Top 10 Reasons Why I Love Double Indemnity

•February 22, 2012 • 3 Comments

Double Indemnity is my favorite film noir. There. I’ve said it. Aside from its superb writing, awesome acting, and gorgeous cinematography, this film holds a very special place in my heart because it was the first film noir I ever saw – long before I knew what film noir was. I’ve seen it literally dozens of times since, and my affection for this film has increased with every viewing. No matter how many times I see it, I’m floored by its sheer brilliance, from beginning to end. Here are my top 10 reasons why . . .

  1. The music. From the second the film opens, and the first strain of that great Miklós Rózsa score strikes your eardrums, you know that you are in for a treat. The music is absolutely perfect throughout – frightening and suspenseful, quiet and eerie, all-consuming and subtle. It’s like another character in the film. Simply put, it’s flawless.

    Stanwyck sizzled like bacon on a hot skillet.

  2. Barbara Stanwyck. Along with Bette Davis and Joan Crawford, she completes the triumvirate of my favorite classic film actresses. And her performance in Double Indemnity is a model example of why I hold her in such high esteem. Her depiction of Phyllis is superb – she plays her like an empty shell, with no real feelings beyond the basic emotions of greed and hatred, but with the shrewd ability to adopt whatever persona is appropriate for the occasion – seductive, indignant, victimized, self-righteous, fearless. I can’t think of any other actress who could have pulled it off. Small wonder that she was the first and only choice for the role.

    The credit sequence, like the rest of the film, is riveting.

  3. The opening credits sequence, which features that silhouetted, behatted gent, slowly hobbling toward the camera on crutches until his body blocks out almost every trace of light. There’s nothing like it in all of film noir.
  4. Edward G. Robinson. The way he played the part of Barton Keyes was a thing of sheer beauty. His line delivery was a marvel and he was like a dancer with his movements – all gesticulating and accenting and punctuating. He was at once sharp-witted, lovable, indomitable, compassionate, and uncompromising.

    Love this hat.

  5. Stanwyck’s wardrobe. There are two outfits in particular that I adore – the first is the floor-length, black and white, balloon-sleeve, double slit number that she wears for Walter’s second visit to her house. Gorgeous. The second is the suit that she wears during her second visit to Walter’s apartment – it’s a beautifully tailored, form-fitting suit that I could easily don and wear to work tomorrow.  If I had Stanwyck’s body. (Honorable mention to that black veiled hat she wore to her visit to the insurance company!)

    He can't keep his eyes off that anklet.

  6. The first scene between Walter and Phyllis: The flirty, almost juvenile remarks by Walter (“I’d hate to think of you having a smashed fender or something when you’re not . . . fully covered.”) The gobsmacked look on Walter’s face as he gazes up at Phyllis’s towel-clad body. Phyllis’s complete disregard of Walter’s lame crack about the Philadelphia Story. Walter’s ongoing distraction from his insurance pitch by Phyllis’s “honey of an anklet.” And, of course, that extended, rapid-fire exchange about the speeding ticket and the motorcycle cop that’s brimming with double-entendre and sexual innuendo.

    Stanwyck's face was like a mask.

  7. The close-up on Phyllis’s face as Walter murders her husband. It’s almost as if she’s wearing a mask – she’s that cold and implacable. Her soulless eyes are like marbles, shining in the streetlight. She only shows the slightest hint of gratification when the deed is done – if you look closely, with a discerning eye, you can detect a faint curve of her lips. I also love the way the way you see her body pulled slightly backward – twice – with the force of . . .  whatever it is that Walter is doing to Mr. Dietrichson.

    Warning: This scene can cause heart palpitations.

  8. The scene where Phyllis shows up at Walter’s apartment and discovers that Keyes is there. I remember how I felt the first time I saw it – like I’d been visited by Keyes’s little man, all twisty and knotted up inside, holding my breath, wondering what was going to happen next.
  9. The getaway scene where Phyllis can’t start the car. Not a word is spoken. In fact, for the first few seconds, Walter isn’t even aware that there is a problem – he’s too busy unwrapping his faux bandage to realize that the motor isn’t turning over. Then the sound seems to filter through to his brain and he freezes, the only movement his eyes darting back and forth in suppressed terror and disbelief. Then slowly, deliberately, he leans over and starts it. You can practically hear them both exhale.

    This scene crackles with tension, from start to finish.

