THE DARK MIRROR

Robert Siodmak, 1946

Starring: Olivia de Havilland, Lew Ayres, Thomas Mitchell

A doctor is murdered and the main suspect is his girlfriend. When Lt. Stevenson goes to question her, he learns that it is actually two girls, identical twins – Terry and Ruth Collins – and that they have an airtight alibi because of it. He knows one of them is guilty, but doesn't have any evidence. He receives some assistance from a psychiatrist, Dr. Elliott, who convinces the girls to undergo a few weeks of testing. He falls in love with Ruth and comes to believe that Terry is psychopathic and dangerous and learns that her trigger is jealousy. He's realizes that he and Terry are both in danger, but can he prove which twin is which?

With a compelling script from Nunnally Johnson (The Three Faces of Eve) and competent, stylish direction from Robert Siodmak, The Dark Mirror is an underrated effort that waves between mystery, noir, and melodrama. Similar to other film noir from the period, like Otto Preminger's Whirlpool (1949), the film includes several popular themes, such as a romance where a man falls in love with a troubled woman and endeavors to save her, and some very heavy-handed instances of psychiatry and Freudianism. It also fits in with “women’s pictures” like Mildred Pierce, The Reckless Moment, The Letter, and many others. One of the things that sets The Dark Mirror apart is an excellent, subtle performance from Olivia de Havilland (The Died with Their Boots On, Gone with the Wind).

The murder mystery is the least interesting thing about the film. It's obviously that one of the twins must have killed the doctor, but De Havilland is able to rise above this fairly trite plot device with the subtle differences she invests in Ruth and Terry. The spectacle of twin-ness, and even more so, of femininity, becomes the film's centerpiece. Though it is suggested that the concept of twin-ship is unnatural, it puts more of an emphasis on the fact that the twins are women and their femininity is where the true perversion lies. The murder and violence is based on the inherent jealousy and possessiveness of women, which is bleakly misogynistic, but still makes for an interesting look at female mental illness. Good and bad siblings feature in some of Siodmak’s other films, including Son of Dracula and The Spiral Staircase, where psychopathy also lurks behind an attractive façade.

De Havilland apparently had a real life feud with her sister, actress Joan Fontaine, and she brings every ounce of that to the screen. There's a palpable lesbian undercurrent, as it is clear that Terry becomes homicidally jealous every time a man prefers Ruth. She is determined to keep Ruth all to herself, and to be viewed as the smarter, stronger, and more beautiful twin. To enhance this battle between identities, Siodmak borrows liberally from German expressionism, which was reliant upon doubles, mirrors, and reflections. Perhaps the film's finest moment is that it ends on an eerie, uncomfortable note, suggesting that it's unclear which twin remains to live out a happy, romantic life with Dr. Elliott.

In addition to De Havilland, there are some solid supporting performances. Thomas Mitchell (It's a Wonderful Life) is memorable as the stalwart detective who doesn't fall for the twin's ruse for a moment and is convinced that one of them is a dangerous killer. Lew Ayres (All Quiet on the Western Front) is a little disappointing as the somewhat creepy, inappropriate doctor. This marked Ayres shaky return to cinema and he was still iffy in the eyes of fans. Perhaps ironically, his performance in All Quiet on the Western Front made him staunchly anti-war. He declared himself a conscientious objector, to the horror of cinema-going Americans. For a few years, he was blacklisted, despite the fact that he served as a medic in the South Pacific.

The Dark Mirror may not be a film noir classic, but it is well worth seeing thanks to De Havilland and Siodmak. Though it is from the '40s, it's aged very well, probably because the concept of twins as the source of a mystery is a concept that hasn't grown old. The film is available on Blu-ray, perhaps surprisingly, and fans of Dead Ringers and especially Sisters will want to check this out – Sisters in particular feels like a direct rip off of The Dark Mirror. A double feature of the two would probably yield some fascinating results.

