Sometimes a movie gets its own credits wrong, and I'm delighted that IMDb got this one right. The opening and closing credits of 'The Final Edition' list Robert Emmett O'Connor as a character named Conroy, and the movie's dialogue swiftly establishes Conroy as the police commissioner. O'Connor spent most of his movie career portraying police detectives, so I was intrigued that he'd finally earned a promotion. But in fact, Commissioner Conroy is played by Wallis Clark, with O'Connor (as usual) in a smaller role, pounding a beat as a plainclothesman again.
This film is excellent, a good notch above most of the crusading-reporter movies of the 1930s. Director Howard Higgin shows real talent; had he not died young, he might have become a major Hollywood director.
Pat O'Brien — young, thin and virile — is in top form here as the brash city editor who walks right into a deadly situation. Mae Clarke is even more impressive as the reporter who gets the big scoop. Clarke was not especially pretty, but here she shows a shapely figure when she briefly wears a bathing cozzy. There are also splendid performances here by obscure actors Morgan Wallace, Bradley Page and Mary Doran. James Donlan does excellent work in a badly-written role, as a photographer (not a reporter; IMDb got that one wrong) who's completely incompetent at all times except when he conveniently needs to be highly efficient.
There are several implausibilities here. Clarke's reporter, working undercover, checks into an hotel under her real name. (Apparently they don't ask for I.D., since the man she's pursuing registers at the same hotel under an alias.) Clarke and her quarry are both able to obtain each other's room keys from the front desk with laughable ease. (Remind me not to check into that hotel.) And a railway station's left-luggage counter will relinquish checked items to anyone who can describe the item's contents without possessing a luggage ticket.
The film's dialogue pulls no punches, at one point explicitly mentioning heroin. Although I enjoy clever-movie dialogue when it's done well, I tend to be annoyed at movies in which every single character dispenses sparkling repartee. This movie isn't guilty of that crime: the dialogue here is effective without showing off. I was impressed by a sequence in which slimy villain Bradley Page tries to seduce Clarke with some very unsubtle double-entendres, and she pretends to return his interest.
'The Final Edition' (good title!) deserves to be better known. It's firmly in the "Get me Rewrite" genre of 1930s newspaper movies, but it's better than most of that breed. It's a shame that Pat O'Brien is the only actor in this talented cast who went on to a major career: even Mae Clarke's stardom was very brief indeed. I'll rate this corker 8 out of 10.
This film is excellent, a good notch above most of the crusading-reporter movies of the 1930s. Director Howard Higgin shows real talent; had he not died young, he might have become a major Hollywood director.
Pat O'Brien — young, thin and virile — is in top form here as the brash city editor who walks right into a deadly situation. Mae Clarke is even more impressive as the reporter who gets the big scoop. Clarke was not especially pretty, but here she shows a shapely figure when she briefly wears a bathing cozzy. There are also splendid performances here by obscure actors Morgan Wallace, Bradley Page and Mary Doran. James Donlan does excellent work in a badly-written role, as a photographer (not a reporter; IMDb got that one wrong) who's completely incompetent at all times except when he conveniently needs to be highly efficient.
There are several implausibilities here. Clarke's reporter, working undercover, checks into an hotel under her real name. (Apparently they don't ask for I.D., since the man she's pursuing registers at the same hotel under an alias.) Clarke and her quarry are both able to obtain each other's room keys from the front desk with laughable ease. (Remind me not to check into that hotel.) And a railway station's left-luggage counter will relinquish checked items to anyone who can describe the item's contents without possessing a luggage ticket.
The film's dialogue pulls no punches, at one point explicitly mentioning heroin. Although I enjoy clever-movie dialogue when it's done well, I tend to be annoyed at movies in which every single character dispenses sparkling repartee. This movie isn't guilty of that crime: the dialogue here is effective without showing off. I was impressed by a sequence in which slimy villain Bradley Page tries to seduce Clarke with some very unsubtle double-entendres, and she pretends to return his interest.
'The Final Edition' (good title!) deserves to be better known. It's firmly in the "Get me Rewrite" genre of 1930s newspaper movies, but it's better than most of that breed. It's a shame that Pat O'Brien is the only actor in this talented cast who went on to a major career: even Mae Clarke's stardom was very brief indeed. I'll rate this corker 8 out of 10.