The Damned Don't Cry

Warner Brothers. 103 minutes. US release: 4/7/50. Region 1 DVD release: 6/14/05.

Cast: Joan Crawford (as "Ethel Whitehead/Lorna Hansen Forbes"), David Brian, Steve Cochran, Kent Smith, Hugh Sanders, Selena Royle, Jacqueline de Wit, Morris Ankrum, Edith Evanson, Richard Egan, Jimmy Moss, Sara Perry, Eddie Marr.

Credits: Story by Gertrude Walker (based partly on story "The Brooch," by William Faulkner, who was uncredited and also wrote a treatment for the film). Screenplay: Harold Medford and Jerome Weidman. Producer: Jerry Wald. Director: Vincent Sherman. Camera: Ted McCord. Art Director: Robert Haas. Music: Daniele Amfitheatrof. Wardrobe: Sheila O'Brien. Editor: Rudi Fehr.

Miss Crawford runs through the whole routine of cheap motion-picture dramatics in her latter-day hard-boiled, dead-pan style. As a laborer's wife, she plays it without makeup and with her face heavily greased. As a cigar store clerk and clothes model, she plays it tough.... And as the ultimately cultivated "lady," she gives it all the lofty dignity that goes with champagne buckets and Palm Springs swimming pools. A more artificial lot of acting could hardly be achieved.

The scenario has given Miss Crawford ample scope to emote and show her charms. If it is contrived, it is because the theme is shabby and the incidents too violent for complete plausibility.

If you've seen The Damned Don't Cry and would like to share your review here, please e-mail me. Feel free to include a star-rating (with 5 stars the best) as well as any of your favorite lines from the film.

TJ (October 2005)

Rating: - 1/2 of 5

Down to Gehenna or up to the Throne, He travels fastest who travels alone!

Miss Crawford celebrates her silver jubilee on the screen with the kind of role that made her a household name some decades ago: the hard-hearted Hannah, a woman from nowhere who climbs the ladder of success man by man. Alas, some twenty years have passed since the helicon days of 'Possessed', 'Laughing Sinners' or 'Rain' and regrettably time does not stop even for Miss Crawford. She is too old for this hookum and watching her enticing every male around with her stony charms is a little bit hard to swallow. The whole story is cheap trash and should have ended in Virginia Mayo's leap. Miss Crawford makes the most with minimal visible effort and her ability to keep a straight face no matter how hot the situation is never better demonstrated than in this lurid potboiler.

Virtually in every scene Miss Crawford shows off her great legs and prominent cheekbones that rival Dietrich's. She even tries to beat Esther Williams as reigning bathing beauty but ends up looking alarmingly like Garbo in the ill-fated 'Two Faced Woman.'

Advice: a must-see only for hard-boiled fans.

Todd (June 2005)

Rating: of 5

Anyone who has ever doubted Joan Crawford's star power is directed to The Damned Don't Cry. The film itself, a noir-ish melodrama written and played by the rest of the cast almost as a parody of film noir, is lurid, sensationalistic pulp. But Crawford strides through the movie with an astonishing amount of authority, and raises the "B" picture shenanigans to "A" level entertainment by sheer force of personality alone.

Whether playing her character as a downtrodden, working class housewife; a sleazy garment district model; or a glamorous gangster's moll, Crawford is never less than 100% committed to her performance and her characterization. As ridiculous as the situations and dialogue may be--and, brother, some of the lines she's given are lulu's--Crawford is always completely believable. Crawford more or less went through the same kind of transformation from guttersnipe-to-pseudo-lady in 1931's Possessed, and it's a fine testament to her talent that, nearly twenty years later, she can make the same scenario seem plausible.

As is often the case with Crawford's Warners-and-beyond films, her "co-stars" in Damned are little more than stock contract players (despite David Brian's equal star billing), and register as mere foils for her bravura star performance. One notable exception is the smoldering Steve Cochran, who certainly is a male match for Crawford's almost animalistic magnetism. One wishes they had more screen time together; they're certainly much more interesting to watch together than Crawford and Brian. Although Brian's uncomfortably cold-blooded, snake-like persona fits his character, he never quite strikes the same sparks with Crawford as does Cochran.

Joan Crawford made other, finer films than The Damned Don't Cry, but perhaps few as entertaining. It is not meant to belittle Crawford's undeniable talent to suggest that many Crawford fans, this writer included, love to watch her simply "be Joan Crawford," and The Damned Don't Cry is as fine an example as any of Crawford simply Being Joan: tough, tender, glamorous, earthy, vulnerable and ultimately indestructible. The fact that, at this stage in her career, simply Being Joan was enough to make a credible, fast-paced, thoroughly enjoyable picture proves once again that Joan Crawford was the ultimate movie queen.

Scott (June 2005)

Rating: of 5

When we got the Joan collection from Amazon this week, I tore it open and the first DVD we watched was The Damned Don't Cry. From the opening credits, we were quickly caught up in the plot. The movie didn't have any dull stretches at all -- the plot, the pacing, and the acting kept everything moving quickly. I never could decide if Joan was the right age for the part; at times she seemed slightly too old, and at other times, she seemed just right. In any case, she kept our interest throughout and handled her transformation from poor housewife to cigar store clerk to lowbrow model to highbrow society matron very well. My favorite scene is her argument with her fellow "model." After her former partner-in-crime rages at her, Joan walks away and snarls, "Ah, shaddup!" as she nonchalantly gets a cup of water from the cooler. I thought all of the acting was very good. Joan was well matched by her leading men -- David Brian, Steve Cochran, and Kent Smith -- and had interesting relationships with each.

When you add in excellent photography, sharp writing, and a compelling musical score, you've got a top melodrama. Sure, it's not as good as Mildred Pierce, but it's still very entertaining. It's a good follow-up to Flamingo Road. I'm looking forward to watching it again.

Also - to avoid spoilers - don't watch the documentary on the DVD until after you've seen the movie. I thought it was going to be more of a documentary on Joan Crawford, but it focuses mainly on this movie and gives away a lot of the plot elements.

Danny (February 2005)

My favorite “post-Pierce” Warner Bros. torrid potboiler. In the early part of the picture there is a flashback to “Ethel"'s humble beginnings married to poor factory worker Richard Egan. The close-up she gets when she watches her son being run over by a car is pure gold.

This is the quintessential suffering-in-mink Crawford picture. Joan claws her way to the top by brains and brawn, from rags to riches, always looking for something better. It even has motherhood and murder.

On her way to the top, she seethes at milquetoast accountant, Kent Smith, when he doesn’t have her drive and ambition: Don’t talk to me about self-respect. That’s something you tell yourself you got when you got nothing else. The only thing that counts is that stuff you take to the bank. That filthy buck that everybody sneers at but slugs to get. You gotta kick and punch and belt your way up because nobody’s going to give you a lift. You gotta do it for yourself because no one will do it for you.

The last rung on the ladder to the top is handsome Steve Cochran. He has a sexy, sultry, smoldering sensuousness. But like every other man she meets, he only leads to her final doom.

Today Vincent Sherman may be an “old scarf-wearing lizard," but in 1950 his direction of this turgid melodrama was capable and competent.