I'm so fond of Ann Harding, one of the early talkies' most revered actresses at the time, and now, sadly, virtually forgotten. She had a certain stillness and contemplativeness rare for the time, and usually she's so subtle, yet so expressive. But not in this rickety filmed play, where, for the only time I've ever seen, she overacts. But then, Vera, her character, has so much to overact about. Facing marital discord with her eminent judge husband (Harry Bannister, married to Harding at the time), she went off to holiday in Italy and became involved, though not to the point of Doing It, with a rotter lothario. Now, back in Vienna, he wants blackmail money, and she ends up unintentionally murdering him. The contrivances and coincidences just pile up: She just happened to leave an opera ("Carmen," which we see a bit of; Pathe appears to have spent some money on this one) to see the rotter as some friends were trying to run into her during intermission, and the man accused of the murder just happens to have her husband as the judge, and she convinces her faithful lawyer friend (John Loder, rather dashing) to defend him (before his good friend the judge her husband), but he never suspects a thing, and she just happens to faint on hearing the verdict, and the cleared suspect just happens to be her waiter on New Year's Eve, and her husband just happens to overhear a vital conversation between her and the suspect, and on and on until the end. Fairly ridiculous, but entertaining, and while I prefer the subdued Ann Harding, this hyper one's fun to watch.