No need to repeat the plot.
Catch that long tracking shot of Harper (Emerson) taking inmate attendance one-by-one. It goes on much longer than expected as each inmate gets a brief moment on screen. Importantly, we see that each is a perfectly ordinary looking woman far from the usual Hollywood glamour type. I single out this minor scene because it's director Cromwell's way of showing the film's serious intent despite all the gripping melodramatics.
What the movie does so effectively is combine first-rate melodramatics with a powerful case for liberal reform. That's because, despite its mission, the prison amounts to a breeding ground of criminality. For example, nineteen-year old Marie (Parker)"flops" in as a wide-eyed innocent but leaves as a hardened criminal; guard Harper's sadism and influence-peddling flourishes; day-to-day routines strip inmates of self-respect; the medical dispensary remains under-funded and filthy; while the entire package is held together by state politics, skimpy budgets, and behind the scenes string-pulling. Apparently screenwriter Kellogg researched her subject, so likely the subtext mirrors much of the reality of the time.
Understandably, this message part is over-shadowed by some of the strongest and most unusual dramatic acting of the period. Seldom has any film featured as many mannish women as this one, and at a time when feminine stereotypes not only prevailed but excluded all else. The producers went out on a limb with this one. But it paid off with two memorable performances-- Emerson's shambling gait and slow-motion cruelty, along with queen-bee Garde's sudden descent into hollow-eyed dementia. The results here are both exotic and unforgettable.
One scene has stayed with me over the years. Marie expects some relief as lights go out on her first night in prison. But then the real horror starts. All the pent-up emotions and adjustments of the day come tumbling out—the crying, the coughing, an animal scream. Marie hunkers down in the sheets, wide-eyed awake. Now she knows. There is no relief. Not even in the dark. The prison nightmare never ends.
This is one of the daring gems of the noir period before the Cold War retreat of the 1950's. Thanks to a powerful convergence of movie-making, the movie's as riveting now as it was then. Don't miss it.
Catch that long tracking shot of Harper (Emerson) taking inmate attendance one-by-one. It goes on much longer than expected as each inmate gets a brief moment on screen. Importantly, we see that each is a perfectly ordinary looking woman far from the usual Hollywood glamour type. I single out this minor scene because it's director Cromwell's way of showing the film's serious intent despite all the gripping melodramatics.
What the movie does so effectively is combine first-rate melodramatics with a powerful case for liberal reform. That's because, despite its mission, the prison amounts to a breeding ground of criminality. For example, nineteen-year old Marie (Parker)"flops" in as a wide-eyed innocent but leaves as a hardened criminal; guard Harper's sadism and influence-peddling flourishes; day-to-day routines strip inmates of self-respect; the medical dispensary remains under-funded and filthy; while the entire package is held together by state politics, skimpy budgets, and behind the scenes string-pulling. Apparently screenwriter Kellogg researched her subject, so likely the subtext mirrors much of the reality of the time.
Understandably, this message part is over-shadowed by some of the strongest and most unusual dramatic acting of the period. Seldom has any film featured as many mannish women as this one, and at a time when feminine stereotypes not only prevailed but excluded all else. The producers went out on a limb with this one. But it paid off with two memorable performances-- Emerson's shambling gait and slow-motion cruelty, along with queen-bee Garde's sudden descent into hollow-eyed dementia. The results here are both exotic and unforgettable.
One scene has stayed with me over the years. Marie expects some relief as lights go out on her first night in prison. But then the real horror starts. All the pent-up emotions and adjustments of the day come tumbling out—the crying, the coughing, an animal scream. Marie hunkers down in the sheets, wide-eyed awake. Now she knows. There is no relief. Not even in the dark. The prison nightmare never ends.
This is one of the daring gems of the noir period before the Cold War retreat of the 1950's. Thanks to a powerful convergence of movie-making, the movie's as riveting now as it was then. Don't miss it.