THE SUSPECT (1944)

Robert Siodmak, 1944

Starring: Charles Laughton, Ella Raines, Dean Harens

Philip, a shopkeeper, is stuck in an unhappy marriage to a miserable woman. His life takes a turn for the better when he meets Mary, a young typist looking for employment. They quickly strike up a friendship, which quickly deepens into something more. Ashamed that he has let it carry on so long, Philip breaks things off with Mary and asks his wife for a divorce. She cruelly refuses and he resigns himself to improving their marriage. But she’s determined to get revenge, to ruin both Philip and Mary, even though their relationship remains platonic. Mary falls to her death and it is unclear whether this was an accident or Philip’s doing. He is hounded by a local police inspector, but marries Mary and goes on to have a very happy life – that is, until his drunken, wife-beating neighbor gets wind of the investigation and decides to blackmail Philip.

Based on a novel by James Ronald, The Suspect is one of the early film noir efforts from virtuoso director Robert Siodmak. It’s one of the rare noir works set in period London and, while watching it, I wondered if it can fairly be called noir rather than just a regular suspense film. It is a not a run of the mill thriller in the sense that the script has little excitement, but heaps of ambiguity. Did Philip kill his wife? The film hints that he did, but never states it outright. It also is left completely open-ended as to whether or not he will turn himself in for the crime, though he is pictured walking serenely through the streets of London when he is supposed to be sailing to Canada.

Philip is a fascinating character, made more so by the wonderful Charles Laughton. His magnificent performance is what makes this film so worth watching. Philip is a quiet, lonely man. At first glance, he seems to be like Edward G. Robinson’s character in Scarlet Street, a desperate man in an unhappy marriage who befriends a beautiful young woman going through some hard luck. But Philip is not the same type of pushover. His wife is horrible (I wanted her killed within 4 minutes and 30 seconds) and nagging, but he owns his own business and puts his foot down about things like staying late at work and having a separate bedroom. Unlike most noir protagonists, he is neither gripped by guilt or a sense of doomed fate. By the film’s ending, there is the feeling that both (potential) murders are justified and Philip deserves to lead a long, happy life, which is arguably more subversive than most noir.

The Suspect is also noir-like in the sense that many of the film’s relationships are based on anger, manipulation, selfishness, loneliness, and despair. Philip and his wife openly dislike one and another, and while Philip tries to follow a path that will allow them to seek separate happiness, his wife is bitter and angry, determined to hurt him in as many ways as possible. This relationship is paralleled in that of their neighbors: the wife is kind and good-hearted, while her husband (an excellently cast Henry Daniell) is a wife-beating alcoholic who steals what little remains of her inheritance. Like Philip’s wife, he is an all-around nasty person who richly deserves death.

While it’s a bit of a stretch to believe that Ella Raines (Phantom Lady) would marry Charles Laughton, the film makes it believable through their performances and a solid script. Though she may be young and beautiful, it’s suggested that Mary is desperate, dejected, and thoroughly down on her luck. Another sort of film noir would follow her downward spiral into crime, debauchery, or prostitution. Instead, she is given the rare gift of sublime happiness, presumably because she follows her heart, rather than convention. It helps that there’s a scene where she explains her attraction to him. She first makes up an imaginary lover that her friends drool over, then tells the truth that he is imperfect, but incredibly kind-hearted and lonely, just like herself.

The Suspect is perhaps a more minor effort, but anyone who remotely enjoys murder-themed thrillers, suspense-films about marital discord (of which there were many in the ‘40s and ‘50s), or Charles Laughton will find it worth watching. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem to be available on DVD, though you can find it streaming for free on Archive.org.

Noir Con 2014

From October 30 through November 2, head to Philly's Society Hill Playhouse for a celebration of all things noir -- literature, film, art, poetry, and more -- at Noir Con 2014. There will be panels, parties, and film screenings all weekend, an awards banquet, a trip to PhilaMOCA, and a Sunday visit to Port Richmond Books. Farley Books will be on site to sell books, and featured guests include Fuminori Nakamura, Bronwen Hruska, Joseph Samuel Starnes, William Lashner, Sigrid Sarda, Buffy Hastings, Jeff Wong, Duane Swierczynski, Megan Abbott, Eric Miles Williamson, and many more.

As an added bonus, noir expert and author Eddie Muller will be on hand for a special screening of The Prowler (1951) on Thursday at the International House.

Learn more about the convention, find tickets, and check out the schedule at the website: www.noircon.com.

