Harvard Law School Makes Online Zero-L Course Free for All U.S. Law Schools Due to Coronavirus
For Kennedy School Fellows, Epstein-Linked Donors Present a Moral Dilemma
Tenants Grapple with High Rents and Local Turnover at Asana-Owned Properties
In April, Theft Surged as Cambridge Residents Stayed at Home
The History of Harvard's Commencement, Explained
"The Great O'Malley" is a stupid, run-of-the-mill picture which divides its time between half-hearted humor and blatant sentimentality. The theme is old, yet one that can be convincing if it is well done. This time it is not particularly well done.
Pat O'Bren is a dumb Irish cop named O'Malley, noted for his hard-headed tactics in handing out tickets for minor traffic violations and for his strict enforcement of the out-of-date Book of Ordinances. When he refuses to case up on the minor offenders, he is transferred to a safety beat which consists of playing nursemaid to a group of schoolchildren crossing streets.
At this point a new and tender note enters his life. He is struck by an appealing little girl who has trouble walking because of a poorly act broken leg. They become fast friends, and O'Malley learns that she is the daughter of one John Phillips (Humphry Bogart) whom he has railroaded to the State Prison. Realizing his shortcomings, he has a famous doctor reset the girl's leg, obtains a parolo for Phillips, and, in short, "goes soft."
As presented by O'Brien the story is just so much drivel. The entire picture falls flat simply because the part is a delicate one to handle, and he fails to lend any plausibility to it. Humphry Bogart is excellent as Phillips, but Sybil Jason fails to arouse much sympathy as the child.
If, some thousands of years hence, a group of archaeologists searching for traces of the lost civilization of America should unearth a few reels of "Career Woman," they would undoubtedly come to the conclusion that twentieth century standards of entertainment in this country were at an all-time low. This film, starring Claire Trevor, is a rambling account of a girl who wants to be a lawyer. The piece goes on and on, finally stopping of its own accord when it becomes tired.
Featuring the music of Lee Shelley's fourteen piece orchestra, the Hotel Brunswick Casino announces a new policy of continuous entertainment from seven in the evening until one in the morning.
The management also announces that there will be no cover or minimum charge Monday through Thursday. On Friday and Saturday evenings dinner will be $1.50
Want to keep up with breaking news? Subscribe to our email newsletter.