In one of her few leading roles, the powerful dramatic actress Ann Dvorak tries to get past a mediocre script involving a troubled young woman trying to get through her own mediocre past. She's pregnant out of wedlock, abandoned by the wealthy father (disappearing without a trace thanks to an obviously possessive unseen society matron mother), and in her effort to support her child, ends up a fugitive in hiding with reporter Lee Tracy trying to get the goods on her. The non-sensical situation lacks in any real character motivation or believable plot development and culminates with Tracy stealing her from her obviously decent boyfriend (Richard Cromwell) seemingly so he can expose her as the notorious moll she's gained an undeserved reputation for being.While not unattractive, Dvorak didn't have traditional leading lady looks which made her perfect as the other woman, gangster's moll or scheming sister to the heroine. Photographing rather harshly, the switch of her hair color from black to blonde accentuates that even more. This is pretty much no different than the women's soap opera type films which starred such Warners contract players as the very young Bette Davis, Barbara Stanwyck, Kay Francis, Joan Blondell or Jean Muir, but Dvorak lacks their obvious vulnerability and the script lacks conviction. Much of the supporting cast is wasted, but there are good moments for Tracy (especially his kind-hearted send-off of Cromwell) and Charles B. Middleton as a very assertive police sergeant. The pre-code spark is there amongst a few spicy lines but that isn't enough to make this one memorable.

In the opening scene of this movie, the title character is crying because she is pregnant. Her rich boyfriend promises to marry her, but he quickly deserts her by leaving town. The plot summary for this movie identifies this boyfriend as Jimmy, but that is a mistake. We never see the rich boyfriend again.Jimmy, on the other hand, is a clean-cut medical student who is not rich at all, which is why he has to work as a bellhop. Jimmy loves Molly, but she rejects him. She is attracted to a gangster, and goes off with him instead, getting involved in a few of his crimes, and handing her daughter over to an orphanage. When she runs into Jimmy a few years later, he still loves her and wants to marry her and be a father to her daughter. At first she agrees to marry him, but she actually desires Scotty, a hardboiled reporter who promises only that he will show her a good time for a while and then dump her. She likes the idea. In fact, this makes her realize why her own mother abandoned her when she was a child, because when a woman really wants a man, nothing else matters, not even her own child. Jimmy walks in while they are kissing, and she tells him she has decided to run off with Scotty instead.In the last reel, Scotty has a change of heart, promises to help her fight the charges against her for her involvement with the gangster, and then marry her. That a movie should feature a fallen woman who would reject the love of a good man like Jimmy (twice) and knowingly choose men who are scoundrels instead is amazing enough. That she should end up living happily ever after by doing so is a story that could exist only in the pre-Code universe. Or in real life.Trivia: this may be the first movie in which the person shooting a gun and the person being hit with the bullet are in the same frame.

Fast little Warners item, from a play by Maurine Watkins--who wrote the source material for "Chicago," and this hard-boiled B is very much cut from the same cloth, with big-city corruption, tough-talking dames, and vice not always unrewarded. Ann Dvorak, always good in this sort of part, is the girl from the wrong side of the tracks whose attempts to crash high society are thwarted, and ends up a fugitive, for reasons she's not quite guilty and not quite innocent of. She's also an unwed mom, and not entirely an unsympathetic one, this being a year before they started fully enforcing the Production Code. Lee Tracy plays, as he was born to play, a fast-talking, fast-thinking newspaperman, and watching him at his peak is sort of like watching Cagney--he's so lively he's impossible not to like, even playing a reprobate like this. The story doesn't quite hang together: If Molly was really abandoned by her mom at seven, as she states early on, she's only 16 at the start of the film, which makes no sense at all. And while nobody, not even Tracy, is able to recognize the peroxide version of Molly as the same on-the-lam gal in the picture they have of her, her infant daughter does, at once. The tone's uneven, too, veering between melodrama and uneasy comedy. But Dvorak and Tracy are so watchable, and the supporting cast (Richard Cromwell, Guy Kibbee, Frank McHugh) so quintessential early-'30s Warners, it's a fine time-waster.

Whatever it was, it's too bad there doesn't seem to be any of it left. Warner Bros. pre-code was like a renaissance atelier - genius in the air, tons of talent on hand, cranking out, if not masterpieces, some unforgettable confections. Tons of bit part players in this one, it's as though they couldn't let anyone just walk on and act, the scene had to be chewed through. This sometimes seems distracting when you're caught up in the story, which, as with "Three on a Match," uses the threatened child to keep you in suspense. But with Lee Tracy and Ann D., plus all these superb faces and shticks, can anyone really complain? Worthwhile to think about why this Warner Bros. vision of life seems to get tremendous lift from exploiting a certain idea of the US press, never better represented than by Tracy - at least until Grant in "His Girl Friday."