When I saw a reference to the 1938 film How To Undress In Front Of Your Husband, I was hoping for some sort of vintage-porn-loop version of those “Learn To Strip For Your Husband” books that were such a thing in the 1970s. And I got it, more or less — but it came with a hot-mess bowlful of misogynistic “wives are whores” nonsense, body-shaming drivel, and slapstick peeping-tom consent-violations comedy. Sample narration: “You know, the average woman will use every bit of feminine trickery at her command to sell herself to the man she loves…until she lands him. And after that, she just sends him monthly invoices.”

Honestly, my favorite part of the film is the campy scroll at the beginning, which uses preposterous claims about marriage to frame and justify the subsequent G-rated clips of Elaine Barrie Barrymore undressing in her boudoir, supposedly all unknowing that she’s being filmed by a Peeping Tom:

But how about our women? Do they satisfy? With all these modern disadvantages, science has done nothing to make marriage safe for husbands.

The old marriage institution has limped along for centuries, burdened by boredom -- men have submitted, suffered, and supported long enough.

Therefore: we have decided to do our bit toward the relief of marital boredom.

So, yeah, here’s the movie, warts and all. I find this sort of thing fascinating (artifacts of culture and all that) even when all the toxic messages are so loud they threaten to drown out the sexy bits: