Saturday, May 5, 2012

LADY ON A TRAIN: The Singing Detective

My interest in the Christmas-season 1945 comedy-thriller Lady on a Train (LoaT, not to be confused with SoaT, the abbreviation of Strangers on a Train) and its beloved star, singer/actress Deanna Durbin, began with our friend and fellow classic movie blogger Michael Troutman of I Shoot the Pictures. In December 2011, Michael had innocently let it slip that that he wasn’t acquainted with the winsome Miss Durbin’s movies. Three of our awesome fellow bloggers felt strongly that it was time for Michael to become acquainted with Durbin’s work: whistlinggypsy of Distant Voices and Flickering Shadows; Page of My Love of Old Hollywood; and Jessica of Comet Over Hollywood. Together they, shall we say, encouraged Michael, and the result was a delightful six-part series of blog posts titled My Deanna Durbin Punishment (see links at the end of this post).

I’ve always loved comedy-thrillers ranging from Bob Hope in The Ghost Breakers and My Favorite Brunette, to Charade, to Foul Play and so many more, so when I read Michael’s blog post about LoaT, I couldn’t resist tracking it down, and I’m glad I did, because it was great fun!  So I thank Michael—and by extension, whistlinggypsy, Page, and Jessica—for helping me discover another comedy-thriller to add to my collection. I’m delighted to say it was well worth seeing—again and again, at that!

As heroine Nikki Collins, Deanna Durbin
has great pipes and great gams!

LoaT’s script was based on a story by Leslie Charteris of The Saint fame, with a screenplay by Edmund Beloin (My Favorite Brunette; My Favorite Spy; A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court; The Great Lover; Donovan’s Reef) and Robert O’Brien (By the Light of the Silvery Moon; Fancy Pants; The Lemon Drop Kid; and many TV series, including The Red Skelton Hour; Here’s Lucy; and The Lucy Show). That’s a fairly long way from the classic 1936 short “Every Sunday” that put both Durbin and Judy Garland on the map (more about that here, at the TCM Web site)!  By 1945, the young girl with the amazingly mature, operatic coloratura singing voice had blossomed into a lovely young woman. To this reader, Durbin proved to have legs in every sense of the term, showcasing her gorgeous gams and her flair for fast-talking comedy in the opening scene on the titular train, where we meet Durbin’s character, San Francisco debutante Nikki Collins. While Nikki waits for her cross-country train to stop at New York City’s Grand Central Station (yay, another comedy-suspense movie set in my hometown!), she’s devouring another page of the juicy mystery novel she’s been reading, The Case of the Headless Bride by best-selling mystery author Wayne Morgan. And what a page-turner it is, as Nikki reads aloud:

"'I killed him. I had to kill him. I thought I’d be safe.’ Over and over, the words droned through her mind. And yet, with a cold, horrible certainty, she knew that death was outside….”

Is there any shadow of a doubt that Nikki saw
a rear window murder? (Note the telltale slippers!)

Yeah, outside the elevated window of another passing train, where Nikki sees two men: an older, white-haired gent, and an apparently younger man in a hat. The men argue, and then Hat Man pulls down the window shade, and *WHAM*, here comes death by crowbar!  Naturally, nobody believes Nikki, especially when she’s toting The Case of the Headless Bride to read while she’s waiting for someone to take her seriously. Nikki’s credibility is apparently often in question since she tends to jump to conclusions, like the time she was sure a buck-toothed gent at the Golden Gate Bridge was in fact a Japanese spy. It’s up to our spunky, adorably sly (if somewhat naïve) heroine to take the initiative, solve the case, and redeem herself!

Wayne Morgan demonstrates the stark realistic
storytelling that keeps thriller readers eager for more!
Nikki is visiting her Aunt Martha in The Big Apple for her Christmas vacation. Her busy but loving dad in San Francisco has provided her with an Assistant in Charge of Keeping Nikki Out of Trouble: the jittery Mr. Haskell from the New York office. Haskell is played by one of Team Bartilucci’s favorite character actors, the ever-delightful and effortlessly funny Edward Everett Horton, whose long career ranged from films such as The Gay Divorcee; Here Comes Mr. Jordan; Arsenic and Old Lace; and even the Fractured Fairy Tales narrator on TV’s animated Rocky and His Friends. Poor Mr. Haskell is always being charmingly and hilariously bamboozled by Nikki, and/or being knocked out by no-goodniks; I hope they pay him well!  Even when poor Haskell gets a little down time, Nikki’s still on the case, dashing around New York and environs, getting mixed up in hairstyles and Howard Greer fashions ranging from the sublime to the ridiculous (one of her hairstyles is a double-bun Princess Leia would have been proud to wear).