HIS KIND OF WOMAN

John Farrow, 1951

Starring: Robert Mitchum, Jane Russell, Vincent Price

A professional gambler, Dan Milner, agrees to take on a mysterious job. In exchange for $50,000, he will fly to a Mexican resort and wait there for more instructions. Along the way, he meets the beautiful Lenore, who claims to be a traveling socialite. Though she first snubs Dan, an attraction develops between the two. While at the resort, Morro’s Lodge, he also meets famous actor Mark Cardigan, who also happens to be Lenore’s boyfriend. While waiting for more information, Dan comes across a number of strange characters, including an antisocial, chess-playing writer, an undercover agent, and a bodyguard who gives him more money and tells him to wait. The agent – before being killed – tells Dan that Nick Ferraro, a famous gangster hiding out in Italy, is believed to be on his way to the island. Dan soon realizes that he may be in a considerable amount of danger, as he is of the same build and general appearance as Ferraro…

His Kind of Woman is generally labeled as a film noir, though it is really a mashup of genres. Everything from surprisingly dark and violent noir, romantic comedy, battle-of-the-sexes, crime thriller, melodrama, and adventure flick are present. This nearly turns the film into a complete disaster, but for some reason it works. The moody, dark scenes – similar to the other film noir work of director John Farrow –are quite enjoyable, but apparently producer Howard Hawks was disappointed. He went in and changed a lot of the film, including re-edits and several scenes re-shot by a second director, Richard Fleischer (Conan the Destroyer).

The film is largely saved thanks to four performances: Robert Mitchum, Jane Russell, Vincent Price, and Raymond Burr. Mitchum is solidly Mitchum here, cast a loner on the wrong side of the law. He’s a lighter version of his character from Out of the Past, in the sense that he switches whiskey for ginger ale and isn’t going to win any cigarette smoking contests. There is a sense about Mitchum that he nearly always seems at ease, even when violence is at hand, and that feeling here helps to keep Dan the focus of the film. Jane Russell is a worthy competitor and the two make a believable team with a healthy dose of palpable attraction between them. I’ve always been kind of intimidated by Russell, probably because – like her costars Price and Burr – the camera seems to go out of its way to make her look absolutely huge, like the 50-foot woman come to smash tiny movie sets with her glamorous, enormous high heels. She delivers plenty of what’s expected of her here – namely songs, skimpy outfits, and cleavage – but she also imparts a level of charm and pathos that exceeds script and dialogue.

Vincent Price almost singlehandedly saves the second half of the film, when Dan is in danger and Lenore begs Mark to step in and do something. The improbably named Mark Cardigan is Errol Flynn-like action star dissatisfied with his routine life, disappointing wife, and fame (sort of). His passion is game hunting, so when Lenore pleads with him to hunt some gangster, he responds with gusto and delivers some truly magnificent dialogue. He corrals a band of Mexican federal police to take him out to Nick Ferraro’s yacht – and I can’t bring myself to spoil the rest. Needless to say, his scenery chewing reaches a new level and all Price fans will want to watch this immediately.

The equally massive, albeit more maniacal Raymond Burr (Rear Window) is almost equally wonderful, though he is given a pitifully small amount of screen time. This is arguably true of every film noir or suspense movie he was cast in, and yet he is incredibly memorable. Burr is present for a number of scenes of exaggerated violence, including a moment where he has Mitchum stripped to the waist, beaten, and locked in a steam room. It’s amazing that the homoerotic struggle that ensues managed to pass the censors. A doctor, who looks amazingly like Peter Sellers in Dr. Strangelove, is trying to jab a needle into Mitchum’s rippling bicep with several gangsters attempt to hold him down. It must be seen to be believed.

His Kind of Woman comes highly recommended, despite its flaws. There’s a lengthy running time at just over two hours, though it is weirdly compelling throughout. The dark and brooding first half will please more traditional film noir fans, while the absolutely insane second half is bonkers enough that it’s easy to see how this become a cult film to those aware of its presence. The film is available on DVD, and another who enjoys weirder noir, Robert Mitchum, Vincent Price, or Jane Russell must see it.

