Classic Movie Hub Blog

Silver Screen Standards: Storms and Silence in The Spiral Staircase (1946)

Posted on January 11, 2024 by Jennifer Garlen

Silver Screen Standards: Storms and Silence in The Spiral Staircase (1946)

Gothic atmosphere churns tempestuously in Robert Siodmak’s 1946 mystery, The Spiral Staircase, with a terrific storm in the natural world that mirrors the psychological turbulence experienced by both heroine and killer. This moody, tense thriller teems with menace as an elusive murderer stalks women with disabilities, but its protagonist, played to great effect by Dorothy McGuire, is no mere victim, despite her inability to speak. Ethel Barrymore gives a particularly rich performance as the ailing matriarch of the fractious Warren family, but the supporting cast is full of iconic players, including George Brent, Kent Smith, Rhonda Fleming, Elsa Lanchester, and Sara Allgood. A true classic, The Spiral Staircase rewards repeat visits once its central mystery has been revealed, leaving the viewer free to appreciate the themes and performances that elevate the whole beyond the old dark house genre with which it shares many of its foundational elements.

The Spiral Staircase, George Brent and Dorothy McGuire — Professor Warren (George Brent) warns Helen (Dorothy McGuire) to be careful as the number of murdered women increases.

McGuire stars as the silent but capable Helen, a young woman left unable to speak after an earlier traumatic event. Helen works as a companion to the elderly, temperamental Mrs. Warren (Ethel Barrymore), who begins to fear for Helen’s safety as disabled young women in the town turn up murdered one after another. Mrs. Warren’s affection for Helen is countered by her disappointment in the younger Warrens, both her stepson, Professor Albert Warren (George Brent), and her feckless biological son, Steve (Gordon Oliver), who has returned to the house after a long absence. While Helen attends to Mrs. Warren, the half-brothers clash constantly, especially over Steve’s romantic pursuit of Albert’s secretary, Blanche (Rhonda Fleming). Helen’s suitor, Dr. Parry (Kent Smith), wants to get her away from the Warren house in the belief that specialists in Boston might be able to restore her speech, but his patients and the weather conspire to delay Helen’s departure until a violent storm traps her in the house where a killer lies in wait.

The Spiral Staircase Ethel Barrymore — Mrs. Warren might be elderly and infirm, but with Ethel Barrymore in the role she’s a powerful presence.

The storm makes plenty of noise throughout the movie, but silence also has power, as McGuire’s emotive performance proves. In many ways it’s a throwback to the silent era, with Helen communicating through gestures and body language instead of speech. We first see her attending a silent film screening, which helps to set the era of the story but also prepares us for McGuire’s performance. In every scene, McGuire keeps us focused on her heroine without a single line of dialogue, no mean feat in a movie where everyone else talks. Helen constantly reveals her lively nature, intelligence, and sense of humor, and she’s never a passive victim or less than a fully fledged individual. She handles Mrs. Warren with grace and patience, daydreams about marrying Dr. Parry, and fights for her life when the killer strikes. Of course, Helen’s forced silence is a crucial plot point because it prevents her from calling out for help or using the telephone, and it’s her difference that attracts the deranged killer in the first place. Dr. Parry’s obsession with curing her seems overbearing and even cruel at times, his excuse being that her silence is purely psychological and not physical, but modern perspectives on disability and ableism push back against the idea that Helen needs Dr. Parry to “fix” her. That critique also exists within the movie, as Steve Warren actually questions the doctor’s actions, while the insane killer views women like Helen as deserving of death merely because of their disabilities.

The Spiral Staircase, Elsa Lanchester and George Brent, Candle — Housekeeper Mrs. Oates (Elsa Lanchester) accompanies Professor Warren to the wine cellars in one of many scenes featuring women holding candles.

In addition to Helen’s psychological trauma, the movie also probes the causes and effects of the emotional trauma experienced by the two Warren sons, both of whom were disappointments to their hypermasculine father. Helen’s childhood suffering when her family died in a fire was acute and sudden, but Albert and Steve have endured years of emotional neglect and abuse, and both are damaged by it. Although the late Mr. Warren despised his sons for their perceived “weakness,” Mrs. Warren perpetuates the abuse in her treatment of the two men, proving that mothers can be dangerous advocates for toxic masculinity, too. Throughout the house there are symbols of this deadly heritage in the form of hunting trophies, especially tigers, all of them emphasizing a “kill or be killed” attitude toward strength and power. The troubled history of the Warren family casts a Gothic gloom over the house akin to that of the House of Usher or Wuthering Heights, and it gives Mrs. Warren’s warnings to Helen a palpable sense of urgency. Nothing good can happen in this house full of secrets, shadows, and festering wounds, and the building violence eventually breaks open like the storm raging overhead. The titular spiral staircase, a central feature of the Warren house, suggests the twisted hearts that lie at the center of the story, and we repeatedly see women carrying candles as they descend into the psychological underworld embodied by the mansion’s dark cellars. What – and who – they find at the bottom reveals the extent to which the elder Warrens’ sins have come home to roost. This densely packed symbolism really merits repeated viewings of the picture so that every detail and subtle motif can be fully appreciated.

The Spiral Staircase, Dorothy McGuire, Stairs — Shadows loom as Helen descends the titular spiral staircase in the Warren family’s mansion.

Don’t try to figure out the killer’s identity based on the eye repeatedly seen in closeup; that voyeuristic orb belongs to director Robert Siodmak himself. You can see more of Siodmak’s work, if not his eye, in Phantom Lady (1944), The Suspect (1944), The Killers (1946), and Criss Cross (1949). Dorothy McGuire also stars in The Enchanted Cottage (1945), A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (1945), and Gentlemen’s Agreement (1947). Stage legend Ethel Barrymore earned her second Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actress for her role in The Spiral Staircase, having already won the award for None but the Lonely Heart (1944). She would be nominated again for The Paradine Case (1947) and Pinky (1949), but I also really like her in the lesser-known Moss Rose (1947). For a thematic double feature, try pairing The Spiral Staircase with Johnny Belinda (1948), Wait Until Dark (1967), or even the 2018 Best Picture winner, The Shape of Water (2017).

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— Jennifer Garlen for Classic Movie Hub

Jennifer Garlen pens our monthly Silver Screen Standards column. You can read all of Jennifer’s Silver Screen Standards articles here.

Jennifer is a former college professor with a PhD in English Literature and a lifelong obsession with film. She writes about classic movies at her blog, Virtual Virago, and presents classic film programs for lifetime learning groups and retirement communities. She’s the author of Beyond Casablanca: 100 Classic Movies Worth Watching and its sequel, Beyond Casablanca II: 101 Classic Movies Worth Watching, and she is also the co-editor of two books about the works of Jim Henson.

Posted in Films, Posts by Jennifer Garlen, Silver Screen Standards, Uncategorized | Tagged Dorothy McGuire, elsa lanchester, ethel barrymore, kent smith, Rhonda Fleming, Robert Siodmak, sara allgood, the spiral staircase | 1 Comment

Western RoundUp: Gunfight at the O.K. Corral (1957)

Posted on December 31, 2023 by Laura Grieve

Gunfight at the O.K. Corral (1957)

This month it’s back to Tombstone with a look at Gunfight at the O.K. Corral (1957).

Gunfight at the O.K. Corral was a first-time watch for me, part of my ongoing series of reviews of Wyatt Earp films. Five years ago I covered a trio of Earp movies, Frontier Marshal (1939), Tombstone: The Town Too Tough to Die (1942), and Wichita (1955).

I also wrote a 2021 review of Hour of the Gun (1967), starring James Garner as Earp, and in the spring of 2023 I covered Tombstone (1993), with Kurt Russell in the lead.

