For most of the 1930s MGM scarcely noticed there was a Depression going on, suffocating its films in production values and stars. But this fairly ludicrous soap opera starts Tallulah Bankhead out in Art Deco trappings and flouncy evening gowns and sends her down, down, down the social ladder, from high-priced mistress to woman of the streets. It's all for the love of Robert Montgomery, on a less precipitous but still steep downward path (he starts out as a $20,000-a-year ad man, a fortune in 1932, and becomes an unfortunate scab truck driver). Tallulah gets to laugh her throaty laugh and break mirrors and throw tantrums, but you see why she didn't become a movie star: It's not an expressive movie face, and the voice, fascinating as it is, hasn't much variety. Plus, this sort of part was so familiar -- think Ruth Chatterton, Kay Francis, Constance Bennett -- that one suspects audiences tired of it. Despite the ridiculous plot conveniences and unconvincing happy ending, it's a frank film coming from this studio, and the dialog has moments of sharpness. Hugh Herbert is good in an Edward Arnold kind of role, and Tallulah's something to see and hear, even if another throaty laugh or "dahling" is always just around the corner.