Mr. Haskell may feel fresh as a daisy
after being clobbered by bad guys,
but he looks like a black-eyed susan to us!
Amateur detective Nikki attempts to contact mystery author Wayne Morgan for help, and she gets a break when she tracks down the increasingly bewitched, bothered, bewildered  and eventually happily besotted Wayne (David Bruce from A Dispatch from Reuters; The Sea Hawk; Sergeant York; a bit part in The Letter; and the dark holiday noir Christmas Holiday with Durbin). She catches him in a movie theater where she tries to talk about the murder with Wayne, much to the annoyance of the moviegoers—especially Wayne’s fiancée, self-centered fashion model Joyce Williams (Patricia Morison from The Fallen Sparrow; the 1946 Sherlock Holmes mystery Dressed to Kill; Without Love; and ironically, two films you’d think might be musicals but weren’t: Song of the Thin Man and the Oscar-winning The Song of Bernadette), who’s trying to enjoy a newsreel of herself modeling the latest fashions. Nikki’s persistence pays off when she sees a newsreel about the dead man! The deceased is ship magnate Josiah Waring (Thurston Hall of The Great Lie; Theodora Goes Wild; and the role he’s best known for here at Team Bartilucci H.Q.: blustery credit-stealing boss Mr. Pierce in The Secret Life of Walter Mitty). And wouldn’t you know the newsreel mentions the whereabouts of The Willows, where the Waring estate is? (Nowadays, the joint would probably be crawling with armed guards and other kinds of security!)

Did you know Nikki is a master of disguise?
Here she is as an unusually
pensive Pippi Longstocking!
When Nikki trespasses and finagles her way into The Willows, she arrives just in time for the reading of Josiah Waring’s will. We find that Waring was not only a ship magnate, but also a chick magnet when our amateur sleuth Nikki is mistaken for nightclub entertainer Margo Martin, Waring’s beloved mistress. (I was rather touched when we finally met the real Margo Martin, played by Maria Palmer from By the Light of the Silvery Moon. In her scenes, she truly seems to be heartbroken over Waring’s death.)  Samuel S. Hinds, who played Edward G. Robinson’s retired pal in Scarlet Street, appears briefly as the Waring family’s lawyer in the gathering at The Willows. Before Nikki knows it, she’s embroiled in all manner of suspense and zaniness, with incriminating bedroom slippers and two Waring heirs making eyes at her: Arnold (Dan Duryea of Ball of Fire, The Woman in the Window, and Scarlet Street, in a more likable mold), and his brother Jonathan (versatile Ralph Bellamy, best known for never getting the girl but always charming about it in comedies like The Awful Truth and His Girl Friday, as well as thrillers like Rosemary’s Baby, not to mention Team B. fave Trading Places).  As you can see, LoaT is brimming with great character actors, including Elizabeth Patterson (best known by TV fans as babysitter Mrs. Trumbull on TV’s I Love Lucy, but also a memorable character actress in Intruder in the Dust; Hail the Conquering Hero; Miss Tatlock’s Millions; I Married a Witch; Remember the Night, and more) and George Coulouris (Arabesque; Murder on the Orient Express; Citizen Kane, appropriate considering the Citizen Kane shoutouts in LoaT).

Clever Nikki sneaks onto the
Waring estate disguised as a weather vane!
And of course, with Deanna Durbin as the star, you know music will fill the air!  The songs really do fit smoothly into the plot. My favorites among her numbers here include her soulful performance of “Silent Night” sung to her dad—while Waring chauffeur/henchman Danny (Allen Jenkins from Ball of Fire; The Falcon Takes Over; Pillow Talk; TV’s animated Top Cat) waits to strangle her, only to find himself all teary-eyed as Nikki sings. Music soothes the savage beast—at least until Danny knocks out Wayne and Mr. Haskell well after Nikki is safe! Then there’s our heroine’s hot, playfully sexy rendition of “Gimme a Little Kiss, Will Ya, Huh?,” sung to Wayne at The Circus Club, a theme nightclub that’s bigger than a Hollywood soundstage (with equally big doormen, including Lock Martin, Gort from The Day the Earth Stood Still). I got a kick out of that dreamy look in Wayne’s eyes! I must confess, however, that I thought Durbin’s torchy rendition of Cole Porter’s “Night and Day” could have been more torchy and less operatic; somehow I felt like she needed to cut loose a bit more with her rendition. Speaking of music, as a Miklos Rosza fan, I really enjoyed LoaT’s musical score; its blend of suspenseful notes and comical touches was perfect for the film. And I love that final scene; wonder if it’s where Alfred Hitchcock got the idea in North by Northwest?

Born Edna Mae Durbin on December 4th, 1921 in Canada (where my dear hubby and Team Bartilucci computer whiz Vinnie was born), in the 1930s and ’40s, wunderkind coloratura Durbin became to Universal what Judy Garland eventually became to MGM: a wholesome, wildly popular singing movie star. Durbin also proved to be a compelling actress in a Screen Guild Players radio version of Alfred Hitchcock’s Shadow of a Doubt on CBS.

According to Margarita Landazuri’s TCM article, producer Felix Jackson married Durbin soon after making LoaT, but they divorced in 1948. Durbin retired from movies in 1950 and moved to France with her husband and LoaT director Charles David, who’d also been the production manager on La Chienne, remade in the U.S. as Scarlet Street. Durbin and David reportedly lived happily together until David’s death in 1999 at 92. As of this writing, Durbin is still alive and well and, by her own choice, happily out of the spotlight. Update: She died in her adopted country, France, on April 20th, 2013 at the age of 91.

Santa, baby, hurry down the chimney tonight!
(And bring me a blackjack in case of unexpected visitors, OK?)

Wanna follow Michael Troutman's My Deanna Durbin Punishment series? Here are the links!

