Some good stuff from Ernest Torrance in his penultimate performance as a sea captain adrift in corruption and dissipation. I also liked Colbert in an early, sexy, right profile turn. And a lot of Wells Root's dialogue from Max Miller's novel is properly cynical and funny, as befits a 1930s newspaper movie. But there is way too much of Ben Lyon, kind of a half ass Lee Tracy, and the dull as desalinated water romance between him and Claudette. And while I know I should put my 2023, anti MAGA viewfinder aside when watching this 1933 offering I confess I was fairly appalled to see Root and director James Cruze lavish so much sympathy upon Torrance's exploiter and murderer of Asians trying to enter the United States while regarding his victims as little more than supercargo. Give it a C plus.
Review of I Cover the Waterfront
