Private Worlds (1935): Have You Seen It?

Mental illness wasn’t exactly the kind of subject matter that had audiences flocking to darkened theaters during Hollywood’s golden age.  It was on rare occasions that a studio would delve into the complicated world of psychosis but when it did, it was usually interesting and respected if not extremely popular.  The Snake Pit, produced by 20^th Century-Fox in 1948, was one of the best-known and finest examples of the sensitive subject matter on celluloid.  Thirteen years earlier, however, Paramount had made Private Worlds, which starred Claudette Colbert and Joel McCrea and examined the administrative aspect of a mental hospital with romantic elements thrown in to add spice.

Drs. Jane Everest and Alex MacGregor (Colbert and McCrea) are psychiatrists; colleagues who work very closely together at the Brentwood clinic, a facility for those with mental illness.  Although they are close, there is no hanky-panky between the two professionals, just mutual respect and camaraderie.  Alex is married to Sally (Joan Bennett), an innocent, young woman who loves her husband deeply and is emotionally dependent on him.  Jane has no romantic entanglements, instead carrying a burning torch for her love, lost years ago during World War I.  When a new superintendent arrives at Brentwood, he finds bitterness and animosity from MacGregor, who had hoped to gain the position himself.  The new head honcho, Dr. Charles Monet (Charles Boyer), is of the belief that women should not hold such lofty positions in the medical field, as Dr. Jane has for some time, and reassigns her to lesser responsibilities at the hospital.

The problems really begin when Monet’s flighty and flirtatious sister, who has a shady past, sets her sights on the handsome MacGregor.  While the young doctor begins to see this piece of work “socially,” his emotionally fragile wife slowly begins to sink into a mental decline.  Jane also finds drama when she begins to be drawn to Monet and vice versa.

Joan Bennett and Claudette Colbert

Claudette Colbert was riding a career high in the mid-Thirties.  While filming Private Worlds, Colbert won an Academy Award for the famed screwball comedy It Happened One Night, released the previous year.  1934 also saw her star turns in the original version of Imitation of Life and the exotic lead in Cecil B. De Mille’s Cleopatra.  Fresh off this win she was nominated for her work in Private Worlds.  As Dr. Monet, Charles Boyer gives an interesting performance, though not definitive.  New to Hollywood, Boyer had a heavy, very distinctive French accent, which would be an extreme liability for most actors but for Boyer it became his trademark (the same could be said of fellow Frenchman Maurice Chevalier) and would be imitated by celebrity impersonators often.

Private Worlds was based on a novel by authoress Phyllis Bottom, who had a number of her books translated to the screen, the most famous being The Mortal Storm at MGM in 1940.  According to Joan Bennett, her future husband Walter Wanger, who produced the movie, was offered the film rights to the Phyllis Bottom book, after he had read it, while in England.  Although initially refusing, the producer changed his mind when he realized the book was a bestseller.  When Paramount obtained the rights to Bottom’s story, Gregory La Cava was chosen to direct what was basically uncharted film territory.  La Cava got his start in the early days of motion pictures in charge of an animation unit for newspaper mogul William Randolph Hearst and creating animated shorts with famed cartoonist Walter Lantz.  When he made Private Worlds, his best-known films, My Man Godfrey and Stage Door, had yet to be made.

In her supporting role, Joan Bennett was able to stretch her acting wings more than she ever had before, bringing in one of her most dramatic parts to that date.  In her memoir, The Bennett Playbill, the actress called her part as Sally “the first really challenging and the most dramatic role I’d played up to that time.”  She named Private Worlds as one of six films out of her entire career of seventy movies that she felt was “acceptable.”

As part of the MCA/Universal library, which houses the Paramount collection of movies from this era, Private Worlds is a rarity for modern classic movie lovers.  It is, however, worth the view if ever you get the chance to catch it.

These Three (1936): It's a Lie! (or Is It?)

In many cases films of 1930's American cinema are very stylized, by that I mean they fall very squarely into a specific genre. Astaire/Rogers musicals follow a formula of boy meets girl meets dancing (charming boy, lovely girl, amazing dancing mind you). Shirley Temple movies were just that, perky Temple plunked down in the middle of a sweet and sentimental situation. Gangster thrillers were tough guys with tough talk and a lot of bullots in between. Much of the acting was over the top (wonderfully so in most cases) and many of the characters even more animated.

