Mel Brooks once wrote a song for "The Twelve Chairs" which included the lyric, "It could be real, or Fannie Hurst". The queen of depression era sob stories wrote many potboilers of suffering women, none sadder than "Back Street", filmed three times by Universal, and each time getting more and more outlandish.
The heroine here is Irene Dunne who shows up for a date with handsome and wealthy John Boles but can't find him. When she runs into him again (on Wall Street of all places), he's married with children, yet still very much in love with her. Setting her up in an apartment and keeping their relationship alive but very private, Boles thinks he's got what it takes to make her happy. But she's not content being on this "Back Street" and takes off back home where he follows her and convinces her to return. Years go by and they end up in Paris (after a voyage on a luxury cruise ship with his wife and children also in attendance) where even in a Back Street hotel, she's loyal to him in spite of a visit from his non-understanding son (William Bakewell).
For the first 3/4 of the film, nothing really much happens except a parade of fashion of the eras which the film covers. But once they get aboard the cruise ship and head to the city of lights, the film really takes off. Dunne is certainly lovely, more wifely than mistress material, so that's where the sadness of this film comes in that a missed opportunity for happiness set him to a new life. Boles, playing a likable if somewhat selfish character, tries to insert an understanding of what this unhappy husband is going through, although his wife (Doris Lloyd) is barely seen and not at all defined as a character. Bakewell's angry young man manages to insert a bit of humanity and understanding. Wasted in pointless roles are Jane Darwell, Zasu Pitts and Walter Catlett, although Shirley Grey gets a few opportunities to shine as Dunne's half sister who goes through her own scandalous situation.
Directed with style by John Stahl (a veteran of 30's tearjerkers), this version remains the best of the three, although the 1941 version was pretty much done in the same mold. The soapiest version was the 1961 Susan Hayward film which seemed ridiculous trying to get tears out of its audience since its heroine was a lot harder than either Dunne or 1941's Margaret Sullavan and got to suffer living in the lap of luxury.
The heroine here is Irene Dunne who shows up for a date with handsome and wealthy John Boles but can't find him. When she runs into him again (on Wall Street of all places), he's married with children, yet still very much in love with her. Setting her up in an apartment and keeping their relationship alive but very private, Boles thinks he's got what it takes to make her happy. But she's not content being on this "Back Street" and takes off back home where he follows her and convinces her to return. Years go by and they end up in Paris (after a voyage on a luxury cruise ship with his wife and children also in attendance) where even in a Back Street hotel, she's loyal to him in spite of a visit from his non-understanding son (William Bakewell).
For the first 3/4 of the film, nothing really much happens except a parade of fashion of the eras which the film covers. But once they get aboard the cruise ship and head to the city of lights, the film really takes off. Dunne is certainly lovely, more wifely than mistress material, so that's where the sadness of this film comes in that a missed opportunity for happiness set him to a new life. Boles, playing a likable if somewhat selfish character, tries to insert an understanding of what this unhappy husband is going through, although his wife (Doris Lloyd) is barely seen and not at all defined as a character. Bakewell's angry young man manages to insert a bit of humanity and understanding. Wasted in pointless roles are Jane Darwell, Zasu Pitts and Walter Catlett, although Shirley Grey gets a few opportunities to shine as Dunne's half sister who goes through her own scandalous situation.
Directed with style by John Stahl (a veteran of 30's tearjerkers), this version remains the best of the three, although the 1941 version was pretty much done in the same mold. The soapiest version was the 1961 Susan Hayward film which seemed ridiculous trying to get tears out of its audience since its heroine was a lot harder than either Dunne or 1941's Margaret Sullavan and got to suffer living in the lap of luxury.