Aline Pumps Gas

 

Sisters Myra (Ann Dvorak) and Olga (Aline MacMahon) run a gas station/diner/motel deep in the desert of the American Southwest. Isolated from the rest of the world (except for the customers who are always heading somewhere else), Olga is protective of her younger sister.  She forbids her from socializing with men, especially Steve Laird (Theodore Newton), much to Myrna's fury. Olga's life is disrupted by the arrival of George (Preston Foster), a man who was once Olga's lover. Our film this week is Heat Lightning (1934).

Aline MacMahon is always remarkable, and this film is no exception. When we meet Olga, her face is closed. She interacts with strangers on a business level only. She is not unfriendly, but distant and cautious. With the arrival of George (who Olga - and only Olga - calls Jerry), Ms. MacMahon changes her whole demeanor. The suspicion begins to slowly melt into affection, and finally into the hope for a resumption of their earlier relationship. Some of this is accomplished with costuming, as Olga literally lets down her lush hair (George had commented on the beauty of her thick, long hair), but most accomplished with Ms. MacMahon's eyes and posture. This was the first picture in which she received star billing, and she makes the most of it.

Ann Dvorak's part is relatively small, but the last scenes in which she appears are very strong and truly heartbreaking. Myra's early rebellion and the results that revolt make it appear that the sisters will end up very much alike. The emptiness in Ms. Dvorak's face tell us the future of Myra far better than words could.

We're not used to seeing Lyle Talbot (Jeff) play a weakling, but he does here. By the end, he develops a small amount of backbone, but primarily he is under the thumb of the domineering - and nasty - George. We previously discussed his impressive film career when we viewed A Lost Lady, but this was a new side to a decidedly versatile, and underrated, actor.

Frank McHugh (Frank) is also playing a somewhat different part from his usual sidekick roles. He's a chauffeur to Mrs. Feathers Tifton (Glenda Farrell) and Mrs. Tinkle Ashton-Ashley (Ruth Donnelly), two new divorcees, on their way home (with LOTS of expensive jewelry) from Reno. Surprisingly, Mr. McHugh is also the current object of both their affections! Mr. McHugh is amusing and effective with relatively little screen time. But seeing him as an object of lust does take some getting used to.

As is often the case, Glenda Farrell doesn't get enough to do, though her interplay with Ruth Donnelly is especially fun. They are a good combination; in the end, Ms. Donnelly gets the better lines and the stronger part. 

The script is intriguing, in that the backstory is supplied in tiny spoonfuls - you get just enough to understand Olga, and no more. It's script writing by insinuation, and is effective. You keep watching the movie to find out more, as you are given just a tad more information about Olga's life in the city. While several of the characters seem extraneous  - the girls who arrive with "Popsy" (Harry C. Bradley), for example - it's evident by the end of the story that each of these visitors is telling us more about Olga and her decision to live in the desert. 

As you can see, it's an amazing group of character actors - Jane Darwell also appears in the opening scene as Gladys, wife to henpecked husband Herbert (Edgar Kennedy), a couple motoring through the desert with a really unreliable jalopy. It's another humorous interlude, but fascinating as well - Olga is a skilled mechanic, better than most men - even in the precode era, it's not usual to see a woman who is skilled at a trade. 

The story was based on the play, Heat Lightning which was on Broadway for a month in 1933. and starred Jean Dixon as Olga. In 1941, there was remake (of course, drastically altered. The remake was, after all, well within the code) as Highway West (1941) (AFI catalog).  Reviewer Mordaunt Hall of the New York Times was not enthusiastic about the film in his review, but did like Ms. MacMahon, saying "she gives a believable performance the rôle is not well suited to her". We disagree; there is not a part written which Ms. MacMahon cannot in some way make suit herself.