The collaboration of producer Samuel Goldwyn with director William Wyler created films during this period that, unlike the mainstream themed picture, were independent in spirit, exceptional in technical expertise. The first of the Goldwyn/Wyler successes was a very sophisticated adult drama called These Three (1936). Both powerful and compelling, the film was based on Lillian Hellman's debut play, The Children's Hour, a gripping look at the consequences surrounding a child's lie that her two schoolmistresses are lesbian lovers. Goldwyn bought the film rights to the play aware that the Hays board of Hollywood censors would never allow him to use either its title or its sapphic storyline. However, he hedged his bets by also hiring Hellman to write the screenplay. The lesbian angle was changed from sexual relations between the two female teachers to a heterosexual love triangle with one teacher allegedly committing an indescretion with the other's intended, a local doctor.

Hellman's play was partially based on a court case in 19th century Scotland and on Broadway it ran for 691 performances. It was a real heavy hitter and even with a somewhat "sanitized" version set for movie audiences, it packed a wallop as Hellman successfully tried to illustrate that the power of the story came from the damage a lie can create rather than the nature of the lie. The cast was headed by screen stars who would become Goldwyn regulars. Karen Wright and Martha Dobie, the slandered teaching duo were played by Merle Oberon and Miriam Hopkins respectively, while Joel McCrea was cast as the third leg of the titular triangle. All three gave fine performances, Hopkins and Oberon arguably the best of their careers. The physical and personality differances between "these two" complemented the picture. If Oberon had been paired with Kay Francis or Hopkins with Carole Lombard, there might have been an imbalance of sorts. Saying this however, it seems less likely that Oberon's elegant, soft spoken Karen and Hopkins earthy and somber Martha would become bosom chums as undergrads.

The supporting cast is outstanding. Catherine Doucet as Martha's worthless leech of an aunt. Marcia Mae Jones as a timid pupil, terrorized into complicity of the lie. Margaret Hamilton, whose small but notable role as a maid won't be forgotten. Alma Kruger as wealthy matron, Mrs. Tilford, whose influence in the community causes the downfall of the reputation of those involved and juvenille actress Bonita Granville. As the prepubescent monster Mary Tilford, Granville was as evil a villain as 30's audiences had experienced, giving Basil Rathbone, Lionel Atwill or Conrad Veidt a run for their sinister money. Her natural blond hair was darkened to convey a more threatening persona, but her strong performance required no such physical pretense and she was nominated at age 13 for a Best Supporting Actress Oscar, the first year the Academy offered the award (Gale Sondergaard won the prize that year).

The movie met critical acclaim including Britain's Graham Green who wrote: "I have seldom been so moved by any fictional film as by These Three. After 10 minutes or so of the usual screen sentiment, quaintness and exaggeration, one began to watch with incredulous pleasure nothing less than life." William Wyler remade the film 25 years later under its original title and with the original lesbian theme intact (and with Miriam Hopkins in the supporting role of Aunt Lily). It was a pale comparison to the '36 version, Wyler's direction and Hopkins' presence notwithstanding.

What Am I Watching?: Well, I’ll Tell You

Classic movies are obviously one of my favorite things (hence this venue for my passion), and although I write about various films and classic stars, there are so many other personal viewings whose good or bad aspects, as the case may be, don’t get recorded on this blog. There just isn’t enough time to write about them all as in depth as I might like. Having said that, I’d like to pass along a few films, recently viewed, but not shared.



The Great Man's Lady (1942)
Starring Barbara Stanwyck and Joel McCrea, with second lead going to Brian Donlevy, The Great Man’s Lady has a cast who can always deliver the cinematic goods. McCrea is the Great Man, Stanwyck, his lady. Babs ages from 16 to over 100 (pictured above), and lives a lot of life in between. Director William Wellman leaves his signature masculine touch, with plenty of rough and tumble historics mixed with emotional histrionics.

