The Ides of The Thirties: Streamline Express

Note: Evelyn Venable radiated luminous intelligence and poise, blending wit, warmth, and quiet daring. Her performances shimmered with modern grace, subtle humor, and emotional clarity, leaving an enduring impression of elegance, curiosity, and individuality. And 1930s Hollywood didn't have the foggiest notion what to do with her. She had a short acting career, but became a Latinist at UCLA.

Streamline Express
1935 / 1:11
Tagline: “Drama on the Rails, Comedy off the Rails!”
[internet archive]

This period dramedy opens with a burst of optimistic Thirties music similar to Ted Lewis-style jazz promising There’s a New Day Coming. But what follows is more of a nostalgic curiosity than a rediscovered gem. It’s a B-picture with Broadway dreams, a streamlined train, and a plot that chugs along with more style than substance.

Evelyn Venable stars as Patricia Wallace, a Broadway diva with a spine of steel and a fiancé of mush (Ralph Forbes). Tired of being berated in front of the company by her director (Victor Jory, all smarm and swagger), she bolts from the stage and onto the latest marvel of modernity: a coast-to-coast train that promises California in 20 hours. It’s Grand Hotel on rails, with a cross-section of American types packed into sleek compartments and art deco corridors.

The film’s premise is promising, and the first act delivers some snappy, rough-edged dialogue that captures the pre-Code bite. But the story quickly derails into a mix of romantic manipulation and half-hearted satire. Jory’s director, in a move that would raise eyebrows even in 1934, bribes his way into a steward’s uniform to stalk - er, win back - his leading lady. His antics are meant to be bold and charming to win the lady fair; today, they read more like a case study in gaslighting and sexual harassment with hints of retaliation.

Venable, always a luminous presence, gets her moment – literally - at the 51-minute mark when she lets her hair down, figuratively and literally. It’s not quite as breath-taking as her scene on the staircase in Death Takes a Holiday, but it’s a reminder of her quiet screen magnetism. Her transformation from distressed damsel to righteous fury is the film’s most satisfying arc, even if it’s wrapped in a bow of romantic reconciliation after Jory takes a shoe to her sit-down. "Well sir, the past?” chimes in Theodor “Clem” Adorno. “That’s a whole 'nother country... I reckon they do things a mite different over yonder. Kinda like visitin’ Aunt Tilly’s - nothin’ makes a lick o’ sense, but you smile polite anyhow.”

The supporting cast does what it can. Esther Ralston is elegant but underused, and Erin O’Brien-Moore brings a touch of dignity to a subplot that barely registers. The dialogue veers into the risqué with lines that would make a Hays Code censor twitch. A chorine says, “If he yelled at me like that, I’d call out the Marines,” to which a smart-aleck replies “Yeah, you could call them all out by name.”

Visually, it’s all clean lines and austere columns - Thirties modernism on the cheap. The confined setting gives it a stagey feel, which might have worked better if the script had more pizzazz or the characters more depth.

In the end, this is a film for the completists, for movie-goers who pat themselves on the back because they know their Evelyn Venable from their Rochelle Hudson, who appreciate a train movie, good or not. It’s not even close to essential viewing, but it’s a pleasant enough ride for a snowy Saturday night, especially if you’re in the mood for a little vintage escapism.