In Gunfight at the O.K. Corral the upright Wyatt Earp is played by Burt Lancaster, with Kirk Douglas as a sneering, almost feral Doc Holliday.

Gunfight at the OK Corral, Kirk Douglas, Burt Lancaster, John Hudson, DeForest Kelley — Kirk Douglas, Burt Lancaster, John Hudson and DeForest Kelley

Wyatt’s brothers appear in this version of the story only briefly, played by John Hudson (Virgil), DeForest Kelley (Morgan), and Martin Milner (James), while Lyle Bettger plays villainous Ike Clanton.

I’ll note at the top that, as with my previous Earp film reviews, I assume that readers are familiar with the general outlines of the story of the Earps and the Clantons. I will necessarily indulge in some spoilers as I critique and compare this film with others.

Those wishing to approach the movie spoiler-free will want to watch it first and then return to this review. I’ll add here that I watched an attractive Blu-ray released by Paramount Pictures in 2017, and I recommend the print.

In this version of the famous story we initially follow Wyatt Earp as he upholds the law in towns like Fort Griffin, Texas, and Dodge City, Kansas. Earp runs into Holliday in each place he travels, and in some cases Holliday travels along with him. Holliday owes Wyatt a debt of honor, though he also claims not to like him very much.

While in Dodge City Wyatt falls in love with gambler Laura Denbow (Rhonda Fleming), but although they plan a future together, she leaves him when he tells her he’s been urgently summoned to help his brother Virgil (Hudson) in Tombstone. She insists that he hang up his guns and is unwilling countenance to Wyatt having “just one more job,” even if it’s to aid his brother.

Wyatt, of course, feels it’s a matter of family honor that he must answer his brother’s call for help. The film then comes to a climax in Tombstone, where Wyatt, Virgil, Morgan, and Doc go up against the Clantons to avenge the death of young James Earp and stop the Clantons’ reign of terror.

I would class Gunfight at the O.K. Corral as a “mid-range” Earp film. It was a pleasant enough watch, but while it wasn’t boring, I also didn’t find it particularly compelling. Indeed, while it’s watchable, I found it surprisingly colorless.

My husband opined that the movie’s parts are better than the whole, and I found that apt. Despite being made by top filmmakers, including an excellent extended supporting cast, this version of the story is relatively bland, which I attribute in part to a meandering script by novelist Leon Uris.

The movie struck me as misusing its 122 minutes, moseying along on the way to the O.K. Corral, with time spent on scenes without substantial story and character value.

A good example of this is Earp’s confrontation with Sheriff Cotton Wilson (Frank Faylen) over Wilson not arresting the Clantons, which does little to propel the actual story forward. Wilson later reappears as a Clanton henchman and is generally a thorn in Earp’s side, but the character could be completely excised and the movie wouldn’t miss a beat, especially as many other scenes depict the frustrations and sacrifices of being a lawman.

Similarly, lovely Rhonda Fleming appears in a few scenes as Wyatt’s love interest. The fictional Denbow seems to be a stand-in for Wyatt’s wife, Josephine Marcus, who was played by Dana Delaney in the later Tombstone.

The Wyatt-Laura romance is fairly routine — it’s incredibly obvious Wyatt will kiss her when he takes her for a buggy ride — and curiously much of it takes place offscreen. We fade from a Wyatt-Laura kiss to Wyatt telling Doc they’re getting married. Fleming’s great beauty and spirit enliven the film, but the filmmakers should have either explored the relationship in greater detail or cut it. Fleming simply disappears from the film, with a hopeful throwaway line about her tossed out by Wyatt at the end.

Lancaster is fine as Earp, though he perhaps underplays too much — or is it that the role is underwritten? Perhaps both.

Douglas, on the other hand, is the most unlikeable Doc Holliday I’ve ever seen, which was certainly an interesting choice from both Douglas and the screenwriter.

Douglas’s Holliday is a nasty man, downright abusive to his mistress, Kate Fisher (a boring, whiny Jo Van Fleet). Actors in other Earp films have offered wildly contrasting takes on Doc which make clear some of his varied issues while still keeping him relatively likeable and interesting to watch. Douglas is neither.

That said, I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve never been much of a Douglas fan, so his performance may be more appreciated by others.

Dennis Hopper shines as young Billy Clanton, who promises his mother (Olive Carey) to reform but ultimately feels that it’s a matter of honor to accompany Ike to the O.K. Corral. It’s a small part, but Hopper is considerably more “alive” and nuanced than most of the movie’s cast, and I really appreciated his short but memorable performance.

I also enjoyed John Ireland, who pops up periodically as hotheaded Johnny Ringo. There’s not much depth to his character, yet I always find Ireland fun to watch. On the other hand, Kenneth Tobey was sadly completely underused as Bat Masterson.

The deep cast includes many other great faces, including Lee Van Cleef, Jack Elam, Earl Holliman, Whit Bissell, Don Castle, and Ted de Corsia. I really enjoyed seeing each of them pop up in turn, even though they weren’t all used to full effect.

Gunfight at the O.K. Corral was directed by John Sturges, who directed some other Westerns I really like, including Escape From Fort Bravo (1953), Saddle the Wind (1958), The Law and Jake Wade (1958), and, most famously, The Magnificent Seven (1960).

Uris based his script on an article by George Scullin. The movie was filmed by Charles Lang in VistaVision, with Old Tucson standing in for Tombstone.

Other top talents worked on the film, including costumer Edith Head and composer Dimitri Tiomkin. The title song, by Tiomkin and Ned Washington, was sung by Frankie Laine.

In the end, I’d class Gunfight at the O.K. Corral as a “serviceable” entry in the Earp movie canon. There are several stronger versions of this classic Western tale but despite its flaws, it’s reasonably entertaining and worth seeing by Western enthusiasts.

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– Laura Grieve for Classic Movie Hub

Laura can be found at her blog, Laura’s Miscellaneous Musings, where she’s been writing about movies since 2005, and on Twitter at @LaurasMiscMovie. A lifelong film fan, Laura loves the classics including Disney, Film Noir, Musicals, and Westerns. She regularly covers Southern California classic film festivals. Laura will scribe on all things western at the ‘Western RoundUp’ for CMH.

Posted in Films, Posts by Laura Grieve, Western RoundUp | Tagged burt lancaster, deforest kelley, Gunfight at the OK Corral, john hudson, John Sturges, Kirk Douglas | 6 Comments

Silents are Golden: Jessica Borthwick, A Forgotten Front Lines Filmmaker

Posted on December 21, 2023 by Lea Stans

Jessica Borthwick, A Forgotten Front Lines Filmmaker

We’re all familiar with the adventurous silent era cameramen who coolly took their equipment into dangerous situations, whether by trekking Arctic tundras or crossing broiling deserts. The excitement of capturing actual life led many to take greater and greater risks to find the most fascinating footage. Soon the most intrepid filmmakers were even tramping the front lines of war. One of the most surprising personalities who risked life and limb to capture battlefield footage was Jessica Borthwick, who decided to film the Second Balkan War at the young age of twenty-two–after only three days of learning to use a motion picture camera.

Likely the first woman to ever capture war footage, Borthwick’s family connections made the venture possible. Her father was General George Colville Borthwick, a high-ranking officer in the Turkish army in Eastern Rumelia, now part of southern Bulgaria. Thanks to him she was allowed to spend a year traveling with the Bulgarian army, armed with both a revolver and a remarkable self-reliance.