Stanwyck was made for this kind of role. She is part Stella Dallas, part Victoria Barkley. Some may wonder why she sacrifices so much for her “great man”, but that’s the nature of old Hollywood. Catch it if you can.



Le Corbeau (The Raven; 1943)
Director Henri-Georges Clouzot was known as “the French Hitchcock” and with good reason. Most famous for 1955’s Les Diaboliques, Clouzot shot Le Corbeau during the war and its somber mood and very adult themes reflect the conditions of his nation at the time. More a mystery than a suspense, the latter characteristic is always present.

Le Corbeau or The Raven is the signature used by a poison pen letter writer in a small French burg, whose main aggression is directed at a local doctor (Pierre Fresnay). The letters accuse, among many other things, the doctor of being an abortionist. Pretty frank topic during World War II, or anytime before the new millennium for that fact. The entire film is frank and extremely well made. Even if you aren’t into sub-titles, if you like film noir at all, I suggest you give this foreign flick a try, as it is very noirish in feel.



Four Frightened People (1934)
I don’t usually write about films that I didn’t really enjoy, but with this particular post, one takes the good with the bad. It’s not that Four Frightened People is particularly bad, it’s just not all that good. Directed by the gargantuan filmmaker Cecil B. DeMille, it did not even make back its cost and DeMille counted it one of his box office turkeys.

The story tells of four completely different types from the western world, who evacuate a ship off the Malayan coast, which has been striken with bubonic plague. They make their way to land only to be lost in the deepest jungle, to be hunted by nasty natives and even nastier attitudes among themselves. Think Survivor 1934.


Starring Claudette Colbert and Herbert Marshall, with support by William Gargan and Mary Boland, and made at Paramount, the film looks more like one of the studios attempts at a low grade B flick than a Cecil B. DeMille mega-production. But the thing that really got this blogger, was Claudette Colbert, who never disappoints. As a mousy, high strung old maid teacher (can you imagine!), she is anything but classic Colbert. Then she blossoms into a jungle maiden, wearing a sarong of giant banana leaves or leopard print, in full make-up and coiffure. We are talking Fredrick's of Hollywood in the middle of a jungle folks. But the classic Colbert would appear directly after this film was released, because it was then that she played her career changing Oscar winning role in It Happened One Night. One bright spot is Mary Boland. Looking like Paula Deen’s grandmother, Boland is a comic relief of sorts, a toned down version of her Countess DeLave from The Women (1939). I wouldn’t say “Don’t watch this”, as it is watchable but don’t expect a lot either.


There you have it. Rupert’s recent roster of raves and rants. Which leads me to ask, have YOU seen anything delightful or deplorable of late?

The Silver Cord (1933): Come to Mama

Ah, motherhood. From Madame X to Stella Dallas, Marmee March to Mrs. Judge Hardy (her movie husband, Lewis Stone, even called her “Mother”), the institution of motherhood in Hollywood during the golden age could verge on the sanctimonious and saccharine. That, however, was just one end of the maternal meter. If one goes to the other extreme, they find silly, self serving women, Mommies Dearest to the nth degree. The cinematic grandmaMA to these characters (or even great-grandmaMA, as our subject is an early talkie) would have to be Mother Phelps in RKO’s The Silver Cord (1933).

Based on a play which had a successful run on Broadway in 1926, The Silver Cord is the story of a woman who, by all outward appearances, adores her two grown sons (Joel McCrea and Eric Linden). But as we begin to realize, barely before Mrs. Phelps (her first name is never mentioned) gets her coat off in her first scene, this woman is a manipulative, conniving, self centered barracuda, who, upon meeting her new daughter-in-law (Irene Dunne) for the first time, marks her line in the sand as to where her son’s loyalties should lie! Also present is her younger son’s fiancee (Frances Dee). Matriarch Phelps is ready to devour Dunne, limbs and all, as the main course and finish off Dee, as the lighter, easier to digest dessert, albeit under the guise of sugar-laden maternal concern for her ”big young things.” Dunne’s character, Christina, is a scientist; bright, modern and intelligent and has no intention of giving up her new husband (McCrea) to “another woman” as she calls his mother.


