Columbia programmer "inspired by the song by Rodgers and Hart," and in fact it's sung over the credits, including the "pansy" line, which got censored in future film renditions. But all it really inspires is the setting, a dime-a-dance hall, where Stanwyck, in an early, prototypical role, is pursued by a rich (Cortez) and poor (Owsley) guy, and in a clever reversal, the nice-seeming poor guy turns out to be a cad and the rich guy is genuine and caring. Stanwyck's facial expressions alone are touching and assured, and she even cries convincingly, unlike many more actressy actresses of the period. Owsley is callow and unlikable, but then that's what he's playing, and Cortez underplays well, with liquid eyes that are indeed the mirrors to this character's soul. It's indifferently directed by Lionel Barrymore and has little in production value, but Jo Swerling's screenplay isn't bad, and the pre-Code candor is a treat.
Review of Ten Cents a Dance