Released in March of 1934 (just 4 months before the Code began to be strongly enforced), the picture has not been widely circulated since then, as it was on the Legion of Decency's Banned List (TCM article). We think that it's a shame it - and its star - are not better known, and really recommend a viewing. Here's a trailer to get you started:

Barbara, The Mail-Order Bride

Joan Gordon (Barbara Stanwyck) has hopes of a better life - a torch singer in a New York City speakeasy, she is engaged to the wealthy Don Leslie (Hardie Albright), much to the regret of her lover, Eddie Fields (Lyle Talbot).  Alas, the engagement is quickly broken; when Don discovers her past relationship with Eddie, he dumps her, and Joan, who is not willing to resume her affair with Eddie runs away to Montreal.  Eddie, however, is determined bring her back. His men find out she is working there; when she realizes that another confrontation is at hand, she bribes her maid, Emily (Leila Bennett) to let Joan serve as Emily's replacement - as a mail order bride in North Dakota.  There, she meets James Gilson (George Brent), a taciturn farmer with little knowledge of women or of conversation in general.  The result:  a horror of a wedding night, and a married couple who are at odds with one another.  Thus begins The Purchase Price (1932).

This film pointed out to us the benefits of rewatching a movie together after a long gap.  We originally discussed The Purchase Price back in 2009, shortly after the film came out on DVD via the Forbidden Hollywood collection.  For all of us, it was our first time viewing the film (You can see that post here).  As we were discussing the film, we referred back to our earlier comments, and discovered that much of what we originally said had changed, most especially our reactions to the two male leads, Jim and Eddie.

We initially found the character of Jim to be a bit creepy; his almost violent attack of Joan on their wedding night was most off-putting, and it resulted in our really disliking him from that point forward.  But on closer examination, we began to like him a bit more. He has the potential to be a great husband, but his uncommunicative behavior and his total lack of grace is still a bit disconcerting.  He hasn't got a clue on how to behave with a woman, for one thing.  Sure, he advertised for a bride, but manhandling a strange woman almost immediately in no way to win affection.  But, when Joan reacts and hits him, he does NOT hit back or force himself on her further.  He leaves the room and does not come back uninvited.  He even suggests that they begin divorce proceedings so she can get on with her life.  Ultimately, Jim's character grows and changes, to try to become a better man for her.

Eddie, on the other hand, will not take no for an answer.  Essentially, he is a stalker, constantly pursuing Joan, even when she's told him that the life he offers is not the one that she wants.  He's married, and cannot marry her.  He does seem to love her, in his own way, and ultimately proves helpful to her, but his ego seems to be such that he cannot let her quietly exit his life.  We also wondered if Joan is, for Eddie, the only decent person in his life, and the only person who provides him with the appearance of class, another reason why he might not wish to just find another woman - he knows he'll never find anyone as good.

The town in North Dakota, as portrayed here, seems more like hillbilly country than the northern U.S.  But where so many of the male characters that live here (like Bull McDowell, as portrayed by David Landau - a letch if ever there was one) are distasteful, the few women we see are rather nice, especially Mrs. Tipton (Adele Watson) and her daughter Sarah (Anne Shirley).  Joan visits them when she discovers that Mrs. Tipton has had her new baby alone (except for the presence of her very young - and very frightened daughter).  Ms. Shirley - uncredited here, had been working in films since the age of four (under the name Dawn O'Day).  She was 14 when she appeared in The Purchase Price (and had previously played Ms. Stanwyck as a child in So Big,  released the same year, and, as I was recently reminded, would later play Ms. Stanwyck's daughter in Stella Dallas)  She is quite sweet in this very small part, and is worth looking for.

Don, the man that dumps Joan, is only in one scene, but it is a terrific one. Director William Wellman takes full advantage of sound to portray the sorrow and hypocrisy of the event.  As Don scolds and rejects Joan for being involved with a bootlegger (a bootlegger he utilizes), the hotel lobby in which they sit becomes silent - the nosy inhabitants of the hotel all hush to listen to their conversation.  Even the street outside is silent.  But, as Don exits in a huff and Joan sits there in abject misery, conversations begin again, and a garbage truck drives up the block.  It's an impressively done moment. 

