Lew Ayres returns from medical school to his family. Dad is a doctor himself -- it runs in families -- and expects him to set up his office in the spare room so they can have a joint practice at home. But Ayres sadly informs his father that he's accepted an internship at famous Blair Hospital in New York, because, well, he feels there's more he wants to do than become a simple small-town practitioner. Dad nods understandingly. "It's true you can't make much money as a country doctor." The film doesn't pause long enough for the laughter to expire at this point.
Well, Blair Hospital is a tough place, let me tell you. There are hide-bound administrators, elderly and out-of-touch specialists, and then there is Dr. Gillespie. That would be cranky old Lionel Barrymore bound in his wheelchair. He has a lot of juice around Blair Hospital and takes no guff from anybody. He treats new interns the way Mr. Murdstone treated David Copperfield.
Ayres works his butt off, rushing around in ambulances, treating drunks and children, until he runs into a mysterious young woman who has attempted suicide. She won't reveal her identity but she has obvious class. She comes up with an archaic expression in French, so you can tell.
Aside from Ayres' relationship with the home town girl we are absolutely certain is going to snag him, this is the big conflict. Who is this society dame and why did she try to off herself? Everybody else at Blair is convinced she's psychotic and they want to put her away, but Ayres believes she's quite sane and is suffering from genuine guilt.
He's right, of course. But before he can prove it and get all the rewards coming to him, the movie must turn into a detective story in which the fresh-faced Ayres, accompanied by the affably physical Nat Pendleton, uncovers the secret she's hiding. It was all a misunderstanding. The classy babe melts into the arms of her sweetheart and Ayres takes off with the Homecoming Queen of Cockaigne.
I don't know why this was so popular in its time. The cast is likable enough. Lew Ayres is youthful and handsome. (He was to come under a cloud a few years later for being a conscientious objector during the war. Kids, that's World War II. He served as a medic and was under fire but it didn't help much.) Lionel Barrymore is good as the whiny voiced curmudgeon. Still, this was the movie that launched a thousand sequels and there's nothing special about it. I suppose they were cheap enough and, in the absence of TV, audiences enjoyed seeing characters they were already familiar with.
The story is by Max Brand, of all people. He wrote for Western pulp magazines mostly. A few of his stories became films, most notably "Destry Rides Again."
Well, Blair Hospital is a tough place, let me tell you. There are hide-bound administrators, elderly and out-of-touch specialists, and then there is Dr. Gillespie. That would be cranky old Lionel Barrymore bound in his wheelchair. He has a lot of juice around Blair Hospital and takes no guff from anybody. He treats new interns the way Mr. Murdstone treated David Copperfield.
Ayres works his butt off, rushing around in ambulances, treating drunks and children, until he runs into a mysterious young woman who has attempted suicide. She won't reveal her identity but she has obvious class. She comes up with an archaic expression in French, so you can tell.
Aside from Ayres' relationship with the home town girl we are absolutely certain is going to snag him, this is the big conflict. Who is this society dame and why did she try to off herself? Everybody else at Blair is convinced she's psychotic and they want to put her away, but Ayres believes she's quite sane and is suffering from genuine guilt.
He's right, of course. But before he can prove it and get all the rewards coming to him, the movie must turn into a detective story in which the fresh-faced Ayres, accompanied by the affably physical Nat Pendleton, uncovers the secret she's hiding. It was all a misunderstanding. The classy babe melts into the arms of her sweetheart and Ayres takes off with the Homecoming Queen of Cockaigne.
I don't know why this was so popular in its time. The cast is likable enough. Lew Ayres is youthful and handsome. (He was to come under a cloud a few years later for being a conscientious objector during the war. Kids, that's World War II. He served as a medic and was under fire but it didn't help much.) Lionel Barrymore is good as the whiny voiced curmudgeon. Still, this was the movie that launched a thousand sequels and there's nothing special about it. I suppose they were cheap enough and, in the absence of TV, audiences enjoyed seeing characters they were already familiar with.
The story is by Max Brand, of all people. He wrote for Western pulp magazines mostly. A few of his stories became films, most notably "Destry Rides Again."