Claire Trevor has just passed the Bar in New York City and has treated herself by watching criminal defense attorney Michael Whalen in action. He's a flimflamming, grand-standing shyster who makes a three-ring circus out of the court to get his clients off. He makes a play for Miss Trevor, but she's not interested. She's going home to her tiny home town for a visit, then back to the law to practice something finer.
Once home, however, she gets involved with beaten down Isabel Jewell. Miss Jewell and the prosecuting attorney's son are in love, but even though they do nothing wrong, they're terrified of their fathers. Miss Jewell is right to be so. When jilted Big Boy Williams catches her, he peaches on her to her father, Charles Middleton. He takes her into the attic and tries to whip the Devil out of her. She strikes back to defend herself, and Middleton falls to his death. Miss Jewell begs Miss Trevor to defend her, and she agrees.
This movie tries to be too much for a B movie. It's a romantic comedy. It's an indictment of small-town prejudices. It's a screwball comedy. It's a serious legal drama. A capable cast struggles to deal with the script, but the constant change in tone -- one moment Miss Trevor is reproaching Mr. Whalen, the next he's being dragged out by a lynch mob, and the next it's all a hoax -- leaves the audience too confused and exhausted to do anything but shake its collection of heads.
There are some wonderful bits in this movie. Although I found the plethora of one-note characters tiresome, Gene Lockhart's continually grumbling uncle is a delight, and Miss Trevor gives a fine closing argument in one shot. However, this movie looks like no one knew what it was to be when it was finished.
