La ville gronde !

A dark haired, southern drawled Claude Rains has an actor's field day as D.A Andy Griffin. Griffin needs to win one sensational court case to move his career foward. He gets it when a Yankee school teacher (Edward Norris) is accused of murdering a high school girl (Fetching Lana Turner in her film debut) Griffin turns the trial into a media circus and a kangaroo court. The ending is grim, and Griffin gets what he wants. Mervyn LeRoy (Warner Brothers' prize director in the 1930's) moves the story along at rocket pace. He gets fine performances out of Rains, Norris, Otto Kruger and a young Elisha Cook Jnr. LeRoy always cut the fat from his films, meaning very rarely will he show an unimportant aspect of the story. (Example: a scene begins with a sobbing janitor calling the police. We see the police leave. Cut to them at the crime scene. Cut to them grilling their first suspect- the janitor- cut to a newspaper headline about the murder. all of this in about 12 seconds) A film far above average.

A young girl (Lana Turner in her first role) is killed in a small Southern town. A Northener, Robert Hale (Edward norris) is accused of it...but is he guilty? It doesn't seem to matter because everybody uses his accusation for their own gain. Fast moving, still relevant (sadly) look at prejudice, gossip, mob rule and media manipulation. Occasionally the characters give out unmotivated speeches (especially Hale's wife), but the movie is very well-written and acted with Claude Rain chewing the scenery again and again. A must see...don't miss this one!

One of Warner Brothers' `hard-hitting' social comment dramas of the 1930s, They Won't Forget leaves viewers all riled up – though, today, maybe less at the judicial process in the Deep South than at Mervyn LeRoy's depiction of it in the movie. Based not too loosely on the Mary Phagan murder case of 1913, it updates the events to the late Depression and also advances the victim's age (Phagan was 13; here, the victim – an unrecognizable Lana Turner, in her debut – is a student at a small business college).

It's Confederate Memorial Day, April 26, and the college lets out early, unexpectedly for instructor Edward Norris, a Northerner. But Turner returns for the vanity case she's left behind. Hours later, her body is discovered at the base of an elevator shaft. The town prosecutor (Claude Rains, slinging a Southern drawl) smells a political advantage that might propel him to the state senate, an advantage of no use if the perpetrator is only the illiterate black janitor who found her. Suspicion falls on Norris, and soon the judicial establishment, the press and the townspeople have turned against him. Outside help – a detective and a defense attorney – prove of no avail. Turner is convicted and sentenced to death; when the governor commutes his sentence, he's lynched (as was Leo Frank in the original case). It's fast, brutal and pretty unsentimental.

LeRoy was known for his slam-bang, take-no-prisoners style but here he dawdles at first. Under the credits is a medley of songs of the South, bolstered by quotations from Lincoln and Robert E. Lee to soften up those touchy audiences in Dixie so they won't know what hit them. When he gets up to speed, however, he doesn't slacken, cutting quick to advance the action – his movie's an unstoppable steamroller, just like the judicial railroading of the story (the lynching itself, expressed by a mailbag clipped off its hook by a passing train, is especially and darkly adroit).

But there's a near-fatal flaw in the story. We're meant to harbor persuasive doubts as to Norris' guilt, but the possibility of a suspect other than he is never more than fleetingly entertained. The movie purports to document a miscarriage of justice, but it fails to build an ironclad case.

It begins with a disclaimer that all characters are entirely fictitious, etc. etc., and cites as source material a novel, but you can't fool us: It's the Leo Frank trial of 1915, updated to the then-present-day South and with Frank's Judaism carefully removed. Other than that, the details are surprisingly close to the actual trial, and the downbeat ending chillingly mirrors reality. Warner Brothers, known in the 1930s as the socially conscious studio, had a message to flog, and in this case it goes a bit overboard: No character has more than one dimension, and even that excellent actor Claude Rains, as the DA, snarls and rolls his eyes and gesticulates wildly, overdoing the blind ambition bit. But for its day it's a pretty brave and out-there indictment against mob violence, bigotry, and sensationalism, particularly the latter. Indeed, the message one takes from it today is that the media hasn't really grown worse in the intervening years -- there's just more of it.

Flawless blending of cynicism, humor and tragedy, this re-enactment of a real-life murder in the south consciously downplays the real-life anti-semitism in the real murder of Mary Phagan case, but carry more of an emotional wallop than the Jack Lemmon made-for-TV docudrama -- although the latter is still good on its own terms. Lana Turner has an impressive screen debut as the murder victim. Gloria Dickson is very powerful as the defendant's wife, and Claude Rains is magnificent as the politically minded prosecutor, but Allyn Joslyn as the cynical, burnt out reporter steals the show. A truly excellent example of how historically based movies can be among the most memorable.