Wife (1953)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Wife (1953) – M. Naruse

If this were the first film by Mikio Naruse that you watched, it might floor you.  But as someone who has now seen 20 of his films, I think it isn’t quite in a class with his best films.  Yes, it draws you into its world and its ordinary characters experiencing ordinary human drama. It might be interesting for you to see Japan in the 1950s, where characters still talk about having lost their husbands or brothers in the war. Some women still wear kimonos but others have taken to Western dress. There’s a certain desperation about economic circumstances that pervades this film (the central couple runs a boarding house) and many of Naruse’s works (in almost every one of his films characters talk about money). This is heightened because women are the leads and focus of his oeuvre.  His best films often star Hideko Takamine (or sometimes Setsuko Hara, who was Ozu’s muse) but this one features Mieko Takamine (no relation) who took the part when Hideko declined.  She plays the titular wife and Ken Uehara (another Naruse regular) plays her husband.  Their 10-year-old childless marriage is coming apart.  Both are unsatisfied with the other and with their lives.  Eventually the husband starts an affair with his widowed secretary which continues even after she moves away to Osaka (from Tokyo), when they travel to visit each other.  The film shows us what happens when the wife finds out.  Naruse’s point-of-view seems to be that everyone has their reasons and no one is completely right or wrong.  Yet, society has (or had) strong views about this situation and how it should play out. Naruse’s films have a strong vein of pessimism and there’s a melancholy feel that can’t be avoided when you see how society’s shackles block characters from pursuing their dreams. People end up in dead ends and inertia keeps them there.  It’s no different in Wife but the bluntness of the ending might catch you by surprise (if this were your first Naruse film).  For mature audiences.

The Bigamist (1953)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Bigamist (1953) – I. Lupino

More of a melodrama than a film noir, as directed by Ida Lupino who also takes one of the three key roles – that of the “other woman”.  Edmond O’Brien (who featured in many noirs: The Killers, D. O. A., White Heat) stars as Harry Graham who seeks to adopt a child with wife, Eve (Joan Fontaine). This leads to an investigation into his background by fussbudget Mr. Jordan (Edmund Gwenn, who gets a few in-jokes referencing his earlier role as Kris Kringle here). The investigation uncovers Graham’s double life – and we learn in flashback how he ended up also married to Phyllis (Lupino) while still married to Eve.  Possibly the film encourages us to have sympathy for Graham who winds up in this plight because he tries to be a nice guy – but Jordan and later the judge (and Lupino) never let us forget that Graham’s own behaviour, a serious moral transgression and betrayal, initiated the calamity that ensnared all three. Lupino is a steady hand behind the camera and should have had more opportunities to direct.  

 

Dangerous Crossing (1953)

 ☆ ☆ ☆

Dangerous Crossing (1953) – J. M. Newman

Jeanne Crain is a newlywed having met her new husband just one month earlier and tying the knot in one of those roadside wedding chapels, now she is onboard a cruise ship ready for departure.  Her husband just has to leave some money with the purser as the ship is departing.  She awaits his return in the bar.  And he doesn’t come back.  When she seeks help from the ship’s steward, he informs her that no such husband exists on the passenger register and that she boarded alone and her luggage arrived early and was taken to her cabin – not the cabin she originally arrived to with her husband.  He takes her to the ship’s doctor, played by Michael Rennie, and the rest of this brief film (75 minutes) involves Crain trying to convince everyone that she is not crazy and to find her husband.  Yes, it’s film noir but a minor entry in the canon; the plot resolves too quickly and too patly, methinks, and the premise only takes us so far before it gets old…

  

I Confess (1953)

☆ ☆ ☆

I Confess (1953) – A. Hitchcock

Hitch’s obsession with guilt and innocence are on full display here (he always claimed to have a mortal fear of the police despite doing nothing wrong) and he reveals the Catholic roots of these concerns much more overtly here than elsewhere in his canon.  Montgomery Clift plays Father Logan, a priest in Quebec City (the site of a memorable field trip for my high school French class) who hears a murderer’s confession in the first five minutes of the film.  Unfortunately for him, the murderer was dressed as a priest at the time and Logan falls under suspicion – but can’t reveal the real killer because of the sanctity of the confessional!  More importantly, Logan and an “old friend” (Anne Baxter) share a secret, yes, a guilty secret, that means that they are not quite innocent and this further attracts Inspector Karl Malden’s unwanted attention. (Baxter pursuing the “unavailable” Clift, who was gay, does seem to have some Lavender Screen double meanings). Logan seems quite ready to become a martyr, either because of his faith/the principle or to expiate his own guilt – and Hitch makes a number of references to the Stations of the Cross, suggesting the trials he is being put through.  It’s all a bit turgid to be honest until an exciting chase through the Chateau Frontenac (site of a memorable h. s. dinner w/ wine) wraps things up with a bow.  Not Hitch’s best but not without interest. 