  10. The showdown between Walter and Phyllis. What a difference a couple of months makes – one day you’re drooling over a dame’s anklet, and the next thing you know, you’re jamming a rod in her ribs. This scene is packed with breathtaking moments, starting with Walter’s phone call to Phyllis and the resolute finality in the way he says, “Goodbye, baby.” You can’t tear your eyes away from all that goes on. There’s the view from up above Phyllis as she unlocks the front door.  The languid manner in which she settles into her chair to wait for Walter’s arrival. The way we see Walter’s shadow before he walks through the door. The mutual contempt that accompanies every word Phyllis and Walter speak to each other. Phyllis’s casual but decisive toss of her cigarette, just before she shoots Walter – and Walter’s reaction when the bullet hits its mark: “You can do better than that, can’t you, baby?” The way Phyllis stands there, motionless, head slightly tilted, holding the gun and looking for all the world like a statue as she watches Walter approach. And finally, by failing to finish Walter off when she had the chance, Phyllis’s revelation that she might be human, after all – and the look in her eyes when she realizes that it’s too little, too late. 

There are many (many!) films noirs that I love – films that I watch every time they appear on television, even though I’ve had them in my collection for years, films where I can quote the dialogue along with the characters, films whose sheer audaciousness makes me smile with appreciation and admiration. But none of them can hold a candle to Double Indemnity. It’s the most. That’s all. Just the most.

(A version of this post appeared in the special “GIANT” Double Indemnity issue of The Dark Pages newsletter. For more on this shadowy publication, click here!)

The 7 x 7 Link Award!

•February 19, 2012 • 2 Comments

You know what I say (every now and then) – better late than as late as I was the last time I acknowledged an award!

I am popping my buttons, floating on air, and just plain tickled to pieces to share the news of my second blog award! Last month, my pal Kristina over at Speakeasy (and our most awesome Senior Writer for The Dark Pages) passed on to me the 7 x 7 Link Award, which not only is an honor, but also gives me a chance to talk about me, me, me!

According to the conditions of the award, I am obliged to respond to the following:

  • Tell everyone something that no one else knows about;
  • Link to one of my posts that I personally think best fits the following categories:  Most Beautiful Piece, Most Helpful Piece, Most Popular Piece, Most Controversial Piece, Most Surprisingly Successful Piece, Most Underrated Piece, and Most Pride-worthy Piece; and
  • Pass this award on to seven other bloggers.

So, here goes!

Something nobody knows about me:

I’m a chronic list-maker. Barely a day goes by where I don’t make some kind of list – whether it’s a grocery list, a list of tasks for the day, a list of things to pack for a trip, Top 10 list of favorite films – whatever! Lists rule!

I love this promotional pic for Our Blushing Brides.

Most Beautiful Piece:

I’m going to say my entry for the LAMB Acting School 101: Joan Crawford in Our Blushing Brides, because I love the stills that accompany the post – especially the one of Crawford and her co-stars, Anita Page and Dorothy Sebastian.

Most Helpful Piece:

My review of A Wild Surge of Guilty Passion, a fictionalized account of the real-life case that inspired The Postman Always Rings Twice and Double Indemnity. It was my first (and, to date, only) book review – which was a lot harder to write than I would have imagined – but I hope it caused at least one person to go out and buy this book!

Most Popular Piece:

Definitely my second list of Top 10 films noirs, in which I focused on the lesser-known gems, such as Plunder Road, Shield for Murder, and Nora Prentiss.

Did she have to say yes? Really?

Most Controversial Piece:

It wasn’t terribly controversial, but I’ll say my post on the Loretta Young pre-Code She Had to Say Yes – which, in my opinion, she definitely did NOT have to say!

Most Surprisingly Successful Piece:

Happy Birthday, Claude Rains, which offered up trivia tidbits on the life and career of this great character actor. Obviously, I’m not the only Claude Rains fan!

Most Underrated Piece:

Character Assassination, my look at the main characters in The Asphalt Jungle. It’s received the fewest views of all my posts, but I enjoyed looking at the fascinating cast of characters offered in this great film.

Most Pride-worthy Piece:

I think I’m going to go with Scenes from Private Lives, which highlights my favorite scenes from one of my favorite pre-Codes. I remember writing this post late into the night, and watching the scenes over and over again, falling in love more with each viewing. I simply can’t get enough of this movie, and it was a joy to share it.

