Postal Investigators Tom and Doris follow a trail from a mail robbery on the East Coast to Los Angeles using a letter sent by General Delivery to “Jane Turner”. When the letter (with loads of cash in it) is picked up by a woman whose name is also Jane Turner, both the cops and the robbers are on her trail.
Yep, that’s always been a problem.
If you’re wondering whether to see the movie, do so only for the General Delivery part. Otherwise, it’s a b-movie all the way through, made potentially interesting only because of Doris, who is a female postal inspector and almost, but not quite, equal. Guess what happens to Tom and Doris at the end. Just guess.
The ending leaves no possibility that Tom will let Doris work after she marries him. He wants her in the kitchen and bedroom, not sure in which order.
This is the most sexist feminist equality film of the 1930s. The script swings back and forth between Doris as a capable professional person and Doris as ideal wife material for the Neanderthalic Tom so many times you wonder if they let all the draft scripts fall to the floor and picked them up randomly to piece together.
Minor sidetrack, but the house I grew up in didn’t have a street address. That is, we did live on a named road, though it was variously “River” or “York River”. We referred to it as “River”, which was what the signs said, but for example newspapers and police referred to it as “York River”. There were no house numbers. Our post office didn’t offer mail delivery, we just had to go to the PO to get it, and the name of our road (whatever it was) didn’t enter into the picture.
When zip codes came along, it became possible to receive mail at just “Napier, 12345”.
Years after I moved away, our driveway got its own name, and the house’s town and zip changed (that is they moved the dividing line past our house). And, they introduced house numbers. There was nothing in common between the old and new address.