Part 1 of Michael Troutman’s My Deanna Durbin Punishment series:
http://ishootthepictures.com/2011/12/15/my-deanna-durbin-punishment-part-i-three-smart-girls-1936-worth-a-look/

Part 2 of Michael Troutman’s My Deanna Durbin Punishment: First Love:
http://ishootthepictures.com/2012/01/20/my-deanna-durbin-punishment-part-ii-first-love-1939-worth-a-look/

Part 3 of Michael Troutman’s My Deanna Durbin Punishment: It Started with Eve
http://ishootthepictures.com/2012/01/23/my-deanna-durbin-punishment-part-iii-it-started-with-eve-1941-approach-with-caution/

Part 4 of Michael Troutman’s My Deanna Durbin Punishment: Can’t Help Singing http://ishootthepictures.com/2012/01/27/my-deanna-durbin-punishment-part-iv-cant-help-singing-1944-not-recommended/

Part 5 of Michael Troutman’s review of Lady on a Train from I Shoot the Pictures: My Deanna Durbin Punishment
This joint has everything, even free bagels in your hair!

Turn around, Nikki!
There’s a clue in the newsreel
!

This time master-of-disguise Nikki goes undercover
as the chair-woman of the board!
Wayne and Nikki don’t care what people say about them
as long as their names are spelled right!
Nikki, I know we’re all economizing these days,
but hold out for the glass slipper instead!



Friday, April 20, 2012

TOPKAPI: Go Schmo!

I first saw United Artists/Filmways’ Topkapi with my older siblings on one of our local New York TV stations during my grade school days in the Bronx, where Topkapi’s director/producer Jules Dassin happened to have spent much of his own youth. They liked it, but I must confess that at the time, Topkapi’s inimitable leading lady Melina Mercouri kinda freaked me out!  Of course, at the time I didn’t realize Mercouri was an international star. All I knew about her was that she was a blonde lady with dark kohl-rimmed eyes, who spoke in a low, growling voice and had a predatory look. (At the time, Mom had taught me what “predatory” meant, and I was pretty darn proud to have learned how to memorize it right away!) She had a witchy look and a booming laugh that sounded scary to me at the time as she exulted, “That’s the way it can be done!”

But what a difference a decade makes!  When I watched Topkapi again in my teens, what I’d thought was witchy was now bewitching. I ended up loving it for Manos Hadjdakis’ zesty music; the colorful locations in Istanbul (not Constantinople), as well as Paris, France at the Boulogne-Billancourt Studios; and of course, its great cast of confident, breezy, likable bon vivants (more about them in a moment)!  In fact, the only problem I had with Topkapi in later viewings was that the strobe effect of the rays and blinking lights in the opening credits initially triggered my migraines! Luckily, we figured out how to fine-tune the TV, and the problem was solved. (Reading fellow blogger Vulnavia Morbius’ take on Topkapi in her own excellent Krell Laboratories blog from last year, I see she is apparently lucky enough to have no problems with Topkapi’s opening light effects, lucky gal that she is!  But I digress….)

As The New York Times film critic Bosley Crowther said in the opening lines of his 1964 Topkapi review, “Imagine Jules Dassin’s Rififi done in the spirit and style of his comical Never on Sunday and you have a good idea of the nature of his latest film, Topkapi (pronounced top-cappy)….”   If Dassin’s landmark 1954 thriller Rififi is the dark side of the caper film, then his 1964 follow-up Topkapi was Rififi on the sunnier, funnier, more stylishly playful side of the street with its witty, suspenseful screenplay by Monja Danischewsky (his screenwriting credits include Ealing Studios’ Whisky Galore! and Rockets Galore!, a.k.a. Mad Little Island), loosely adapted from Eric Ambler’s novel The Light of Day.


The first character we meet is our dazzling leading lady (Mercouri), who calls herself Elizabeth Lipp because it’s “convenient.”  She introduces herself to us viewers in a most kaleidoscopic fashion, her voice and attitude smokier than a five-alarm fire. Elizabeth explains that we’re in Istanbul, Turkey, in the Seraglio’s Topkapi Palace Museum. Many moons ago, before the museum became a tourist attraction, the joint was the home of Sultan Mahmud I and his many wives. When Elizabeth literally beckons us viewers to follow her, we’re intrigued before we start!  But our gal isn’t really greedy; of all the museum’s treasures, Elizabeth is only interested in a particular golden dagger adorned with “the four greatest emeralds the world has ever known,” bringing new meaning to the phrase “the wearing of the green.” For the record, Elizabeth seems especially keen on the rectangular emerald. As she leans against the glass, “a strange feeling comes over me,” she moans, almost orgasmically. Director of Photography Henri Alekan (Roman Holiday; the 1946 version of Beauty and the Beast; Wings of Desire) truly makes Mercouri look like she’s making sweet love to the camera!

