A pretty good Warner Brothers working-man flick, recycled though it is, that makes you feel for the poor guys driving those big rigs and trying to squeeze in as many hours on the road as possible. But that's only part of the plot. The main story has the slightly mad Ida Lupino, married to the boss, the good-natured airhead of Alan Hale, falling for George Raft's blue-collar kind of guy, who in turn is in love with foxy and sympathetic Ann Sheridan. Disgusted by Hale, Lupino does a monoxide number on him so she can be free to marry Raft. Raft, however, is an ethical guy and rejects her. Lupino then goes to the police in a major snit and blames Raft for forcing her to murder her husband. At the trial, she breaks down. Raft is freed and takes over the business. All's well that ends well.
I wonder how many legal-types have ever seen a witness break down on the stand. Did anyone ever cry, "Okay, I DID it, I DID it. She had it coming, but I didn't mean to kill her. It was an ACCIDENT, I tell you, an ACCIDENT! Understand?" Well, that's not exactly what Ida Lupino does on the stand here. Instead, she sobs, "The DOORS made me do it!"
The film is more interesting than it is compelling. Of course we want the good people to survive and flourish, and we want the evil people to suffer and die a lingering death. Lupino's character is not exactly evil, though, which is one of the things that makes the movie interesting. She's a little impulsive and disturbed throughout, and at the end she turns into a complete fruitcake. While we certainly don't want her nefarious scheme to succeed, neither do we want to see someone who's obviously insane suffer more than they are already going to suffer in the days before phenothiazines.
No. Lupino has a tough enough road ahead of her in some psychiatric warehouse. We are spared at least seeing her led down the last mile and being strapped in the chair.
Warner Brothers ground out dozens of these kinds of flicks during the 1930s, often reworkings of the same plot, and they knew what they were doing. Very professional team at Warner Brothers. Jack Warner worked his major stars half to death and paid them about as much as waiters were paid at The Brown Derby -- and no tips.
I wonder how many legal-types have ever seen a witness break down on the stand. Did anyone ever cry, "Okay, I DID it, I DID it. She had it coming, but I didn't mean to kill her. It was an ACCIDENT, I tell you, an ACCIDENT! Understand?" Well, that's not exactly what Ida Lupino does on the stand here. Instead, she sobs, "The DOORS made me do it!"
The film is more interesting than it is compelling. Of course we want the good people to survive and flourish, and we want the evil people to suffer and die a lingering death. Lupino's character is not exactly evil, though, which is one of the things that makes the movie interesting. She's a little impulsive and disturbed throughout, and at the end she turns into a complete fruitcake. While we certainly don't want her nefarious scheme to succeed, neither do we want to see someone who's obviously insane suffer more than they are already going to suffer in the days before phenothiazines.
No. Lupino has a tough enough road ahead of her in some psychiatric warehouse. We are spared at least seeing her led down the last mile and being strapped in the chair.
Warner Brothers ground out dozens of these kinds of flicks during the 1930s, often reworkings of the same plot, and they knew what they were doing. Very professional team at Warner Brothers. Jack Warner worked his major stars half to death and paid them about as much as waiters were paid at The Brown Derby -- and no tips.