The first half of this film is positively groundbreaking for its time; a tale centering two women from the same small town, one a musician, one a bricklayer, who become best friends in the big city, learning how to be independent and strong by themselves, decades before the
Bechdel Test became a thing.
But then, a guy shows up. And it's not just any guy, but an architect who sexually assaulted one of them in the first act. He doesn't remember, of course -- it must happen all the time! Men, amirite? -- and so he sees her, and woos her anew, and then he woos the other one too, on the sly from each other, because why the hell not. He's still a shit.
It feels like André de Toth finished the first half of the film, but then someone at the studio (or a backer, or someone) saw it and told him to cut all this ladies-making-their-own-decisions business out. By the end of this film, someone is marrying that date rapist, and these two best friends from the same small town have to hate each other's guts, no matter how unrealistic the plot is.
Look, there's plenty of snappy dialogue, and the cinematography is often really inventive. It's great to look at. But the moral of the story is: horny men suck, there's no shame whatsoever in being a musician, even in a bar band, and if you have a real friend in this world, keep them close. Friends are way rarer than lovers.