Babe in Toyland!
Elizabeth leaves Turkey for Paris, where we meet her former flame: suave, Swiss Walter Harper (Maximilian Schell, Oscar-winner for Judgment at Nuremberg; Oscar-nominee for The Man in the Glass Booth and Julia; and scene-stealer in one of my favorite Adrien Brody films, The Brothers Bloom). Oh, did I mention that Walter happens to be holding a gun to a man’s back at the time? Luckily for his nervous mark, Walter pleasantly lets the guy leave with his life. Elizabeth has been watching, and the pair is more than happy to pick up where they left off, both romance-wise and theft-wise—and why not, with their great chemistry? Here’s one of my favorite bits of dialogue:

Elizabeth:“Do you mind that I am a nymphomaniac?”
Walter: “It’s your most endearing quality.”
Elizabeth: “Don’t waste it, use it.” (Couple time ensues.)

"I wish I may, I wish I might,
steal the jewels I wish tonight!"
Walter is on board with Elizabeth’s dagger heist plan, on one condition: he’ll only work with amateurs who have no pesky police records that might tip off John Law and trip up our happy thieves. The recruits include:

  • Englishman Cedric Page, eccentric but genial inventor and whimsical master of all things mechanical, including security systems. He’s played with mischievous delight by the great Robert Morley from The African Queen; Hot Millions (more about that shortly, too); Who is Killing the Great Chefs of Europe; and Theatre of Blood, among others;
  • Muscular Hans Fischer (Indiana-born character actor Jess Hahn, who mostly performed in foreign films) to help with heavy lifting and the like;
  • Giulio the Human Fly (French actor/writer/songwriter/acrobat Gilles Ségal), the mute acrobat who actually steals the dagger as he’s lowered from the museum ceiling to outfox the floor-mounted alarm. Word has it Ségal’s stunts inspired the trickwire stunts for both the original TV series and the Tom Cruise movie versions of Mission: Impossible..

Objects in the rear-view mirror may be
more cowardly than they appear!
I needed this today?!
Now all the gang needs is a patsy to throw the police off the scent. Enter bumbling jack-of-all-trades and small-time would-be con man Arthur Simon Simpson, succinctly described by Walter as “a historian, guide, and schmo.” Arthur is played endearingly and effortlessly by Team Bartilucci fave Peter Ustinov, one of the funniest and most versatile men who ever graced stage, screen (big and small), and comedy albums. Ustinov not only won the second of his two Best Supporting Actor Oscars for Topkapi (he’d previously won for Spartacus in 1961)  but he and Ira Wallach also received Oscar nominations in 1968 for their hilarious screenplay for the clever caper comedy Hot Millions. And of course, let’s not forget Ustinov’s turns in Logan’s Run; the animated Grendel Grendel Grendel (another Team B. fave); and several delightful whodunits based on Dame Agatha Christie’s mysteries about the beloved detective Hercule Poirot, among many others.  As you’ve probably noticed, we could cheerfully blather away about all things Ustinov in a blog post all about the great man himself, but we’ll do our best to pull ourselves together and focus on Topkapi!

Gerven knows how to
make guests feel welcome! 
Melina coaxes Max out of his Schell!
Laughter is the best medicine
for jewel heists! Who knew?
Now then, where were we? Ah yes, Elizabeth and Walter need a schmo for their heist plan. Even the tourists don’t take Arthur seriously—especially those who he’s tried to expose to local night life—sidestepping him as if he had dog poop permanently stuck to his shoe. In short, Arthur is perfect for our thieves’ purposes!  They hire him to drive a white luxury Lincoln convertible into Turkey which, as the B-52’s sang, seats about twenty. Little does Arthur realize the car’s full of hidden explosives and firearms for the upcoming robbery, and he’s been set up as the poor patsy driver in case there’s trouble at the border!  Arthur’s role in the scheme almost literally blows up in his face, especially when Turkish Customs officials see that Arthur’s passport has long since expired (maybe Arthur and Oscar Homolka’s Prof. Gurkakoff from Ball of Fire can trade expired-drivers’ license anedotes). The car is searched, the firearms are confiscated, and Arthur becomes the catch of the day: Grilled Simpson!  The Turkish Secret Police, led by  the sinister yet undeniably cool-looking Major Ali Tufan (Turkish actor Ege Ernart) and his colleague Harback (character actor Tito Vandis, billed here as “Titos Wandis.” His many roles include The Exorcist; Never on Sunday with Mercouri; and Team B.’s favorite among his roles, the lovesick shepherd from Woody Allen’s Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About Sex* [*but were afraid to ask]).  Major Tufan and Harback are sure our gang is plotting an assassination at an upcoming military parade, and they recruit Arthur to spy on our lovable rogues, under threat of death! The joke’s on them, as Arthur is as much of a bumbling spy as he is a bumbling con man, trying to  pass along useless intel in cigarette packs. Too bad Arthur doesn’t seem to have gotten the hang of thorough toilet-flushing. And we’re not even in the Topkapi Museum yet!  But as they say, getting there is half the fun—heck, it’s all the fun, especially with a suspenseful climactic robbery sequence that rivals Dassin’s own Rififi! Akim Tamiroff (his roles ranged from Preston Sturges’ The Great McGinty and The Miracle of Morgan’s Creek to Touch of Evil and other Orson Welles films, and so much more!), is another scene-stealer as Gerven, a drunken cook who unwittingly throws a new monkey wrench in the works. I can say no more for fear of giving away any more of Topkapi’s sparkling surprises (and we don’t just mean emeralds), but I will say it includes my favorite usage of the phrase “A little bird told me.”

