Hold That Woman!

Lively PRC action flick revolving around stolen jewels and two skip-tracing agents trying to recover a portable radio, of all things. All in all, it's a light touch all the way through, as much for amusement as suspense. I guess you have to be a geezer like me to recall how important radios were back in the movie's 1940's. Instead of families splitting up into cell phone users or computer live-streaming, folks gathered around radios for evening entertainment. It was good for the imagination if not for spectacle.

Lead actor Dunn really bounces around, maybe too much, while trying to recover the modest radio after the owner's non-payment. Plus, he's got to compete with premier skip-tracer Dave O'Brien who's on break from his usual six-guns and saddles. Then too why are gangsters so interested in getting hold of that same radio, come heck or high water. There has to be something special about it, but what?

Up to then, I'd never heard of 'skip-tracers' but now I know they're agents privately employed to track down deadbeats. Anyway, the plot's pretty crowded so you may need a scorecard to keep track. Nonetheless, the pacing never drags, along with a delightful Frances Gifford as Dunn's sweetie. All in all, the hour amounts to another slice of easy entertainment, B-movie style, without being anything special.

The accent is on comedy capers rather than mystery and noir in this remarkably involved yet fast-paced and light-hearted gangster yarn about stolen diamonds which a sleazy blonde has hidden in a cheap portable radio.

Although this movie was made right in the middle of a down cycle in James Dunn's remarkable up-and-down movie career (he would bounce back with a vengeance in 1945 when he won universal praise for his brilliant performance under Elia Kazan's tutelage in A Tree Grows in Brooklyn), it's quite an entertaining little offering, despite the actor's haggard appearance in some shots. It's also of interest to see the lovely Frances Gifford (Dunn's wife at the time) and a fine collection of support oddballs including Dave O'Brien and Rita La Roy.

For once, director Neufeld/Newfield (alias Sherman Scott here) has handled the proceedings with pace and even occasional flair, making deft use of a large number of real (if not particularly picturesque) L.A. locations. The director also manages the difficult feat of balancing many disparate plot elements in an extremely complicated screenplay so neatly and with such finesse that even a backward audience can always follow the plot.

Mind you, a farcical script that creates such a frantic fuss over a portable radio set that looks as if it's worth ten bucks at the most, is hardly believable. But with players like Dunn, Gifford, O'Brien and company, who cares?

Hold That Woman introduces an awful lot of characters for a one hour movie—skip tracers, policemen, gangsters, a couple of jewel thieves, a movie starlet and a policeman's daughter. It's a bit much for a while, but the story finally brings them all together for the last fifteen minutes—one after another, alone and in groups, all of the characters wind up at the house where a certain much sought after radio has arrived.

What's with the radio? Well, it's not paid for….and also a girl crook has stashed some jewels in it that were stolen from a movie star who is unwittingly mixed up with another crook.

Enter James Dunn, repo man, and Frances Gifford, the girl who loves him. Dunn is working at tracking down said radio, but finds time during this particular work day not only to spend some time with lovely Gifford but to marry her, buy a house, and also purchase a houseful of used furniture and order it delivered.

It all really doesn't make much sense, but honestly, there's so much going on in this picture—and it's all presented so good-naturedly—that it would be overly picky to parse details in search of logical gaps. Suffice it to say that Dunn and Gifford look like they're having a good time and the rest of the cast do their best to keep up.

Funny line from early in the picture—mother to young son: "You know, if you don't get an education, you'll grow up to be a policeman, just like your father." (To which the son replies, "Well, then I won't do my homework at all!") –If you chuckle at that, then this movie is for you.

James Dunn is a skip tracer; today we'd call him a repo man. He's also engaged to Frances Gifford. He's trying to repossess a radio from Rita La Roy. What he doesn't know is she's part of a gang who have stolen movie star Anna Lisa's jewels. She's hired his firm to recover them, and is willing to pay extra for no police involvement and no publicity. The jewels have been hidden in the radio Dunn is trying to repossess.

It's a comedy, but a fairly weak one, carried only on Dunn's energy and his chemistry with Miss Gifford; they were in the middle of a four-year marriage, so there's some energy there, but also some insecurity. Although she had been getting some minor roles in major pictures, but this was her first lead, and it was for PRC, so there was no time spent trying to get better takes by director Sam Newfield.

I think that for today's audiences a little clarification is needed as far as terms used. James Dunn is described as 'skip tracer'. He is most definitely not someone who goes after dangerous criminals who break bail. Today what Dunn does would be better described as a Repo-Man. He just takes items bought on credit that buyers are late in paying for.

He's in some trouble at work because Dave O'Brien is the fairhaired boy of the boss because he repossesses more than the rest. And Dunn also is having woman trouble, his potential father-in-law who is a cop doesn't think he's the right sort for his daughter Frances Gifford.

But in a light and breezy paced comedy/drama Dunn gets himself an assignment to repossess a radio from Rita LeRoy who happened to stash some stolen jewels in it. She's the brains behind the mob and she's plenty smart and no one to mess with.

Dunn did this one for poverty row PRC Pictures and considering what a no frills outfit they were this one is pretty good.