WHERE DANGER LIVES

John Farrow, 1950

Starring: Robert Mitchum, Faith Domergue, Claude Rains

Things are going well for Dr. Jeff Cameron. His career at the local hospital is on the rise and things are heating up with his girlfriend Julie, a nurse at the hospital. But one night he treats an attempted suicide, a mysterious brunette named Margo. At first he checks in on her to make sure she’s stable and won’t try to kill herself again, but he’s soon overwhelmed by Margo’s sex appeal and the two become lovers. She tells Jeff that her wealthy father is forcing her to leave the country. When he attempts to intervene, he learns that Margo’s “father” is really her rich, older husband. The two get into a scuffle after Margo claims he abuses her, and Jeff is beaten unconscious with a fire poker. When he awakens, Margo’s husband is dead and thanks to Jeff’s concussion and head injury, he is unable to think clearly. Margo convinces him they must go on the run to avoid a murder charge, and they begin a doomed flight to Mexico, where Jeff will soon learn the truth about Margo.

Where Danger Lives is another enjoyable film noir from director John Farrow. Much like his Faustian film, Alias Nick Beal, Where Danger Lives is sadly neglected, despite much to recommend it. To begin with, it cleverly plays with noir conventions. Jeff is not the typical noir protagonist. He is yet another man taken in by a beautiful woman, but he begins the film as strong, confident, and happy. His doomed passion for Margo and the web of lies she weaves around their relationship results in him going on the run for a murder he didn’t commit. His head wound, which is growing increasingly worse, adds to the film’s mounting air of nightmarish paranoia. Robert Mitchum is excellent here, as always, and makes the film a must-see. He would go on to play a similar, if more hardened role in Otto Preminger’s Angel Face (1952) a few years later.

Like so many noir protagonists, Jeff is a frustrating and contradictory character. His life is more settled than most noir characters, but he is tempted away from domestic bliss and a life of stolid routine by Margo. Wild, passionate, and sexy, she dupes Jeff numerous times throughout the film, which perhaps says more about his character than hers. Though he is a doctor and is trained to recognize such disorders, Margo’s mental disorder escapes him until the very end of the film, where it is revealed that her every act – including the murder of her husband – has been a desperate attempt for attention and control.

Faith Domergue is primarily remembered for cult films like Cult of the Cobra, It Came from Beneath the Sea, and This Island Earth, and for being one of Howard Hughes’ many mistresses and protégés. She is surprisingly excellent here and has probably the craziest eyes I’ve ever seen captured on film. Her sex appeal and vulnerability explain why someone as level-headed as Jeff is drawn to her in the first place, and his head wound is a good explanation for why he can’t escape from her and even accidentally winds up married to her. Despite her instability, Margo is in control of this universe, a claustrophobic world strangled by sexual obsession and mental illness. Though the film begins in an urban setting, it quickly moves to the threatening, barren wasteland of the American west and essentially becomes a surprisingly bleak road trip movie.

There are also some nice supporting performances.  Claude Rains has a too brief, but very memorable role as Margo’s maligned husband and nearly steals the film. After her appearance in his earlier noir The Big Clock, Farrow’s wife Maureen O’Sullivan returns here for a similar role as the faithful girlfriend wronged. Somewhat disappointingly, she is waiting patiently for Jeff at the end of the film after he survives his endeavors and, oddly, is not punished for his moral indiscretions.

Where Danger Lives is available on a double-feature DVD alongside Tension. It really is odd that this film has been so ignored by contemporary audiences. There’s some solid direction from John Farrow, as always, though the star here is undoubtedly the cinematography from the great Nicholas Musuraca (Out of the Past, Cat People). Every frame is overwhelmed by German expressionist-like dread, claustrophobia, and an increasingly sense of mania as the Where Danger Lives moves toward its tense, surprisingly violent conclusion. The script is also worth a mention and keeps things moving at a hectic, dizzying pace. Written by Hitchcock regular Charles Bennett (The Man Who Knew Too Much, The 39 Steps, Foreign Correspondent, and others), Jeff and Margo are at once symbolic and believable, a combination most often found in fantasy noir, like Farrow’s own Alias Nick Beal and Night of the Hunter, also with Robert Mitchum in one of his signature roles.

ALIAS NICK BEAL

John Farrow, 1949

Starring: Ray Milland, Audrey Totter, Thomas Mitchell

Joseph Foster, an honest district attorney, is trying to convict a local gangster. When all seems lost, he gets some surprise help from a strange man named Nick Beal, who emerges from the fog to help Foster find a series of accounting files hidden at a wharf warehouse. Because of this, Foster prosecutes successfully and is soon offered the chance to become governor. He continues reluctantly to accept Beal's help, though his wife Martha is deeply suspicious of the man. Regardless, Beal's assured assistance and Foster's continued success begins to change Foster and he becomes more greedy and selfish. When his wife and friends become estranged from him, he realizes that something diabolical may be afoot with Beal, but Foster may be in too deep to free himself...