Joseph Dassin, Jules' son:
proof that nepotism can be a wonderful thing! 
Fun Facts: In Ustinov in Focus by Tony Thomas, Ustinov admitted, "I have a special affection for Topkapi. The character is so absurd. I love the idea of a man who aims low and misses. Simpson is the kind of man who wears blazers a little too consistently, the kind with military presumptions, who has to belong to a cricket club. He's a man who hovers between the more reprehensible columns of The News of the World and oblivion." Also, Joseph Dassin, singer/songwriter son of director/producer Jules Dassin, plays Josef, dashing proprietor of the traveling fair display that’ll spirit the dagger out of the country. It proves that nepotism can be a wonderful thing! 

Would it surprise anyone to hear that soon after its theatrical success, Topkapi inspired a real-life theft in my hometown? Three men broke into New York City’s  American Museum of Natural History and escaped with the famous Star of India, the De Long Ruby, and other priceless treasures. They were eventually caught, and admitted in custody that they had seen Topkapi prior to their robbery. See, life sometimes does imitate art!

Arthur has vertigo! When did this become a Hitchcock movie?

The Annual 43-Man Squamish Tournament begins!
As Elizabeth Lipp, Melina Mercouri can join our Red Hat Society anytime!

Nobody's here but us thieves!
I got me a Lincoln, it seats about twenty....


By DorianTB
New Page 1

Saturday, March 24, 2012

Fritz Lang Noir Smackdown! THE WOMAN IN THE WINDOW vs. SCARLET STREET

Before we get started, let’s have a big round of applause for Kristina Dijan of Speakeasy for suggesting this particular TotED post! Between chatting online at the Speakeasy site, The Dark Pages; Shadows and Satin, and Twitter, Kristina and I have discussed and good-naturedly joked about various film noirs. In a recent communiqué, we happened to discuss the similarities between two classic 1940s thrillers by Fritz Lang (1890—1976), namely 1944’s The Woman in the Window (TWitW) and 1945’s Scarlet Street (SS). Clever gal that she is, Kristina thought it would be great fun if I discussed both of these films, and before you could say, “Cheese it—the cops,” The Woman in the Window vs. Scarlet Street Smackdown was ready to rumble! Many thanks for the great suggestion, Kristina!

When I was a teenage movie buff (hey, maybe some fresh new classic blogger should give the title I Was a Teenage Movie Buff a good home in some nice warm blog, if someone hasn’t already done so! But I digress….), I mostly knew who Fritz Lang was because of Metropolis (1927) and M (1931). It wasn’t until years later that I learned more about director/writer/producer Lang’s body of work. But once I finally had the opportunity to see these suspense dramas, both of them produced by Walter Wanger (Alfred Hitchcock's 1940 thriller Foreign Correspondent) and his beautiful and talented wife Joan Bennett, both films grabbed me and held me riveted to the TV, intrigued by those films’ similarities and differences! Also, both movies had Milton Krasner as Director of Photography (All About Eve, The Set-Up, the Oscar-winning Three Coins in the Fountain) but H.J. Salter composed the SS score, while TWitW was scored by Arthur Lang and an uncredited Hugo Friedhoffer, Charles Maxwell, and Bruno Mason.

With all due respect for Lang, I must admit that Edward G. Robinson was the main attraction in our little smackdown as far as I was concerned. Born Emmanuel Goldenberg in 1893 in Bucharest, Romania, Robinson emigrated to New York City with his family when he was 10. “Eddie,” as friends called him, rose to stardom playing gangsters and other tough guys in films like Little Caesar, Five Star Final, Tiger Shark, and the Damon Runyon/Howard Lindsay mobster comedy A Slight Case of Murder. However, during his long career, he also proved to be both a fine leading man and a character actor of great talent and range in such films as The Stranger (1946), The Prize (1963), and Robinson’s final role, in Soylent Green (1973), which particularly touched my heart. This time around, we’ll be seeing Robinson’s sensitive side as Our Man Eddie finds himself becoming putty in the hands of dangerous dames and conniving crooks! Where’s his sensible, fearless Double Indemnity character Barton Keyes when you need him?


Both TWitW and SS are set in my hometown, New York City, and both films have the same three stars: Robinson, Joan Bennett, and Dan Duryea. Taken at face value, it looks as if the leads in TWitW and SS are more or less playing the same character archetypes:
  1. Our man Edward G. Robinson as a kind, dignified older gent whose quiet life is turned upside-down when he finds himself infatuated with a pretty young woman who may or may not make a chump out of him. Talk about “middle-age crazy!”

  2. Joan Bennett as a beautiful young woman of negotiable affections, as Vinnie would say. She was a member of the renowned Bennett acting family, which included dad Richard Bennett, sister Constance Bennett of Topper fame, and younger sister Barbara Bennett of The Valley of Decision. Joan’s long, successful career included silent films; the 1933 version of Little Women; our director Fritz Lang’s Man Hunt (1941); Father of the Bride (1950), with Joan as the mother of bride-to-be Elizabeth Taylor and the wife of comically beleaguered Spencer Tracy, followed by the sequel Father’s Little Dividend (1951); Dark Shadows on TV and in the feature film House of Dark Shadows; and Dario Argento’s giallo horror classic Suspiria (1977). She started her acting career as a blonde, but I think our Joan always looked best as a brunette, whether she played good girls or shady ladies.

