Twenties woman-as-embodiment of male desire-turned-to-disillusionment.) Having said that, it’s still a timeless story. Part of growing up is realizing that some things you thought you wanted just won’t make you happy, partly because you didn’t really understand them in the first place.

A Lost Lady is a quick read, or listen—and well worth your time, whether you’re new to Cather or not. (Just remember you don’t actually have to agree with Niel about everything, even if you do agree with him about some things.) Even as such a slim volume, it is lush with the landscape-as-place and dynamic domesticity for which Cather is known and celebrated.

The un-lost 1934 movie might be only for the Barbara Stanwyck completist—if you’re willing to put up with the inconsistencies of her character, and the unfortunate stereotyping of one of the house staff characters, which is more extreme than in the book. I have to note that the Orry-Kelly wardrobe is amazing—it might be the best part of the movie.

Cather, W. (1923). A lost lady. Alfred A. Knopf.

Some additional notes:

Of interest to Barbara Stanwyck and classic film fans: look at this Warner Brothers pressbook for the 1934 movie, courtesy of the Wisconsin Center for Film and Theater Research and The Internet Archive

Also: did you know Barbara Stanwyck married a Nebraska-born fellow Hollywood star a few years after this movie? That would be Robert Taylor.

Of interest to Willa Cather fans who are also Ethel Cain fans (there’s a definite crossover here, if you know, you know): Ethel Cain is going back out on tour in 2025! No stops in Nebraska this time.