Basically a film noir version of Faust or The Devil and Daniel Webster moved from New England farm life into the world of urban politics, Alias Nick Beal is an excellent effort from director John Farrow. It seems particularly strange that the film has fallen into such obscurity and it's not yet available on DVD. The strong, subtle script from John Latimer (The Glass Key, Night Has A Thousand Eyes, The Big Clock) is very much like a cross between Faust and The Glass Key, a mix of fantasy-horror and political intrigue, backstabbing, and murder. While the blending of fantasy and noir didn't occur very often, there is a touch of it in Nightmare Alley and a heaping dose in Farrow's own Night Has a Thousand Eyes, as well as other film gris like Between Two Worlds.

Unequivocally, Beal is Satan. He doesn't do anything overtly supernatural and is certainly not as ham-fisted as something like Al Pacino's performance in The Devil's Advocate. Rather, the use of an incarnation of the Devil works so well here partly because of the careful, believable screenwriting, but also because of an incredible performance from Ray Milland. Previously, Milland was cast as the good-hearted, if morally ambiguous protagonist in films like Ministry of Fear, The Lost Weekend, and The Big Clock. Here he uses this ambiguity, the “gray area” that Mr. Beal speaks of in the film, blended with suave, handsome, and insidious charm to work his evil. Beal doesn't do anything overt, but is curiously omniscient and appears and disappears at will.

Setting the story within the world of politics was an obvious, if brilliant choice, as it is easy to believe that politics, corruption, and moral decay go hand-in-hand. Beal's acts, which include bribery, murder, and prostitution (he hires and dolls up a prostitute to tempt Foster), are well within the realm of American politics throughout history. Here, evil is insidious, almost banal. The phrase “banality of evil” was used by Hannah Arendt in reference to Adolf Eichmann and the bureaucracy that helped make the Holocaust possible. Bureaucracy is at work here, too. I think the film's only major flaw is the involvement of Reverend Garfield (George Macready of Gilda and Farrow's The Big Clock), the only character who seems to think that Beal is the Devil. He makes an impossible leap of reason and suggests to Foster that he might recognize Beal from a medieval portrait of the Devil, which seems absurd at best. The reluctance or outright refusal to believe in the supernatural – a trope used in horror films from the '60s and onward – would have worked well here, particularly if Foster was the only one who suspected Beal and the others viewed this as a sign of paranoid and encroaching madness.

In addition to excellent direction from Farrow – certainly some of his best work – and a spellbinding performance from Ray Milland, there is a noteworthy performance from film noir regular Audrey Totter (Lady in the Lake, The Unsuspected, The Set-Up). Her performance as the hard-luck prostitute with a conscience is among her best. It's somewhat surprising that her character's introduction – drunk, stealing drinks in a bar, where she gets into a violent cat-fight with another woman – was allowed by the Production Code. Thomas Mitchell (It's a Wonderful Life, High Noon) is also memorable as Foster, a thoroughly bourgeois, unglamorous man who is outshadowed by Beal at every turn.

Thanks to all of these performances, Alias Nick Beal comes highly recommended. It's a shame that it isn't available on DVD, but you could track down a copy online. Fans of film noir, Ray Milland, and the Faust tale will definitely want to check it out. Here's hoping that a Blu-ray release will come along soon.

NIGHT HAS A THOUSAND EYES

John Farrow, 1948

Starring: Edward G. Robinson, Gail Russell, John Lund

John Triton, a fake magician/fortune teller at a nightclub, soon comes to discover that he actually does have psychic powers. This brings him nothing but grief, as he soon has a vision about his beloved girlfriend’s death. He flees to live in solitude and eventually his girlfriend and best friend – who has struck it rich, thanks to Triton’s advice – marry and have a child. As Triton predicted, she dies in childbirth. Several years in the future, Triton moves to San Francisco to be close to them and has a vision that his friend will die in a plane crash, which comes to pass though – for the first time – he actively tries to prevent it. He realizes that his friend’s young, beautiful daughter is also in danger and strives to save her, though no one will believe him.