  3. Dan Duryea as a sleazy opportunist who’s not above blackmail and violence to get what he wants. For most of his long career, Duryea excelled at playing Guys We Love to Hate in such classics as Ball of Fire and Criss Cross (no relation to Robinson’s character in SS, but do read and enjoy our friend and fellow blogger John Greco’s stellar review at his blog Twenty-Four Frames!) A native of White Plains, New York (just a short drive from the Bronx neighborhood where I lived for much of my youth!), Duryea’s character actor career was born when he became a Broadway star in the original stage versions of Dead End and The Little Foxes, the latter starring the great Tallulah Bankhead. The Little Foxes also became Duryea’s Hollywood debut; this time he played opposite another powerhouse star, the great Bette Davis! Despite his usual roles as rotters and bounders, Duryea was by all accounts a nice guy in real life (indeed, he’d been a scoutmaster and a PTA parent!),
Let’s get this noir party started!


Dashing young Fritz Lang
The Woman in the Window (1944)
Versatile writer/producer/director Nunnally Johnson brought audiences such classic films as The Grapes of Wrath, The Three Faces of Eve, The Gunfighter, The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit, and How to Marry a Millionaire. He proved to be quite adept at film noir with The Woman in the Window (TWitW), based on J.H. Wallis’ novel Once Off Guard. Wanger and Bennett had been feeling stifled at Universal, so along with Lang, they joined forces to create their production company Diana, named after their daughter, providing Lang with the artistic freedom he craved. It was the first time that Edward G. Robinson, Joan Bennett, and Dan Duryea had worked together. TWitW was set mostly in Manhattan, with side trips to the Henry Hudson Parkway, leading from Manhattan to the Bronx to Westchester County, near where our family lived at the time. The scene in question involves our desperate heroes trying to ditch a corpse—but I’m getting ahead of myself! (I assure you it wasn’t nearly as scary when we actually lived there!) Our protagonist is Assistant Professor Richard Wanley (Robinson), who we first see lecturing about “Some Psychological Aspects of Homicide” at the fittingly named Gotham College. Somehow I get the feeling our hero’s knowledge on this particular topic has more to do with book smarts than street smarts! Although it’s clear that Richard truly loves his wife and kids, he and his friends are nevertheless “summer bachelors” in the city while their wives and kids head for the country for fresh air and sunshine. But when the fam’s away, will the husbands stray? Is it beer o’clock and the boys are buying? Richard, for one, is perfectly happy to take it easy at his men’s club with a good book.

Richard was gonna read 
King Solomon's Mines,
but this is more fun!

Richard first sees the titular portrait of a beautiful, ethereal brunette in the window of a midtown Manhattan art gallery. His colleagues, District Attorney Frank Lalor (Raymond Massey of Mackenna’s Gold; Abe Lincoln in Illinois; The Fountainhead; and Arsenic and Old Lace, in which Massey replaced original Broadway cast member Boris Karloff) and Dr. Michael Barkstane (Edmund Breon of Goodbye, Mr. Chips; Gaslight; The Thing from Another World) have been admiring the portrait, too, playfully anointing her “our dream girl.” DA Frank gives his friends a word of friendly caution: “In the District Attorney’s office, we see what happens to middle-aged men who try acting like colts.” Hey, Massey played Abe Lincoln; he wouldn’t kid us about a thing like that!

What a picture: Still Life with Horndog
When Richard leaves after dark, he’s startled by a reflection in the art gallery’s glass window. It’s the woman in the window herself, lovely young Alice Reed (Bennett). She has a sweet smile and a frisson of loneliness about her, so Richard gallantly escorts her home for a nightcap. She shows him her etchings, ruefully mentioning that a man is paying for her swanky apartment. Richard and Alice chat and chastely enjoy each other’s company and champagne. Richard isn’t the two-timing type, though he does admit that “I should say no, I know, but I haven’t the slightest intention of saying it.” How about saying, “Help! Police!” Suddenly an older man wearing one of those straw boater hats bursts into Alice’s apartment and flies into a murderous rage—knocking over furniture, breaking glass, the works! It’s kill or be killed for poor Richard, and since they didn’t have anger management classes back in 1944, Richard fights back. To the horror of all concerned, Richard ends up killing Boater Hat Man in self-defense. They’re both panicky since Alice’s late sugar daddy was meeting her at the apartment on the sly. They pull themselves together and improvise a desperate plan to save their skins: if Richard leaves one of his belongings behind for Alice, and she leaves something for him, that’ll be a clue in case, God forbid, Richard doesn’t come back. In addition to the vest Richard opts to leave behind, Alice has another clue she only discovers after Richard bundles up Boater Hat’s corpse and leaves: his monogrammed pen!

I honestly didn't know where this joke came from --
the hubby had to show me!


Look who's playing Eddie G's son:
fellow Little Rascal Bobby Blake!

