Dorothy Davenport Reid--The Woman Condemned (1934)

Watching Dorothy Davenport Reid’s The Woman Condemned (Progressive Pictures, 1934) reminded me of my experiences a few years ago watching Oscar Micheaux’s early sound films. The production values aren’t good, the acting ranges from bad, to serviceable, to nearly exceptional, and the character psychology and the plot itself are under-motivated. I wasn’t necessarily expecting great entertainment and the mystery, when it is revealed, is, yes, hokey, but I have some thoughts on that and more. Many things about the movie proved interesting.

Davenport Reid, who directs this film as “Mrs. Wallace Reid,” had already been a silent film actress and a producer, and then the owner of her own short-lived production company, “Mrs. Wallace Reid Productions.” Her choice to identify herself as “Mrs. Wallace Reid” professionally was apt to have been influenced by the scandal of her actor-husband Wallace’s death from morphine addiction in 1923. He was a well-known actor and it was not unlikely that putting this professional name forward was a tribute to him. Additionally, the identification of her with his name strengthened her in co-producing and in speaking for and promoting the social issues film, Human Wreckage (1923), about the dangers of drug addiction, in which she plays the addict’s wife.

The Condemned Woman is a murder mystery in which a successful radio performer, Jane Merrick (Lola Lane), is seemingly murdered and an enigmatic woman, Barbara Hammond (Claudia Dell), is arrested for the crime. There are also two romantic subplots (one fulfilled; the other seemingly on its way), some misdirection involving a doctor, and—spoiler!—it turns out Jane was not murdered but…well, you’ll have to watch it.

While the viewer must suspend disbelief to accept much of what happens, there are some discoveries to be made as well. First, this is a film from a Poverty Row studio, Progressive, so I’m sure that the director was doing the best she could with what she was offered. Looking beyond the plot, something that struck me is that had the two actresses exchanged roles, this would have been a much better film. In the role of Jane, Lola Lane doesn’t get much screen time, but her poise and naturalness are a wonder. Her looks and style immediately bring Norma Shearer to mind.  In the role of Barbara, Claudia Dell has a lot more to do, but she is not a pleasure to watch. Of course, she is, as it turns out, both acting a role in the movie and acting a role within the plot, so she had quite a challenge, but natural and poised she is not.  There are also long periods where the camera is on her but she has no dialogue, which was quite strange. She, by the way, is the heroine.

Within the film, continuous concern is voiced by the radio station manager (Jim is played by Jason Robards, Sr.) that when the star whose popularity supports the whole studio is on “vacation,” they are going to lose their audience. This is proven true but it doesn’t do a thing to move the action forward. After all, the manager is the man who is in love with Jane, but his worries about studio finances seem to exceed his interest in her mystery vacation, at least for a while. The issue continues to crop up in a way that could be construed as a comment upon under-financed filmmaking itself. What can a guy (or a gal) do without any talent on hand?

Finally, I would like to engage in some speculation about the issue that motivates Jane’s disappearance. We learn late in the film that she has disappeared because she wants to have a birthmark removed. She wants to keep this private. Now, I ask you, a birthmark?  She’s a radio star!  Maybe she has big dreams of breaking into Hollywood films, though.  In any case, this is why she has gone into hiding. 

Here is my purely speculative notion: I’m wondering if it was something more serious, say, a pregnancy, that might have been the originally scripted reason for her “vacation.” The film was released in 1934, the year that the Code really started being enforced. The print I watched did not bear the seal of approval of the Hays Office, but it was released at a time when it would have been just about impossible to bring to the screen a film that featured an unanticipated and troublesome pregnancy. While directors of “B” pictures may have had a freer hand in some ways than directors at big studios, it would probably not have extended this far, though Davenport Reid’s background was in so-called “exploitation” films (see Human Wreckage above).

I’m not planning to go in search of the original script, but if anyone else would like to, let me know what you find out.

At the end of the film, we learn that Jane had been involved previously with a mobster, Dan, and that much of what we have seen was a performance designed to entrap Dan and get him to admit to the murder. Dan appeared earlier, in Jane’s apartment on the night she was killed, and was a threatening presence. He killed her when he returned after five years in prison, or so they say. It’s hard to give credence to that when viewers saw Barbara fire a gun at Jane, saw Jane fall and be declared dead.  Oh, but wait, that was Jane’s sister, who took Jane’s place while she was in the hospital. And the sister…never mind.

I don’t want to forget to mention some brief but impressive night photography, during a car chase, showing a city’s flashing neon lights at what appears to be Christmas-time and I can’t leave without noting that in this film the fine Louise Beavers gets to slam a door in a man’s face because he offers her money to spill the beans on Jane.

The film is available here: https://archive.org/details/TheWomanCondemned

For more details on Dorothy Davenport Reid’s life and work and the continuing challenges of accounting for her contributions in film, these points are highlighted in Mark Lynn Anderson’s profile at the Women Film Pioneers Project. The site also provides a filmography and additional resources.