Bachelor Mother movie

Bachelor Mother: Regime Propaganda But In a Fun Way

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In the era of the end of history, I find myself reflecting on old classic movies I had seen in my childhood, and seeing things in them now as an adult that I had missed before. One such classic is the 1939 romantic comedy Bachelor Mother.

The main thing in these movies that went over my head as a child was the blatant propaganda. Like when I watched Miracle On 34th Street (and reviewed here) I was surprised at how the movie practically pointed a gun at the audience and told them to go buy a plaster house in the suburbs to reduce overcrowding, or else. In Bachelor Mother, the propaganda narrative became clear in the first 10 minutes or so: babies. Girls, go find a guy to impregnate, and guys, go find a girl who’s willing to let you impregnate her.

Bachelor Mother’s plot is a straightforward funny misadventure; Polly, played by Ginger Rogers, gets laid off from her job as a salesgirl at Merlin’s, and on her way home happens to pass an orphanage where she witnesses a sad older woman woman leaving a baby at the doorstep. Worried that the baby might fall off the steps, Polly picks it up, and is caught by by one of the orphanage employees, who assumes she is a distraught single mother down on her luck. This leads to Polly’s former employers being informed of the situation and reinstating her old position with a substantial pay raise… on the condition she keep “her” baby.

The Merlin family’s heir apparent, David Merlin (played by David Niven), is introduced to the audience as a playboy who parties all night and philanders with women, but is well meaning and has a kind heart. David altruistically takes a special interest in Polly and her supposed baby and takes it upon himself to make sure that she doesn’t shirk her maternal duties. Polly isn’t thrilled with being stuck with a baby that’s not even hers, but nobody believes her protests so she eventually decides to accept it, at least temporarily. And David’s mansplaining is equal parts insufferable and incompetent, but don’t worry, the tables get turned on him quick.

It was around this point in the film that I noticed the blatant pro-baby propaganda (sponsored Big Baby, as Alex Jones might say). Not so much preachy messaging, but very long close-up shots of the cute baby. The baby’s prominence didn’t negatively interfere with the flow of the plot, but was major enough to make me look up if there was an American demographic crisis in 1939, and sure enough, there was. Not surprising, since this was the Great Depression. Though for us in the hellscape of 2026, it seems very strange to imagine our government caring about the native birthrate, and not just exploiting the infinite GDP of glitch of importing a billion immigrants.

But anyway, there are the expected hijinks and romantic developments between the two lead characters. And unfortunately, Polly’s late night (though completely innocent) babysitting activies accidentally spark conjecture that David is the father. It’s ironic though completely deserved comeuppance for his earlier incredulousness at Polly’s proclamations of innocence.

And to be honest, David had set himself up for such a thing. When his father, J.B. Merlin, receives a poison pen letter from a disgruntled employee claiming that David has a bastard child, he believes it immediately. When the family butler answers the door one night to a young lady thrusting a baby into his arms and demanding that David watch it, there’s a pretty obvious conclusion here.

The more you think about the moral of this story, the funnier it gets. More babies is a good thing, and it doesn’t really matter who the father is. It apparently doesn’t even matter who the mother is. So if a girl can’t find a guy to give her a baby, she should go outside and just literally pick one off the street.

Honestly, it’s quite nice for a natalist movie to point out that babies who already exist are as important as making more babies, and adopting them is cool. J.D. even declares “I don’t care who the father is! I’m the grandfather.”

I really can’t find anything wrong with this film, except maybe its criminal understatement of how annoying and gross babies can be. Bachelor Mother does of course rubber stamp the glories of capitalism, but doesn’t deify (or demonize) the millionaire class,. And it also doesn’t need to shoehorn product placement into every single scene. There is Merlin’s, and there a toy Donald Duck that is featured prominently in the plot, Chekhov’s duck. The reason, apparently, was because RKO Radio Pictures was the distributor for Disney films at the time.

Movies like Bachelor Mother prove that even propaganda can be entertaining and fun, and not necessarily overly preachy.

Watch Bachelor Mother on Amazon Prime

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Ian Kummer

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