What a crazy party! Mama told me not to come! 
The suspense is nerve-wracking; every time Richard seems to have put the killing behind him, some new wrinkle emerges to taunt him. Will Richard’s loose brakes be our hero’s bad break? Will the critters who live along the Henry Hudson Parkway find the dead hothead has become a maggot condo? And what about Heidt (Duryea), the oily opportunist who smells an opportunity for blackmail? Things get worse when the dead man is finally found by the Bronx River Parkway Extension. He’s no Sterno bum that nobody will miss: he’s financier Claude Mazard (Arthur Loft from The Glass Key—and our other Fritz Lang Smackdown movie, Scarlet Street!), who was apparently always quick to anger. That’s what you get for underestimating quiet, unassuming college professors!

George “Spanky” McFarland of The Little Rascals/Our Gang has an uncredited role in TWitW, but it’s my favorite bit in the movie! He plays the Boy Scout in the newsreel who makes the gruesome discovery…
“I was practicing woodcraft in the woods just off the Bronx River Parkway Extension when I found Mr. Mazard’s remains. No, I was not scared. A Boy Scout is never scared. If I get the reward, I will send my younger brother to some good college, and I will go to Harvard.”
"Honest, dude, this isn't the WWE tryouts!"

Frank is on the case, and he brings Richard along, saying it’ll be an interesting adventure. But is he really trying to trap Richard, or is it plain old paranoia? It doesn’t help that our hero keeps slipping up and innocently commenting on incriminating evidence. I don’t want to spoil the ending for anyone who hasn’t seen TWitW, but I will say the denouement either leaves audiences relieved, laughing, or furious. SPOILER-ISH: Personally, I like it, if only because I’m a sucker for a funny, upbeat ending!


 

Venerable film icon Fritz Lang
Scarlet Street (1945)
Named in honor of Greenwich Village’s famous Carmine Street, one of the world’s most celebrated art meccas, it’s almost a miracle that SS was able to be shown in neighborhood theaters at all back in 1945! It was initially banned in New York, Milwaukee, and Atlanta for fear that its “obscene, immoral, inhuman, sacrilegious” subject matter might turn decent moviegoers everywhere into hordes of hooligans. In any case, SS eventually got away with minor cuts, and Joe and Josie Average could watch it in their hometown bijou and make up their own minds about the flick.

I like the stylized artwork here; perfect for phony Kitty!
Kitty and Johnny were lovers—and layabouts,
too busy with their “mad love” schtick to check
Chris’ bank account and see if he’s rich enough to sponge off of. 
Set in New York City, Robinson stars as our protagonist Christopher “Chris” Cross (no puns intended about Robert Walker in Strangers on a Train). As the film begins, Chris is being feted by his company for his 25 years of faithful service (or is that servitude?) as cashier for clothing retailer J.J. Hogarth & Company. Chris is happy as can be with his lovely inscribed pocket watch, and everything’s jake until Chris’ colleagues insist that their clean-cut compadre live a little. So he shares a smoke with them, and wouldn’t you know the men all light up using the same lit cigar, despite Chris’ superstitious reaction (including crossing his fingers)? Haven’t these guys ever seen Three on a Match? (If not, see FlickChick’s Three on a Match review over at A Person in the Dark from last fall!)  With life seemingly bypassing Chris and his cronies now that they’re nearing retirement age (I say they should stop whining and use their free time to mentor kids or something!), it’s no wonder they stare longingly, if not lasciviously, at the beautiful blonde in the big boss’ limo, clearly being pampered by her rich sugar daddy. But Chris has his own simple pleasures, like his hobby, painting—that is, when his harridan wife Adele (British character actress Rosalind Ivan) isn’t nagging him or reminiscing about her late heroic husband, Detective Homer Higgins, who drowned trying to save a woman in the East River. The pose in Homer’s portrait is hilariously pompous, and I love the dry disdain that slips into Chris’ tone when he says Homer’s name. It reminds me a bit of the scene in Witness for the Prosecution when Elsa Lanchester’s chirpy, peripatetic Miss Plimsoll chatters about her lawyer fiancee’s death: “Peritonitis set in, and he went like that (snapping her fingers).” Charles Laughton growls, “He certainly was a lucky lawyer.” Ever “supportive,” Adele constantly belittles his neo-primitive artwork, which others say lacks perspective. Too bad Adele didn’t join Homer in the East River! Sheesh, with all those negative, browbeating busybodies breathing down Chris’ neck, Michelangelo himself would be so distracted that he’d be lucky to finish drawing a stick figure, much less create a decent painting! It’s almost funny to hear Chris and his aging colleague Charlie (Samuel S. Hinds, whose resume includes Buck Privates; It’s a Wonderful Life; Call Northside 777) talk about having too much time on their hands, when nowadays so many people are either overscheduled or while away too much time on TV or the Internet. Can I get the free time that our hapless hero finds himself in, minus the agita?

