Klondike Annie

Rose Carlton (Mae West) is known as the San Francisco Doll. She performs at Chan Lo's gambling house in San Francisco, but it's a gilded cage. She escapes to Alaska. Along the way, she befriends Sister Annie Alden. When Annie dies, Rose takes on Annie's identity to hide from her murder charge. Rose decides to continue Annie's goal of saving a failing mission.

Mae West continues to work around the code and maintain her persona. It is difficult. In this movie, she has a saintly streak. The stakes could be raised higher. The officer could start harder and heighten the intensity. There could be more assassination attempts. This has some Mae West humor, but it could have been a bigger thriller.

The period of strict enforcement of the production code, beginning in 1934, was to Mae West what the end of prohibition was to bootleggers. West was a star whose self-penned stories made an art of promiscuity, and whose overt sex appeal made even the subtlest of innuendoes as see-through as a chiffon stocking. She is sometimes pinpointed as the main reason the code-enforcing Hayes Office was established, although it wasn't so much that her pictures were the most risqué out there (something like Baby Face is a far more flagrant flaunting of the code than I'm No Angel and She Done Him Wrong). It was the fact that she was also a box office sensation – and thus a much more potent influence – that made the Legion of Decency moralists take notice.

In this light, Klondike Annie seems to be not so much a watering down of pre-code Mae, but an apology and atonement for her past misdemeanours. While it begins with some of West's familiar man-hopping sass (albeit without so much of her sly wit), half-an-hour or so in the plot is suddenly hijacked by a Christian missionary, from whereon Mae is a reformed woman, as if in direct response to the proclamation of I'm No Angel. This was in a way self-censorship on her part, because as with her earlier pictures West wrote the screenplay, and despite her antics both on and off screen was truly a devout Christian. Luckily this means Ms West still appears in control and enough of her personality has survived intact, even when she's dressed in black and preaching a sermon. It's a testament to her credible acting skills that she manages to pull this off, making Rose Carlton's redemption and unconventional adoption of the moral crusader role a believable one, tweaking her ability to command attention and work a crowd into a slightly new direction.

West also has a very flattering and focused director in Raoul Walsh. Walsh makes his camera placement a slave to Mae, keeping her almost constantly foregrounded, staring hypnotically out at the audience. Take for example the scene where Victor McLaglen prepares breakfast for her, in which we see the table in a fairly standard sideways-on set-up. When Mae comes in Walsh switches to a sharply different angle, purely so that she can enter bearing down upon the camera. Walsh is also blunt in bringing out plot points, making for example Sister Annie's first address to Mae a close-up straight into the camera (a Walsh speciality), to let us know that this is a key moment in the story.

Another odd side-effect here is that without all the usual sexual politics and bed-hopping Klondike Annie actually has a far clearer and more substantial plot than the earliest Mae West pictures, even transitional ones like Belle of the Nineties, which took out the sex but left in the battle-of-the-sexes. But to what purpose this clarity? Klondike Annie may be technically one of the better Mae West pictures, but without her free-spiritedness and playful man-conquering exploits the very heart of the Mae West formula has gone. While the picture served to keep her in work for a few years, it has little of value for those of us in the audience. The production code had not only put a cramp West's style, it had wiped out her box-office appeal in the process.

KLONDIKE ANNIE (Paramount, 1936), directed by Raoul Walsh, starring Mae West, who's also credited with story and dialog, is a different kind of Mae West production without taking away from the traditional Mae West persona. The movie title is as memorable and most associated with Mae West than the story itself, however, this is one of her most interesting, if not entirely successful projects.