The Second Balkan War had broken out in the summer of 1913 when tensions between the Bulgarians, Serbs and Greeks came to a head. Considering her lack of experience with both location filming and filming in general, we might wonder why Bothwick decided to turn war photographer. She later explained it was partly due to “curiosity pure and simple,” and partly due to her deep interest in the welfare of the Balkans, considering how well known her father was in the area. In fact, she would discover that everywhere she traveled in Bulgaria she would be admired as “General Borthwick’s daughter”–a big help during several tough situations.

Her only equipment during the adventure was one small plate camera for taking still photos and one motion picture camera designed for her by Arthur Newman. Newman and his business partner James A. Sinclair were known for their lightweight, reliable cameras, one of which was the Aeroscope favored by many explorers. Although lacking an assistant, a proper dark room, an instruction manual, or even decent tools to fix the camera when it inevitably needed repairs, Borthwick managed to keep it cranking for the full twelve months.

Described as a slender, youthful-looking gal whose voice was “deep and like a resonant organ note,” Borthwick was apparently gifted with nerves of steel. She described the difficulty of trying to set up her tripod at the various scenes of action, where the action was usually over by the time she started cranking. While in Macedonia her tripod was smashed by a shell–luckily both the camera and Borthwick survived intact. While on the battlefields, she would sometimes salvage working cameras from the dead bodies of officers, “but most of these I lost again.”

Bulgarian soldiers at the time of the war.

She would also recall witnessing a bad breakout of cholera in Adrianople, Turkey, where the carts used to haul away cholera victims and the coffins used to bury them were all painted black. This lead to a grim experience when a number of citizens noticed Borthwick’s black box camera and assumed it was some unusual new technology for fighting cholera: “Quickly surrounding me, they came and knelt upon the ground, kissing my feet and clothing, and begging with dreadful pathos that I should cure them. It was a task as sad as it was difficult to explain that their hopes were mistaken, and that I was impotent to help them.”

Adrianople was also the scene of a more darkly amusing event. After losing one of the screws from her tripod, Borthwick attempted to explain to a Turkish officer that she needed a new one. Seeming to understand her gestures, he hailed a taxi and they drove together across the city to…a nearby prison. “However,” Borthwick recalled, “I turned the misconception to advantage by securing some excellent snapshots and having some very interesting talks with the prisoners. One convict–a German of considerable education–invited me to go and see him hanged the next morning, and gave me a souvenir.”

Another story not only dealt with a language barrier, but the awkwardness of dealing with camera issues at the time when many rural areas had never seen one in use. While in a small village in the Rhodope mountains of southern Bulgaria, Borthwick’s camera broke and she needed to scramble to create a makeshift dark room so she could open it up without ruining the film. Coming upon a man making rugs out of sheeps’ wool, she managed to convince him to cover her with the rugs and in that “unusual and very stuffy ‘dark room’” was able to save the film–no doubt to the man’s utter confusion.

Rare shot of Borthwick on horseback among locals in the Rhodope mountains.

Following her year abroad, Borthwick returned to her home in England with her stockpile of footage, although some of it was unfortunately ruined by Bulgarian customs authorities. She gave an illustrated lecture series on the Balkan War in London, although it was less successful than she hoped and she was sued by her projectionist for a lack of wages. Undaunted, she then headed to Spitsbergen, Norway where she farmed reindeer and hunted seals, hoping one day to start a colony “for the cure of consumption and other diseases.”

World War I interrupted these dreams, and she would volunteer the use of her steam yacht the Grace Darling to deliver Red Cross supplies and help refugees escape out of Ostend, Belgium. She then worked as an ambulance driver in Belgium, eventually being recognized as an honorary corporal for her efforts. During the last half of the war, she saw a gap in the toy market thanks to the lack of German imports and started a doll manufacturing business.

Borthwick on the Grace Darling — Borthwick on the *Grace Darling. *

Borthwick would spend her later years living with her mother among the “artsy” set in South Kensington, known for her sculpting and fondness for pipe smoking. She would arrange concerts of Russian traditional music and went through a period of promoting herself as a psychologist. Unfortunately, none of the Balkan War footage she risked so much to obtain survives today. She would pass away in 1946 of accidental gas poisoning, a tragic end to a most unusual and adventurous life.

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Quotes source: “A Girl Cinematographer at the Balkan War: An Interview With Miss Jessica Borthwick.” The Bioscope, May 7, 1914, pages 625 and 627.

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–Lea Stans for Classic Movie Hub

You can read all of Lea’s Silents are Golden articles here.

Lea Stans is a born-and-raised Minnesotan with a degree in English and an obsessive interest in the silent film era (which she largely blames on Buster Keaton). In addition to blogging about her passion at her site Silent-ology, she is a columnist for the Silent Film Quarterly and has also written for The Keaton Chronicle.

Posted in Posts by Lea Stans, Silents are Golden | Tagged jessica borthwick | 1 Comment

Noir Nook: No Femme Fatale Required

Posted on December 19, 2023 by Karen Burroughs Hannsberry

Noir Nook: No Femme Fatale Required

Film noir movies have numerous characteristics in common – voiceover narration, flashbacks, use of shadows and light, unusual camera angles, anti-heroes, and, of course, the ever-popular femmes fatales.

All noirs, of course, don’t have all of these traits – not even, contrary to popular belief, the femme fatale. In this month’s Noir Nook, I’m here to set the record straight by stating unequivocally that a film doesn’t have to have a femme fatale in order to be a noir – and I’m looking at five films that prove my point.

The Asphalt Jungle (1950)

This feature stars Sam Jaffe as Doc Reidenschneider, a recently released ex-convict who corrals a group of men to carry out an intricately designed jewel heist – only to see the scheme collapse like an ill-prepared souffle. The others involved in the plan include Dix Handley (Sterling Hayden), described as a “hooligan” and the muscles of the group; safecracking expert Louis Ciavelli (Anthony Caruso); Gus Minissi (James Whitmore), expert driver of the getaway car; and Alonzo Emmerich (Louis Calhern), the attorney charged with fencing the stolen jewels.

On the distaff side, there are several femmes in the film – but none are fatal. Doll Conovan (marvelously played by Jean Hagen) is Dix’s wish-she-was girlfriend. She accepts his off-handed treatment, but she’s unflaggingly loyal – it’s Doll who cares for Dix when he gets shot and risks her own safety to help him realize his dream of returning to his cherished home in Kentucky. Then there’s Angela Phinlay (Marilyn Monroe), the light-hearted girl-toy of Alonzo Emmerich (whose invalid wife serves as the film’s third female). Angela is harmless – she just wants to go to Cuba with her “Uncle Lon” and show off her new bathing suit.

…..

Shadow of a Doubt (1943)

Directed by Alfred Hitchcock (and, by all accounts, his favorite film), this feature centers on Charlotte “Charlie” Newton (Teresa Wright), who is languishing in the small town of Santa Rosa, California, bemoaning the fact that nothing exciting ever happens in her life. She gets more than she bargained for when her beloved Uncle Charlie (Joseph Cotten) comes to visit, and young Charlie becomes increasingly convinced that her relative is a murderer.

Loyal and trusting, but also smart and inquisitive, young Charlie is like a dog with a bone when it comes to ferreting out the truth. She’s fearless and outspoken, but she’s certainly not fatal. Aside from Charlie’s precocious younger sister (played by Edna May Wonacott who, as of this writing, is still with us), the only other female is Charlie’s mother, Emma Newton (Patricia Collinge), and she is nothing but sweet and loving, unable to see anything but good in her wicked brother.

…..

Key Largo (1948)

John Huston helmed this film, starring Humphrey Bogart as Frank McCloud, a WWII veteran who travels to the title town to meet James and Nora Templeton, the father (Lionel Barrymore) and widow (Lauren Bacall), of his deceased war buddy. He arrives at the hotel owned by “Dad” Templeton to discover that it’s been taken over by a trio of hoods led by the ruthless Johnny Rocco (Edward G. Robinson).