Mother of Mercy, is this the end of Chris' dignity?
After the company dinner, Chris sets out for his Brooklyn apartment, and finds himself losing both his perspective and his sense of direction in the streets of Greenwich Village while he tries to find his way back home. (For those who aren’t familiar with the Village’s layout, things get tricky once you leave Manhattan’s numbered streets and find yourself confronting actual street names such as Perry Street, Barrow Street, and Houston Street, the latter being pronounced “House-ton.”) He comes across upon a pretty young brunette in a see-through raincoat who’s being assaulted by an equally young ruffian. Chris gets his Sir Galahad moment as he smashes the jerk with his umbrella in the great Foul Play tradition!
The brunette’s name is Katherine “Kitty” Marsh, a slightly naïve yet bold and beguiling brunette whose hints of tawdriness go sailing over Chris’ poor innocent head. For a tawdry dame, she sure has a smart Travis Banton wardrobe, especially after Chris becomes her sugar daddy. (For some reason, the IMDb doesn’t show Travis Banton’s SS screen credit, but you can read Christian Esquevin’s great 2010 “Batty for Banton” post over at Silver Screen Modiste!) Flattering our Gent of a Certain Age, Kitty coos, “You’re not so old…You’re not a boy, you’re just mature.” As they share a drink at local watering hole Tiny’s, Chris unwittingly talks about his love of painting in ways that mislead Kitty into thinking Chris is a man of financial means, and persuades Chris to get a gorgeous pad on the titular street that he can use to paint in peace. What’s more, the joint used to belong to renowned artist Diego Rivera, no less (including pictures he drew randomly around the house)!
Part of me wanted to hug Chris because I felt badly for him, while another side of me wanted to shake him by the shoulders, yelling, “Dude, snap out of it! That dame is trouble! Scram outta there and stay out, before it’s too late!” Besotted Chris doesn’t realize that the ruffian he smacked with his umbrella also happens to be the ironically-named Johnny Prince (Duryea), who happens to be Kitty’s boyfriend, though Kitty’s passing Johnny off as her friend/roomie Millie’s beau when Chris is around. People will say they’re in love, though the understandably cynical Millie (Margaret Lindsay from Jezebel; Bordertown; The Dragon Murder Case; The House of the Seven Gables; and the Ellery Queen movies of the 1940s) begs to differ, since it’s clear to her that Kitty and Johnny, shall we say, like it rough (maybe Kitty had an abusive childhood):
Millie: “That guy pushes you around the way I wouldn’t push a cat around.”
Kitty: “You wouldn’t know love it if hit you in the face.”
Millie (as Kitty storms out): “If that’s where it hits you, you oughta know!”

The look of love? Not for conniving Kitty!
What’s more, Kitty comes honestly by her nickname, “Lazy Legs.” She may have gorgeous Banton clothes, but with her apparent allergy to work (including housework), she won’t be seeking employment as a cleaning lady anytime soon! Things get even crazier when Johnny decides to get Chris’ paintings evaluated—and bona-fide art critics love them! In rapid succession, sly Johnny becomes Kitty’s agent; Adele sees the amazing art of “Katherine Marsh;” Chris finds out Kitty's been selling his paintings under an alias—and he’s thrilled, because now he thinks this will help him keep Kitty! I’ll say this for Chris: he sure knows how to take life’s lemons and make lemonade, without noticing any sour aftertaste.  It’s enough to keep your head spinning as screenwriter Nichols’ tangled but compelling web also encompasses Det. Homer Higgins (Charles Kemper of Intruder in the Dust, The Southerner, Where Danger Lives) who’s now a bum back from the dead (he couldn’t stand Adele, either, so he faked his death) and willing to stay that way—for a price. It all ends in betrayal, murder, misery, and frame-ups that stick. Alas, poor Chris’ basic decency is no match for his guilty conscience as the voices of the dead taunt him, dooming him to walk all over New York, homeless and hopeless. With the crazy twists and turns plot-wise and emotion-wise, at times it’s almost like a pitch-black comedy (not necessarily a bad thing)!

Wonder if this toenail-painting scene
gave Kevin Smith the idea for Clerks?
Even considering its then-controversial subject matter, SS certainly had an impressive pedigree, including a script by Dudley Nichols adapted from Jean Renoir’s 1931 French melodrama La Chienne (The Bitch). Nichols had already grabbed Hollywood’s attention when he won the Best Screenplay Oscar in 1936 for The Informer—and refused it, in order to show solidarity with his colleagues at The Screen Actors Guild, who were on strike at the time. I wonder if that’s what gave Marlon Brando the “Sacheen Littlefeather” idea back in the 1970s? (Nichols eventually got his Oscar statuette in his hot little hands in 1949.) Nichols went on to write such classic screenplays as Bringing Up Baby (1938), Stagecoach (1939), For Whom the Bell Tolls (1943), and And Then There Were None (1945).  I found myself wishing that Ball of Fire’s Professor Potts and Sugarpuss O’Shea could’ve shown up to have an intervention with Chris before he got in too deep! Consider this a compliment, because it means Lang and Nichols made me care about these characters, especially poor hapless Chris. This role captures Robinson at his most endearingly, tragically vulnerable. How the man never won an Oscar in competition is one of the Academy’s mysteries. Yeah, I know Cary Grant and Myrna Loy and countless other greats didn’t get Oscars or even nominations, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. At least he reportedly knew he was going to receive a Lifetime Achievement Award before he died of cancer, though it’s a shame Eddie didn’t live long enough to enjoy even that honor. I’m glad we have so many of his movies to remember him by and enjoy, though!

Decision:  If you like your Fritz Lang film noirs with a spoonful of hope, chances are you'll love The Woman in the Window.  If you like your Fritz Lang noirs dark, with wry gallows humor, head for Scarlet Street.
See, there's something for everyone!

Bonus! !: George "Spanky" McFarland's show-stealing moment in The Woman in the Window!