Forbidden Hollywood, Volume 4: Jewel Robbery directed by William Dieterle (starring William Powell, Kay Francis, Helen Vinson, Henry Kolker)

Jewel Robbery (1932). Screenplay by Erwin Gelsey from the play Jewel Robbery (Ekszerrablás a Váci-uccában) by Ladislas Fodor (translated by Bertram Bloch).

Jewel Robbery is a lighter-than-a-feather romantic comedy starring William Powell as a debonair jewel thief and Kay Francis as the wife of one of his victims (Henry Kolker, who would play Francis's cuckolded husband again the next year in The Keyhole). Reading of Powell's exploits in the local paper excites Francis (a bored baroness) and her best friend Marianne (funny Helen Vinson), and actually being present at his next robbery finishes the job.

It was obvious from the opening credits that these two characters would romance each other — Jewel Robbery was the fifth film Powell and Francis did together. It's just too bad that the relationship feels forced: the actors have zero chemistry with each other.

Luckily, each actor has enough charm individually to make this flaw forgivable. Powell's and Francis's fans are probably busy focusing on their favorite, anyway.

Powell is smooth as always, but the easy manner that would carry him through six Thin Man films — that attitude of "Yes, I'm charming, but can we talk about something more interesting?" — has not yet developed. Francis is also just on the cusp of blooming into her persona, with One Way Passage and Trouble in Paradise just around the corner, but it's easy to see why they were paired in six movies together.

One more point of interest regarding this pre-Code film is the nearly rampant use of marijuana as a comedic point throughout Jewel Robbery. Powell passes the funny cigarettes around to all and sundry, leading to much laughter and silliness from the cast.

The Goose and the Gander directed by Alfred E. Green (starring Kay Francis, George Brent)

The Goose and the Gander (1935).
Story and screenplay by Charles Kenyon.

Kay Francis stars as Georgiana in The Goose and the Gander, a surprisingly racy (given that it was released during the enforcement of the Hays Code) bedroom farce from 1935. Georgiana runs into her ex-husband Ralph Summers (Ralph Forbes), whose current wife Betty (Genevieve Tobin) Georgiana has just seen making plans with her paramour, Bob (George Brent). In order to show Ralph the kind of woman he left her for, Georgiana schemes to get everyone together at her lodge under false pretenses, so Ralph can discover Betty with Bob.

Ralph agrees because he wants to be alone with Georgiana — remember, what's good for the goose is good for the gander — but things get more complicated when a pair of jewel thieves (John Eldredge and Claire Dodd) steal Betty's car and are sent to the lodge by mistake, whereupon they pose as "Ralph and Betty Summers."

Confused yet? Well, eventually the police show up and get everything all mixed up. Georgiana figures things out pretty quickly, though, and deviously plays along to the hilarious discomfort (O, joyous schadenfreude!) of the others. Meanwhile, she takes the opportunity to put the moves on Bob, to his reciprocal glee, but to Betty's chagrin. But it is a comedy, remember, so most everyone ends up happy in the end (even if it doesn't always quite fit with their characters' preceding actions).

The beautiful and charming Kay Francis, an actress with a vast filmography of which little is available on video, is truly the star here. She is in her element playing a member of polite society with amusingly intentions. She is so in control of all the actions on the screen that the other characters seem to be acting merely as her puppets.

The acting is solid all around, with the simple direction of Alfred E. Green serving Charles Kenyon's script quite well. At just over an hour, The Goose and the Gander is the ideal length for an afternoon's diversion, and a fine example of the kind of sophisticated comedy in which Hollywood specialized in the 1930s. It's also only one of several films Francis made with Brent, so if this pairing was enjoyable, there are more to seek.

Strangers May Kiss directed by George Fitzmaurice (starring Norma Shearer, Robert Montgomery, Neil Hamilton, Irene Rich)

Strangers May Kiss (1931). Screenplay by John Meehan from the novel Strangers May Kiss by Ursula Parrott.

Lisbeth Corbin (Norma Shearer) is a woman who espouses "modern" ideas ("We don't believe in the awful necessity of marriage") yet still seems as if she's waiting for her lover, Alan (Neil Hamilton), a foreign correspondent who is gone for long stretches at a time, to make a commitment. (He is actually the one who feels that "love and marriage mean internal combustion.")

Her aunt Celia (Irene Rich) keeps trying to get her to marry Steve (Robert Montgomery), a childhood friend who is madly in love with her, but who drinks a bit too much. Celia's arguments seem to hold water until her husband is caught with a younger woman, whereupon Celia, her foundations shattered, ends her life (the first time I've seen where the phrase "mortally embarrassed" truly applies).