Stanwyck again does her own stunts, most notably in the fire scene at the end of the film, resulting in some minor injuries.  Her relationship with her director was very friendly, and Mr. Wellman is quoted as saying "On one of Miss Stanwyck's interviews she mentioned me as one of her favorite directors and ended with 'I love that man.' Needless to say I was very proud and had a lump in my throat which does not happen to me very often. Barbara Stanwyck -- 'I love that girl.'" (see this TCM article)

Naturally, the New York Times review did not like the film (we seem to say that a lot), but in this case, we think the reviewer is quite wrong.  This is a good film, with strong performances from Stanwyck, of course, and also from George Brent and Lyle Talbot.  We will leave you with this clip in which Ms. Stanwyck herself sings:

Barbara's in Prison

When Nan Tayor (Barbara Stanwyck) is arrested as an accessory to a bank robbery, childhood friend David Slade (Preston S. Foster) tries to come to her assistance.  Slade believes her protestations of innocence - her father was once their town's deacon and was good to Slade.  Slade is now a highly regarded attorney and evangelist and uses his influence to have Nan paroled to his charge.  Moved by his trust in her, Nan confesses to him that she was complicit in the robbery, then is disgusted to realize that he will use her confession against her in court.  Nan is sent to prison, after she confesses to the authorities, but she harbors a deep, abiding hatred for the man she considers as her betrayer.  Nan has become one of the Ladies They Talk About (1933)

In a December 2013 article in the New Yorker, Margaret Talbot listed this as one of her 10 favorite Stanwyck films.  We found the film very enjoyable, but without the punch of say, Stella Dallas or Double Indemnity.  Part of the problem is that Stanwyck's portrayal is so powerful, her leading man is unable to stand up to her force of will.  Whenever Stanwyck is on the screen, you watch her - Foster's David Slade is a non-entity next to her, and it's hard to understand what she - or even Susie (Dorothy Burgess) - see in him.  It's not altogether Foster's fault - really, the film's focus is on the prison scenes.  The romance and warfare between Nan and David are secondary to the interaction of the ladies in prison.

Based on a play by Dorothy Mackaye and Carlton Miles entitled Women in Prison, (for more information on the play, visit the  AFI Catalog) the prison scenes are allegedly based on Mackaye's actual experiences in jail.  When her husband was killed in an altercation with Mackaye's lover, Paul Kelly, Mackaye was sentenced to one to three years (she served 10 months) in San Quentin for "attempting to conceal facts" (TCM article) in his death.  [Actor Paul Kelly would serve 25 months for manslaughter; he and Mackaye married after his release from prison, and were together until her death in 1940.  He continued to a successful stage, screen, and television career following his release].   However, any attempt Mackaye may have made in the play to portray living conditions in San Quentin were surely eliminated by the film. The prison is so very nice and homey - it's more like a college dorm room.  Though Warner Brothers had a technical advisor who had served time at San Quentin (San Quentin housed women until 1932, when Tehachapi was opened), they still prettied the prison up substantially.  The women have decorations in their rooms,  record players they can run all hours of the night, and seem to have the run of each other's cells.  Almost everyone seems to get along (except for a woman who is clearly intended to be lesbian - she "likes to wrestle,' Nan is warned.  You can see a picture of her at precode.com).

Lyle Talbot as Nan's partner-in-crime, Don is wasted in the film.  He has so very little screen time - we would have expected him to visit her in prison, but that is given over to Lefty (Harold Huber), as the visits only start when Don also ends up in San Quentin.  A shame, really, as Talbot is an engaging actor who has proved his ability to go toe-to-toe with strong women.

Lillian Roth appears in the film as Nan's prison friend, Linda.  Roth is best remembered today as the subject of the Susan Hayward film I'll Cry Tomorrow.  In our film, Linda gets an opportunity to sing "If I Could Be with You" to a photo of Joe E. Brown (not our idea of a heartthrob, but under contract to Warner Brothers when they released this film.  Then again, so were Jimmy Cagney and Douglas Fairbanks, Jr.  Go figure!). A noted Broadway actress, Roth's addiction to alcohol derailed her career.  Between 1929 and 1939, she appeared in 22 films and shorts, often playing herself.  (Starting in 1955, she began to make sporadic appearances in television and films). She also had a substantial career as a concert and nightclub performer.  Married (and divorced) five times, she ended up broke when her last husband absconded with all of her money.  She died from a stroke in 1980, aged 69.  If you are not familiar with Roth, below is a film of her singing to Mr. Brown!