And now the most fun part – passing this award on to seven great sites. It’s a pleasure to invite you to discover, as I did, these interesting, creative, versatile and innovative blogs – all focusing primarily on classic film. Cheers!

Dear Old Hollywood

The Girl With the White Parasol

OCD Viewer

Old Movies Nostalgia

Poison Pen Cinema

Pretty Clever Films

Silver Screenings

Thanks for sharing my excitement over receiving this award!

Frankly, My Dear . . . It’s Classic Movie Survey Time!

•February 16, 2012 • 8 Comments

And now for something completely different!

By pure serendipity, I happened upon a fun survey by Rianna over at the totally delightful blog, Frankly, My Dear. I’ve thought about completing other surveys that I’ve seen, but never seemed to get around to it. But this time, I was determined (even though I really should be helping my daughter pack for her trip to Mardi Gras!!).

Of course, wherever possible, I had to make sure that my responses had at least a passing acquaintance with the eras of pre-Code or film noir – but with a couple of them, of course, it just couldn’t be done. Still, it was fun to try! I hope you enjoy reading my answers as much as I enjoyed coming up with them!

1.  Favorite classic Disney movie:

Cinderella offers a lovely story, catchy songs, a fairy godmother (and who wouldn’t want one of those?), thoroughly evil (practically noir-like) villains, and Prince Charming! 

A beautiful dress and a date with red pants. What more could you want?

2.  Favorite film from 1939:

I love so many films from this outstanding year – especially The Women, The Old Maid, Midnight, Ninotchka, Wuthering Heights, and The Wizard of Oz.  But out of all of the stellar films that were released in 1939, Gone With the Wind is my absolute favorite. (Quiet as it’s kept, it’s also my favorite all-time movie.) 

A rather film noir-like scene, wouldn't you say?

3.  Favorite Carole Lombard screwball movie role:

An easy pick – Twentieth Century is a scream. It contains hilariously over-the-top performances from both Lombard and John Barrymore, and the supporting cast is outstanding as well. If you haven’t seen this one, you simply must!

Lombard was at her best in Twentieth Century.

4.  Favorite off-screen movie couple (it’s okay if it ended in divorce!):

No question: Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall. A match made in Hollywood Heaven.

Bogie and Bacall on their wedding day. Aw.

5.  Favorite pair of best friends:

This response, interestingly, straddles both the pre-Code and film noir realms – and features two of my three favorite actresses: Joan Crawford and Barbara Stanwyck!

Babs and Joanie: the most awesome BFFs.

6.   Favorite actor with a moustache:

Warren William was suave, sophisticated, a little dangerous, and totally rocked his ‘stache.

Warren William was one cool dude.

7.  Favorite blonde actress:

Because she starred in one of my favorite noirs (and because she was gorgeous), I’m going with Lana Turner.

Lana Turner was superb as Cora in The Postman Always Rings Twice.

8.   Favorite pre-Code:

This was a toughie, since I love so many of them, but I absolutely adore The Divorcee.  (Click here to read why I’m wild about this film!)  

I love this movie.

9.   Which studio would you have liked to join?

I would love to have hung out with some of luminaries in the Warner Bros. stable, like Humphrey Bogart, Bette Davis, James Cagney, and Edward G. Robinson. Plus, Warners’ turned out a plethora of first-rate pre-Codes (like Baby Face and Employees’ Entrance) and films noirs , including one of my absolute favorites: 

Mildred Pierce!

10.  Favorite common on-screen pairing that should have gotten married: 

Alan Ladd and Veronica Lake were made for each other – attractive and sexy . . . and petite!

Ladd and Lake: Fair-haired dynamite!

11.   Favorite I Love Lucy episode:

This may have been the easiest question of the survey – the “Vitametavegamin” episode makes me laugh out loud every single time I see it. (Plus, I have a pair of Vitametavegamin pajamas. Eat your heart out.)

I dare you not to laugh.

12.  Lucille Ball, Audrey Hepburn, Katharine Hepburn, Natalie Wood, Grace Kelly, Ingrid Bergman, and Greer Garson – which one do you like the best?

No question – Katharine Hepburn.  She possessed beauty, talent, versatility – not to mention a beautiful love story with Spencer Tracy. (And she managed to fit into the film noir theme with her starring role in Undercurrent.)

Hepburn could do it all.

13.  Shadowy film noir from the 1940′s or splashy colorful musicals from the 1950′s?

Do I need to answer this?