Lisbeth continues to throw herself at Alan as she waits for him to settle down with her. It's obvious they're physically intimate — apparently to the point that co-star Hamilton wondered "if [Shearer] was getting enough at home" — but he continues to travel around the world without her. Eventually, after one too many up-and-leavings, Lisbeth gives up and becomes a woman of fun throughout Europe ("I'm in an orgy, wallowing. And I love it!").

Even Steve hears the stories about her, which he didn't believe "the first six or seven hundred times." But when Alan returns to finally offer himself to her, he is shocked and repulsed at her behavior. What's truly shocking, however, is discovering that such adult subjects were being addressed at the time — and the loss of that once the Production Code (also called the Hays Code) began its enforcement — and that we really have never recovered.

Strangers May Kiss is truly a Shearer showcase: her face is virtually always onscreen, and it goes through emotional ups and downs in a theatrical but not over-the-top manner. Montgomery offers engaging support, but his "best friend" role is thankless. Nowadays, his character would end up with the Shearer's, but this film follows the more "appropriate" ending, which is actually a huge disappointment for anyone who loves the pre-Code theme of the rest of the story. Watch it for the luminous Shearer, but be prepared for a letdown.

Those interested in more on Strangers May Kiss should seek out Mick LaSalle's book on pre-Code actresses in general (and Norma Shearer in particular), Complicated Women: Sex and Power in Pre-Code Hollywood. LaSalle devotes the majority of a chapter to this film alone.

Rain directed by Lewis Milestone (starring Joan Crawford, Walter Huston, Guy Kibbee)

Rain (1932). Screenplay/adaptation by Maxwell Anderson from the play Rain by John Colton and Clemence Randolph, based on the story "Miss Thompson" (reprinted in Collected Short Stories as "Rain") by W. Somerset Maugham.

It's obvious that the filming of Rain was inspired by a popular play because the direction by Lewis Milestone is purely point-and-shoot, with only a few shots of rain falling on different areas of the island to break the monotony. Also, the actors project their voices far too much. Sound was still in its relative infancy in 1932, but other films of the period managed to produce natural-sounding dialogue. (Maybe they just wanted to be heard over all that water.)

The direction of the actors appears to have been gleaned from the stage version, as well — and an amateur production, at that: No one's back ever is to the camera. People walk during their lines and not at other times. (To appreciate Milestone's true ability, see All Quiet on the Western Front [Academy Award winner for Best Director] or Of Mice and Men.)

The acting is also less than remarkable. Joan Crawford is very good as Sadie Thompson (probably literature's most famous prostitute) — she inhabits the character as if she was born to play her. But Walter Huston as Alfred Davidson appears to be playing a one-note character, the religious zealot, until the point when his attempt at "redeeming" Sadie fails and he falls prey to his baser instincts. He uses dramatic facial expressions to show this change, but it just looks like he is turning into Mr. Hyde.

The other characters are really just spouting dialogue, and we aren't told much about them other than Joe Horn, the proprietor of the General Store on the island of Pago Pago (where the action takes place). As played by prolific character actor Guy Kibbee, he is the most interesting character in the film.

The movie was very slow going, but after the first half-hour, I began to follow and was entertained. (I was not previously familiar with the storyline, and only watched this because of an appreciation of other Maugham tales.) Despite these flaws, Rain is on the whole a powerful experience. At the very least, it offers a good look at cinema history: to see Joan Crawford's early work from when she was a sex symbol, and to catch Walter Huston before son John Huston directed him to an Oscar in The Treasure of the Sierra Madre.

Crawford reportedly bad-mouthed Rain for the rest of her life — very likely due to bad reviews and numerous letters from fans outraged that she had played a prostitute — saying "I hope they burn every print of this turkey in existence."

The story was previously filmed as Sadie Thompson with Gloria Swanson and was later turned into a musical, Miss Sadie Thompson starring Rita Hayworth.

The Keyhole directed by Michael Curtiz (starring Kay Francis, George Brent)

The Keyhole (1933). Screenplay by Robert Presnell from the story "Adventuress" by Alice D.G. Miller.

Ann Vallee (Kay Francis) married her dance partner Maurice Le Brun (Monroe Owsley), and they had great success together professionally under the moniker "Maurice and Valentine". But it didn't work out, and Maurice wanted a divorce. Ann subsequently married aging millionaire Schuyler Brooks (Henry Kolker). But it turns out Maurice never went through with the divorce, and is now blackmailing Ann to keep things quiet.

