A Trio of 1940s Melodramas!
by Kristin Battestella
Be it well known stars or obscure gems, these black and white melodramas toe the scandals and suspense with mid century silver screen saucy, captivating performances, and attention to gothic detail.
Corridor of Mirrors – Melodramatic “strong serious music” captions and crescendos open this 1948 Terence Young (From Russia with Love) directorial debut with a blink and you miss him baby Christopher Lee (Horror of Dracula) amid the titular doors, picturesque frames, and gothic drama. Cackling nightmares, mysterious telegrams, and wax museum eerie disrupt the idyllic country manor; but veiled hats, stoles, and cigarette cases match the illicit London meetings, jazzy flashbacks, and hypnotic waltzes. Our cosmopolitan, unconventional lover Eric Portman (49th Parallel) wears a cape and top hat and rides in a carriage – whisking writer and star Edana Romney (East of Piccadilly) to his antique-laden “atmosphere of the past” lair. It's surprisingly mature, sophisticated, and even risque tit for tat dialogue for the time when he asks if she is inclined to continue the adventure at his marble mansion with the grand staircase, crystal chandeliers, and fun house rooms full of mirrors, mannequins, and historical costumes. Candles, old fashioned mannerisms, tiaras, billowing curtains, and flowing frocks further the period piece feeling as Mifanwy becomes drawn to the past, dressed up in glimmering gowns as he chooses and allowing herself to be his nothing to live for without you obsession. A supernatural whiff disguises the predatory gaslighting – our society girl is molded from father to lover to husband as dictated. Previous women made dowdy are tossed aside, pitiful and pathetic amid arguments of who is really his prisoner or came of her free will. Lookalike portraits of lost Venetian lovers, medieval ballads, and alluring costume balls sweep us up in the back and forth vanity, spoiled rich girl games, red flag complications, and reincarnation hyperbole. Though visually innocent with nary a kiss, fade ins and outs as drunken ladies are carried to the bedroom suggest what's happening behind the bed curtains. Strong lighting schemes, daylight streaks, nighttime mists, and black and white patterns accent early uses of double perspective, deep focus, reflective camera shots, and mirrors filming multiple actions in one frame. However, the opening framework and voiceovers instead of sounding boards are unnecessary. No introductions, nondescript husbands, and out of viewpoint asides with redundant secondary characters can be confusing. Jail cell confessions and murder trials are rushed in the final fifteen minutes with plot points excused away easily. Fortunately, the sophisticated stylings, complex story, and full of themselves lovers culminate in chilling disturbia and screaming toppers.
The Red House – The golly gee quaint, twee love triangles, and intrusive crescendos in this 1947 mystery interfere with the ominous woods and suspicious gossip about reclusive Edward G. Robinson (The Omega Man), his sister Judith Anderson (Rebecca), and their innocent teenage adoptee Allene Roberts (Knock on Any Door). Farm boy Lon McCallister (Stage Door Canteen) is warned not to take the shortcut through the woods thanks to howling winds, hooting owls, dark trees, perilous wooden bridges, and the said to be cursed eponymous haunt. Despite no trespassing signs and dead end trails, all seems safe in the daytime – but young Meg is forbidden from going into the woods and asking grown up questions her guardians don't want to answer. She feels drawn there as if she has been to the Red House before and its discovery is treated as enchanting despite dangerous terrain, broken limbs, and shooting at trespassers. Bad boy Rory Calhoun (How to Marry a Millionaire) wants a favor from bad girl Julie London (Emergency!), and the tawdry kisses by the lake detract from the lingering secrets and older regrets. Spinster Judith says it is no one's fault but their own that they gave up their lives to protect Meg – while she looks longingly out the window at her one time doctor beau. Though he blames the first boy to come along for his daughter slipping away, our father figure lingers at the bedroom door and watches her swimming. A mother leaves her grown son to marry her new man, too – but not before a suspiciously long goodbye kiss on the mouth with her boy. O _o The creepy innuendo increases with whispers of previous love triangles as men are driven crazy by making their women understand. Past guilt escalates to burning down the house attempts and fatal shootouts as Robinson carries the pain and violent events repeat. The overlong scenic montages and outsider tangents create unevenness and the ominous history is pretty easy for the audience to put together. However, the performances anchor the truth will out climatic sacrifices.
The Strange Woman – Hedy Lamarr (Samson and Delilah) scandalizes 1830s New England in this 1946 yarn opening with our young Jenny already pushing a little boy who can't swim and then pretending to rescue him before growing up and pinching her cheeks to snag the richest sailor on the dock. Men say she is too beautiful for her own good, and Jenny seems to enjoy when her creepy drunk dad whips her – because now she has an excuse to marry wealthy old Gene Lockhart (Joan of Arc). Other ministers or lawyers offer to take her in, but their daughters dislike her and their wives are unsympathetic. The sweeping over the top score, however, lays on the sympathy thick because Jenny's only options are to go from father to husband. She learns how to be a lady, volunteers at church, and helps the poor – gaining favor to use or betray people later. Of course, while playing nursemaid to her ill husband, she writes to her young stepson Louis Hayward (And Then There Were None) as “your loving mother” and ends up kisses him, kissing him good in scenes later recounting how she made him love her all night long. Jenny manipulates her stepson by playing mother and lover before pursuing miscast George Sanders (All About Eve) as the suavest ruffian lumberjack ever. She meddles in business and elevates him to supervisor while she laments how long her husband must live and come between her and the next man. Unfortunately, despite the scandalous encounters, suicides, and caught in a storm seductions, today's viewers will expect more. There's no real ominous feeling or danger as we wait for something more dramatic to happen. The narrative is overlong and uneven – wasting time on lesser plots before rushing the final fifteen minutes with barrenness revelations and preachers suddenly moving Jenny to confess. The need to redeem our vixen with an outside morality undercuts all her deceit yet foolishly in love men still defend her to the end. Then again, you can't really blame them. Lamarr captivates the screen in divine if anachronistic frocks, feigning charm and innocence or tasting her forbidden as each scheme needs. Even her voice is hypnotic, telling men what to say and do to get her way. Although this picture pretends at an epic era the likes of Gone with the Wind, it suffers from poor pacing, weak action filming, and low production values. Everything else away from Jenny's fatal allure is just plain silly, for the true worth here is gazing at Lamarr.
Respected and revered Danite strongman Samson (Victor Mature) falls in love with Philistine beauty Semadar (Angela Lansbury). They plan to marry, despite the objects of Gaza Captain Ahtur (Heny Wilcoxon). Samson is tricked by Ahrtur and Semadar’s scheming sister Delilah (Hedy Lemarr) and becomes an outlaw. After he defeats The Saran of Gaza (George Sanders) and his army ‘with the jawbone of an ass’, Delilah plots to destroy Samson and his legendary strength-by cutting off his long hair.