To humanize the prison a little more for the interred ladies, there are guards who bare more of a clearly defined gendered role as ‘woman’ second to being a ‘guard’ first. Some, even entering into a gray area of caretaker, or overseer, definitely do not have the relentless iron myopic worldview of the neutered van Zandt. Toward the end, the rigid Matron Sturgess begins to come around, once she gets a belly full of van Zandt’s sadism.

There’s a lighter moment toward the end of the film where two female prison guards (one played by Mae Clarke, -(Matron Saunders) from the grapefruit-in-the-face scene in Public Enemy), chat before going on break. There’s clearly a certain level of normalcy amongst the matrons. Some have lives outside the prison and do a straightforward job of watching over the women responsibly and respectfully.

“I want to catch the last show at the Bijou.”
“That prison movie?”
“Yeah.”
“They never get things right in prison pictures.”
“I know, but I like to pick out the flaws.”

The dames in this prison are there for various reasons. One is a stripper who’s got ’10 to life’ One of the new girls asks her ‘You got 10 to life for taking off your clothes?” The stripper says, ‘No, I also shot my agent!” This brings out a burst of laughter amongst the girls, who form a bond inside the joint.

One of the girls is in for forging checks again. Seeing a pretty dress and not being able to resist! Jan Sterling who plays Brenda has big doe eyes and is in for ‘paper hanging.’

Brenda meets Helene on the first day of her incarceration. When they first arrive at the prison together- She tells the scared Helene “You won’t like it at first, but once you get used to it, you’ll really hate it!”

Brenda is a type of local celebrity at the prison. The guards are familiar with her, amiable almost affectionately antagonistic- Matron Sturgess greets her, “She’s paroled a brunette and comes back a blonde!”

Brenda jovially matches Sturgess’ dig,  and before she can complete her “Well… well… well”, Brenda wide-eyed and smiles say, “Hello Sturgess, You’ve put on a little weight!”

Sturgess comes back, “I’ll lose some of it now that you’re back on our hands” Sturgess looks her up and down.

Phyllis Thaxter’s character Helene Jensen is in for involuntary manslaughter. She accidentally ran over a little girl while trying to pass a car on the right. The confines of the prison and the guilt of the accident drive Helene toward a major mental breakdown, bringing the attention of the prison doctor, the kindly and compassionate Dr. Crane played by Howard Duff.

Another of the girls was involved in an armed robbery. Most of these girls are criminals, but they aren’t hard-edged anti-social types who need to be treated like dangerous offenders or untamed animals.

These women are tough, and because the prison inherently sets up a dynamic where the inmates must distinguish themselves as outsiders and miscreants, naturally the environment becomes one of ‘us against them.’

The prison creates an atmosphere where the women will form alliances which appear more like a sorority with lots of camaraderies even though they are in a maximum security jail. This elevates them to a level of human connection that the system is trying to strip away from them, and it disallows the institutional bonds that perforate the environment, which is otherwise claustrophobic and demoralizing. The bonds that the women form, are a necessary micro-society of women who will transcend class and race at times because their need for self-preservation is their greatest imperative.

Of course, this goes against the grain of the strict foundation van Zandt is trying to set up. No socializing, no happiness, no identity, and no idea that freedom is possible. Pay your debt quietly, with no questions, no trouble, until or if you ever get paroled or til you die in there.

These women have all made mistakes. They also have a certain class consciousness that has made them world-weary and mistrustful of authority. They also have insight into their own flaws, making them likable, and more human than the authority figures who are in charge of their internment.

Jan Sterling who plays Brenda Martin, writes some bad checks again, and so winds back inside. As if she knew it was not only inevitable but actually a welcomed relief to come home again. Being met with great cheers from her friends, even though she has blown her parole. “Our old friend’s back!” Brenda is the heroine of the film.

One of the flaws of the film is the stereotyping of Juanita Moore’s character Polyclinic ‘Polly’ Jones. We first meet Polly, one of the black prisoners, on her hands and knees scrubbing the floor singing “Swing low sweet Chariot”

Is this lax scriptwriting, stereotyping the black woman yet again as a ‘servant/slave’ amongst the white prisoners? the one who is closest to doing the dirty work, all the while singing a negro spiritual, yet jolly in her social and institutional captivity. It is suggestive of her being the iconic ‘Aunt Jemima’ character for a reason, playing a lower role even in the hierarchy of the prison system. Showing the inequity of racial status within the hierarchy of prison life is either a sociological statement or pure stereotyping on the part of the script.