During the occupation of the hotel by Johnny’s gang, Nora displays numerous characteristics – she’s caring and thoughtful when it comes to her father-in-law, warm and welcoming to Frank, fearless and feisty with Johnny. But spitting in the face of a gangster does not a femme fatale make. Also in the cast is Johnny’s old flame Gaye Dawn (played by the Oscar-winning Claire Trevor). A former torch singer who’s now a little too fond of the drink, Gaye is a pitiable character, treated with disdain by Johnny at best, and unconcealed contempt at worst.

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Phantom Lady (1944)

Ella Raines stars as Carol “Kansas” Richman, loyal (and secretly lovestruck) secretary to engineer Scott Henderson (Alan Curtis), who’s accused, convicted, and sentenced to death for the murder of his wife. Henderson’s alibi is that he spent the evening in the company of a woman he met in a bar, who wore a large, distinctive hat, and whose name he never learned. Problem is, the woman can’t be found and everyone who saw the two together is emphatically denying it. It’s up to Carol to unearth the evidence to save her boss before it’s curtains for Mr. Henderson.

Carol is beautiful, intelligent, and persistent, and she doesn’t let anything stand in her way when it comes to proving her boss’s innocence. But that’s about it. Nothing nefarious here. An argument could be made that the “phantom lady” of the film’s title might be considered as the film’s femme fatale – but I would shoot that argument down like one of those clay targets after you yell, “Pull!” And the third female in the cast, Estela Monteiro (credited only as Aurora), is a singer who starred in the performance attended by Scott on the night of the murder, and who just happened to have a hat identical to the one worn by the mysterious phantom lady. Estela was no femme fatale – she was just petty (“No woman wears hats like mine!” she insists. “What woman besides Monteiro could wear those and not look ridiculous?”).

…..

The Big Combo (1955)

This late noir entry depicts a triangle between Mr. Brown (Richard Conte), a conscienceless mobster; police lieutenant Leonard Diamond (Cornel Wilde), who is determined to bring Mr. Brown to justice; and Susan Lowell (Wilde’s then-wife Jean Wallace), who is loved by both men. Despite her longtime relationship with Mr. Brown, it’s ultimately Susan who helps to topple his empire.

Fragile and suicidal, Susan is tortured by her relationship with Mr. Brown and her growing understanding of just how brutal he can be. And both Mr. Brown and Leonard seem completely incapable of rational thought when it comes to the beautiful blonde. But Susan is far too weak to ever be considered a femme fatale. Another female on the scene is Leonard’s part-time lover (Helene Stanton) who, as a burlesque dancer, certainly looks the part of a deadly dame, but is merely a tragic figure who loves wisely but not too well. And then there’s Mr. Brown’s ex-wife, Alicia (Helen Walker), who knows where the bodies are buried, but is really just another casualty of the cold-blooded mobster. No femmes fatales here.

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Don’t forget – there are no absolutes in film noir, even when it comes to fatal femmes. So, if you don’t see one in the area, don’t dismiss a movie from noir consideration.

Femmes fatales aren’t required.

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– Karen Burroughs Hannsberry for Classic Movie Hub

You can read all of Karen’s Noir Nook articles here.

Karen Burroughs Hannsberry is the author of the Shadows and Satin blog, which focuses on movies and performers from the film noir and pre-Code eras, and the editor-in-chief of The Dark Pages, a bimonthly newsletter devoted to all things film noir. Karen is also the author of two books on film noir – Femme Noir: The Bad Girls of Film and Bad Boys: The Actors of Film Noir. You can follow Karen on Twitter at @TheDarkPages.
If you’re interested in learning more about Karen’s books, you can read more about them on amazon here:

Posted in Noir Nook, Posts by Karen Burroughs Hannsberry | Tagged Cornel Wilde, ella raines, humphrey bogart, Key Largo, lauren bacall, louis calhern, marilyn monroe, Phantom Lady, shadow of a doubt, teresa wright, the asphalt jungle, the big combo | 3 Comments

Silver Screen Standards: The House on Telegraph Hill (1951)

Posted on December 12, 2023 by Jennifer Garlen

The House on Telegraph Hill (1951)

Set in its own modern day in the wake of World War II, The House on Telegraph Hill (1951) merges elements of the female Gothic and film noir to present a gripping story about survival, deception, and maternal devotion with a rich subtext for viewers to ponder after the final scene closes. It’s not as celebrated as other noir pictures directed by Robert Wise, like Born to Kill (1947) and The Set-Up (1949), but it reflects his ability to handle psychologically complex women’s narratives just as much as his work on The Curse of the Cat People (1944) and The Haunting (1963). The endangered heroine in the titular house is, however, made of stronger stuff than Hill House’s fragile Eleanor, having already survived the horrors of the Bergen-Belsen concentration camp during the war. With its subtle treatment of trauma, its shifting loyalties, and its moral complexity, The House on Telegraph Hill suggests far more than it tells, making it a movie you need to watch at least twice to appreciate its many layers.

Valentina Cortese house on telegraph hill Camp — When we first meet Victoria (Valentina Cortese), she is struggling to survive brutal conditions in the Bergen-Belsen concentration camp.

Italian actress Valentina Cortese stars as Polish heroine Victoria Kowelska, who assumes the identity of her dead friend, Karin (Natasha Lytess), in the hope of reaching America and Karin’s young son, Christopher (Gordon Gebert). After many obstacles, Victoria, now living as Karin, meets and marries the boy’s legal guardian, Alan Spender (Richard Basehart), and Victoria moves into the stately San Francisco home that previously belonged to Karin’s wealthy aunt. Nobody remembers the real Karin to reveal Victoria’s deception, but her conscience troubles her deeply, as does her attraction to handsome Marc Bennett (William Lundigan), an American Army Major at Belsen during the camp’s liberation and also a friend of Alan’s family in San Francisco. Victoria soon discovers that everyone on Telegraph Hill has secrets, including her relentlessly attentive husband and the boy’s caretaker, Margaret (Fay Baker), but some secrets are deadlier than others.

Valentina Cortese and Richard Basehart Juice house on telegraph hill — Newlywed Allan (Richard Basehart) introduces his Polish bride to his habit of drinking a glass of orange juice every night before bed.

We often hear the commonplace assertion that war changes people, but The House on Telegraph Hill makes the change literal rather than metamorphic by having Victoria abandon her old identity entirely in order to step into the life Karin might have pursued if she had survived. It isn’t really necessary to the plot for Victoria to be an imposter because Alan’s actions are unrelated to her deception, but the extra layer of identity reminds us of the differences between the original Karin and her replacement. When we see the real Karin in the Nazi camp, she yearns for her son but is hopeless, passive, and unable to fight for survival even for his sake. Victoria, however, fights for both of them, stealing food and medicine for Karin, encouraging her to eat, and protecting her from the other desperate prisoners. As her name suggests, Victoria will never admit defeat, and she is determined enough to reach America despite years of setbacks. While she appears to settle into the pretty clothes and domestic routines of her American post-war life, Victoria never loses her survivor’s instinct for danger, and she doesn’t let Alan’s pleasant manner or Marc’s doubts seduce her into a false sense of safety. Here is a heroine who cannot be gaslit because her sense of self-preservation has been sharpened by years of constant use. Karin was a victim, but Victoria prevails, which ironically makes her a better mother to Christopher, who needs as much fierce maternal protection as he can get.

Valentina Cortese Closeup house on telegraph hill — As she settles into her home on Telegraph Hill, Victoria begins to suspect that her new life as Karin might not be as safe as she’d hoped.