The Silver Cord is a Freudian film fantasy. There is no end to Mrs. Phelps’ mouth kissing both her sons, cleaving them to her ample bosom and having them lay their heads in her always waiting lap. She even admits romantic attachment for them (though verbally falling short of declaring lust) after she discovered her marriage to their father was a loveless one. No woman will ever be good enough for them because no woman is her.

The entire cast is spot on in their portrayal of various members or potential members of this very dysfunctional tribe, headed by Mama Smother Me Not performed with great relish by stage veteran Laura Hope Crews. Crews played the role in the stage version and was a natural when the story came to the screen. Best known as the fluttery spinster Aunt Pittypat Hamilton in the epic Gone with the Wind, Crews channels the same fidgety anxiousness displayed in her Pittypat for Mrs. Phelps, only tempering her flamboyance with a steely resolve to have her own way regarding her offspring.

The apples of her eye, David and Robert, are played by handsome up and comer Joel McCrea and Eric Linden, respectively. The major lack of continuity in character seems to lie with McCrea, whose David makes light of his mother’s fussy cuddling and (wo)man-handling him in the film’s first half, yet defends her against his bride (unfounded, of course) in the second. Linden’s Robert is a spineless “effete” rounder who has no problem being tied tightly with his mothers apron strings. These mama’s boys are whooped! The lovely Frances Dee is splendid as his fiancee, Hester, whose defiance of her would-be viper-in-law brings cheers from the audience. She has one of the best lines in the picture. When asked what she will do by Robert after they have broken their engagement, Dee replies: “Marry an orphan.“ She and McCrea (pictured together below) would become romantically involved off screen during the making of the film, marry and remain so for 57 years until McCrea’s death in 1990.



Star billing went to the sublime Irene Dunne. As Christina, she gives as good as she gets, better in most cases, when going rounds with the monstrous dowager. The role was considered for both Katharine Hepburn and Ann Harding before RKO cast Dunne. Not the mega star she would be later in the decade, Dunne’s grace and sophistication shone through in this pre-code soaper. She would have several collaborations with the film’s director John Cromwell including 1946’s Anna and the King of Siam.

The Silver Cord is very much a filmed play, with lengthy stretches of dialogue by both Hope Crews and Dunne, but it packs quite a wallop in its 74 minute time frame. It would make a great double feature with Craig’s Wife.

The Most Dangerous Game (1932): Second Cousin to King Kong...Once Removed

When I was in the 8th grade, our class read the short story The Most Dangerous Game (also known as The Hounds of Zaroff) by Richard Connell, and I thought it a thrilling read, as stories read in school were not always that glamorous at that age. I discovered years later that several film versions had been made of the classic 1924 story and was particularly interested in the first and most famous one made in 1932. It wasn't until recently that I had the opportunity to finally see this oft filmed tale in its original screen incarnation and found it was worth the wait.

Although the RKO golden boy of the early 1930's, Joel McCrea, was top billed, the films villain, British stage actor, Leslie Banks, was the true shining force. As the sinister Zaroff, Banks is in melodramatic overdrive, overplaying his role like so many bad guys in the early sound era did. But this zeal only added to the eerie atmosphere of an eerily atmospheric picture.

McCrea plays big game hunter Bob Rainsford, who, as the lone survivor of a shipwreck, swims to the safely of a nearby island. On the island he finds the creepy mansion of creepy Count Zaroff (Banks), complete with creepy servants. Amongst all this creepiness, he finds the lovely Eve Trowbridge (Fay Wray) and her drunken brother Martin (Robert Armstrong), also guests in the Zaroff household due to a shipwreck near the island. It doesn't take long before our hero finds out that Zaroff, a self proclaimed fellow hunter, is a madman, who, bored with hunting mere animals, steers ships toward the rocky cove near his island in order to find a new and more dangerous prey...humans.

