Nora Moran, a young woman with a difficult and tragic past, is sentenced to die for a murder that she did not commit. She could easily reveal the truth and save her own life, if only it would not damage the lives, careers, and reputations of those who she loves.
Starring Zita Johann – probably best known for her role in the 1932 version of “The Mummy” with Boris Karloff – “The Sin of Nora Moran” features the popular actress in the title role in a film released the very next year. Hardly a wallflower, the enigmatic Austrian-American performer Johann reportedly once asked a studio head why he made such rubbish.
The 1930s was a period of transition for the major studios. After 1927’s “The Jazz Singer” introduced talking films, followed by their widespread adoption in 1929, directors and producers avoided incorporating music, perhaps as a way to ensure a clean break from the heavy-handed silent film scores. “The Sin of Nora Moran” did not follow suit – as with many other of the film’s innovative techniques, the musical score serves to highlight the drama. Other elements of interesting features surrounding this production do not end there. The vaudeville scenes depicting bare-legged dancers, for example, would not similarly reappear on film screens until decades later. Use of flashbacks and double exposures to advance the narrative presages future innovations in visual storytelling. Finally, and similar to other pre-code films, not all of the characters necessarily pay for their sins in the end.
It’s hard to overstate the impact of the movies on America in the 1930s. During this period until the advent of television, 40 to 60 million Americans attended the movies each week. That contrasts with contemporary attendance figures even before the COVID-19 pandemic, when the number of weekly moviegoers hovered around only 10 million, despite a near tripling of the population since the 1930s. Movies mattered back then as much or more than they do now.
The movie poster for “The Sin of Nora Moran” by acclaimed artist Alberto Vargas also heightens the intrigue during Hollywood’s pre-code era, which did not really take effect until 1934 – a year after the film’s release and at least partly as a result of the Great Depression. Many in America blamed the excesses of the 1920s on the resulting economic downturn, with filmmakers on the receiving end of much of that wrath.
As the story opens, Nora first appears onscreen awaiting the electric chair before the details of what led to that fate emerge. In her youth, living in foster care as a child, an elderly couple of modest means adopts Nora. At last in a real home, she experiences true contentment, albeit a short-lived one. When her adoptive parents die unexpectedly in a car crash, Nora is alone once again.
With her meager inheritance, she sets out to become a dancer, only to find herself rebuffed repeatedly, despite her hard work. In desperation, she joins a traveling circus, where she at least secures a modest taste of the limelight. Unfortunately, her mentor, Paulino the lion tamer, played by John Miljan, has his own nefarious designs on her. Nora leaves the circus in shame, moving to New York. There, she meets aspiring politician Dick Crawford (Paul Cavanagh), a married man. Nonetheless, he quickly falls in love and puts Nora up in a modest home just across the state line. Despite life as a kept woman, Nora feels love and brief happiness once more after Crawford becomes governor.
Claire Du Brey as Mrs. Edith Crawford, the governor’s wife, discovers notes that Nora sent, making the affair plain. Edith shows the letters to her brother, District Attorney John Grant (Alan Dinehart), who also serves as narrator during the forward and backward unfolding of events. He explains how Nora sits on death row for a murder she did not commit, demonstrating an unexpected loyalty to all those around her, including Grant.
Henry Walthall as Father Ryan offers a confident if somewhat hammy screen presence – boasting over 300 acting credits to his name. Initially, Father Ryan arranges for Nora’s adoption and then years later shows up at her side shortly before the scheduled execution.
Lovingly restored by Samuel M. Sherman and David Shepard along with the UCLA Film and Television Archive, the quality on this Blu-ray disc is excellent. The screenplay, written by Frances Hyland – one of her nearly sixty scripts spanning the late 1920s through the end of World War II – demonstrates yet another example of the important role women writers played in Hollywood’s early days.
The package also comes with an interesting documentary entitled “The Mysterious Life of Zita Johann” that provides further background on the production for film buffs. Directed by Phil Goldstone, it’s refreshing to see underappreciated gems like “The Sin of Nora Moran” come back into circulation in the wake of another severe economic downturn and a new uncertain era for movie studios. In those and other respects, the 2020 re-release of “Nora Moran” proves quite timely indeed.
Now available in a Special Limited Edition Collectible Blu-ray from The Film Detective
Great to see Zita Johann in one of her few film credits, outside of her role in the 1932 Universal studios The Mummy, with Boris Karloff. Love makes people do strange things and Nora chooses to go to the electric chair for a crime she didn’t commit. Considering what a horrific demise the electric chair provides, it is truly heartbreaking to see how her love and devotion to a married man, allows her to accept a terrible fate. The only way to understand her decision is to look at her life, where she seeks love and comfort, only to be… Read more »