Safe in Hell (1931, William A. Wellman) (Patreon)

59/100

More interesting/surprising than compelling, which I frequently find to be the case with pre-Code cult favorites. Don't believe I'd ever seen Dorothy Mackaill before (unless you want to count an archival cameo in Zelig), and her tough-cookie swagger at the outset promises more raw energy than the movie can ultimately deliver; things flatline for a while after Gilda arrives on the island, as she initially remains up in her room just trying to keep a low profile. I didn't need the fellas downstairs to be Ball of Fire's voluble pseudo-dwarves, but a single robust personality out of the lot would've been welcome, as opposed to endless shots of each one stretching his legs out in turn (???). Theoretically, Wellman might have compensated with rich atmosphere, tacky low-budget sets notwithstanding—I'm fairly confident that I Walked With a Zombie wasn't shot on location, either—but he doesn't even really make an effort. What's memorable is Gilda's startling climactic decision, which gives the film's title a second, even darker meaning and turns her not merely into a "good girl" (as opposed to the stereotypical "bad girl" of that era) but practically into Thomas freakin' More. Sends you out on a high note of romantic martyrdom, and it's always refreshing to see a nearly century-old Hollywood film at least feint at demonstrating compassion for a former sex worker (though Gilda's a very penitent example), but I can't entirely look past the fact that at least 30 of Safe in Hell's mere 71 minutes can be most accurately described as nondescript.