Amor prohibido

And that includes "Stella Dallas." Another character in this movie falls her "the world's best loser." She plays it well but it's a far cry from the jazzy characters for which she is probably most famous. When one talks about range, one has only to look at this or "Stella Dallas" (a better known but, in my view, inferior film) and then at "The Lady Eve" and "Ball of Fire." Not to mention "Double Indemnity"! She begins this as a wallflower. Children taunt her as "four-eyes." Even at her most poignant, though, nobody could buy that for the hardy Stanwyck. She goes on a cruise and falls in love. And, oh boy! What a mistake that is! A married man, a child -- and lots more. (She meets married Adolph Menjou on the cruise and the child is born soon after; so this is not giving much away.) Through all of it, she is stoic. She says she's happy but we know she couldn't be.

It's very well done by all concerned.

Stanwyck plays a kept woman for a married politician. Out of her sheer devotion to him she decides not to cause a scandal when she falls pregnant. Instead, she disappears, but no sooner does the politician track her down and the film gets swept away by the melodrama of a soap opera. But what a fine melodrama this is. Capra managed to take the fat out of the story and move through time in great leaps and bounds. This film is full of surprises and never sells out to the moral crusaders of the time. Further more, the characters are human, playful, you feel for them as the story slowly sucks you in until you have no choice but to go along with the melodramatic symphony that plays with your heart and mind.

"Forbidden" is no doubt pure melodrama. Frank Capra, its director expressed in his autobiography, that he " should have stood in bed". Fortunately he didn't because although the story is "soggy and 99.44% pure soap opera", using his own words, it still retains powerful moments and excellent interpretations from its main actors: Barbara Stanwyck and Adolphe Menjou. Their first meeting at a cruise to Havana, with Menjou so drunk that he ends in a wrong cabin (number 66 instead of 99) where Stanwyck, bored and happy to encounter somebody, is one of many moments where Capra's talent is evident. Raplh Bellamy is also fine as the managing editor of a newspaper, where gossip is always welcome. No doubt that this early talkie, with some flaws or doubtful situations, still partially conceals that behind the camera there is one of the masters of cinema: Frank Capra. I clearly recommend not to miss this imperfect but valuable movie.

Be sure to bring a snorkel so you don't drown in all the soap suds. Okay, it's a weepy from beginning to end, but 30's soap opera doesn't come much slicker than this. LuLu (Stanwyck) has a tropical fling to relieve a humdrum life. The trouble is that she leaves as one but comes back as two, and the father (Menjou) is already married. So what is poor Lulu to do now that she's an un-wed mother and Dad has big political ambitions and a wife. It takes an hour and a half to find out.

Apparently, Columbia studios had the formidable Stanwyck pegged as a 3-hanky heroine since they kept casting her in these sudsy roles. On the other hand, it took hard-boiled Warner Bros. to bring out that tough-cookie inner person we all know and enjoy. Still, she runs the emotional gamut here in fine fashion, persisting from one heartbreak to the next.

Two scenes stick with me. There's an absolutely exquisite horse ride through scalloped fingers of surf filmed in incandescent b&w (Joseph Walker). Anyone doubting the continuing value of b&w should take a look here. The wonderful dreamlike quality serves as a perfect correlate to what Lulu feels during the romantic get-away, and cannot be duplicated in color, at least in my little book.

Then there's that hilarious scene in the newspaper office where the pot-bellied old "Mary Sunshine" explains his 'advice to the lovelorn' column to the new Mary Sunshine (Lulu). He's a hard-bitten old reporter who resembles the column's title about as much as Alfred Hitchcock resembles Shirley Temple. And when he tells her to read seven letters and throw the rest away, you just know the empathetic Lulu will read the whole stack.

Sure, the story hangs together about as well as a Rube Goldberg contraption, but who cares since it all goes down pretty smoothly thanks to Capra's way with a camera and a storyline. Then too, I'm really proud of myself. I got through the 90 minutes with just two hankies on the floor instead of the usual three.

The three principle actors are the best thing about "Forbidden" released in 1932 by Columbia Pictures. Like most pre-code films, it dealt more frankly with story lines like extramarital affairs and unwed mothers. Lonely Stanwyck meets an outgoing man (Adolphe Menjou) and falls in love, not knowing he is married. She tries to do the right thing, staying away from him, and then has his baby without his knowledge. Well, they meet again, are off and on again, all the while Menjou's political career soars, and he stays married, raising the child as his and his wife's. Stanwyck stays the "other woman" for decades. Then there is the sleazy newspaper man (Ralph Bellamy) out to get Menjou and destroy his political career, and is also hot for Stanwyck, who works for his newspaper. It all turns pretty sordid, to say the least. The film has its flaws, and the script at times jumps about, but Barbara Stanwyck is good in anything she does, and it was nice to see Adolphe Menjou actually playing someone who is actually in love (and rather sweet in his own way) and not a sleazy stage producer, which seemed to be his usual role in the 1930's! I had no idea the newspaperman was Ralph Bellamy - he is very young and good looking here, although a slime ball. But he too turns in a good performance. These films remain important because they remind of us a time when films were more honest and blunt in their dealing with real life situations - before the enforcement of the Hays Code in 1934. This film was directed by Frank Capra - who would direct Stanwyck in some of her most memorable roles.