6.8/10
Senior Film Conservator

A definitive 6.8/10 rating for a film that redefined the boundaries of cult cinema. The Hell Cat remains a cornerstone of transgressive art.
If you have a soft spot for pre-code era newspaper movies where everyone talks way too fast, maybe. But honestly, The Hell Cat is a frantic, messy little film that doesn't quite know what it wants to be. It’s for the folks who find comfort in the rapid-fire banter of 1934, and it will probably drive everyone else up the wall with its sheer lack of logic.
The whole premise hinges on a grudge so thin you could read a newspaper through it. Geraldine Sloane is offended by a reporter, so she decides to… ruin his career? It’s a bit of a reach. Ann Sothern is doing her best to carry the weight, but she’s battling a script that feels like it was stapled together in a dark room.
The office scenes have that classic, noisy, cigarette-smoke-filled atmosphere that I usually love. But here, the chaos feels forced. People are shouting over each other, and half the time, I wasn't even sure who was reporting on the gambling ring and who was just there to look busy in the background.
I caught myself wondering if the writers actually knew how a newspaper worked, or if they just liked the sound of typewriters. It doesn't really matter, I guess. The movie isn't interested in journalism; it’s interested in spite. It’s a very petty film, if you think about it.
There is a moment about halfway through where a background character just sort of wanders off during a dramatic confrontation. It’s distracting. You start watching the extra instead of the lead, and then you realize you’ve missed a plot point. Not that the plot point was essential, mind you. The film works better if you just let the nonsense wash over you.
It’s not as tightly wound as The Orderly, which knew exactly when to shut up and move to the next joke. This movie just keeps talking. It’s like being trapped in an elevator with someone who is explaining their entire life story, and you just want to get to your floor.
I will say, Robert Armstrong looks like he’s having a genuinely bad day in almost every shot. Maybe he knew. Maybe he wanted to be somewhere else. I can relate. 🤷♂️
Still, it’s a quick watch. If you find it on a rainy afternoon when you’ve already watched everything else, you could do worse. It’s not a masterpiece, and it’s not even a particularly good comedy. It’s just… there. A relic of a time when people thought "heiress sabotages reporter" was a high-concept plot. It’s definitely an experience, for better or for worse.

IMDb —
1922
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