  

The Long Memory (1953)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Long Memory (1953) – R. Hamer

John Mills is convicted of murder and locked away for 12 years, based on perjurious testimony by his girlfriend of the time, her father, and an ex-boxer hoodlum.  They testified that he killed a man aboard a ship that caught on fire when in fact the dead body found was of another man, wanted by the law and fleeing with the (paid) assistance of the girl and her father.  Upon his release from prison, Mills seeks revenge.  The movie tells the story of his attempt to find and exact his revenge on the three who wronged him.  Mills is grim and not dissuaded by others who counsel him that revenge is not good for the soul (including a Norwegian immigrant girl who falls in love with him and moves into his shack by the sea).  In an interesting turn of events, the police inspector (John McCallum) charged with investigating Mills’ actions is now married to the girl who lied (Elizabeth Sellars) leading to some serious conflicts of interest and bouts of conscience.  There are a few twists and turns that make this a gripping tale and director Robert Hamer even includes cross-cutting at the finale.  He’s best known for his Ealing comedy, Kind Hearts and Coronets (1949) but this is definitely in a different vein.  Here, the gritty streets of London, the lonely slum by the sea, and the desperate local pub sit side-by-side with the suburban home of the inspector and his wife. Yet, just as with Mills before, their comfortable lives prove to be precariously jeopardized by a lie.  Worth a look for Brit noir fans.   

La Signora senza Camelie (1953)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

La Signora senza Camelie (1953) – M. Antonioni

Antonioni’s second feature shows his interest in women’s experiences to be in full bloom. I haven’t read the play by Alexandre Dumas Fils (Lady with the Camellias or La Traviata or Camille) that Antonioni is referencing with the title but it seems to be about a woman who gives up her spoiled existence (albeit as a courtesan) to join her true love in a relationship which is ultimately thwarted because of concerns about propriety raised by his family. Here, the opposite seems to be happening: Lucia Bosé has no camellias – meaning she comes from a lower-class existence as a shopgirl and is thrown into a different sort of life as an actress discovered by a B-movie producer. Of course, the reason she is “discovered” is because she is sexy and the producers seek to exploit her appeal, a goal which she is willing to indulge.  However, soon she is pushed into marrying one of the filmmakers (who she doesn’t love) and he jealously tries to put the brakes on her career as a sexpot, opting instead to try her in a “serious” picture which he chooses to direct himself (a predictable flop). In short order, their relationship is on the rocks, she is courted by a local diplomat (perhaps only interested in her fame) and she finds it increasingly hard to know what to do.  She goes back to B films to make up for the financial hardship resulting from her foray into arthouse film, but her dreams have now grown bigger; she takes herself more seriously, but inevitably finds herself typecast and trapped in degrading exploitation fare (even as her producer ex-husband has successes from which she is excluded).  The ending is as bleak as you can get and you don’t have to have read the Dumas novel/play to realise that Bosé’s plight as a woman exploited by men, tainted by their objectification, and left to suffer with no standing of her own nor ability to pursue and fulfil her own goals is even more tragic (and relevant) than the earlier more famous work. Antonioni, of course, would continue to examine alienation as his key theme, toying more overtly with viewers’ expectations (and pictorial abstraction), a process only just begun in his early films.

How to Marry a Millionaire (1953)

☆ ☆ ☆

How to Marry a Millionaire (1953) – J. Negulesco

Somehow I thought this was going to be a musical, another genre I’ve come to late (alongside westerns, war films, and foreign films from Spanish-speaking countries). But instead – not.  What we have here is a very dated comedy (you can tell from the title) that finds models Lauren Bacall, Marilyn Monroe, and Betty Grable on a quest to find rich husbands.  The prospects include dapper (but very sedate) William Powell, faker Alexander D’Arcy, and already married Fred Clark – but as things turn out, other men (not always millionaires) turn out to be of greater interest.  Bacall takes the lead with Monroe (playing short-sighted and air-headed) and Grable (even more air-headed) adding comic relief.  There are a few sly references to the stars’ other careers but nothing here led to any major chuckles on my part.  One of the early CinemaScope features but director Jean Negulesco doesn’t really take full advantage of the format.  Still, apart from the explicit sexism, there’s nothing really wrong with this silly film and it is good to see Bacall embarking on her solo career.

