German-born filmmaker Robert Siodmak fleed Adolf Hitler twice throughout his career, journeying to and flourishing in France after Joseph Goebbels called him out in the press, and later in Hollywood as the Nazis spread through Europe. It was in the U.S. that he made the pictures he is now most fondly remembered for: tough, dark and distinctly unpretentious film noirs like The Killers, The Dark Mirror, Cry of the City and Criss Cross, many of which are considered some of the best the genre has to offer. Before he was allowed the chance to place his stamp on his works, Siodmak churned out screwball comedies like Fly-by-Night and even a Universal horror film, Son of Dracula. His first venture into noir came in 1944 with Phantom Lady, a film that leaned more towards Hitchcockian thriller territory than the hard-boiled crime dramas that would come later.
Every great noir needs a chump, and we are introduced to Phantom Lady's unfortunate patsy Scott Henderson (Alan Curtis) as he sits slumped at a bar. He has tickets for a show but his date has stood him up, so he innocently asks the only female in the bar, played by Fay Helm, if she will accompany him. The woman, whose name we don't learn until much later in the film, is clearly emotionally unstable, initially turning down Scott's offer before agreeing under strict terms: they won't reveal their names or discuss anything personal. They go to see the show, where the mystery woman's rather outrageous hat is also being worn by the star on the stage, Estela Monteiro (Aurora Miranda), enraging her and amusing the diminutive band drummer Cliff (Elisha Cook Jr.). The night ends with a hurried goodbye, and Scott returns home to find three policemen waiting for him. As they lead him to the bedroom, his wife lays dead, strangled with one of Scott's own neckties.
Of course, Scott has a perfect alibi, but he never learned her name, and everybody they encountered that night - a bartender, a taxi driver, and even Monteiro - all deny seeing the woman. Facing the death penalty, Scott's only hope to unravel the mystery is his beautiful and loyal secretary Carol (Ella Raines) and sympathetic Police Inspector Burgess (Thomas Gomez). Phantom Lady's biggest failing in trying to replicate the genius of Hitchcock is the near complete absence of suspense. The wrongfully-accused thriller was done far better by the man himself over a decade later with The Wrong Man, and when Scott's old pal Jack Marlow (Franchot Tone) shows up halfway through, all sense of whodunit goes flying out the window. Still, Phantom Lady gets by on sheer class. Siodmak elevates the plot-hole ridden story with his trademark weaving of light and dark, and influences brought over from the days of German Expressionism makes this a more visually stimulating experience. It's also a lot of fun: the outrageous plot shares more in common with an Argento giallo than a Raymond Chandler paperback.
Laura was a project, based on a pulpy novel by Vera Caspery, that director Otto Preminger had to fight 20th Century Fox Mogul, Daryl Zanuck, to get made. It was a film that everyone else involved in did not believe in and assumed would be a failure. Yet the film went on to be a huge success and was a source of influence for countless film makers and endures as a classic of the golden era of Hollywood. On the face of it, Laura was in the mode of film noir, with the conventional detective investigating the murder of a glamorous and enthralling woman-as-femme-fatale; the film offers the usual twists in narrative structure and the dubious relationships and men surrounding the central figure, and their obsessions, or neuroses; but visually the film separates itself from the dark shadows and brooding atmosphere of the conventional noir films, and brings an obsessive, illuminating Freudian drama of sexual emasculation and the fundamental flaws of masculine desire.
Dana Andrews's investigating detective McPherson, is assigned to the murder case of Laura Hunt (Gene Tierney), an assured, successful woman, surrounded by seemingly rich and powerful men, who was gunned down in her apartment. As he uncovers information about Laura, helped by a portrait hanging on her living room wall, McPherson, like the men he interviews, becomes obsessed with the woman, as her delightful character, and her determined but innocent-like attractiveness envelops him. Clifton Webb's overtly dandy Waldo, a successful columnist, displays his love of Laura through his detailed recollections of their relationship, whilst the charming yet alarmingly vacant Shelby (Vincent Price), a man having affairs with noticeably more than one woman, is the more darkly sinister of the two, and often (perhaps innocently) implicates himself in the murder. About halfway through the film there is a huge narrative shift, which at first is jarring, as the audience is not sure if this is the fantasy or dream of McPherson, but the revelation shifts the story, questioning the reality of the two main suspects.