Wartime experience and duality reverberate through other aspects of the story, as well. Victoria briefly reveals her home and life before the war; she had a husband and a beautiful estate before the Nazis took everything. We see her first as a starving, unwashed prisoner and later in beautiful gowns with food always around her. The scene of casual abundance at the grocery store contrasts with the opening when Victoria fights for a meager bowl of broth to feed her friend. Glasses of orange juice – symbolic of sunny California life – seem celebratory at first but later turn sinister. Marc first appears as an American Army officer trying to sort out the human wreckage of Bergen-Belsen; later he re-enters Victoria’s life as a wealthy civilian lawyer. Marc provides an alternative to Alan and is also the object of Alan’s envy because of his family’s greater wealth, and it’s noteworthy that no mention is made of Alan having served in the war as Marc did. When Victoria eventually confesses her deception to Marc, their shared knowledge of the concentration camp makes him sympathetic. He knows what she endured there and why she might gamble on a new life and identity. Victoria doubles for Karin, but so does Margaret, who has raised Karin’s son and protected him for years, and the tense relationship between Victoria and Margaret is much more about Chris than Alan. In a later decade the story of Victoria and Margaret might have ended with more resolution about their ultimately common goal, but the best we get in 1951 is an open ending that suggests some tantalizing possibilities.

William Lundigan house on telegraph hill — Victoria’s domestic situation is further complicated by her attraction to family friend, Marc (William Lundigan), whom she first met during the camp’s liberation.

Richard Basehart and Valentina Cortese must have enjoyed good chemistry offscreen in spite of their characters’ conflict; they married in 1951 and remained together until 1960, and their son, Jackie Basehart, also became an actor. For more of Cortese’s film career, see Thieves’ Highway (1949), The Barefoot Contessa (1954), and Day for Night (1973). Basehart also stars in He Walked by Night (1948), Tension (1949), La Strada (1954), and Moby Dick (1956). Fay Baker, who gets her best scenes at the very end of The House on Telegraph Hill, turns up in Notorious (1946), Double Deal (1950), and Deadline – U.S.A. (1952), but she also made many television appearances and wrote novels under the pen name Beth Holmes.

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— Jennifer Garlen for Classic Movie Hub

Jennifer Garlen pens our monthly Silver Screen Standards column. You can read all of Jennifer’s Silver Screen Standards articles here.

Posted in Films, Posts by Jennifer Garlen, Silver Screen Standards | Tagged richard basehart, The House on Telegraph Hill, Valentina Cortese, William Lundigan | 2 Comments

Classic Movie Travels: Mary Kornman

Posted on December 5, 2023 by Annette Bochenek

Classic Movie Travels: Mary Kornman

Mary Kornman was born Mary Agnes Evans on December 27, 1915, in Idaho Falls, Idaho. Her parents were David Lionel Evans, a railroad manager, and Verna Comer. Eugene Kornman, cameraman for Hal Roach, married Verna and adopted Mary.

Soon enough, Kornman found herself a leading actress in the Our Gang series, working in over 40 shorts. Kornman’s first appearance in the series was in Young Sherlocks (1922). Kornman’s little sister, Mildred, also worked in the series as a regular but did not have a speaking part.

As Kornman grew and was phased out of Our Gang, she and fellow former Our Gang actors Scooter Lowry and Johnny Downs performed as a vaudeville act. During this period, she also attended Beverly Hills High School.

In 1934, she married cameraman Leo Tover in Yuma, Arizona. She appeared alongside former Our Gang actor Mickey Daniels in the teenaged version of the series entitled The Boy Friends. She and Tover divorced in 1938.

Kornman continued her acting career in several Bing Crosby shorts in addition to films like Flying Down to Rio (1933), The Desert Trail (1935) as a love interest to John Wayne, and Queen of the Jungle (1935) serial. In Flying Down to Rio, she has several brief lines. Among them is, “What have these South Americans got below the equator that we haven’t?”

In 1940, Kornman retired from acting and married horse trainer Ralph McCutcheon. They met when she purchased a horse and was looking for a trainer to teach it some tricks. Their love for animals brought them together and they were married until her passing. McCutcheon’s ranch was named Rancho Maria in honor of Kornman. They enjoyed living on their ranch and Kornman kept in touch with friends from her Hollywood days.

Kornman passed away on June 1, 1973, in Glendale, California, from cancer. She and McCutcheon are buried at Linn Grove Cemetery in Greeley, Colorado.

Today, there are few points of interest pertinent to Kornman’s life. In 1920, she lived with her mother and step-grandfather, Wilbur Fowler, before her mother married Eugene Kornman. The home was located at 5452 Romaine St., Los Angeles, California. This home no longer stands.

In 1930, she lived at 215 S. Hamilton Ave., Beverly Hills, California, with her mother, sister, and lodger Pauline Brown. This home stands today.

hamilton - Mary Kornman she lived at 215 S. Hamilton Ave., Beverly Hills, California, with her mother, sister, and lodger Pauline Brown — 215 S. Hamilton Ave., Beverly Hills, California

In 1940, she resided at 1321 Alta Vista Blvd., Los Angeles, California, which also stands.

Mary Kornman resided at 1321 Alta Vista Blvd., Los Angeles, California — 1321 Alta Vista Blvd., Los Angeles, California

Rancho Maria remains at 25933 Sand Canyon Rd., Santa Clarita, California, and has been the site of numerous film and television shoots.

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–Annette Bochenek for Classic Movie Hub

Annette Bochenek pens our monthly Classic Movie Travels column. You can read all of Annette’s Classic Movie Travel articles here.

Annette Bochenek of Chicago, Illinois, is a PhD student at Dominican University and an independent scholar of Hollywood’s Golden Age. She manages the Hometowns to Hollywood blog, in which she writes about her trips exploring the legacies and hometowns of Golden Age stars. Annette also hosts the “Hometowns to Hollywood” film series throughout the Chicago area. She has been featured on Turner Classic Movies and is the president of TCM Backlot’s Chicago chapter. In addition to writing for Classic Movie Hub, she also writes for Silent Film Quarterly, Nostalgia Digest, and Chicago Art Deco SocietyMagazine.

Posted in Classic Movie Travels, Posts by Annette Bochenek | Tagged Mary Kornman | Leave a comment

Western RoundUp: Final Resting Places, A Tribute to Western Filmmakers

Posted on November 28, 2023 by Laura Grieve

Final Resting Places, A Tribute to Western Filmmakers

This month we’ll be again paying tribute to Western filmmakers as we visit their Southern California gravesites.

We’ll begin by honoring several Western directors. The prolific George Sherman began his career in ’30s “B” Westerns. My favorite Sherman films are his Universal Westerns of the late ’40s and early ’50s, which are always well-paced and exciting. Sherman titles I like include Black Bart (1948), River Lady (1948), Border River (1954), and Dawn at Socorro (1954). He’s buried at Forest Lawn Hollywood Hills.

George Sherman final resting place — George Sherman

Also at Forest Lawn Hollywood Hills is director Andre De Toth. De Toth was married for several years to Veronica Lake, the star of one of his best Westerns, Ramrod (1947); Lake’s leading man in that “Western noir” was Joel McCrea. De Toth also directed several Randolph Scott Westerns, including Man in the Saddle (1951) and Riding Shotgun (1954). His most impressive Western might have been Day of the Outlaw (959), which I wrote about here in my column on “Snowy Westerns.”

Andre De Toth final resting place — Andre De Toth

Multi Oscar winner William Wyler is buried at Forest Lawn Glendale alongside his brother Robert and Robert’s wife, actress Cathy O’Donnell. Wyler worked on all types of films over his long career. He started out working on silent Western shorts; his feature-length Westerns included an early version of the “3 Godfathers” story called Hell’s Heroes (1929); The Westerner (1940) with Gary Cooper; and an all-star cast in The Big Country (1958).

