Reviewed by Colin Jacobson (April 20, 2025)
Joan Crawford’s film career lasted a whopping 45 years. With 1934’s Sadie McKee, we find the cinematic icon in the midst of her glory days.
Sadie McKee (Crawford) works as a maid for a wealthy family. When arrogant lawyer Michael Alderson (Franchot Tone) insults her boyfriend Tommy Wallace (Gene Raymond), she quits and runs off with him.
This doesn’t last, as Tommy soon flees for greener pastures. Sadie works through ups and downs in both her romantic life as well as her day to day existence.
While I don’t claim to possess an extensive knowledge of Crawford’s filmography, I do believe that she specialized in roles like Sadie. She did well when it came to women who fought against difficult situations to find themselves on top in some fashion.
That becomes the theme of McKee, and it also seems to make sense given the era. The movie hit with the US mired in the Great Depression, and I suspect audiences liked tales of working people who strove to better their circumstances.
Of course, Crawford’s particular brand of borderline campy heroine helped. She became beloved by the gay community for a few reasons, one of which stemmed from the manner in which some of her performances leaned toward scenery-chewing.
To my surprise, Crawford reins in those tendencies here. Though the role opens to that kind of work, she manages to create a more realistic character via the long-suffering Sadie.
And make no mistake: poor Sadie suffers a lot of indignities here. Essentially the film follows her struggles as they relate to men.
Michael clearly carries a torch for Sadie, but his aggressive arrogance alienates her. Sadie can’t resist Tommy even after he abandons her, but he remains a clear cad.
Sadie eventually winds up with raging alcoholic Jack Brennan (Edward Albert), a man she marries solely for wealth. In a real feat, the movie somehow avoids the depiction of Sadie as a heartless gold-digger even through she clearly only tolerates Jack for the money.
McKee feels like a conundrum via Sadie’s path. On one hand, the film wants to paint Sadie as a scrappy independent woman, one whose only true connection comes from her friendship with jaded NYC pal Opal (Jeane Dixon).
However, rather than grant Sadie a life outside of the men she knows, McKee never allows her to function without these relationships. This turns the movie into more of a melodrama than I otherwise might expect.
Still, Crawford does carry the film nicely. She walks a fine line, as she permits us to like and root for Sadie despite some of the character’s potentially off-putting traits.
McKee also manages to depict Sadie as in control of her life despite her apparent dependence on men. That turns into a pretty startling accomplishment given the various plot threads.
All this leads toward a conclusion where Sadie ends up on top in some way, and the inevitability of that should make McKee drag. However, the film manages a compelling enough character story to keep us with it.