As McPherson is drawn into the elusive Laura's lifestyle, the central focus of much of the narrative is set in the presence of a painting of Laura hanging in her room. It is an idealisation of the woman - she appears dominating in the picture - an image that is captured not by Laura, but by the men around her. This image is easier to handle that the real thing, it is a passive version of the woman. Whilst a lot is put upon the sexual power that Laura has on these men, it is the neuroses and imbalanced psyches of the men. But Laura, as we discover, is a more individual, independent woman, who perhaps does not require the desire of others. So the fantasised painted version of her can be contained and controlled. A reading could suggest that the power that Laura has over these men somehow perpetuates the incitement to murder, but in fact it would be easier to read that it is the breakdown of the masculine that is the determining factor in murder, and not necessarily a woman who is unsure of her decisions when it comes to settling.
The performances are phenomenal here. Andrew's hard-boiled detective is excellent, with his proto-Columbo style of investigation, playing games with the suspects, and forcing them into corners. Price and Webb are brilliantly over-the-top - Price giving a sinister performance through the disguise of charisma. But, inevitably, the titular character, through the mysterious, seductive beauty of Tierney, is awesome in a tricksy way. She is not necessarily the traditional femme fatale, she is not consciously playing these men, yet at times the audience is unsure. Is she twisting the delusions of these men to her will? Or is she as sweet as she sometimes appears? It is an almost perfect performance.
The influence of this film is undisputed. The James Elroy novel, The Black Dahlia, whilst loosely based on a true-life crime, was undoubtedly broadened by Laura's influence. The Black Dahlia has the central theme of the obsession by an investigator of a dead woman. These themes of obsession must have been directly correlated by David Lynch and Mark Frost when they wrote and conceived of Twin Peaks which began with the death of a high school girl, and the subsequent investigation unravels levels of obsession in a small community, much of which extended from this one girl. It's a wonderful, twisty, and often surprising story that illustrates that the power of women is not always a product of feminine knowing, but the failures and compulsions of weak, lonely men.
Philip Marlowe (Dick Powell) is a private investigator who, at the start of the film, is hired by the hulking Moose Malloy (Mike Mazurki) to track down his old girlfriend who he has lost touch with during his stint in jail. After his leads go sour, Marlowe turns his attention to another case when he is approached to act as an escort for a Mr. Marriott (Douglas Walton). Marlowe is knocked out cold and wakes up to find Marriott murdered, and Marlowe finds murder and femme fatales at every turn. The two cases may be linked, and Marlowe finds himself unwittingly caught in the middle of it all, with the cops hot on his tail.
I've read a couple of Raymond Chandler's breathtaking Philip Marlowe novels, and although Farewell My Lovely (called Murder, My Sweet in the U.S.) is not the best Marlowe adaptation, it can only be described as pure. It's the most confidently directed of the Marlowe films, and seems more than comfortable in its noir tones of whiskey, gangsters, and fast-talking dames. My favourite is undoubtedly The Big Sleep (1946), which came two years later, but the two are just as confusing as each other. I could just about keep up with this one, but I'm still lost on The Big Sleep, although it doesn't ruin what I believe is one of the best of the film noirs.
Dick Powell, most recognisable from musicals and comedies such as the Gold Diggers (1933-1937)films and 42nd Street (1933), seems an odd choice to play the deadbeat Marlowe. He divided fans of the books down the middle, with some feeling he combined a sense of humour with Marlowe's street wise behaviour, but some felt him too fresh-faced to convince as a hard-drinking loner. I feel he performs admirably, although he's no Bogart. The rest of the cast are solid too, but if anyone comes out on top, it is director Edward Dmytryk, who drenches the film with atmosphere and style. It is certainly confusing, but this is top notch film noir from the genre's heyday.
Every great noir needs a chump, and we are introduced to Phantom Lady's unfortunate patsy Scott Henderson (Alan Curtis) as he sits slumped at a bar. He has tickets for a show but his date has stood him up, so he innocently asks the only female in the bar, played by Fay Helm, if she will accompany him. The woman, whose name we don't learn until much later in the film, is clearly emotionally unstable, initially turning down Scott's offer before agreeing under strict terms: they won't reveal their names or discuss anything personal. They go to see the show, where the mystery woman's rather outrageous hat is also being worn by the star on the stage, Estela Monteiro (Aurora Miranda), enraging her and amusing the diminutive band drummer Cliff (Elisha Cook Jr.). The night ends with a hurried goodbye, and Scott returns home to find three policemen waiting for him. As they lead him to the bedroom, his wife lays dead, strangled with one of Scott's own neckties.