William Wyler final resting place — William Wyler

Cecil B. DeMille isn’t always associated with Westerns, but he made several over his long career, including The Plainsman (1936) and North West Mounted Police (1940) with Gary Cooper and Union Pacific (1939) with Joel McCrea and Barbara Stanwyck. DeMille is in the DeMille family plot at Hollywood Forever.

Cecil B DeMille final resting place — Cecil B. DeMille

Michael Curtiz was another versatile director who worked in every genre. He made multiple Westerns with Errol Flynn, including Dodge City (1939), Virginia City (1940), and Santa Fe Trail (1940). Two of those films costarred Olivia de Havilland, who years later would appear opposite Alan Ladd in Curtiz’s The Proud Rebel (1958). I wrote about The Proud Rebel here in 2020. Curtiz is buried at Forest Lawn Glendale.

Michael Curtiz final resting place — Michael Curtiz

Errol Flynn is likewise buried at Forest Lawn Glendale, alongside his wife Patrice Wymore. Aside from his Westerns made with Curtiz, Flynn was in several other Westerns, including Silver River (1948), Montana (1950), and Rocky Mountain (1950). The latter film costarred Wymore.

Errol Flynn final resting place — Errol Flynn

The great cinematographer Archie Stout is also at Forest Lawn Glendale. Stout worked extensively with both John Wayne and John Ford, with his films including Angel and the Badman (1947), Fort Apache (1948), and Hondo (1953), as well as second unit work on She Wore a Yellow Ribbon (1949), Rio Grande (1950), and Wagon Master (1950).

Nicholas Musuraca is most commonly associated with his cinematography of film noir titles such as Out of the Past (1947), but he also filmed many Westerns. He worked on several Tim Holt “B” Westerns both before and after Holt’s service in World War II. He also shot Devil’s Canyon (1953) with Dale Robertson and Virginia Mayo. Musuraca is interred in the mausoleum at Holy Cross Cemetery in Culver City.

Nicholas Musuraca final resting place — Nicholas Musuraca

The great cowboy star Tom Mix is at Forest Lawn Glendale. In recent years I’ve loved getting to know some of Mix’s silent Westerns, such as Just Tony (1922). In addition to his silent films, Mix appeared in sound Westerns through the mid ’30s. Mix tragically died in an Arizona car accident at the age of 60.

Earlier this year I paid my first visit to San Fernando Mission Cemetery in Mission Hills, California. A number of prominent filmmakers are buried there, including three-time Oscar winner Walter Brennan. Brennan made many Westerns in his long career, including William Wyler’s The Westerner (1940), in which Brennan won an Oscar for playing Judge Roy Bean. Other favorites include My Darling Clementine (1946), Red River (1948), Blood on the Moon (1948), The Far Country (1954), and Rio Bravo (1959), which I reviewed here.

Walter Brennan final resting place — Walter Brennan

Another Rio Bravo cast member, Estelita Rodriguez, is also at San Fernando Mission Cemetery. Rodriguez played Consuelo in that favorite Howard Hawks Western. She also appeared in numerous Roy Rogers Westerns.

Estelita Rodriguez final resting place — Estelita Rodriguez

We’ll close this month’s tour of final resting places with a tribute to Virginia Vale, who is interred at Forest Lawn Hollywood Hills under her birth name, Dorothy C. Howe. Vale was George O’Brien’s leading lady in half a dozen of my all-time favorite “B” Westerns; she would later tell an interviewer that O’Brien was “a gem of a fellow.” At her request she even designed some of her dresses for the films, which were later reused in other RKO Westerns. She was later a longtime competition judge for the U.S. Figure Skating Association.

Virginia Vale final resting place — Virginia Vale, born as Dorothy C. Howe

For additional photos of the burial sites of Western filmmakers, please visit my columns from May 2019, February 2022, November 2, 2022, November 29, 2022, and April 2023.

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– Laura Grieve for Classic Movie Hub

Posted in Posts by Laura Grieve, Western RoundUp | Tagged andre De Toth, archie stout, cecil b. demille, errol flynn, estelita rodriguez, George Sherman, Michael Curtiz, nicholas Musuraca, tom mix, virginia vale, walter brennan, william wyler | 4 Comments

Silents are Golden: Chaplin’s Year At The Keystone Film Company

Posted on November 21, 2023 by Lea Stans

Silents are Golden: Chaplin’s Year At The Keystone Film Company

In August 1913, Charlie Chaplin wrote a letter to his brother Sidney to share some exciting news:

“I have had an offer from a moving picture company for quite a long time but I did not want to tell you until the whole thing was confirmed and it practically is settled now–all I have to do is to mail them my address and they will forward a contract. It is for the New York Motion Picture Co., a most reliable firm in the States–they have about four companies, the ‘Kay Bee’ and ‘Broncho,’ [and] ‘Keystone’ which I am to join…”

Famed today for the many classic comedies he made in the late 1910s and the 1920s, it’s easy to forget that Chaplin became a household name during his sojourn at Keystone. By 1913 Chaplin, whose English music hall career began when he was a child, had spent the past several years working as a top comedian in Fred Karno’s famed comedy company. While on a lengthy tour of the U.S.A., somewhere along the way he was contacted about appearing in films. The move to the screen would truly change his life.

The slapstick-heavy Keystone studio was home to popular names like Mabel Normand, Ford Sterling, and Roscoe Arbuckle as well as the famed group of Keystone Cops (a loosely-defined group played by whatever actors were handy at the time). It was also wildly prolific, releasing two or more one-reel comedies a week. Fast-paced and full of over-the-top costumes and makeup (especially where fake mustaches were concerned), Keystone comedies revolved around romantic rivalries, burglaries, misplaced bombs, cheap saloons, dance halls, chase scenes, and various misunderstandings–just about anything was ripe for satire and hyperbole. It was a strange environment for a young British music hall star to get used to, but it didn’t take long for Chaplin to prove himself.

Charlie Chaplin Acting alongside Mabel Normand in Mabel’s Married Life (1914) — Chaplin acting alongside Mabel Normand in *Mabel’s Married Life* (1914).

It’s thought that Keystone was looking to replace their comedian Fred Mace, who was planning on leaving. Accounts vary as to who spotted Chaplin first–some say it was the N.Y.M.P head Adam Kessel, some say it was executive Harry Aitkin, and Keystone boss Mack Sennett even claimed that he and Mabel Normand spotted him when they attended a Karno show in New York City. Whatever the case, in the spring of 1913 Karno manager Alf Reeves received a telegram from the New York Motion Picture Company, famously reading: “IS THERE A MAN NAMED CHAFFIN IN YOUR COMPANY OR SOMETHING LIKE THAT…”

In early December 1913 Chaplin found himself at the Keystone Film Company gates. The studio was in a hilly suburb of Los Angeles that used to be called Edendale, only a short drive from Echo Park. At the time, it consisted of some bungalows and farm buildings converted into offices and dressing rooms, with a large open air stage with white cloth hanging overhead to soften the sunlight. The shy Chaplin watched as a crowd of noisy Keystone actors headed to lunch, and felt too intimidated to make an appearance. The next day he still couldn’t bring himself to go in, and the third day Sennett finally called him to ask where he’d been.

His first Keystone film was Making a Living, released February 2, 1914, where he plays a “would-be reporter” trying to impress a girl with his new job at a newspaper. When a romantic rival at the paper takes a sensational news-worthy photo, Chaplin’s character steals the camera and tries to pass off the photo as his own. Still musing over what his Keystone persona should be, Chaplin donned a top hat, long buttoned coat, cravat, monocle, and peculiar drooping mustache–perhaps drawing on his dandy-ish Archibald Binks character from his Karno days.