When Ann goes to her sister-in-law Portia (Helen Ware) for advice, she recommends Ann leave America temporarily and let Maurice (a non-American) follow her. Then, Portia will make sure he cannot reenter the country. This quick trip abroad makes Brooks suspicious, however, so he hires private detective Neil Davis (George Brent) — who is tired of "scheming females" — to follow her.

Ann and Neil get friendly during the trip, and things get more interesting in Cuba. The handsome Brent has a natural acting style and an easygoing charm that makes it easy to see why he was such a popular romantic lead in his day (he worked with Kay Francis on at least six films, and with Bette Davis on a dozen more): he's just like a regular guy, only a little better.

The Keyhole is a lighthearted romantic comedy with just the right amount of tension. The title comes from the camera entering the story via a bedroom keyhole at the beginning, and leaving through a different one at the end. I'm sure it was a perfect diversion for Depression-era audiences (from prolific director Michael Curtiz). There are some clever twists at the end, all geared toward the expected conclusion, and even a suicide note introduced in the first scene becomes useful in tying up a loose end.

A minor subplot is provided by a one-sided romance between Hank (Allen Jenkins), a fellow private eye traveling as Neil's valet, and Dot (Glenda Farrell, later of the Torchy Blane series), a gold-digging con artist. The actors play well off each other — and Farrell is immensely charming — but their relationship offers only a little comic relief and seems mainly there to pad out The Keyhole's 70-minute running time.

Fans of Trouble in Paradise may spot George Humbert as a waiter in a couple of scenes. Humbert served Gaston Monescu (Herbert Marshall) in that film's unforgettable opening scene. Viewers with a particularly keen eye may also spot another recognizable face waiting tables: Gino Corrado. Corrado was the piano accompanist to Basil Rathbone's violinist in A Notorious Affair.

A Notorious Affair directed by Lloyd Bacon (starring Kay Francis, Billie Dove, Basil Rathbone)

A Notorious Affair (1930). Screenplay/adaptation by J. Grubb Alexander from the play Fame by Audrey Carter and Waverly Carter. Features music by Felix Mendelssohn (both his violin concerto and "Hark! the Herald Angels Sing").

When heiress Patricia Hanley (Billie Dove) marries (below her station — and without permission!) up-and-coming Italian violinist Paul Gherardi (Basil Rathbone), she immediately loses access to her father, her rich friends, and her fortune. But success comes quickly to Gherardi, and with success comes cockiness. Gherardi begins an affair with one of the people he met at Patricia's home, the countess Olga Balakireff (Kay Francis).

In fact, the Gherardis' relationship breaks down so quickly that it's actually kind of funny. His wife practically steps aside as he and the countess spend more and more time together. (But when her opportunity comes with a doctor friend, watch how he gets in her way!)

From her very first scene, Francis's character's way with men is established, as she practically forces her way onto the hired help — really turning on the panther charm. This is actually a continuing thread throughout the movie, giving very little depth to an otherwise uninteresting character (with an awfully unfetching hairstyle).

Fans who only know Rathbone from his series of Sherlock Holmes films will be surprised to find him so young and very much the leading man. But he soon overdoes it, from his accent to his delivery (he could have been in Top Hat).

There's not much to recommend A Notorious Affair. This little potboiler definitely belongs to Dove — a silent star in her first talkie — though Francis steals every scene she's in as the insatiable maneater. And after all the back and forth suffering from affair to affair, the "happy" ending is just confusing.

(Watch for Gino Corrado in a rare non-waiter role as Rathbone's piano accompanist.)

Passion Flower directed by William C. de Mille (starring Kay Francis, Kay Johnson, Charles Bickford)

Passion Flower (1930). Screenplay/adaptation by Martin Flavin from the novel Passion Flower by Kathleen Norris. Additional dialogue by Laurence E. Johnson and Edith Fitzgerald.

Cassy (Kay Johnson) and Dan (Charles Bickford), her father's chauffeur, get married against the objection of her father, which starts them off at the bottom. Kay Francis stars as Cassy's rich cousin Dulce who married for money. Five years and two kids later, Dan loses his job and has to accept Dulce's original wedding present of a farm.

It's obvious from the beginning that the constantly feuding Dan and Dulce are going to fall into each other's arms, but things move too quickly too soon. The whole thing is rather melodramatic, but the acting is good, the direction of William C. de Mille (brother of Cecil B.) is unobtrusive, and it doesn't go on for too long.

Zasu Pitts makes an impression as the landlady despite the awkward dialogue. Also, look for a young Ray Milland as a party guest.