  

City That Never Sleeps (1953)

☆ ☆ ☆

City That Never Sleeps (1953) – J. H. Auer

It’s Chicago actually.  Gig Young is a cop who is fed up with his life – he plans to ditch his wife for a stripper, quit the force, and move to California.  In order to get the dough to do so, he throws in with corrupt lawyer Edward Arnold, promising to “arrest” bad magician William Talman and drive him to Indiana where he is wanted for a more serious crime.  Things do go pear-shaped but watching over him is the “spirit of the city” Chill Wills who takes over as his partner when his real one is home sick with an earache.  Wills doesn’t prevent any crimes/murders but he does remind Young about the importance of his job and of the police in society.  They do some helpful things.  The film is a true noir, shot on location in high contrast black and white, showing dark alleys, a strip club, corrupt rich guys, bitchy Marie Windsor, bad mistakes, and depressing violence.  Although the leads are a bit ho-hum, Talman made a great noir baddie (see also Armed Car Robbery, 1950, and The Hitch-hiker, 1953) before he graduated to Perry Mason’s nemesis (district attorney Hamilton Burger).  Worth a look.

  

The Hitch-Hiker (1953)

☆ ☆ ☆

The Hitch-Hiker (1953) – I. Lupino

Two guys off for a fishing trip pick up a hitcher who is wanted for murder. He forces them at gunpoint to drive through Mexico to Santa Rosalia on the Gulf – a 500-mile journey.  It’s tense all the way but there is nary a chance for escape.  Even at night, the hitch-hiker seems awake because he’s got a partially paralyzed eye that never closes.  William Talman is brutal and harsh as this thug.  So, it’s a noir set-up and the film is framed as though, it coulda been you who picked him up.  But on closer inspection, the noir logic that dictates that one fatal mistake usually brings on a protagonist’s doom does seem to be operating.  Instead of heading straight to their fishing hole, Edmond O’Brien and Frank Lovejoy take a detour to Mexicali for a drink and possibly some fun away from their wives (O’Brien’s idea).  Nothing happens but if they hadn’t gone that way, they never would have met Talman.  But, hell, who knows what sorts of missteps lay before us, where the fickle finger of fate is always waiting to poke us in the eye? Ida Lupino, a noir veteran in front of the camera, directed this concise thriller.

  

99 River Street (1953)

☆ ☆ ☆

99 River Street (1953) – P. Karlson

John Payne plays a washed-up boxer driving a cab who catches his wannabe gold-digger wife with another guy.  This sets the wheels in motion and the screws gradually tighten on Payne in true noir style.  Turns out the other guy is a diamond thief who has trouble with his fence and the fence’s tough guy assistant (played by noir stalwart Jack Lambert) over Payne’s wife’s involvement in the heist.  When she turns up dead, the cops come looking for Payne.  After having reality literally ripped away from him in one crazy scene, he has to use his knuckles to fight his way to the truth.  Director Phil Karlson knows his noir sets (see also Dark Alibi, Kansas City Confidential, or The Phenix City Story) and he lays them all out for us here (late night drug store, boxing ring, all-night café, waterfront, expensive upper class apartment, neon lit or darkened streets of New York, and unusually the Broadway footlights).  Perhaps there isn’t as much a sense of dread as in other 1950s noirs and perhaps Payne is a little too wooden in the lead but for solid genre fare, look no further.

El Bruto (1953)

☆ ☆ ☆

El Bruto (1953) – L. Buñuel

After his collaboration with Dalí at the height of surrealism, Luis Buñuel laid low and then re-emerged in Mexico where he slowly rebuilt his career with a series of commercial films for local producers.  Some of these films are now recognised as important parts of his oeuvre (Los Olvidados, The Exterminating Angel) but many remain virtually unknown.  El Bruto falls into the latter category.  Clocking in at a trim 80 minutes, it is basically straight melodrama.  Although Buñuel’s usual interests (surrealism, feet, insects) are absent, there is a strong Marxist undercurrent which aligns with his political orientation.  A rich landlord hires El Bruto, more brawn than brains working at a slaughterhouse, to help him evict some poor tenants who are organized to fight.  Poor Bruto punches a sick old man who later dies; even worse, he falls in love with the man’s daughter who freaks out when she discovers Bruto is responsible for her father’s death.  All the while, the landlord’s wife is virtually throwing herself at Bruto.  Well, it doesn’t end well for any of them.  Worth a look but not up there with Buñuel’s masterworks by any stretch of the imagination.