Making a Living (1914) — *Making a Living* (1914).

It only took until his second released Keystone film for his famed “Little Tramp” character to be born–or the “look” of the Tramp, at least. The split-reel Kid Auto Races at Venice (1914) was filmed on location in Venice Beach, capturing a real soapbox derby. The premise was simple: a camera crew tries to film the race, but Chaplin’s “annoying bystander” keeps strutting and posing in front of the lens, trying to get on camera. The unusual breaking of the fourth wall is still very funny today. Chaplin wears the small mustache, derby hat, tight coat and baggy pants that he’d don for the rest of the silent era. Some sources say he borrowed various items from other Keystone comedians, but it’s likely that he improvised the look from simply rummaging through the studio’s wardrobe department. The look might actually have been created for his third released film, Mabel’s Strange Predicament (1914)–but Kid Auto Races was unleashed on the world first.

Charlie Chaplin Trying to take over the shoot in Kid Auto Races — Chaplin trying to take over the shoot in *Kid Auto Races.*

Other Chaplin Keystone roles came fast and furious throughout 1914, from a quick appearance as a Keystone Cop in A Thief Catcher (only rediscovered a few years ago) to various romantic rivals, drunks, villains, flirts…whatever the flavor of the day was. He battled Ford Sterling in Between Showers, played a bumbling movie fan in A Film Johnnie, flirted with a landlady in The Star Boarder, and impersonated an actress in The Masquerader. Audiences loved him, and soon “Keystone Charlie” was the studio’s biggest draw.

Charlie Chaplin with Mabel Normand and a bashful Mack Swain in Gentlemen of Nerve (1914) — Chaplin with Normand and a bashful Mack Swain in *Gentlemen of Nerve* (1914).

Interestingly, his Keystone persona is a far cry from the “sentimental Charlie” most people associate with his ‘20s features. Keystone Charlie is always ready to kick someone through a doorway or sling bricks at a romantic rival. He flirts with men’s girlfriends, wanders drunkenly through respectable hotels, and cheerfully sits way too close to annoyed girls in parks. In a nutshell, he acts the way any mischievous boy wishes he could behave–and largely gets away with it.

Charlie Chaplin kicking a lady in Recreation (1914) — Charlie kicking a lady in *Recreation* (1914).

In August 1914 Chaplin proudly wrote to Sidney again: “Well, Sid, I have made good. All the theaters feature my name in big letters i.e. ‘Chas Chaplin here today’…It is wonderful how popular I am in such a short time and next year I hope to make a bunch of dough. I have had all kinds of offers…” By the end of 1914, the star had headed to the Essanay studio in Chicago, which promised him a weekly salary higher than what Sennett was willing to pay. His great silent classics were still on the horizon, but his sojourn at Keystone had given him priceless experience and inspiration to draw upon in the years to come.

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–Lea Stans for Classic Movie Hub

You can read all of Lea’s Silents are Golden articles here.

Posted in Posts by Lea Stans, Silents are Golden | Tagged charlie chaplin, Dough and Dynamite, Gentlemen of Nerve (1914), keystone studios, Kid Auto Races, mabel normand, Mabel’s Married Life, Mack Swain, Making a Living (1914), Recreation (1914) | Leave a comment

Noir Nook: Shadows in the Victorian Age

Posted on November 16, 2023 by Karen Burroughs Hannsberry

Noir Nook: Shadows in the Victorian Age

Western noir. British noir. Sci-fi noir. Neo-noir.

So many types of noir these days. And there’s a new one – new to me, at least: Gaslight noir.

I recently discovered this category of films on the Criterion Channel, where they were curated by film critic and historian Farran Nehme under the title, “Noir by Gaslight.” These films are set in the late 19th century, but they contain the tone, mood, and characteristics of the classic noir period of the 1940s and 1950s. The “Noir by Gaslight” collection includes several features with which I was already familiar – including Ladies in Retirement (1941), Gaslight (1944), and The Suspect (1944) – but thanks to the series, I discovered several new-to-me features. And of these, there are three that are not only first-rate, but just happen to be based on true stories (my favorite tango!): Blanche Fury (1948), So Evil My Love (1948), and Madeleine (1950). These three first-rate gaslight noirs are the focus of this month’s Noir Nook.

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Blanche Fury (1948)

Blanche Fury - Valerie Hobson and Stewart Granger — Valerie Hobson and Stewart Granger in Blanche Fury

Blanche Fury is the only one of the three features that’s filmed in color – a blazing Technicolor unlike any I’ve seen before – but that doesn’t lessen the impact of this tale. It focuses on the title character (Valerie Hobson), a domestic servant whose meager existence turns around when she’s hired as the governess for her rich uncle’s granddaughter, Lavinia (Susanne Gibbs). Once installed on the Fury estate, Blanche attains the security she craves by marrying her weak-willed cousin, Laurence (Michael Gough). There’s no love involved in the union, however, and Blanche quickly becomes involved in a passionate affair with Philip Thorn (Stewart Granger), a groom on the property. The illegitimate son of the estate’s former owner, Thorn’s passion for Blanche is exceeded only by his desire to claim his rightful inheritance – no matter who has to die in order for him to do it.

I wasn’t certain at first whether I would like Blanche Fury – in fact, I wasn’t even sure I’d finish it. I think I was initially thrown off by the startling color (which included an odd, and not necessarily flattering, shade of lipstick on star Valerie Hobson), and it took me a while to get used to it. But once I did, I was able to appreciate the variety of characters, especially Blanche, who is one of the most fascinating, contradictory, and multifaceted femmes fatales that I’ve yet to encounter – she’s cantankerous with the older women she cared for, fiercely protective of Lavinia, dismissive and inflexible toward her husband, and with her lover . . . well, she’s many different women with him.

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So Evil My Love (1950)

So Evil My Love - Ray Milland and Ann Todd — Ray Milland and Ann Todd in So Evil My Love

This feature stars Ann Todd as Olivia Harwood, a missionary’s widow who encounters con man and thief Mark Bellis (Ray Milland) when she nurses him through a bout of malaria on a ship from the West Indies to England. The straitlaced Olivia falls under Mark’s nefarious spell and under his guidance, she establishes herself as live-in companion to a wealthy, but unhappily married (and a bit unstable), childhood friend (Geraldine Fitzgerald). Once there, she becomes the sole source of Mark’s income by stealing stocks, bonds, and a variety of small valuables from her friend’s home, and even resorts to blackmail before a series of events brings the scheme to a deadly halt. (Speaking of deadly halt, So Evil My Love serves up an ending that literally left me with my mouth open. It’s one of my favorites in all of film noir.)

As with Blanche, I was intrigued by Olivia. When we first meet her, she comes across as a rather noble sort – on the ship from the West Indies, she initially refuses to nurse the passengers who’ve contracted malaria, but she then agrees to assist, almost against her own will – as if she couldn’t help being helpful. But with the release of her passion for Mark, we also see the unleashing of something else, something far more sinister – and something that wasn’t introduced by Mark but was part of her nature all along. She simply needed Mark’s unique brand of attention to unlock something that had been inside her all along.

