Los amores trágicos de Stella Parish

A chance for Kay Francis to drop her r's, wear a stunning Orry-Kelly wardrobe, and emote in several styles, this melodrama, effectively directed by Mervyn LeRoy, has her as an American who's become the First Lady of the West End, rather like Talullah Bankhead. She also has a daughter--Sybil Jason, whom several posters have panned, and I think she's good--and a Deep Dark Secret, which, when a silhouetted Barton MacLane threatens to expose it, sends her packing after a triumphant opening night (in a play about Caligula, and it looks like a dog) and running off to New York in unconvincing old-lady disguise. She's trailed by Ian Hunter, a reporter determined to uncover her history, and as he's exposing her unsavory past to the public, he's also falling in love with her. The implausibilities just keep mounting: Once in New York, Stella abandons her disguise, yet NO ONE recognizes her though she's the toast of the London theater, and her fall to cheap burlesque makes no sense, nor does the happy-ending resolution, with Hunter performing a good deed (aided by her producer, a dapper Paul Lukas) that makes everything right. It's mighty entertaining, though, and Kay, sometimes just a clothes horse, does some actual acting.