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Dishonored Lady (Stromberg; United Artists) features Hedy Lamarr, John Loder (Miss Lamarr's real-life husband) and Dennis O'Keefe in a highfalutin piece of problem-nonsense designed to wow women matinee-goers. Students of movie (and audience) morals may be interested, too.

No "psychological" picture is complete nowadays without a case of amnesia, schizophrenia, paranoia or at least galloping dipsomania. In this case Psychiatrist Morris Carnovsky advises Miss Lamarr that her trouble isn't just an ordinary trouble, but a sickness, like alcoholism. Her trouble, as yet unmentionable on the screen in so many syllables, appears to be nymphomania. In order to cure herself, she quits her high-pressure job as an art editor, her high-pressure rake (Mr. Loder) and her fancy wardrobe. Can she find happiness in dirndls, a huge little studio hideout, her neglected talent for painting, and True Love?

True Love (Mr. O'Keefe), who rooms downstairs, is represented as a talented scientist but he shows little of the scientific spirit; he is, in fact, a pretty depressing type of momma's boy. It is only too clear to seasoned Miss Lamarr that this leaning tower of quavering male virginity could never survive the shock if he learned of her Past. He learns, of course; the rake is murdered; Miss Lamarr goes on trial for her life. True Love, Dutch-uncled by Psychiatry, comes of age just in time and snags the real murderer. The whole show may possibly be trying to point a moral: a lady cannot play fast & loose and expect her dream man to remain chaste.

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