(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A young woman with a difficult past is sentenced for a murder she didn't commit, but revealing the truth could hurt people she loves.”
Honestly, I forget precisely how I’d heard about The Sin Of Nora Moran (1933).
What I can say is that somewhere in my voluminous reading into one of my all-time personal favorite pictures – 1941’s Citizen Kane – someone had mentioned that Nora Moran was ‘an inspiration.’ Whether this means it was cinematographically or structurally or thematically aligned, I couldn’t say; but I distinctly remember stumbling across some little factoid that mentioned it in association with the Orson Welles’ stunner, so I had to see it if for no other reason than to satisfy my curiosity. Now having done so, I can’t imagine that this mostly forgettable melodrama served as anything greater than some passing idea in which someone – maybe even Welles himself – referenced how director Phil Goldstone and cinematographer Ira Morgan propelled viewers forward into their narrative in order to attempt something similar in Kane. The two flicks share an extended reliance on montages and flashbacks – and perhaps even a bit of social commentary on doomed political figures risking it all by maintaining love nests for secret trysts – but, otherwise, they couldn’t be further apart.
Now, this isn’t to suggest that Nora Moran is a bad film.
The truth is that it’s kinda/sorta mildly confusing in its sometimes-unconventional way of exploring the usual theatrical shtick: girl meets boy, they fall in love, and moral conventions of the day curse their union to the point of tragedy. Certainly, Hollywood has done that kind of thing before – hell, they continue to do it to this day – so it’s not all that surprising when Nora (as played by Zita Johann) finds herself trapped in an affair with aspiring would-be governor Dick Crawford (Paul Cavanagh) that’s likely destined to turn out poorly. There’s little surprise when it does, but the script – Frances Hyland is credited with adapting the W. Maxwell Goodhue stage play – tugs even further at heartstrings by giving the politician ‘the last word’ with his heartbroken suicide.
Where Nora Moran might struggle to a large degree with audiences is that it feels like two films somewhat mashed together at the midpoint.
Its first half joins our leading lady in the Big House where she’s awaiting execution for the crime of (apparently) murdering Paulino (John Miljan), a lion tamer who gave Nora her professional start with a gig in a traveling circus. In a twist of fate, viewers also learn that the man’s affinity for taking control extended beyond the lion’s cage as he’s depicted as violently raping his young assistant on a train ride. When she returns to his life much later in the arms of the future governor Crawford, Paulino schemes to extort her and her beloved for his own personal gain. But before those who watch get to that critical point, they’re carried along through Goldstone’s picture with constant montages, artistic camera pans, and endless dissolves to keep everything in motion.
Sadly but in some ways necessary, Nora Moran’s second half sacrifices the vast majority of that visual trickery in order to present the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth of the seminal confrontation (and results) of Paulino, Nora, and Dick. Goldstone (or director Howard Christie who also worked on the feature) must’ve wanted to remove all doubt of the wild ride of the set-up, setting aside a well-established bag of tricks for moments of truth; and the aesthetic differences just don’t resonate as strongly as do the romance and chaos of Nora’s happier days. Granted, they probably shouldn’t – I did suggest that the change was necessary – but going so far in the opposite direction makes Nora Moran seem like two different films.
Additionally, the project’s first half is laced with a dreamlike quality that some may’ve found confusing. Nora takes her audience on a trip through her highs and lows as she’s suffering the effects of a drug meant to lessen her anxieties the day of her prison execution. The resulting haze has the woman kinda/sorta breaking the fourth wall by asking aloud if she – as a participant in her dreams – can break the spell of history by now doing things differently. While this kind of thing generally works well in live stage plays – from which Nora Moran was based – I’ve not seen it performed as successful in filmed dramas. In fact, I personally tend to think the fact that reminding viewers that they’re merely watching a movie as opposed to letting the drama unfold organically is part of why such intimacy is required to make it effective.
The Sin Of Nora Moran (1933) was produced by Majestic Pictures and Larry Darmour Productions. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Film Masters. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I can confirm that this release has been restored from a 4K scan of the original 35mm camera negative (as per the slipcase insert); and – meh – the flick looks a bit pale all too often throughout much of the action. It isn’t bad; it’s just … meh. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? Sadly, this is a bare bones release, and there’s nothing extra included.
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
On a technical level, The Sin Of Nora Moran (1933) offers a good deal – in its first half – with its breezy and sometimes surreal cinematography and storytelling, whisking its audiences through the young girl’s tragic life via what seems like endless montages at a time when the industry was first learning how to use such practices. Sadly, the second half gives way to a somewhat leaden melodrama – complete with actress Zita Johann’s dour ‘woe is me’ temperament – and the picture loses any sense of originality or forward momentum. Still, kudos for those small moments when the script dares to do something edgy, like having its lead wonder aloud if she might be able to somehow change history while reliving the good, bad, and ugly of her past in drug-induced hallucinations.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Warner Archive (via Allied Vaughn) provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of The Sin Of Nora Moran (1933) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A young woman with a difficult past is sentenced for a murder she didn't commit, but revealing the truth could hurt people she loves.”
