Those of us who came of age when Barbara Stanwyck projected an image of hand-shaped steel on screen -- a lesbian, a stern matriarch, or whatever -- may not be aware of how fragile and accommodating she was in her earlier films. Never a sex symbol or an actress who shot out the lights, her performances were always reliable and sometimes quite accomplished, as in "Double Indemnity." Alas, her earlier movies don't have the appeal today that they once had. In the early 1930s there were "women's pictures," and this is one of them. At the time there were only radio serials like "The Romance of Helen Trent," but now anyone interested in romantic dramas can turn to afternoon soap operas or LMN.
In "Forbidden," Stanwyck is a homely librarian (meaning mainly that she wears glasses and wears drab garments) who rejects the advances of a newspaper editor, Ralph Bellamy, and decides to take a fling on a Caribbean vacation. On the cruise she meets Adolph Menjou, a debonair rising politician who has an affair with Stanwyck (don't they all?) and this results in a child. Pretty risqué for those days.
The problem is that Menjou is a married man with a crippled wife and -- well, all kinds of complications ensue. They end with the wife adopting the illegitimate child and providing her with a good, substantial home and a college education.
Now, Ralph Bellamy has not disappeared from the story. He hires Stanwyck and she finally decides to marry him, but not out of love. I was certain her affections would be transferred to Bellamy, who would turn out to be an understanding and forgiving kind of guy. But no. For the first and last time in my entire life I was wrong. Bellamy digs up the illicit connection between Stanwyck and Menjour (who are still seeing each other) and intends to expose Menjou out of spite. Menjou is now running for governor and I think we all know what that means. I don't have to draw you a picture. A couple of slugs from Stanwyck's .38 solves the problem. But governor Menjour, on his death bed, guilt ridden, signs a confession of all his misdeeds and leaves half of all he own to Stanwyck. Ever the stout heart, she rips up the bequest and throws it in the trash. With a brave smile, but without any money or family or social standing, she strides off to face the future, her honor untarnished. (I hope she does better than I did under similar circumstances.) It's not a dumb movie. The director, Frank Capra, who brought us a couple of gems ten years later and a good series of war-time documentaries, is no dummy. He's a populist but not a nasty minded one, and if here he was still learning his craft, his generosity and his respect for his adopted country shows. (He was born in Sicily.) "Forbidden" will interest most those who are interested in intrigues and the social dynamics of small groups of acquaintances. It's also of historical value because we see Stanwyck before she became the Stanwyck so many are familiar with from "The Big Valley" or whatever it was, and because this is one of Frank Capra's earlier efforts.
In "Forbidden," Stanwyck is a homely librarian (meaning mainly that she wears glasses and wears drab garments) who rejects the advances of a newspaper editor, Ralph Bellamy, and decides to take a fling on a Caribbean vacation. On the cruise she meets Adolph Menjou, a debonair rising politician who has an affair with Stanwyck (don't they all?) and this results in a child. Pretty risqué for those days.
The problem is that Menjou is a married man with a crippled wife and -- well, all kinds of complications ensue. They end with the wife adopting the illegitimate child and providing her with a good, substantial home and a college education.
Now, Ralph Bellamy has not disappeared from the story. He hires Stanwyck and she finally decides to marry him, but not out of love. I was certain her affections would be transferred to Bellamy, who would turn out to be an understanding and forgiving kind of guy. But no. For the first and last time in my entire life I was wrong. Bellamy digs up the illicit connection between Stanwyck and Menjour (who are still seeing each other) and intends to expose Menjou out of spite. Menjou is now running for governor and I think we all know what that means. I don't have to draw you a picture. A couple of slugs from Stanwyck's .38 solves the problem. But governor Menjour, on his death bed, guilt ridden, signs a confession of all his misdeeds and leaves half of all he own to Stanwyck. Ever the stout heart, she rips up the bequest and throws it in the trash. With a brave smile, but without any money or family or social standing, she strides off to face the future, her honor untarnished. (I hope she does better than I did under similar circumstances.) It's not a dumb movie. The director, Frank Capra, who brought us a couple of gems ten years later and a good series of war-time documentaries, is no dummy. He's a populist but not a nasty minded one, and if here he was still learning his craft, his generosity and his respect for his adopted country shows. (He was born in Sicily.) "Forbidden" will interest most those who are interested in intrigues and the social dynamics of small groups of acquaintances. It's also of historical value because we see Stanwyck before she became the Stanwyck so many are familiar with from "The Big Valley" or whatever it was, and because this is one of Frank Capra's earlier efforts.