Ladies They Talk About

It's a little surprising for those of us who grew up on a double dose of the aging Stanwyck playing an almost hysterical, often villainous matriarch in low-budget theatrical releases or on TV, to see how pale, slender, and vulnerable she was in the early 30s.

Here she's the daughter of a small-town deacon who has suffered through one lecture too many and gone wrong, sent to San Quention for involvement in a bank robbery. (I think -- come to think about it, I'm not sure WHY she was sent up. No evidence links her to complicity in the robbery. All that stands against her is an informal confession to a guy she likes, not made under oath, and easily recanted. Well -- no matter.) Preston Foster is the righteous DA she falls for. He grew up in the same small town, the son of the town drunk, but he straightened up and flew right. Too right, for some tastes. By the way, the small town they grew up in, in which everyone knew everyone else's name, is Benicia, now absorbed into the greater San Francisco Bay Area and it has a population of more than 25,000.

The plot, which comes from a play, carries a lot of familiar real-life baggage and is less interesting than the characters we meet in the course of a kind of tribal study of the ladies' section of San Quentin. There are, first of all, quite a few African-Americans among the inmates, a bit surprising considering the audience the film was aimed at. They're treated mostly humorously but not moreso than the white inmates, and the humor isn't stereotypical. Ruth Donnelly, a familiar face in old movies if there ever was one, is the not entirely unsympathetic warden or whatever her title is. She sometimes carries around a gigantic cockatoo or something on her shoulder which seems to serve no purpose except to scare defiant inmates when it flexes its wings and squawks. Lillian Roth has a prominent supporting part. She's quite pretty, and she sings old songs with more zest than Susan Hayward did in the weeper, "I'll Cry Tomorrow." (Great title, there, Hollywood.) There is the elderly Madam, happily ensconced in her chair, making wisecracks about how all the inmates are now "my girls." Nobody in the movie is thoroughly rotten. If there is a villain, it is the woman who has been born again while in prison and is spiteful, jealous and judgmental. Saints preserve us from zealots. Stanwyck is a surprise in her performance too. She's as good as she's ever been, slouching around in her prison dress, hands in pockets, giving as good as she gets. A grim cigar-smoking dyke is held up for fun without being ridiculed or turned into a monster.

The movie is a curiosity. It's easy to watch, kind of fun, and not badly done. Snippy dialogue, a quick pace, an unpretentious plot, all make it worth a watch.

This is a fine example of the Barbara Stanwyck fans would come to know in future years. Her role is tough as nails (remember this production is pre -code) and no-nonsense but still smooth and sexy. One of the best of Stanwyck's early work.

Don't expect much in the way of pre-Code titillation with this simple film adapted from a play. What you do get is a starring vehicle for Barbara Stanwyck, who plays the moll of a gang who robs banks.

After being apprehended, she is sent to San Quentin, where she learns to live with prison rules and the social structure there. She's a tough cookie, always looking to assert herself, even on her first day of captivity.

Except for the presence of guards, life as depicted in the women's prison is much like "Stage Door", with a leisurely, genial attitude. Comic touches abound in this film, like the scene where one inmate sings to a headshot of Joe E. Brown, of all people.

While Stanwyck is strong in her role and Preston Foster is solid in his briefer portrayal of the revivalist who never gives up on her, "Ladies They Talk About" has a story too simple to challenge the viewer or, for that matter, the actors themselves. And the drama is minimal.

But it's fun to see Stanwyck in one of her earlier films.

Part of a bank robber gang, a woman is sent to prison, while carrying on a tepid romance with an evangelist.

Stanwyck (Nan) is nearly the whole show in this early crime drama from street-wise Warner Bros. She's one tough cookie, and when she struts cocksure into a room full of other tough prison cookies, we believe it. No wonder she had one of Hollywood's most durable A-picture careers. But watch out for that dimpled cutie Lillian Roth (Linda) who almost steals the film with a big helping of winsome charm. The prison tour she makes with a silent Stanwyck is clearly intended to showcase that dimpled appeal. Too bad she had such a problem with booze; in my book, she could have been a big star, especially in musicals.

The movie itself is just okay. Unfortunately, the supposed romance between Stanwyck and a simpering Preston Foster undercuts much of the movie's stab at realism. But then I guess someone had to set Nan on the straight and narrow. Clearly, the best scenes are in prison. There we see an unusual line-up of characters, thanks to the pre-Code period. These include such exotic types as the one-and-only Maude Eburne (Aunt Maggie) as a wacko grandmother from heck, a cigar-smoking butch matron (Dickson) whose daring type would disappear from the screen for decades, and even an "uppity" black woman (uncredited) who takes no lip from anyone, black or white.

Still, it's Stanwyck's movie, and there's enough of her trademark grit to please her many fans, myself included.

Early Barbara Stanwyck who is about as bad as they get. She participates in a bank robbery, manipulates men, lies, and gets sent up to the big house. Plot is somewhat far fetched with little character development other than for Barbara. Story revolves around whether Barbara will again allow Preston Foster to try to save her after trusting him once and having him fail to live up to her expectations. Stanwyck is patterned after the real life experiences and play by Dorothy Mackaye who repeats the formula in Lady Gangster (1942). This movie is worth watching to see the early Stanwyck or the depiction of woman's prison life. Apparently women inmates were allowed to fix up their rooms real nice and change from prison clothes into street clothes during visiting hours -- or so Hollywood would tell us. Sure would have made it easier to escape!