The Most Dangerous Game packs a wallop in its 63 minute time frame. Made for approximately $200,000, it was a success at the box office. If it looks and feels familiar, that may be because it gives the distinct impression of being King Kong~esque. That, in fact, is not by happenstance, as the two were being made simultaneously at RKO studio, by the same filmmaking team of Merian C. Cooper and Ernest Schoedsack. Kong stars Fay Wray and Robert Armstrong even gave a two for one by playing in both. 26 year-old McCrea gives a performance of smooth self assurance in this, one of his early beefcake roles. Master musician Max Steiner adds the perfect musical complement to all the mayhem. But Leslie Banks steals each scene in which he appears. Stroking the scar on his head, and staring off in the distance, one can only imagine the twisted atrocities running through his deranged mind as Zaroff. And what does the striking Miss Wray do? Why, cast look after look of sheer terror and scream, of course.

The Most Dangerous Game is part adventure film, part horror (Portions of the "trophy room" scene were cut when preview audiences started leaving the theater in horror/disgust). The principles make an engaging group, and the overall flick is like And Then There Were None without the mystery. If King Kong is the more ambitious and better known of these pieces of Siamese celluloid, Dangerous Game at least needs to be acknowledged in its own right as a classic example of early adventure, Hollywood style.

Want to know more?Here are some recommendations regarding the article above:

The Most Dangerous Game(1932) DVD

The RKO Features: A Complete Filmography of the Feature Films Released or Produced by RKO Radio by James L. Neibaur

If you are interested in these or any other merchandise, please help support this blog by purchasing them through the Amazon portal at the top of this page. By accessing Amazon through this site, you help me maintain resource material and continue to share my love of classic film. Thank you very much.

Barbary Coast (1935): The Gangs of San Francisco?

In Edward G. Robinson's autobiography, he relates his on-set relationship with his co-star Miriam Hopkins, during the filming of their joint venture, Barbary Coast (1935). According to Robinson (and many others through the years), Hopkins was a diva extraordinaire, snobby, impossible to deal with and constantly late to the set, making cast and crew wait to prove she was the true star of the film. When Robinson finally called her on her behavior, she egged him on to give it all he had in an upcoming scene were he was supposed to slap her. When the time came, he did just that and received a roaring burst of applause from the entire crew. So was the backstage atmosphere for Barbary Coast.

The film was inspired by a book called The Barbary Coast: An Informal History of the San Francisco Underground by Herbert Asbury, who also authored The Gangs of New York. The latter story was a gritty period piece which was famously filmed in 2001 by director Martin Scorsese and starred Daniel Day-Lewis, Leonardo diCaprio and Cameron Diaz. While the story lines of the movies do not mirror one another, there are similarities; older, darker bad guy (Edward G. Robinson/Day-Lewis), younger romantic guy (Joel McCrea/diCaprio) and blonde cutie (Miriam Hopkins/Diaz), all gathered within a lusty, boisterous male driven setting almost two centuries ago. But this is not a comparison of the two films, merely an acknowledgement that they are based on work by the same author.

Producer Samuel Goldwyn had read the Barbary Coast story and wanted to film it as early as 1933. At one point the film was thought to be a comeback film for silent star Gloria Swanson and Goldwyn also contemplated it as a vehicle for his European "discovery" Anna Sten (his answer to Garbo) and Gary Cooper, but when the first few pictures Sten did for the producer flopped, he backed off. The final verdict was Miriam Hopkins and Joel McCrea, Goldwyn regulars in the mid 1930's. Robinson, borrowed from Warner Brothers, rounded out the starring cast. Noted director Howard Hawks was set to oversee the film, while the renowned writing team of Ben Hecht and Charles MacArthur handled the script.

The story isn't an extremely complicated one. Mary "Swan" Rutledge comes to old San Francisco during the famed Gold Rush of the 1840's, with its muddy streets and rugged, dangerous atmosphere, as a mail order bride for a wealthy saloon owner. She finds instead that her "beloved" has been murdered and his fortune overtaken by rival Luis Chamalis (Robinson). Intent on getting her share of the dead man's money, she cozies up to the loud and barbaric Chamalis, who puts her in his place, the Bella Donna, running a crooked roulette wheel. She is content to make money and be the belle of the ball (one of the few white women in Frisco at the time) when she accidentally meets up with a poety readin', deep thinkin', nice lookin' prospector named Jim (McCrea). Drawn to Jim but not daring to hope they could be together due to what kind of gal she is/has become, she goes back to her roulette wheel, Jim none the wiser. On his way out of town, Jim stops in at the Bella Donna to find Swan in her Jezebel garb and men aplenty. She gets embarrassed, he loses his gold and Chamalis gets suspicious. Enough for now, no spoilers here.

