The penitentiary in "LADIES THEY TALK ABOUT" (1933)

 A distilled genre film fossil, there are scenes in this pre-code era picture that parade the generic summary of what the Women’s Prison Film is.

1933 is the year of two Barbara Stanwyck-driven productions bearing Stanwyck as a female anti-heroine involved in crime. She plays a criminal in Ladies They Talk About; her character in Baby Face (the majestic film that spawned this majestic gifset) starts out in the speakeasy scene and, after Stanwyck’s character catches up on some Nietzsche, goes on to become a 20^th century Manon Lescaut minus the fatal end.

In Ladies They Talk About Stanwyck plays a hustler/bank robber and actually is incarcerated in a women’s penitentiary for a good stretch of the film. The most generic, undiluted genre moments are the raunchy scenes in which Nan (Stanwyck) first enters the prison. They are everything a Women’s Prison Film calls for.

Wide shots of the bustling daily grind of prison life are followed by an introduction to typical Women in Prison Film archetypes. We witness two women fighting over a chair, one in Spanish and the other in English; we later learn that the English speaker is “Aunt Maggie”, who “watches out for the girls” (archetype of the Mama character). Stanwyck’s character upon entering this fishbowl of a world is called “New Fish”. Though tougher than the usual WPF’s protagonist, she subsequently makes her mandatory faux-pas by impulsively changing the channel on the radio.

The scene is effectively underscored by a tune that we assume is non-diegetic but suddenly realize to be coming from a radio, throwing the shallow attempt at normalcy in prison life right in the viewer’s face. 

 

 

 

 

 

Nan is tough, and she makes friends just as quickly as she makes enemies (unlike most protagonists of WPF’s melodramas). She is quickly shown around the prison by a fellow inmate: the sunyard -“You’ll have a nickname for every blade of grass before you get out.”

cells, smoking/bathroom, matrons (“Second matron: okay if you are but don’t cross ‘er.”) - the sense of threat is supposed to linger.

 We see women of various ages, races, and social backgrounds; for some of them, we receive an anecdote of their former lives (a narrative perk we’ve since, and most prominently, seen employed in 2013 streaming phenomenon Orange is the New Black):

“Dear Mrs Arlington was a little jealous of a certain Mrs Banks, so she gave her dinner in Mrs Banks’ honor and ground up some of her finest glassware in Mrs Banks’ caviar, hah hah oh dear.”

or

“This little cream puff met a guy for dinner one night and wanted to know what his name was, so she shot him and read it in the morning papers.”

Being a pre-code film, we get to hear Aunt Maggie talking about a policeman getting a “manicure” in her former “beauty parlor”. There is even a butch character – another archetype - smoking in the bathroom: “watch out for her, she likes to wrestle.”

The appeal of the genre is immediately understood:

1.     Women, everywhere – you will never see a more diverse crowd of women as large as this in any movie but the women’s prison film and that’s just how it is.

The criminal angle to every story behind every character amplifies the suspense and allure of these women, and it is probably one of the most interesting assets of the WPF: crime is what makes a narrative interesting; I’d even like to say: crime is always interesting.

2.     The allure of the microcosmic guarded alternative world with its own rules and regulations. This can be applied to anything. It’s the simple reason why the Harry Potter books are so addictive.

3.     The closer the space, the more exciting it gets. Sparse interiors and scenery of prison also give rise to interesting detail, invention, and character.

4.     The satisfaction of watching a female protagonist go through alienation and toughen up or deal with the toughness thrown at her. Power struggles and underdogs are essential to excitement.