The reviewer for the New York Times commented on the strength of the prison scene in Ladies They Talk About. He says the film "is effective when it is describing the behavior of the prisoners, the variety of their misdemeanors, their positions in the social whirl outside, their ingenuity in giving an intimate domestic touch to the prison, and their frequently picturesque way of exhibiting pride, jealousy, vanity and other untrammeled feminine emotions."  The romance is less than secondary and is merely a method of giving us a "happily ever after" to the proceedings.  We'll leave you with a trailer to the film.  Next week, we'll take a look at another Stanwyck films from Ms. Talbot's list of 10 that we've not yet discussed.  

Dr. Kay

 As I've mentioned before in this blog, I have a personal fondness for films about women doctors, so I was very pleased that the film my group selected for this week is Mary Stevens, M.D. (1933).  Kay Francis is Mary Stevens.  We meet her as she and her best friend, Don Andrews (Lyle Talbot) conclude their internships and open an office together, with Mary's devoted friend - and nurse Glenda (Glenda Farrell) in tow.  It's rough going at first - Mary, as a woman, finds it hard to recruit patients.  But, just as things start to improve, Don decides that he'll be better off married to Lois Rising (Thelma Todd), the daughter of a powerful politician.  And, while Mary now has a thriving practice, she loves Don and he is now, seemingly, out of reach.

The pre-code elements in this film are fairly simple: Don and Mary have an adulterous relationship,  and Mary has a baby out of wedlock.  There's even a brief hint at abortion (Mary refuses to "do something" about her pregnancy, since she'd recently advised a patient to "go through with the thing" and now she is "going to live up to [her] own advice!"  My fellow blogger at Pre-code.com also provides a nice overview of the film (though be warned - there are spoilers).  But Mary's integrity as a physician and as a human being are never in question.  She is a good, dedicated doctor, who just happens to fall in love with a very wrong man.

We loved Kay Francis as Mary Stevens.  Sure, she's got nicer clothing than any struggling physician should have.  Regardless, she presents a picture of a woman who is competent and who KNOWS she is competent.  Despite her love for Don, she won't brook medical sloppiness, and when she realizes that his drinking is destroying his ability as a doctor, she breaks all ties with him.

Lyle Talbot also does a good job in portraying someone with real ethical issues.  Talbot has the ability to switch from likeable to reprehensible with very little effort, a real asset with Don.  And he needs to do it in such a way that the audience will root for him when Mary and he meet years later.  We talked about Mr. Talbot at length in our review of A Lost Lady.  He is equally good here, but in a very different part.

Poor Glenda Farrell gets very little to do here, except be supportive to Kay.  She is seldom out of her nurse's uniform, and doesn't even have a last name.  But she makes the most with what she is given, making Nurse Glenda memorable. With 116 film and television credits, Glenda Farrell's career extended from an uncredited role in 1928 to 1970.  She excelled at comedy, and could do zany and/or dumb characters with her eyes closed.  Frequently paired with Joan Blondell (they would do 9 films together), Ms. Farrell really broke out when she first appeared as intrepid reporter Torchy Blane in Smart Blonde (1937).  She would play the part 6 more times   Lola Lane played Torchy once in 1938's Torchy Blane in Panama when Warner Brothers decided they wanted a new Torchy - it didn't work out, and Ms. Farrell appeared again in the role.  Jane Wyman would conclude the film series with Torchy Blane...Playing with Dynamite (1939) when Ms. Farrell left Warners to head back to New York and Broadway.  Between 1929 and 1970, Ms. Farrell appeared in 12 Broadway plays, including Forty Carats (her part went to Binnie Barnes in the film version), as well as appearances in many television shows.  While appearing in the Broadway play Separate Rooms (1941), Ms. Farrell met Dr. Henry Ross (he was treating her sprained ankle at the time).  They married, and were together until her death of lung cancer in 1971.