Noir regular Edward G. Robinson (The Red House, Double Indemnity, Scarlet Street) gives one of his best performances here as John Triton, a pleasant, well-meaning little man who can’t escape the prophecies of doom that haunt him. Triton is one of noir’s most desperate and pathetic figures, which is saying a lot considering that Robinson made a career out of playing those roles. Triton is stuck between visions of the past, present, and future, and is forced to watch those he loves die. What makes him somewhat unsympathetic – and why he must atone for past behavior – is the fact that he never tries to save his girlfriend, or, presumably, anyone before Jean. As with other noir protagonists, his inaction is what ultimately leads to his misery and final downfall, though he bravely faces his fate unflinchingly.

Robinson is supported by a few fine performances, namely William Demarest (Sullivan’s Travels, The Lady Eve) as a sarcastic Lieutenant who is deeply skeptical of his powers, but is committed to keeping Jean from harm. The use of humor will endear this to those who find conventional noir too serious or dour and there are some truly funny moments, mostly surrounding the Lieutenant and his band of police officers (“When would I have shot a lion?”). Gail Russell (Moonrise, Wake of the Red Witch) is ethereally lovely as Jean and looks convincingly damaged. Her suicide attempt at the film’s opening is perhaps the most moving, powerful sequence with some fittingly eerie cinematography from John F. Seitz (Double Indemnity). Seitz and composer Victory Young had previously worked with director John Farrow on his noir The Big Clock and return here for equally pleasing music and visuals. Young’s theme, “Night Has a Thousand Eyes,” actually became a popular jazz standard, covered by everyone from John Coltrane to Bobby Dee.

Night Has a Thousand Eyes is unusual in film noir in the sense that it flirts with the supernatural. While there are a few other films in this loose subgenre, including the excellent Nightmare Alley, Night Has a Thousand Eyes’ has a protagonist who is an actual psychic. The film fortunately does not attempt to explain his gift/curse, but uses it within part of a larger universe. Jean’s terror is described as coming from the very stars themselves, as if the world itself is calling for her death. This feels a touch Lovecraftian to me (and probably will to other horror fans) and though this concept of pre-determined doom is used throughout film noir, this particular element is unique.

Based on Cornell Woolrich’s novel of the same name, Woolrich is an important figure. He deserves a much more popular contemporary readership, though many of his books are out of print. Cornell was incredibly prolific, though I’ve been unable to find a complete bibliography online. This is likely due to the fact that he often wrote under pseudonyms, generally as either William Irish or George Hopley. While Woolrich’s early novels are basically Fitzgerald worship, he quickly turned to detective fiction and, in just a few years, churned out the influential Black Series, including The Bride Wore Black, The Black Curtain, The Black Alibi, The Black Angel, The Black Path of Fear, and Rendezvous in Black. But as I said, he was incredibly productive and this series is simply his most famous. He wrote dozens of well-regarded short stories, which are collected in various volumes, and as William Irish, he wrote Phantom Lady, Deadline at Dawn, Waltz into Darkness, and I Married a Dead Man.

He remains the pulp/detective author with the most number of film adaptations: The Leopard Man (1943) was based on Black Alibi, Phantom Lady (1944), Rear Window (1954) based on the story “It Had to be Murder,” The Bride Wore Black, Mississippi Mermaid (1969) based on Waltz into Darkness, and Seven Blood-Stained Orchids (1972) based on Rendezvous in Black, among many more.

Like other pulp authors, Woolrich had a difficult, yet fascinating life. Though he was briefly married, he was gay and spent most of his adult life living with his mother in New York. He suffered from alcoholism and various physical plights that ultimately claimed his life, much of which he spent in isolation. I would love to see a revival of his works, including reprints and more robust biography (the volume that currently exists is more of a summary of his numerous works than an actual biography). If you are remotely interested in pulp fiction, the Black Series comes highly recommended.

Night Has a Thousand Eyes is available on DVD and comes highly recommended. It is certainly one of the more poetic, stranger noir efforts and is one of the few to touch upon the supernatural. Though there are elements of humor and some conventional detective-story moments, it’s a stand-out film that fans of horror and noir should enjoy.