Set in San Francisco's Chinatown in the 1890s, Rose Carlton (Mae West), better known as "The San Francisco Doll," (but billed in the closing credits simply as "The Frisco Doll") works an entertainer at the House of Chan Lo. Aside from earning her living as a singer , her other position is acting as mistress to her employer Chan Lo (Harold Huber), who rewards her with luxury but not happiness. After more than a year under his constant guided protection, she becomes bitter, feeling more like a prisoner and annoyed with his abusive behavior and possessive jealously. She now yearns for a man of her "own race" and decides to make leave with Vance Palme r(Conway Talmer), a middle-aged millionaire. After one of her servants, Ah Toy, is put to the torture test, Chan Lo learns of the Doll's attempt to board passage on the next steamer for Alaska. Rose and her Chinese maid, Fah Wong (Soo Yong), leave the casino, and arrive on board the Java Maid where they become only passengers, in fact the only females, sharing the steamer with Captain "Bull" Brackett (Victor McLaglen) and his crew. Rose soon catches the attention of the captain who makes her his special passenger. As a promise to her maid, Rose arranges for Bull to stop in Seattle where Fah Wong reunites herself with the man she loves. While on port, Bull obtains information about Rose, alias "The San Francisco Doll," wanted for murder. Blinded by her beauty, he decides to help her. After the steamer docks at Vancouver, Sister Annie Alden (Helen Jerome-Eddy) of the Salvation Army, comes on board to pursue her mission to save fallen souls at the Settlement House in Nome. During the voyage, Sister Annie suddenly becomes ill and dies. Arriving in the Klondike, authorities come on board to arrest Rose. Rose switches identities with Annie, with Rose Carlton's name listed in the log book as passenger who died on board. While in Nome, Rose's impersonation of Sister Annie gradually changes her heart and soul. Out of respect for the dead woman, she uses her methods to inspire dance hall girls, gamblers and prostitutes to attend the prayer meetings. It's not long before her special brand of preaching earns her a special place in the congregation. In spite of being on an errand of mercy, Rose, who has encountered Jack Forrest (Philip Reed), of the Mounted Police, who, like Brackett, knowing her identity, plans to resign his post and go away with her. Rose is soon placed in a position as to which man she would have as well as the tough decision whether or not return to San Francisco and face up to the murder charge that awaits her.

While a theme about a troubled or bitter woman finding religion could have produced a fine and inspirational film, instead, is something with great potential, but little else. KLONDIKE ANNIE (which could have been titled I'M NO ANGEL had it not been used already), was reportedly faced with censorship problems leading to severe editing process. A notable scene early in the story was one involving a struggling match between Rose (West) and Chan Lo (Harold Huber), ending with the villain accidentally getting stabbed by one of his own daggers. This ranks one of the more regrettable cuts, making that abrupt blackout from casino to steamer a bit puzzling. Learning what had taken place through the "wanted for murder" posters does help to comprehend the continuity of the rest of the story.

Aside from deletion of other scenes leading to its final print of 77 minutes, KLONDIKE ANNIE, being the most dramatic of all Mae West films, not only takes time for some lighter moments in comedy but takes time for song numbers with West taking the spotlight, with music and lyrics credited to Gene Austin, who also appears as vocalist and organ player during the church service. The opening number, "I'm an Occidental Woman in the Oriental Mood for Love," as sung by West, is quite effective especially with the accompaniment of Oriental musical instruments. This is followed by "Mr. Deep Blue Sea" as West sings this one to McLaglen in his cabin. Subsequent songs sung by others include: "There'll Be a Hot Time in the Old Town Tonight," "Little Bar Butterfly," "Cheer Up, Little Sister," "It's Better to Give Than to Receive" (sung by Gene Austin and parishioners during the collection; and the traditional New Year's Eve theme song of "Old Acquaintance."

Out of circulation from the commercial and public television markets for quite some time now, KLONDIKE ANNIE eventually moved to the cable channel of American Movie Classics where it played several times from September 1991 to March of 1992. In fact, KLONDIKE ANNIE was the only Mae West feature from her Paramount years (1932-1938) to be presented on AMC. KLONDIKE ANNIE along with the other West/ Paramount titles, were distributed on video cassette from MCA/ Universal in 1992, and later to DVD a decade or so later. Aside from a story with a Jack London (author to "The Call of the Wild") Yukon setting, Mae West, with her attempt to be relatively different, keeps the traditional formula and style sizzling, yet goodness did have something to do with it. (**1/2)

This is another middling Mae West vehicle: though there's something approximating a plot in its case (involving her taking up the guise of a missionary!), this has the unfortunate effect of producing unwarranted sentimentality – consequently, the star's trademark sauciness gets downplayed – which, frankly, doesn't suit her in the least…or convince us for a second! At least, director Walsh vividly renders the turn-of-the-century atmosphere and changes of locale: we start in Chinatown, where Mae's the kept woman of an Oriental establishment owner, then spend a good deal of time aboard ship with rowdy captain Victor McLaglen – during which the real (and elderly) Sister Annie perishes from a heart attack – and, finally, settle in the titular gold-mining region – where the heroine above all turns the head of a young Mountie (actually after West for the death of her Asian master that occurs off-screen!) even if he believes her to be a pious woman.