Another actress with a minuscule part is Thelma Todd, who only has a few scenes as Don Andrews' wife Lois.  We see her briefly prior to their marriage, then again when Lois' father forbids her from divorcing him.  Todd had started her career in silent films, but talkies gave her the opportunity to show off her comedic talents, often teamed with ZaSu Pitts in a series of short films about two hapless women (patterned after Laurel and Hardy) named Thelma and ZaSu (surprise!).  But Todd is perhaps known because of her mysterious death at age 29; she was found in her car, dead, in what the coroner called a suicide from carbon monoxide poisoning.  The truth behind her death has been debated for decades.  Did she die at her own hand, or was she the victim of a murder? In 2012, William Donati published The Life and Death of Thelma Todd, which revisited the investigation.

Two major incidents happen towards the end of the film that bear some mention.  Dr. Stevens is called in to treat a child with infantile paralysis.  She needs a serum.  Really?  Infantile paralysis - or polio - was not treatable in the 1930s, and the only "serum" currently available are the polio vaccines, discovered by Jonas Salk and by Albert Sabin in the 1950s.   The other incident revolves around Mary's depression at the end of the film.  As Don tries to bring her back to herself, it is her career that he uses as a motivator, not their pending marriage.  That, combined with a final scene that is described in this TCM article are, for me, the most interesting aspects of this film on the role of women in medicine.

This New York Times review points out the excellent work of Una O'Connor in her small part as the mother of two sick children.  All in all, it's a positive review, and we agree and highly recommend it.  We leave you with a trailer.

Next week, we'll look at another Kay Francis film in which she portrays a doctor.

Barbara's Lost

Barbara Stanwyck returns as another literary heroine in A Lost Lady (1934).  Marian Ormsby (Stanwyck) is happily celebrating her wedding - she's supposed to marry the next day - when her fiance, Ned Montgomery (Phillip Reed) is gunned down by the angry husband of a woman with whom Ned has been carrying on an affair.  Stunned into a stupor, Marian is convinced to go away to recuperate.  While out for a walk, she falls down an incline, breaking her leg.  She's rescued by Daniel Forrester (Frank Morgan), a wealthy lawyer who is immediately fascinated by this lost lady.  As she begins to heal from her physical and emotional wounds, he proposes marriage.  Though she doesn't love him, she consents to be his wife, and finds happiness for a time in the safety of his love.  But not for long - for other men are attracted to her: Neil Herbert (Lyle Talbot), Dan's protege and Frank Ellinger (Ricardo Cortez), an aviator who crashes - literally - into her life.

The film is based on the novel by Willa Cather, though the link between this story and Cather's novel is thin at best.  In their review of the film, the New York Times called the novel of A Lost Lady "a genuine American masterpiece," with a film that is "mediocre... by comparison".  But according to A Life of Barbara Stanwyck: Steel True 1907-1940, other reviewers were  not nearly so kind, and neither was Cather - who didn't want any further adaptations of her work.  In fact, her will banned any further film adaptations of her works (along with publications of her letters.  The ban on both was recently lifted by the Willa Cather Trust, as outlined in this New York Times report.)  For someone who's work so focused on the American frontier, and the people who built it, seeing Cather's work made into a mere romantic triangle on rich people from the east must have been very hard for the author, and her fans, to stomach.  While it is undeniably hard to successfully adapt a masterpiece of literature to the screen; script-wise, this adaptation doesn't even come close (and more to the point, doesn't really try).  For more on Cather, visit Willa Cather: The Road is All from American Masters. 

If you go into the film acknowledging that it's not Cather's book, it does have some enjoyable moments, mostly because of the excellent acting of the four leads.  Stanwyck is, as always, exceptional as Marian, a woman who seems unable to select the right man.  And Ricardo Cortez is wonderful; he gives Frank Ellison a subtle shadiness that is perfect for the character, and makes Frank a mirror image of the deceased Ned Montgomery - both men who are more interested in conquest than in love.  Originally, the cast would have included Kay Francis and John Eldredge (see this AFI article.  Eldredge's part is not specified.  Probably, he was being considered for one of the roles that eventually went to Cortez or Talbot).