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Madeleine (1950)

Madeleine - Ann Todd — Ann Todd in Madeleine

Ann Todd also stars in the third of my favorite new-to-me gaslight noirs – hers is the title role in Madeleine, playing the eldest daughter of an upper-class Glasgow family, who is having a secret affair with a handsome but social-climbing shipping clerk, Emile L’Angelier (Ivan Desny). Madeleine is also being courted by William Minnoch (Norman Wooland), an upstanding citizen who meets the approval of her strict father (Leslie Banks), but when she decides to end her illicit dalliance with Emile, her lover refuses to return the many letters Madeleine has written over the years. Instead, he threatens to turn them over to her father if she doesn’t marry him. Unfortunately for Emile, Madeleine doesn’t react well to ultimatums.

Like Blanche and Olivia, her sisters under the crinolines, Madeleine is an interesting character. At first glance, one would never guess that she could be so devious and duplicitous – nor so passionate and carefree. But she was no fool, no ingénue led astray by her desires. Once she began to appreciate the benefits associated with the socially suitable Minnoch, her passion for Emile started to cool – she’d sowed her wild oats and was now ready to move on to greener, more respectable pastures. This feature, directed by Todd’s then-husband David Lean, serves up a decidedly ambiguous ending, but it’s one that I found to be both appropriate and satisfying.

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If you’re not familiar with gaslight noirs, do yourself a favor and seek out this riveting collection of films. In addition to the Criterion Channel, many can be found streaming for free on YouTube, Tubi, Plex, or the Roku Channel. Trust me – you’ll have a blast finding out that shadows are just as ominous and unforgiving in the Victorian Age as the ones you see in the 20th century.

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– Karen Burroughs Hannsberry for Classic Movie Hub

You can read all of Karen’s Noir Nook articles here.

Posted in Films, Noir Nook, Posts by Karen Burroughs Hannsberry | Tagged Ann Todd, Blanche Fury, Madeleine, ray milland, So Evil My Love, Stewart Granger, Valerie Hobson | 4 Comments

Silver Screen Standards: Jane Eyre (1943)

Posted on November 14, 2023 by Jennifer Garlen

Silver Screen Standards: Jane Eyre (1943)

I’ve spent the fall of 2023 swimming in the wake of Jane Eyre, both the original 1847 novel by Charlotte Brontë and the 1943 adaptation starring Joan Fontaine and Orson Welles. I’ve been teaching a class about the novel for one lifetime learning program and hosting a film series of Gothic thrillers for another, so it’s fair to say that my imagination has run toward shadowy corridors and secret sins, especially with the Criterion Channel serendipitously dropping a feature collection focusing on “Gaslight Noir,” a genre that owes a lot of its plot points and atmosphere to Brontë by way of the 1940 film adaptation of Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca. Jane Eyre is such a rich, complicated text that we see a new film adaptation of it almost every decade, and its cinematic influence spreads far beyond straightforward retellings, but the 1943 version possesses unique charms in spite of its infidelity to its source material, mainly in its iconic cast and its terrifically moody ambience. It’s a picture that warrants return visits even though more recent adaptations, like the 2006 and 2011 versions, have merits of their own for dedicated Jane Eyre fans.

Jane Eyre - Peggy Ann Garner — Peggy Ann Garner plays young Jane, an unloved orphan whose stormy temper stems from her unhappiness.

My favorite part of the 1943 adaptation is actually the first act, which follows the novel by introducing us to young Jane and her early misfortunes. Child star Peggy Ann Garner plays this version of Jane, although her performance is somewhat eclipsed by the radiance of a very young – and uncredited – Elizabeth Taylor as Jane’s tragic friend, Helen Burns. Little Jane is a tempestuous, opinionated, truth-telling heroine, unfit for Victorian society but all the more lovable to readers and viewers for the very qualities that make her an outcast. Garner’s young Jane isn’t impossibly lovely like Taylor, but there’s a fierce energy in her that perfectly suits the character. She’s a survivor, unlike the martyred angel Taylor plays. Garner also benefits from outstanding supporting actors who revel in their villainous roles, with Agnes Moorehead oozing disdain as the resentful Mrs. Reed and Henry Daniell absolutely loathsome as the sadistic and hypocritical Mr. Brocklehurst. Although the plot elements of this section can be seen in almost every Shirley Temple movie, they work so well here precisely because Garner isn’t made out to be a cute, curly-haired tyke with sugar in her smile, and there’s no happy family waiting to rescue young Jane, just years of bitter loneliness and deprivation.

Jane Eyre - Peggy Ann Garner Rebel — At the merciless Lowood School, Jane suffers both physical and psychological torment at the insistence of the sadistic headmaster.

Joan Fontaine takes over as the adult Jane, although she’s far too tall and fair to be an accurate depiction of Brontë’s tiny, dark heroine, whom Rochester repeatedly describes as elfin. Fontaine plays a more reserved Jane, making Garner’s performance critical to our understanding of her character as someone who feels much more than she expresses. I don’t love Fontaine’s version of Jane; I think several of the more recent adaptations boast better Janes who more closely resemble the literary original in both appearance and feisty demeanor. Fontaine, however, has continuity on her side, having already played the nameless heroine of the 1940 film adaptation of Rebecca, which leans very heavily on Jane Eyre for its inspiration. Ironically, Rebecca lets Fontaine look much less glamorous, while Jane Eyre lights her up like Renée Jeanne Falconetti in The Passion of Joan of Arc (1928), emphasizing the heroine’s Christian faith and martyrdom rather than her blunt manner and self-possession. Fontaine’s Jane isn’t plain, but she embodies a vision of Victorian womanhood that simultaneously conforms to the beauty standards of 1940s Hollywood, neither of them what Brontë had in mind for her original version of the character.

Jane Eyre - Joan Fontaine — Joan Fontaine plays Jane as an adult, although this version of Jane is far more angelic than the original novel depicts.

Luckily, Fontaine also has a tremendously interesting supporting cast backing her up, including Edith Barrett as Mrs. Fairfax, Hillary Brooke as Blanche Ingraham, and Margaret O’Brien as Adèle. O’Brien, as the third child star to have an important role, makes for a fascinating contrast with Garner and Taylor, especially as a little girl who has wealth and comfort but still lacks a loving parent to care for her. If Fontaine is too sweet and lovely for a proper Jane, her leading man, Orson Welles, has all the stormy temper and dark, brooding looks required for Mr. Rochester. Welles’ version of the Byronic hero is mercurial, sometimes even cruel; he burns with the torment of his secrets and his growing passion for Jane. Many great actors have played Rochester, including George C. Scott, Timothy Dalton, Ciarán Hinds, Toby Stephens, and Michael Fassbender, but when I think of Edward Rochester calling out for Jane it’s always Welles’ deep, tortured voice that I hear. The 1943 film is a little kinder to Rochester in its conclusion than Brontë chose to be, but Welles still conveys the demeanor of a man who has sinned and paid the price for it.

Jane Eyre - Joan Fontaine and Orson Welles — Fontaine might not be a canonically accurate Jane, but Orson Welles makes a spot-on Rochester, with a devilish look and a temper to match.

There are more than a dozen film and TV adaptations of Jane Eyre, some more faithful to the novel than others. If you’re looking for movies that share the era and atmosphere of the 1943 version you might sample the spate of films made in the years after Rebecca opened the floodgates for Eyre adjacent Gothic tales. Some of my favorites are I Walked with a Zombie (1943), The Spiral Staircase (1946), Dragonwyck (1946), and Blanche Fury (1948). For a unique double feature, check out the fictionalized Brontë sister biodrama, Devotion (1946), in which Joan Fontaine’s sister, Olivia de Havilland, plays novelist Charlotte Brontë. Like the 1943 Jane Eyre, Devotion varies widely from its source material, so be sure to read up on the novelist if you want the real story about her life.

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— Jennifer Garlen for Classic Movie Hub

Jennifer Garlen pens our monthly Silver Screen Standards column. You can read all of Jennifer’s Silver Screen Standards articles here.