Miriam Hopkins may have been a prima donna both on-screen and off but her career was in high gear during the filming of Barbary Coast. She had just finished making Becky Sharp, based on Thackeray's Vanity Fair, which was notable in film history as the first feature ever filmed in full Technicolor. For her efforts in Sharp, she would be nominated for a Best Actress Oscar and begin her rich association with Goldwyn. Joel McCrea, always a favorite in Hollywood, didn't have much to do in the film except look attractive and let Robinson chase him around. Still his good guy persona stood him well and his career continued to flourish. Also cast was Walter Brennan, an extra and bit player for years. According to the Howard Hawks biography, "The Grey Fox of Hollywood", Brennan went to his audition and asked "With or without", to which he was asked, with or without what. He was talking about his dentures and did the test without his falsies. He not only gained the role but the part was gradually expanded until he ended up with fourth billing! As another example of his continued success, Brennan was awarded the very first Best Supporting Actor Oscar the following year for his role in Come and Get It. Brian Donlevy is another up and coming wannabe who gained great success after appearing in Coast as Robinson's henchman, Knuckles (boy was he a chipper chap).

With the production values afforded a Goldwyn picture, the tight direction of Hawks and the fiery performances of Hopkins and Robinson, Barbary Coast is a very worthwhile flick. Catch it if for no other reason than to see Edward G. with muttonchop sideburns, fluffy, puffy shirts and a single dangling earring. A long way he is from the milquetoast in Scarlet Street for sure.

Sullivan's Travels (1941): Preston Sturges' Social Satire

Ants in Your Plants of 1939 is one of the fluffy comedies that fictional director John L. "Sully" Sullivan holds as a claim to fame. Tired of making lightweight albeit highly profitable movies, Sully is determined to make a serious socially conscious film called O Brother, Where Art Thou (yes, the Coen brothers borrowed this title from this film) despite the protests of his studio bosses. As a further irritation to these money mongering moguls, he proclaims his intentions to hit the road, disguised as a hobo, in order to experience poverty and suffering first hand, as these two elements of life have never crossed his path.

This is the basic premise of Sullivan's Travels, Preston Sturges masterpiece of writing and direction that helped him build his reputation as supreme satirist in Hollywood during the early 1940's. One of the first successful screenwriters to begin directing his own scripts, Sturges had already hit pay dirt with his first three writing/directing efforts, The Great McGinty (for which his screenplay won an Oscar), Christmas in July and his classic The Lady Eve. His features, like other directors who transitioned from writing, emphasized his own witty, literate scripts.


Sullivan's Travels, though a satire on Hollywood and the movie industry, has several multi-genre elements. There's slapstick, farce, heavy drama, qualities of noir and the last segment is as good a prison picture as I Am a Fugitive From a Chain Gang (1932). Sully (Joel McCrea) and his comely companion (Veronica Lake, credited simply as The Girl) experience a gamut of emotions along the road as they search for suffering. The film glides seamlessly from a glamorous and funny look at Hollywood with its limousines, swimming pools and tennis courts, to a harsh, realistic view of the grungy world of mission community showers and finding a meal out of a trash can. Lake's character physically shows this change in her hobo costume, going from a jaunty, slightly askew chapeau to a more somber straightforward version, as she and Sully find some of the misery they seek. Some parts seem very Capra-esque, though with a sharper bite and less sentimentality. Director Capra (along with director Lubitsch) is even mentioned early in the film.


