June Storey | Through the Shattered Lens

One of the ten films to be nominated for Best Picture of 1937, In Old Chicago tells the story of the O’Leary family.

When we first meet the O’Learys, they’re riding across the Illinois frontier in a covered wagon. After patriarch Patrick O’Leary (J. Anthony Hughes) is killed in a freak accident, Hazel O’Leary (Alice Brady) decides to settle in the bustling town of Chicago. Hazel and her three sons build a life for themselves in a poor, largely Irish neighborhood known as the Patch. Hazel makes a living as a laundress and soon, her home is big enough for her to take in a cow named Daisy. Better not put that lantern too close to Daisy, Mrs. O’Leary….

As for the O’Leary boys, they all build a life of their own in 19th century Chicago.

Free-spirited Dion (Tyrone Power) hangs out in the saloon owned by sinister Gil Warren (Brian Donlevy) and, to his mother’s consternation, he falls for a singer named Belle (Alice Faye). Eventually, Dion and Belle open up their own saloon and go into competition with Warren. Dion soon emerges as one of the leaders of the Patch, a rogue with a charming smile and zero ethics but a total love for his family.

The youngest, Bob (Tom Brown), falls in love with a German immigrant named Gretchen (June Storey). Bob asks Gretchen to marry him while Mrs. O’Leary’s cow stares straight at camera.

Finally, the oldest of the O’Leary boys is Jack (Don Ameche). Jack become a crusading lawyer and eventually, he runs for mayor on a reform ticket. With Dion’s help, Jack is able to defeat Gil Warren. But now that Jack is mayor, he immediately sets his sights on tearing down the Patch and, in his words, “starting over.”

In Old Chicago has a two-hour running time and a lot happens in those two hours. Not only is there all the drama between the brothers but also there’s a handful of production numbers featuring Alice Faye. (Considering that she’s performing at a saloon in the slums of Chicago, it’s impressive that Belle can put on such an elaborate show.) Of course, anyone with a knowledge of history knows that every minute of In Old Chicago is building up to the moment when Mrs. O’Leary’s cow kicks over that lantern and all the wooden buildings in Chicago go up in flames. In Old Chicago is an early disaster movie and, talented cast aside, the main reason that anyone will be watching will be for the recreation of the Great Chicago Fire. As flames roar around them and cattle stampede through the streets, hundreds of extras run for their lives. As Alice Brady, Tom Brown, and Alice Faye stare off to the horizon, the city of Chicago explodes in front of them. Even today, the scenes of the city on fire are impressive.

As for the rest of the film, I enjoyed the melodramatic excess of it all. The stars weren’t exactly the most dynamic actors of the 1930s but Tyrone Power and Don Ameche were both handsome and likable enough to carry the film and it’s easy to see why In Old Chicago was, at the time of its production, the most expensive film ever made. It’s a big film, with ornate sets, hundreds of extras, and elaborate production numbers. It’s entertaining, even though I did occasionally find myself growing impatient as I waited for the fire to finally start burning.

One thing this film is not is historically accurate. Not only is it now generally agreed that Mrs. O’Leary’s cow was innocent of starting the fire but Mrs. O’Leary’s son was never mayor of Chicago. It is true that Chicago caught fire in 1871 and that the mayor turned to General Philip Sheridan (played here by Sidney Blackmer) for help in both putting out the fire and keeping order in the streets. For the most part, though, In Old Chicago is total fiction. That didn’t bother me but then again, I don’t live in Chicago.

In Old Chicago was nominated for Best Picture of the Year but lost to The Life of Emile Zola. However, Alice Brady won the Oscar for Best Supporting Actress.

The eleventh film in Mill Creek’s Fabulous Forties box set was 1946’s The Strange Woman. The Strange Woman is one of those film noir/small town melodrama hybrids that seem to have been something of a cinematic mainstay in the mid to late 40s.

The Strange Woman of the title is Jenny Hager (Hedy Lamarr) and she’s not just strange because she’s got an Eastern European accent despite having grown up in Bangor, Maine. The film opens in 1824 and we watch as tween Jenny pushes one her classmates into a river, despite the fact that he can’t swim. At first, she seems content to let him drown. However, once she realizes that an adult is watching, Jenny jumps into the river and saves his life.

Ten years later, Jenny has grown up to be the most beautiful woman in Maine. However, her father is abusive and regularly whips her as punishment for being too flirtatious. Jenny has plans, though. She wants to marry the richest man in town, a store owner and civic leader named Isaiah Poster (Gene Lockahrt). Isaiah also happens to be the father of Ephraim (Louis Hayward), the young man who Jenny tried to drown at the beginning of the film.

And eventually, Jenny’s dream does come true. She marries Isaiah, even though she doesn’t love him. She just wants his money and is frustrated when the sickly Isaiah keeps recovering from his frequent illnesses. She starts to flirt with the weak-willed Ephraim, trying to manipulate him into killing his father.

Of course, even as she’s manipulating Ephraim, she’s also flirting with John Everd (George Sanders), despite the fact that John is already engaged to the daughter of the local judge. Though Everd is a good and decent guy, he still finds himself tempted by Jenny.

What makes all of this interesting is that Jenny isn’t just a heartless femme fatale. Throughout the film, there are several instances when she wants to do good but can’t overcome her essentially heartless nature. She gives money to charity and, whenever she listens to one of the local fire-and-brimstone preachers, she finds herself tempted to give up her manipulative ways.

The Strange Woman was directed by Edgar G. Ulmer, who is probably best known for directing the ultimate indie film noir, Detour. He was a childhood friend of Hedy Lamarr’s and she specifically asked that he direct her in The Strange Woman. As a result, this film represents one of the few times that Ulmer was given a budget that was equal to his talents. What makes The Strange Woman stand out from other 40s melodramas — like Guest In The House, for example — is that, even with the larger budget, Ulmer’s direction retains the same deep cynicism and dream-like intensity that distinguished his work in Detour. The film remains sympathetic to Jenny, even as she often suffers the punishments that were demanded by the production code.

In the role of Jenny , Hedy Lamarr is a force of a nature. She is so intense and determined that watching her as Jenny is a bit like seeing what Gone With The Wind would have been like if Scarlet O’Hara had been a total sociopath. Even the fact that Lamarr’s accent is definitely not a Maine accent seems appropriate. It sets Jenny apart from the boring people around her.

It reminds us that, even if she is “strange,” there is no one else like Jenny Hager.