Though… Polly is not wearing a rag on her head, and the white prisoner is mopping the floor standing up using a handled mop, Polly is on the floor scrubbing the grime and the filth clean whilst on her knees.

The camera frames Polly on her knees with the wash bucket, looking from her perspective/vantage point at the white legs in, nice shoes, a dress, and a purse of the newly arrived, re-offender Brenda. The juxtaposition is striking.

At times, I have discovered certain deeper narratives, by singling out one frame and studying its composition, aside from experiencing the film as it rolls by.

Polly asks Brenda “What happened”, and Brenda tells her “Never mind” Polly smiles,  ‘I’m sure glad you came home’ Transcending race, the bond forged by these institutionalized women is strong. They refer to it as ‘home’. They seem comfortable there. Even some of the guards actually respond amiably toward Brenda as if she is a celebrity of a sort.

Polly ‘clinic’ Jones, ‘My mama named me after the hospital where I was born.’

Polly gets introduced to Helene. She tells her that she doesn’t look like she belongs in a place like this. ‘What happened was it a man?’ Brenda steps in and says it’s a long story. She’s taking a nurturing role to Helene. Watching over her like a guardian angel.

If there is one particular class issue that the film likes to make it’s that these hardened women, prisoners though they may be, are wiser in the ways of life and love, friendship and struggle, than any of the women in positions of power over them. Being a prisoner, being locked up, can give you a very subjective view of the world. van Zandt is a prisoner of her inner hatred, pent-up rage, and myopic view of the world she lives completely outside of.

Joan’s (Audrey Totter) husband Glen (Warren Stevens) is caught forging work papers to try and get over to the women’s cell block and is sent to the Warden’s office. The male prisoners too, are faced with intolerance and corruption. Dr. Crane begins to hate the system. Egomaniacs in positions of power… A cigar-smoking bully and an erudite pipe smoker… The opposition/confrontation narrative is set up early on in the film.

What’s unusual, and perhaps problematic, is that the women’s prison sits adjacent to the men’s prison. The State won’t devote money to building separate prisons. This leaves a level of anxiety for the guards and the warden, to prevent the problem of men sneaking over onto the women’s ward. The Worry of Men-Smuggling!

Women’s Prison only focuses on one particular man making it over to the women’s side. The husband Glen Burton played by Warren Stevens is desperate to see his wife Joan (Audrey Totter).

The men aren’t running rampant trying to seduce their co-ed inmates or carrying on clandestine debaucheries in secret underground tunnels dug out with dull spoons. It’s just Glen who wants to see Joan let her know where the money is hidden so that she’ll be taken care of when she gets out of jail. Joan got time for being in possession of guns used in the holdup, though she was not complicated in the robbery.

The problem is, they love each other so much, that when Glen finally manages to sneak into the laundry room one afternoon to spend some time with his wife, she winds up pregnant! And that sets the warden and van Zandt on a witch hunt to try and find out the leak between the men’s prison and the women’s. The Warden and van Zandt are more concerned about how it appears, so the pressure is on to find out how Glen got over, so they can put an end to their embarrassment.

Van Zandt is so under pressure from her male boss to make this debacle right, that she becomes a ferocious meat eater and beats Glen’s wife Joan unconscious and she loses the baby.

Van Zandt also suffers from a form of megalomania where she believes that only she can see the right road of rehabilitation, “She knows these women better than anyone, and she knows what she needs to do to ‘reform’ them.”

That would be, let’s say, taking a traumatized newcomer who isn’t a criminal, juicing her with so many tranquilizers, then forcing her into a straight jacket, and placing her into solitary confinement for several days, until she barely has a pulse. Then take a pregnant woman, who is already pretty weak and beat her senseless.

Now that’s rehabilitation !!!!

The film showcases a very brutal scene, bearing a realism that some films of the mid to late 50s might not have dared to do, where after having been dragged out of her cell, Joan who is obviously ill from the pregnancy, sleep deprived and worn out, is thrown to van Zandt for one immortal beating, screaming as she is whacked around, all the time begging that she knows nothing about how her husband got across to the women’s side of the prison.

She is telling the truth, but van Zandt wants her pound of flesh, revenge, and wants someone to take the blame for the breach that made her look weak to Warden Brock. Her brutal unforgiving punishment toward this listless, pregnant girl, is quite breathtaking in its sadism. Lupino is unrelenting as her inward rage turns outward at Joan.

Dr. Crane has a much different philosophy about the female inmates, he believes that van Zandt truly hates the women prisoners, and it’s because of her resentment that ‘every broken wreck in here has some experience with love.’

Dr Crane– You enjoy your power don’t you Amelia?
van Zandt – I enjoy my work if that’s what you mean…after all, I’m rebuilding human beings…the lives of women committed to my care. You know I’m a student of psychology doctor.
Dr. Crane– so am I….

Dr. Crane -May I tell you what’s wrong with you
van Zandt– Well do by all means
Dr. Crane- You dislike most of the women here…because…deep down…you’re jealous of them
Van Zandt- that’s absurd

Dr Crane –You’re feminine and attractive, you must have had opportunities to marry. Maybe you even cared for somebody once. in your cold way.
van Zandt (rising from the table, taking off her glasses) How dare you!
Dr. Crane – But possibly he turned to somebody who could give him what he really wanted…warmth, understanding… love) There’s hardly a woman inside these walls that doesn’t know what love is.
van Zandt – Yes and that’s why most of them are here
Dr. Crane-Exactly… Even the broken wrecks have known some kind of love, and that’s why you hate them
van Zandt- What you call hate… is complete understanding doctor… knowledge gained by years of study and hard work. I know these women…all of them…. and only a strong mind can control them. And if you had any real understanding you know what I’m doing to rehabilitate them, yes even the psychopath.
Dr. Crane– You’re the psychopath, Amelia, believe me!
van Zandt – Get out of here!!!

Perhaps Dr. Crane is the ‘explainer’ of the film, yet It’s too easy to assume that Amelia van Zandt exerts her venomous rage on the other matrons and female inmates, because most or all have husbands or fellas of their own on the outside. She is a driven workaholic whose work ethic and obstinate moralizing have skewed her world to the point of fanaticism.

Also to consider is the fact that Crane’s view is skewed by his male gaze. He assumes, that he has the omnipotent psychological edge of reasoning as there is an inherent legacy that men are more intellectually superior and women naturally are prone to emotionalism, jealousy, weakness, and lack of leadership. As compassionate as Dr. Crane appears, it is still not surprising that he is playing the gender card regarding van Zandt’s motivations, in particular, that they are founded in emotional psychosis and a flawed yet intellectually rooted belief system.

While I do believe that a small part of her rage may be motivated by jealousy, the more pervasive interpretation of her animosity toward the inmates stems from a manifested psychosis of a god complex, like that of the puritanical ministers who were able to burn people at the stake for being witches and godless, when they were merely ordinary people, perhaps of fewer means, misunderstood, or struggling. van Zandt is a dangerous figurehead of conservative power out of control, in a society where people are not perfect, and the American dream is not attainable for all.

The film builds slowly, intentionally as van Zandt and her phallus giant key ring, which remains clasped to her belt at all times, move stealthily around the prison, keeping an eye on the inmates, tamping down any sign of joy or human experience the women might be exchanging. She grows more paranoid, and Dr. Crane sees this pressure cooker that’s about to explode. When he tries to suggest or intervene on Helene Johnson’s behalf, after her solitary confinement locked into a straight jacket just for being frightened and shocked by her new surroundings, driving her into a catatonic state, van Zandt becomes even more combative at being challenged by this liberal doctor.

Dr Crane takes a special interest in Helene after her initial breakdown when she first arrives, trying to encourage her he tells her “You’ll get parole” Then he gives her a sedative. Unfortunately, Helene is so traumatized by her first night in prison. Helene’s psyche is much too fragile and freaks out with the guards so against Dr Crane’s orders, she is thrown into solitary, while he huffs on his pipe and broods.

Crane refers to van Zandt as a ‘borderline psychopath’ without much support, which again during the time period of Women’s Prison with much obsession and emphasis on psychiatric therapy, brings to light another question,

Are ‘The inmates running the asylum’…? Are the jailers any more equipped to govern, or are they just as dangerous as those in captivity? It’s an honest question…

Okay, so I’ve analyzed the film and haven’t gone the other route and exploited all the campy B-movie sensationalist enjoyment I also got out of watching a fabulous ensemble cast of bleached blonde beauties, beating their fists against concrete walls one minute or slinking around the starched, stiff-backed guards in white rubber shoes. Dames showing off their curves and sucking on a cigarette like it was a penis.

I’m not blind to the pure joyful pleasures of boob watching, especially when the ensemble is part of the set decoration from a sweaty laundry room scene where Brenda (Jan Sterling) purposely burns her hand on the iron press, just so Glen and Joan Burton can do their conjugal thing in the linen closet after Glen sneaks out of the men’s side of the prison. To the close quarters of the cells, where the women dream about their last good time, whispering to their sweethearts in their sleep!

It is the same wisecracking platinum blonde Brenda (Jan Sterling) who takes Helene under her wing and helps her get adjusted to her new life on the inside. Brenda is a gentle soul but is not opposed to becoming aggressive or protective of her friends. She becomes roused by the mistreatment at the climax and is the strong voice for the group of women, shouting at van Zandt “People need to know what’s going on in here.”

Sterling’s character acts as sort of the heart and soul of the film. The human face that speaks for all the women inside. Cleo Moore, another veteran ‘bad girl’ from the Noir realm plays platinum blonde Mae, Brenda’s good friend who’s been trying to improve Mae’s grammar while in prison. Their relationship is solid and adds humor to the film. At one point Mae starts snapping at an adversary saying ‘One squawk out of you and I’ll punch a hole right in your diagram’ Brenda surrounded by chaos quietly corrects Mae,  ‘Diaphragm honey.’

Audrey Totter another Noir staple is terrific as Joan Burton, the woman whose husband just can’t stop trying to sneak over to the women’s side of the prison to see his wife. I recently saw Totter play a much older paunchy nurse with one line per episode in the 1970s television drama Medical Center, starring Chad Everett. It made me sad to see her delegated to inane lines like ‘phone call for you Dr. Gannon on line 3’

Playing the nonessential middle-aged nurse, when once she commanded the screen as ‘femme fatale’ ‘dish or dame’, ‘bad girl’ or even vivacious tramp.’ Now she’s just a lady in a starched white uniform and comfortable shoes, changing bedpans, taking phone messages for a gorgeous male doctor that wouldn’t give her a second look. Irony.

While Brenda plays the heart of the film, it’s Totter’s character Joan who is the conscience of the film. She forges the connection between right and wrong and the measure of how far-reaching the hand of justice should play in the role of managing the lives of people in a set system of rules. Even while serving time for a conceivably punishable crime, like an accomplice to a bank robbery. Joan is the counterweight to van Zandt’s sterile and unyielding hold on her strident truth of a black-and-white moral code.

Whereas, married sweethearts, Joan and Glen while criminals are perceived as very human, loving, and not just ‘all bad’, without consideration of their circumstances. As it is with Helene who was a perfectly upright citizen who happened to make a bad choice that changed the trajectory of her life, and created the child victim she accidentally killed with her car. Helene’s own conscience, guilt, and isolation create an environment where she has no other direction to go but to ‘crash’ emotionally. Van Zandt and the other matrons, treat her like a hysterical woman instead of getting her the psychiatric care she needs, while she is serving her time for manslaughter. Fighting Dr.Crane while he tries to help Helene adjust to her new environment.

The culmination, the fevered climax comes from Glen’s sneaking out to see Joan while in a coma, carrying his child, van Zandt having beaten her into unconsciousness. The inmates are being pushed to the brink of mutiny against the cruel and vicious van Zandt, and Dr. Crane has had enough puffing on his pipe and watching these women being treated like animals.

Crane, finally sheds his weakly perfunctory moral objections, takes the pipe out of his flaccid mouth, loses his soft bedside impotence, and finally heats up, threatening van Zandt with disciplinary action, if Joan dies, and that there’ll be ‘2 murders’ on her hands and Warden Brock’s.

Dr. Crane –“You are a borderline psychopath, Warden. And you are very close to the border.”

Amelia van Zandt- “Aren’t we all, doc.”

End of part one. Coming soon Part Two Ida Lupino in Women in Chains 1972