That Certain Woman

In spite of it's impressive leads and the usually sure handed direction of Edmund Goulding That Certain Kind of Women is a lumbering, mawkish an implausible melodrama. Disjointed at times you get the feeling a reels missing.

Where do we begin. Ex-moll Mary Donnell is trying to go straight as an executive secretary for Lloyd Rogers who though married has a thing for Mary. Mary though falls for Jack Merrrick Jr. (Henry Fonda) much to the chagrin of Jack Sr. (Donald Crisp) who gets sonny's marriage annulled by playing hardball with her past. The two part he remarries and she has his kid. Years pass, Rogers dies and leaves her a ton of cash. Junior comes back finds out and vows to leave his crippled wife who pays a visit to Mary before they run off. Enough already.

Your drowning in suds in no time in this 30s chick flic that never finds a way to amp up the passion with characters that are tender sensitive and dull beyond belief. Davis stands around looking cow eyed most of the way while Fonda wimps about and Crisp remains stone like. Tina Louise rolls in on a wheelchair in the last act as wife "Flipp" and wrestles with Davis in another cloying moment of tear jerk to see who will make the greater sacrifice. No contest, the audience has.