Lyle Talbot is excellent as Neil, the honorable man who loves Marian from afar, because of his regard for Daniel.  Talbot provides a moral compass in the film, both in his relationship with the Forresters, and in his dislike of the relationship between Marian and Frank. Talbot had a remarkably long and noteworthy career, beginning almost with talkies (he had a lovely voice, in my opinion), and continuing until 1987 (he died at age 94, in 1996).  When film work - primarily as the lead in B movies - began to elude him, he transitioned gracefully to television, appearing on episodes of shows such as The George Burns and Gracie Allen Show (where he had a recurring part), Bonanza, and Newhart.  His film career was notable: we've already seen him in She Had to Say Yes (1933), Mandalay (1934), and No More Orchids (1934).  His life was recently detailed by his daughter, Margaret Talbot, in her book The Entertainer: Movies, Magic and My Father’s Twentieth Century.

Finally, there is Frank Morgan who shines as Daniel Forrester.  It's hard to make a character who is kind and gentle come across as anything but weak, but Morgan does it.  He gives us a characterization that is pure in heart, but deep in his love for Marian and his desire to build a life with her.  According to this TCM article, he was made up to look far older than his 44 years (though he never really looked young!)  In a few more years, Morgan would be cast in the film that would probably gift him with eternal fame - The Wizard of Oz (1939), but he appeared in over 100 films, and was impressive in all of them. 

We will leave you with a trailer from the film, where you can glimpse some of the lovely gowns designed by Orry-Kelly.  While not a great film, it's certainly worth your time for the excellent acting that is on display; for plot, read the book instead:

She SHOULD Have Said "No"!!!

From the opening of  She Had to Say Yes (1933), it's obvious that this is a precode film.  At a meeting of the salesmen from the Sol Glass Clothing Company, all the salesmen are bemoaning the fact that their "customer's girls" are just too hard and too greedy to be appealing to the buyers who frequent their establishment.  But, the company needs to provide entertainment to these poor, lonesome men - so why not ask the secretaries in the steno pool to take on the duties of the customer's girls.  They are younger, nicer, and not as hard looking, so they will be more appealing to the buyers.  Of course, the girls won't be FORCED to take on the job (of course not...), but it will mean extra money in their pockets and free dinners and shows at the company's expense.  At first, only one girl (Birdie, played with a certain sluttish charm by Suzanne Kilborn) is willing to participate, but soon, Tommy Nelson (Regis Toomey) has convinced his fiance Florence Denny (Loretta Young) to go out with Daniel Drew (Lyle Talbot) to close a sale - and give Tommy some "alone" time with Birdie.

This film does not paint a pretty picture of men.  Without exception, the men in this film are total creeps; there is not a nice guy in the flick.  Take a look at this commentary from TCM, in which Jeanine Basinger says that the film "puts the capper on showing how women are used by men."   You know that the secretaries will be forced to participate, and you know that if they do not "play the game" properly, they will be fired.  One of our group once worked in the garment industry, and she shook her head at what she saw as a totally accurate portrayal of the attitudes of men in that business. It seems in over 50 years, female employees were still being treated as commodities for the pleasure of the men.

The opening credits immediately inform you that you are entering the world of the fashion industry.  With stunning gowns by Orry-Kelly, the costuming is never a disappointment.  Loretta Young (who in later years was noted for her magnificent wardrobe in her eponymous television show) is garbed in some truly lovely outfits.  

Much of our discussion focused on Ms. Young.  She's quite good here.  Her Flo is sympathetic and intelligent (though we really thought that Maizie played with wit by Winnie Lightner is the smartest of the lot; she's a bit older and a lot wiser, a good character and a good friend.  And someone who really knows how to handle these horrible men).  In a different age, Flo would have been an executive rather than a secretary.  She's certainly much smarter than her fiance, the ever-creepy Tommy. 

It's hard to talk about Loretta Young without getting into some discussion of her later, personal life. We spoke at some length of Young's relationship with Clark Gable and the daughter that was the result of the liaison.  Young was a complicated woman - devoted to her Catholic faith, yet with a past that many might find the antithesis of her own beliefs.   But, here she is, two years before her life took this unwanted turn, glowing with youth and beauty and appeal.   
 
