This is a tale of a life wretched enough to be almost a ghost story. Molly Louvain (Ann Dvorak, fresh from Scarface) has more than her share of bad luck, blind unhappy coincidences, mental inheritance dominated by a shadow of a mother who left a good girl a dirty, predestined deal in life – much, starting with an unexpected baby, seems to be a mer- ciless repeat of the mother’s life, so that it spells finality. It’s also a beautifully conceived film about coincidence as the real scriptwriter of life, leading Molly to the unlikely but good company of one of those tough reporters only WB could mold into symbols of the fleeting times – the falling in love scene is strange enough to flash-forward to an association with Pickpocket and its touching final line. According to the tradi- tion of the times, the film is very fast and is far from flawless, although the art of showing everything that a present day 140 minute film can offer in 70 minutes is impressive as such. Melodrama’s conventions merge beautifully into improbably fast rhythms alternating hardness and tenderness. Those again are direct traits of “one of those tinsel girls – good in a Christmas tree, doesn’t stand the rain” – the portrait of Mol­ly, with her vertigo between collapsing to life as a prostitute or salvation, is wonderful. As a fantasy about love and victory over drab circumstances, The Strange Love of Molly Lou­vain is charmingly unlikely but so full of life that there can’t be any complaints.

Peter von Bagh

Among the many films the Hungarian-born Michael Curtiz directed in USA, The Strange Love of Molly Louvain stands out as one of the most pessimistic movies of the time. Little criminals, journalists of no scruples wrecked lives, desperate loves, all accurs around a woman whose life, with a “normal” tragicalness, leads her to the final sacrifice, in a story leaving no ways out to any character.