A blog formerly known as Bookishness / By Charles Matthews

"Dazzled by so many and such marvelous inventions, the people of Macondo ... became indignant over the living images that the prosperous merchant Bruno Crespi projected in the theater with the lion-head ticket windows, for a character who had died and was buried in one film and for whose misfortune tears had been shed would reappear alive and transformed into an Arab in the next one. The audience, who had paid two cents apiece to share the difficulties of the actors, would not tolerate that outlandish fraud and they broke up the seats. The mayor, at the urging of Bruno Crespi, explained in a proclamation that the cinema was a machine of illusions that did not merit the emotional outbursts of the audience. With that discouraging explanation many ... decided not to return to the movies, considering that they already had too many troubles of their own to weep over the acted-out misfortunes of imaginary beings."
--Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

Search This Blog

Showing posts with label Charles Vidor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Charles Vidor. Show all posts

Wednesday, September 6, 2023

Ladies in Retirement (Charles Vidor, 1941)

 

Isobel Elsom and Ida Lupino in Ladies in Retirement (Charles Vidor, 1941)

Cast: Ida Lupino, Louis Hayward, Evelyn Keyes, Elsa Lanchester, Edith Barrett, Isobel Elsom, Emma Dunn, Queenie Leonard, Clyde Cook. Screenplay: Garrett Fort, Reginald Denham, based on a play by Denham and Edward Percy. Cinematography: George Barnes. Production design: Lionel Banks. Music: Ernst Toch.

Ladies in Retirement, a nifty little thriller included in the Criterion Channel’s “Noir by Gaslight” series, centers on a steely performance by Ida Lupino. She plays Ellen Creed, a Victorian spinster trying to make a life for herself and her two eccentric sisters, Emily (Elsa Lanchester) and Louisa (Edith Barrett). The sisters have been living in London with a family that has become fed up with them, so Ellen is forced to persuade her employer to let them come live with her in a somewhat gloomy house on the edge of a marshland. The employer, whom Ellen serves as a kind of companion/housekeeper, is the imperious Leonora Fiske, a retired “actress.” (We later learn that she was only a fourth-from-the-right chorus girl, who managed to accumulate a small fortune from stage door johnnies and wealthy patrons.) Unfortunately, the sisters manage to alienate Leonora as well. Louisa is batty and hypersensitive, and Emily is brusque and a collector of things she picks up on her walks, like shells and birds’ nests and even a dead bird, which she leaves scattered around the house that Leonora bullies the maid-of-all-work, Lucy (Evelyn Keyes), to keep immaculate. Ellen knows that she can’t make a living for herself and her sisters, and she doesn’t want them sent to an asylum, so she decides to take things, which means Leonora’s neck, in her own hands. Curtain on act one. (The stage origins of the movie are apparent throughout.) Enter Albert Feather (Louis Hayward), a somewhat distant relative of the Creed women, who calls Ellen “Auntie” and charms the sisters. He also charms Lucy. Albert has been to the house before, while Ellen was in London collecting her sisters, and managed to flatter Leonora into giving him some money. But now he’s on the lam, wanted for embezzlement from the bank where he worked. When he finds that Leonora is gone – “on a trip,” as the story goes – he begins to suspect that Ellen is hiding something. And so the plot hinges on his quest to uncover Ellen’s secrets, with the aid of the infatuated Lucy. It’s a nicely paced movie, with fine performances, especially by Barrett and Lanchester as the weird sisters. Though remembered today more as a director than as an actor, Lupino, then in her early 20s, excels in a part that had been played on Broadway by the much older Flora Robson. Although Louisa and Emily are the more flamboyantly mad of the sisters, Lupino manages to hint that Ellen is the maddest of them all.

Monday, November 9, 2020

Blind Alley (Charles Vidor, 1939)


Cast: Chester Morris, Ralph Bellamy, Ann Dvorak, Joan Perry, Melville Cooper, Rose Stradner, John Eldredge, Ann Doran, Marc Lawrence, Stanley Brown, Scotty Beckett, Milburn Stone, Marie Blake. Screenplay: Philip MacDonald, Michael Blankfort, Albert Duffy, based on a play by James Warwick. Cinematography: Lucien Ballard. Art direction: Lionel Banks. Film editing: Otto Meyer. Music: George Parrish. 

Blind Alley has a familiar setup: a killer on the run from the cops takes a family hostage in their own home. Chester Morris plays the killer, Hal Wilson, who moves in on the Shelby household, whose head is a college professor and psychiatrist played by Ralph Bellamy. Wilson, it turns out, is a psychopath, plagued by a recurrent dream, and Dr. Shelby sees the opportunity to disarm him by using the tools of psychotherapy. It works, sort of, in a rather too simplistic fashion, as the shrink decodes the symbolism of Wilson's dream as a traumatic event from his childhood that the killer has been repressing. The movie is a little stagy, as any adaptation of a play to screen is likely to be, but it's tidy enough in its storytelling that I didn't mind the obvious curtain lines and creaky attempts to "open out" the action -- for example, by visualizing the contents of Wilson's nightmare. It's nice to see Bellamy playing something other than a stooge for Cary Grant, as he did so memorably in The Awful Truth (Leo McCarey, 1937) and His Girl Friday (Howard Hawks, 1941). Morris is given to chewing the scenery but Ann Dvorak is good as his moll, Mary, who knows how to handle him well enough that Shelby can work his cure. The movie is sometimes cited as one of the first films noir, which only shows how flexible any definition of that genre has to be.