As John L. Sullivan, Joel McCrea was at the peak of his career, recently completing Alfred Hitchcock's Foreign Correspondent and about to go into another Sturges classic, The Palm Beach Story. Sometimes called a "poor man's Gary Cooper", McCrea has been an underrated performer. Versatile and solid, the actor starred in some of Hollywood's best films and his Sullivan shows his comedic skills sharply honed. Likewise, Veronica Lake was red hot in Tinsel Town after her appearance in this film. From Sullivan's Travels she started her string of cool vamps in Paramount crime dramas along side Alan Ladd, but like McCrea, Travels proves an excellent showcase for her flair for the funny, as well as the more dramatic moments. Her dry, unhurried delivery is perfect, especially as a foil for McCrea's sometimes harried, perturbed tone. She doesn't fear looking unglamorous when the scene calls for it but when she does glam it up, oh boy! Her famous peek-a-boo bang is coiffed in full force and set the trend for her much copied look. Pregnant when cast, she kept her condition a secret in order to get the part. Reportedly, Sturges was very upset with her once the pregnancy was discovered.


Sullivan's Travels is a classic in every way. Preston Sturges would see as rapid a fall in the late 40's as he'd experienced a rise earlier in the decade (the same can be said for Veronica Lake) but his sparkling gem of a film, along with his others of the period, would forever embed him as a master director in Hollywood history.

Review: Dead End (1937)

Dead End (1937) is hard core. If you didn't know it was produced by master film man Samuel Goldwyn, you would swear it was a Warner Brothers crime melodrama, in the manner of Angels With Dirty Faces (1938) and They Made Me a Criminal (1939). Why? Because all the elements are there, the dirty, gritty New York tenement neighborhood, the criminal element, both petty and professional, the struggle for survival under the harshest circumstances. Heck, it even has Humphrey Bogart as a sinister thug (always in his earlier days) and a gang of smart aleck young punks (the Dead End Kids, who were also featured in the afore mentioned films). However, as a few clues that it belongs to Goldwyn, it features Joel McCrea, a favorite in several Goldwyn films of the 1930's, in his regular good guy role. It also has William Wyler, Goldwyn's director of choice, at the helm.

Based on the successful play by Sidney Kingsley, Dead End is a story of abject poverty and the battle to survive in a decaying and filthy New York slum. The struggle is reflected even more vividly in the fact that the tenement is smack dab beside a luxurious high rise apartment on the Hudson River, the back entrance of which enters onto the back alley of the dead end poverty stricken street. There is nothing pretty or glamorous about the film, except actress Wendy Barrie, but even her story is ugly. Bogie is a wanted murderer, a nationally known criminal of the most dangerous order. He is back in his old neighborhood, the stomping ground of his hard and lawless youth, to see both his mother and his long ago paramour, neither of whom he's seen in over a decade. As the parable goes, he reaps what he has sown in this endeavour, as the mother (Marjorie Main, in a powerful early role), pitiful and careworn, wants absolutely nothing to do with him and tells him she wishes he were dead. His reunion with his old flame is no better. Though she is glad to see him, she is barely fit to be seen herself. Poverty and desperation have driven her into prostitution and she is in the final stages of syphilis, warning the gangster against even a lip kiss. She is played by Claire Trevor, who was nominated for a Best Supporting Actress Oscar, in what was an earlier and surprisingly short role (she only has one scene). Bogart's "Baby Face" Martin is a somewhat deeper character than most that he played at Warners during the same era. Still innately evil, there's a glimmer of another dimension in his affection for his mother and ex-lover.

Also on hand is Sylvia Sydney as poor working girl Drina. She is barely able to keep the heads of both she and her delinquent kid brother, Tommy (Billy Halop) above water. Drina is in love with Dave (McCrea) an educated native of the neighborhood, who can't find work as an architect so instead gets by on odd jobs. He in turn has become infatuated with Kay (Barrie), the mistress of one of the wealthy inhabitants of the luxury high rise. But romance is not the agenda of Dead End. It is merely one of the avenues which leads to dispair and the unfulfilled dreams of its characters. The setting of the film feels rather stagy, as the entire drama takes place in and around the decaying dead end street. Don't misunderstand, art director Richard Day did an outstanding job with the extremely realistic set, and instead of the claustrophobia of filth being a detriment, the single set lends to the enclosed and trapped feeling experienced on a daily basis by the inhabitants of the street.

Although Dead End finishes on a slightly higher note compared to the body of the film, the ending doesn't diminish the grimness of the overall theme. The power of both the story and of the performances by all involved shines through and endures long after its original release.