Released: 1942

Dir.: Curtis Bernhardt

I have a weakness for classic Warner Brothers films. There is nothing overly extraordinary about Juke Girl, it was just another picture on the production rooster, but that doesn’t mean it’s not a good film for your viewing pleasure. For an average run of the mill film, you still get caught up in its story, with a climax that can make your blood boil if you allow it to. By 1942, it’s the kind of film Warner Bros. had down to a science.

The story focuses on the exploitation of farmers and farmworkers by a big business monopoly in Florida. Steve Talbot (Ronald Reagan) and his buddy Danny (Richard Whorf) drift into the town of Cat-Tail looking for work and don’t waste any time finding trouble. They stumble into a dispute between packing plant owner Henry Madden (Gene Lockhart), and farmer Nick Garcos (George Tobias). Madden is offering peanuts for Nick’s crop of tomatoes, forcing Nick into the prospect of having to truck his tomatoes 600 miles to Atlanta. Nick is fully aware that Madden can call his buddies to the north and shut Nick out. It’s a no win for Nick and his tomatoes.

Speaking of tomatoes, also drifting into town is Lola Mears (Ann Sheridan), a juke girl hired by a local roadhouse, a dime a dance dame who can belt out a tune and will come between Steve and Danny.

Nick and Madden also come between Steve and Danny, as Steve sides with Nick the underdog, and Danny with Madden the corporate tyrant. It’s the unending story of integrity vs. greed. Madden surrounds himself with bullies and uneducated goons who follow him blindly, while Nick is surrounded by, well, Steve. However, Steve can be a force to be reckoned with as he steals one of Madden’s trucks on Nick’s behalf to get his tomatoes to Atlanta. The scheme ultimately fails, ending in the destruction of Nick’s crop, but Steve isn’t about to abandon Nick. Steve himself is a farmer through and through.

Juke Girl is the tried-and-true formula of David vs. Goliath, and the kind of formula of injustice, underdog story that I get sucked into all the time. Feeling like an underdog myself sometimes, I shouldn’t be surprised.

I’m not going to get into the future political exploits of Ronald Reagan, I’m here to talk about Juke Girl, and as the hard-working Mr. Everyman, Reagan is just fine as Nick’s champion, only interested in doing honest, hard work. Reagan gets the job done. No master thespian required.

Ann Sheridan is one of my favourite Warner Bros. actors. Underappreciated by a studio that seemed to give all their prestige projects to Bette Davis or Joan Crawford. Ann Sheridan could do it all, drama, comedy, she’s hilarious in The Man Who Came to Dinner, she did her own singing, and could deliver a wisecrack as if she had invented them. In Juke Girl, we get a bit of everything she had to offer, and it feels like she got very little thanks for it. Nice job kid, get back to work, your next picture is Wings for the Eagle.

The climax of Juke Girl finds Steve and Lola in jail for a crime they didn’t commit. Madden’s head goon, Cully (Howard Da Silva) begins to fire up all the sub-goons, demanding Steve and Lola be brought to their own form of justice, by lynching. Demands for a fair and legal trial fall on deaf ears, as the mob want to be their own judge and jury.

This type of mob scene is nothing new to the movies, but it’s very effective. As we know from bitter experience, ‘the mob’ can be riled up to shocking levels of violence and inhumanity, based of lack of facts, false information, and ignorance. Pretty heavy stuff when we are just talking about ‘another run of the mill movie’, but that’s where Juke Girl takes us. Ridiculous? Perhaps I’m reading too much into it, but I was pretty anxious when Cully and his goons set about storming the jailhouse.

So, if you find yourself watching Juke Girl, or any movie featuring a mob that’s out for blood, remember, it’s just a movie. And perhaps a subtle reminder of just how little progress we’ve made.

Juke Girl is available on DVD from the Warner Archive and airs periodically on TCM.