Regis Toomey pulls no punches in presenting a character that is truly unlikeable.  An underrated actor, Toomey spent much of his film career playing second bananas.  He found a place in television, where he appeared in a variety of shows, including Burke's Law (where he played Gene Barry's Aide-de-Camp), and 6 episodes of The Loretta Young Show.   Toomey died in 1991, at the age of 93, after over appearing in over 200 films.

Lyle Talbot's Danny Drew isn't much better than Tommy Nelson.  You want to like him as the film progresses, but he is really just as despicable as Tommy.   The double-standard is thick enough to spread on toast.  Do what I ask you to do, the film says, but don't be surprised when I dump you afterwards.

Here's an amusing trailer from the film - note the script at the beginning: "...because she was hired to be 'nice' to out-of-town buyers, she had to take orders from THEM until they gave their signed orders to HER.  Could a good girl stay good WHEN She Had to Say Yes...

Spot Kay

If any one movie pushed the Production Code into existance, Mandalay from 1934 must be in the running.  Kay plays a Russian refugee, Tanya, who is deeply in love with (and living with) Tony Evans (Ricardo Cortez), a ne'er-do-well, who has the choice of losing his boat or Tanya, to Nick (Warner Oland).  He chooses the boat, handing Tanya over to Nick to work in his club as a prostitute.  Tanya takes on the name "Spot White", and begins to amass jewels and power as she apparently blackmails her clients for her silence.  Finally, she blackmails herself out of Rangoon, and on to a boat bound for Mandalay, where she meets Dr. Gregory Burton (Lyle Talbot).  He is on his way to the plague areas in Mandalay, his penance for his alcoholism.

If that isn't enough to convince you that this is a racy movie, let's throw in some implied nudity and murder as well.  This film has something for everyone!  Kay is great (in spite of having to say a lot of "R's" (as was pointed out by Robert Osborne in the introduction). As she did in The House on 56th Street, she makes the transition from innocence to hard reality beautifully.  And Ricardo Cortez is wonderful as the ever slimy Tony. Finally, we have Lyle Talbot playing Gregory as a tortured soul, whose drunkenness masks his inner pain, but who has the good sense to fall in love with Tanya.  Talbot makes a good counterpoint to Cortez in this film.  Neither is exactly the man of your dreams, but Gregory, at least has a conscience.

Lots of beautiful clothing by Orry-Kelly. And lots to titillate as well.  Watch for the scene when Kay goes after Reginald Owen (as a Police Captain of her acquaintance).  You'll love it. Here's an early scene to get you in the mood:

Carole Abjures Orchids

Carole Lombard's 1932 film No More Orchids is a delight from start to finish. Wealthy Anne Holt (Carole Lombard) is used to getting what she wants, until she meets Tony Gage (Lyle Talbot).  He has no money, and she is engaged to royalty, but love blooms, and Anne is quite willing to give up her wealth and position to be with the man she loves.  But, there is a fly in the ointment - her grandfather (C. Aubrey Smith), a rather malevolent individual who will use anything in his power to manipulate Anne into wedding his choice - Prince Carlos.

The cast here is just magnificent, especially Louise Closser Hale as Anne's outspoken grandmother. Hale is an absolute riot, and makes the picture.  From the second we see her, Ms. Hale steals the movie, and you look forward to her every appearance.  Also wonderful is C. Aubrey Smith as Anne's nasty grandfather.  The cameraman (Joseph August), has a field day, filming Smith at angles, and with lighting that make him appear as the devil.  And Smith seems to relish the cruelty that Mr. Cedric delights in imposing on those around him.  Finally, there is Lombard, who is just lovely as Anne.  She is funny and sweet; running the gamut from spoiled brat to loving daughter, without being maudlin. 

One interesting detail about the film is that it is a pre-code.  That becomes apparent when Lombard spends the night with Tony, and he later makes a comment that casts aspersions on her "honor". (She has been forced to break up with him; he doesn't know why and believes she has been toying with his affections.) It's quite suggestive!

We strongly recommend this neglected classic. Here's a scene from the film: