Beautiful, moving film.

Instead, you get a movie that's enjoyable enough, but leaves you feeling like it could have been much, much more.

The film makes a home in your brain and the only cure is to see it again.

The movie turns out to be a little better than the average. Starting from a romantic formula often seen in the cinema, it ends in the most predictable (and somewhat bland) way.

Is it better to search for a park bench to sleep on or try the world's oldest profession where the only thing that happens if you are caught is a roof over your head and three meals a day? That's what down on her luck Sally Blane is trying to figure out, having been given advice from professional streetwalker Gwen Lee. She is rescued by four aging artists when they witness her about to be arrested by the undercover cop she just approached. One of them (Henry B. Walthall) claims to be her grandfather, and after helping her get back into her apartment where she was just evicted for non-payment of rent, the four men move in next door, hiring her as their maid so they can keep an eye on her with Lee's help. When Blane's old boyfriend tries to get her back, Walthall and the other men realize that he's no good, and try to find her another more appropriate young man to help her get her life back together. This is a rather ordinary, unremarkable "B" movie from the short-lived Chesterfield Studios, and even though it has some obvious elements of pre-code, it isn't as spicy as it sounds. So you can call this a "Cinderella" story (or more of a "Snow White" story with the four artists replacing the seven dwarfs) with Lee delightfully tough yet big hearted as the obvious older hooker with years of experience underneath her belt. Nothing really comes out of this, but fortunately, it is short enough to get through.

Pretty Sally Blaine has been locked out of her apartment by the mean old landlady. Will she have to get arrested for solicitation to get a warm bed, or will three nice old derelicts (led by Henry B. Walthall) in CITY PARK save her from a jail record and who knows what else?Henry B. Walthall was a gift to low budget movie makers in the early thirties, enlivening countless cheapo flicks with excellent, rather sad performances of people who have, for one reason or another, seemed to have passed their prime. In this one, Walthall seems to be channeling George Arliss, as his hero is not just well-meaning, but effective and determined to bring together a pair of young lovers by the end of the movie.The dramatic tension is caused by a couple of things. One of them is Walthall's good natured, tactically clever, but utterly mistaken intervention in Sally Baline's love life. The other is the mystery of who exactly Walthall is. Both these little mysteries, and Walthall's strong performance, keep this from being a dreary piece of sentimental ickyness.This is pre-code, but there is not much girls in undress or rampant immorality. However, there is no attempt to conceal that the prostitute with the heart of gold really is a prostitute, and isn't giving up the profession. (This becomes a plot point and the end of the show.)Like most Bs produced by Chesterfield in the early 30s, this isn't brilliant, but is worth seeing.