Honestly, I forget precisely how I’d heard about The Sin Of Nora Moran (1933).
What I can say is that somewhere in my voluminous reading into one of my all-time personal favorite pictures – 1941’s Citizen Kane – someone had mentioned that Nora Moran was ‘an inspiration.’ Whether this means it was cinematographically or structurally or thematically aligned, I couldn’t say; but I distinctly remember stumbling across some little factoid that mentioned it in association with the Orson Welles’ stunner, so I had to see it if for no other reason than to satisfy my curiosity. Now having done so, I can’t imagine that this mostly forgettable melodrama served as anything greater than some passing idea in which someone – maybe even Welles himself – referenced how director Phil Goldstone and cinematographer Ira Morgan propelled viewers forward into their narrative in order to attempt something similar in Kane. The two flicks share an extended reliance on montages and flashbacks – and perhaps even a bit of social commentary on doomed political figures risking it all by maintaining love nests for secret trysts – but, otherwise, they couldn’t be further apart.
Now, this isn’t to suggest that Nora Moran is a bad film.
The truth is that it’s kinda/sorta mildly confusing in its sometimes-unconventional way of exploring the usual theatrical shtick: girl meets boy, they fall in love, and moral conventions of the day curse their union to the point of tragedy. Certainly, Hollywood has done that kind of thing before – hell, they continue to do it to this day – so it’s not all that surprising when Nora (as played by Zita Johann) finds herself trapped in an affair with aspiring would-be governor Dick Crawford (Paul Cavanagh) that’s likely destined to turn out poorly. There’s little surprise when it does, but the script – Frances Hyland is credited with adapting the W. Maxwell Goodhue stage play – tugs even further at heartstrings by giving the politician ‘the last word’ with his heartbroken suicide.
Where Nora Moran might struggle to a large degree with audiences is that it feels like two films somewhat mashed together at the midpoint.
Its first half joins our leading lady in the Big House where she’s awaiting execution for the crime of (apparently) murdering Paulino (John Miljan), a lion tamer who gave Nora her professional start with a gig in a traveling circus. In a twist of fate, viewers also learn that the man’s affinity for taking control extended beyond the lion’s cage as he’s depicted as violently raping his young assistant on a train ride. When she returns to his life much later in the arms of the future governor Crawford, Paulino schemes to extort her and her beloved for his own personal gain. But before those who watch get to that critical point, they’re carried along through Goldstone’s picture with constant montages, artistic camera pans, and endless dissolves to keep everything in motion.
Sadly but in some ways necessary, Nora Moran’s second half sacrifices the vast majority of that visual trickery in order to present the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth of the seminal confrontation (and results) of Paulino, Nora, and Dick. Goldstone (or director Howard Christie who also worked on the feature) must’ve wanted to remove all doubt of the wild ride of the set-up, setting aside a well-established bag of tricks for moments of truth; and the aesthetic differences just don’t resonate as strongly as do the romance and chaos of Nora’s happier days. Granted, they probably shouldn’t – I did suggest that the change was necessary – but going so far in the opposite direction makes Nora Moran seem like two different films.
Additionally, the project’s first half is laced with a dreamlike quality that some may’ve found confusing. Nora takes her audience on a trip through her highs and lows as she’s suffering the effects of a drug meant to lessen her anxieties the day of her prison execution. The resulting haze has the woman kinda/sorta breaking the fourth wall by asking aloud if she – as a participant in her dreams – can break the spell of history by now doing things differently. While this kind of thing generally works well in live stage plays – from which Nora Moran was based – I’ve not seen it performed as successful in filmed dramas. In fact, I personally tend to think the fact that reminding viewers that they’re merely watching a movie as opposed to letting the drama unfold organically is part of why such intimacy is required to make it effective.
The Sin Of Nora Moran (1933) was produced by Majestic Pictures and Larry Darmour Productions. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Film Masters. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I can confirm that this release has been restored from a 4K scan of the original 35mm camera negative (as per the slipcase insert); and – meh – the flick looks a bit pale all too often throughout much of the action. It isn’t bad; it’s just … meh. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? Sadly, this is a bare bones release, and there’s nothing extra included.
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
On a technical level, The Sin Of Nora Moran (1933) offers a good deal – in its first half – with its breezy and sometimes surreal cinematography and storytelling, whisking its audiences through the young girl’s tragic life via what seems like endless montages at a time when the industry was first learning how to use such practices. Sadly, the second half gives way to a somewhat leaden melodrama – complete with actress Zita Johann’s dour ‘woe is me’ temperament – and the picture loses any sense of originality or forward momentum. Still, kudos for those small moments when the script dares to do something edgy, like having its lead wonder aloud if she might be able to somehow change history while reliving the good, bad, and ugly of her past in drug-induced hallucinations.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Warner Archive (via Allied Vaughn) provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of The Sin Of Nora Moran (1933) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
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