Needless to say, West's bubbly personality and smart business sense (acquired via her former capacity of world-renowned torch singer) turns around the mission's formerly pitiful fortunes – which even come to threaten the takings at the local saloon (especially since she's recruited many of the performers there to liven up her own "joint")! I was under the impression that KLONDIKE ANNIE was something like 80 minutes long (the Leslie Halliwell Film Guide even gives the running-time as 83), so that I was surprised when it abruptly ended – by having the star forsake the young career man for experienced lout McLaglen – at a little over 73 minutes in PAL mode (with a bit of research, I was able to determine that Image's presumably long out-of-print R1 DVD actually only ran for 76 minutes).

Whenever a Mae West film was coming up for scrutiny with the Hays Office's Production Code Administration, the censors could be heard blocks away sharpening their pencils and scissors. Her February 1936 "Klondike Annie" was especially confounding when the PCA cut an early crucial scene of a murder which would explain the subsequent actions of West's character. In those early days of unmitigating censorship, however, nothing was more paramount in the eyes of the censors than protecting young viewers witnessing an unjustifiable killing.

Mae West and the censors have had an ongoing battle for years, beginning from her early days on the New York City stage in the 1920s. After her helicon early successes with a much relaxed film production code, the actress was testing the limits in "Klondike Annie" under head censor Joseph Breen. West's character is a kept woman who murders her boyfriend, Chan Lo, in a scene that hit the cutting room floor. Eight minutes in total were chunked out of West's latest effort, and the viewer remained in the dark as to why she's on a steamer headed for Nome, Alaska. Loosely adapted from her 1921 play, 'Frisco Kate,' "Klondike Annie" has been both praised as one of her best films, her magnum opus as film reviewers labeled it, while others saw the movie as an excuse to mix religion, hypocrisy and West's double entendres all into one motion picture. Newspaper publisher William Hearst, upset at Mae's off-handed unflattering remarks about his mistress, actress Marion Davies, was especially critical of the film, directing his editors, "That Mae West picture Klondike Annie is a filthy picture. We should have editorials roasting that picture, Mae West, and Paramount. DO NOT ACCEPT ANY ADVERTISING OF THIS PICTURE." In public Hearst lambasted the film, asking "Isn't it time Congress did something about the Mae West menace?"

Another source of outrage came from religious groups, who insisted censors ban the movie entirely. On the steamer, captained by Bull Brackett (Victor McLaglen), the boat takes on Sister Annie of The Salvation Army, who died en route to her mission in Nome. To get away from the law, West as The Frisco Doll applies make-up to the deceased Sister Annie to make her look like a hooker so she could take her place. Individual states, such as Georgia, as well as several communities, outright prohibited "Klondike Annie." Where the film was permitted to play, West was able to say lines such as "When caught between two evils, I generally like to take the one I never tried" that the Hays' censors allowed in the film.

West made a habit of reporting to the studio late every morning during the shoot, causing the director, Raoul Walsh, to tear his hair out. Ernst Lubitsch, Paramount Pictures' head of production, took West aside to inform her she must arrive on time. The order triggered Mae so much she took a nearby mirror and smacked Lubitsch with it. And she continued to come in late, holding the film crew and the other actors waiting.

Despite the cuts and drama behind the scenes, "Klondike Annie" remains one of Mae West's more popular films. Reviewer Karl Dahlke writes that even though the slices impair the movie, "What remains, however, is still a compelling story, with enough of West's trademark licentiousness, bravado, and coyly lacerating humor to please fans."