Fritz
Lang, 1944
Starring:
Ray Milland, Marjorie Reynolds, Carl Esmond
During
the London Blitz, Stephen Neale is released from a mental asylum. On his way
back to London, he stop at a small carnival near the train station, visits with
a strange fortune teller, and wins a cake based on her suggestions. Before his
departure, people at the carnival try to persuade him to give the cake to another
man, but he ignores them. He shares his train compartment with a blind man, who
is later reveals not to be blind and steals the cake during an air raid. The
man is killed, but Neale escapes and arrives in London. He begins investigating
the carnival group, a charity called the Mothers of Free Nations, and meets its
organizers, Willi and Carla, siblings and Austrian refugees. It seems the
Mothers of Free Nations are not quite what they seem and Neale is soon ensnared
in a web of murder, mystery, and blackmail.
Based
on Graham Greene’s novel of wartime intrigue, mystery, and guilt, Lang and
Greene were both allegedly disappointed with the film, but it’s one of Lang’s
best American works and certainly one of his most underrated. This may seem
like a standard war-time thriller upon first viewing and initially feels a bit
like a rip-off of Hitchcock’s The 39
Steps, Saboteur, or Foreign Correspondent,
but it contains many of the surreal, nightmarish aspects of film noir and has
an ever present sense of foreboding. A man – and not an innocent man – is lost
in a labyrinthine city and surrounded by a claustrophobic, unnamable sense of
dread. Though the threat is ultimately from an underground Nazi network, none
of the obvious trappings are present, making the villainy far more ambiguous
and menacing. This is certainly more like Lang’s Weimar masterpieces of
surveillance, manipulation, and paranoia, such as M, Dr. Mabuse, or The Spies.
The
murky nature of morality in Ministry of
Fear is such that everyone is suspect and seems to be part of the
conspiracy. Even Neale himself is not innocent. Like a more
sinister Cary Grant, Ray Milland (The
Lost Weekend, Dial M for Murder) is classy and stylish, but there is something
dark moving beneath the surface of Neale’s unassuming, charming exterior. It
doesn’t help that in the beginning of the film, he’s released from an asylum
for undisclosed reasons into a war-torn world. Is he imagining everything that’s
happening to him? It is later revealed that he was serving time after assisting
in his wife’s suicide by poisoning, which effectively makes him a murderer. Apparently
in the novel, there is the implication that both Neale and Carla are guilty –
Neale as a murderer and Carla as a spy. Though this is an undercurrent of the
film, in the book Neale (there called Rowe) actually poisons his wife, rather
than assisting her suicide. In the film, Carla cold-bloodedly shoots her
brother at point-blank range after learning that he’s the head of the
underground Nazi organization. She does not do this in the book; rather he
commits suicide after being cornered.
As
with many of Lang’s early films, logic is inverted and perverted in Ministry of Fear. While Hitchcock’s
similarly-themed war thrillers from the same period are relatively
straight-forward, if visually artful tales of suspense and paranoia, Lang
injects moments of the uneasy and the absurd into Ministry of Fear that don’t really have an equal in the thrillers
of the day, but are more akin to film noir. Evidence is baked into a cake and
sewn in an elegant suit of clothes; an unseen murder occurs during a séance;
two women claim to be the same person – a matronly psychic and a blonde femme
fatale with a gun in her purse; a briefcase full of books hides a bomb; and a menacing, though wholesome-looking tailor
wields scissors the size of a sword while sweating over his own guilt. This is
certainly the least propagandistic of all the wartime thrillers and the brief
happy ending where Neale and Carla plan their wedding doesn’t provide an ounce
of comfort that the world has been made right again.
In
addition to strong direction and some wonderful cinematography from Henry Sharp
(Duck Soup), Milland’s sympathetic
performance is bolstered by solid appearances from Marjorie Reynolds (Holiday Inn, The Time of Their Lives), Carl
Esmond (Sergeant York), Dan Duryea (Woman in the Window, Scarlet Street),
and Alan Napier (Batman TV series).
Though the script occasionally falters and changes tone a few times, Ministry of Fear comes highly
recommended. The film has a lovely, recent Blu-ray
release from Criterion, though not many special features are included. I’m
still holding out hope for a Blu-ray Lang box set.
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