Step into the shadows.

14.  Actor or actress with the best autograph?

John Garfield’s autograph was like the man himself: cool and classic.

John Garfield's autograph. Priceless.

15.   A baby (or childhood or teenage) photo of either your favorite actress or actor (or both, if you’d like)?

Norma Shearer was a living doll – even though I don’t know what’s going on with her head gear.

Adorable Norma.

 THE END.

Femme Noir Discoveries . . . or, How I Got My Big Break

•February 13, 2012 • 5 Comments

Ever wonder how some of the stars of noir got their big breaks on the big screen? Read on!

Ida Lupino took the gig intended for her mother.

Ida Lupino (Roadblock, Private Hell 36, On Dangerous Ground)

Lupino’s big break in films came in 1932 when she was cast in Her First Affaire. It was her mother, Connie, who had originally tested for the part – Ida was just along for the ride. But the film’s director took one look at Ida and gave the role to her instead.  She was only 14 years old – but she didn’t look it – or act it.

Marsha Hunt (Raw Deal)

This actress got her big break with a little help from her friends. Two of her buddies managed to place a story in the L.A. Times – totally false, by the way – claiming that she was the top model in Hollywood. The article further stated that Hunt had absolutely no interest in a film career. By noon on the day the article appeared, no less than four studios had called Hunt with offers. She selected the offer from Paramount, debuting in 1935 in Virginia Judge.

Loretta Young (The Stranger, The Accused, Cause for Alarm!)

Talk about being in the right place at the right time. When director Mervyn LeRoy called to offer actress Polly Ann Young a role in his new picture, Naughty But Nice (1927), Polly’s 15-year-old sister, Loretta, answered the phone. Polly was out of town, and Loretta wound up with the part that would eventually lead to her screen stardom.

One picture was worth a career for Lauren Bacall.

Lauren Bacall (The Big Sleep, Dark Passage, Key Largo)

Bacall’s face was her ticket to fame. At the age of 19, after being spotted in Harper’s Bazaar magazine by the wife of director Howard Hawks, she was cast in her first film, To Have or Have Not (1944), opposite soon-to-be-hubby Humphrey Bogart.

Olivia DeHavilland (The Dark Mirror)

The show must go on! Olivia DeHavilland was working as an understudy in Max Reinhardt’s production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream at the Hollywood Bowl and had to step into the role of Hermia on opening night. When Reinhardt’s production was turned into a feature for the big screen, DeHavilland was tapped for the part in her film debut.

Lana Turner (The Postman Always Rings Twice)

Legend has long held that Turner was discovered at Schwab’s Drug Store but, instead, she was spotted at Currie’s Ice Cream Parlor by talent scout Billy Wilkerson. The 15-year-old Hollywood High School beauty was sipping a soda when Wilkerson took one look and promptly took her to the Zeppo Marx Agency, through which she landed a small but memorable role in her first film, They Won’t Forget (1937).

The Liebster Blog Award!

•February 5, 2012 • 9 Comments

My motto (sometimes) is “better late than really, really late.”

With that in mind, I am pleased as punch to announce that a few months back (October, to be exact), Shadows and Satin was gifted with a Liebster Blog award from Jill at Sittin’ on a Backyard Fence. Thank you, Jill, for my very first blog award — you’re the cat’s meow!

And now, as part of my duties as a Liebster Blog recipient, it’s my honor to pass it on to five bloggers. I urge you to check out these exceptional sites – you know why. You only owe it to yourself!

Speakeasy

Kristina, the operator of Speakeasy and the esteemed Senior Writer for The Dark Pages newsletter, is an awesome scribe with a fun, imaginative, and creative blog. In addition to superb and inspired writing, covering  classic films as well as performers, Speakeasy also offers such unique features as The Comfy Chair, where Kristina shines the spotlight on other noteworthy blogs; The Shopping List, which features newly released films and other items of interest to movie lovers; the Mystery Click, which provides access to all sorts of wondrous delights; and a link to Kristina’s beautiful Tumblr site.

1001 Movies I (Apparently) Must See Before I Die

He calls himself “Movieman,” and he’s watching his way through the 5th edition of the 1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die book. The films covered in the book include a wide variety of features, from Buster Keaton’s The Gold Rush (1925) to Sideways (2004). The reviews are insightful, entertaining, and memorable, the writing is first-rate, and, as a bonus, for every 100 films, the site provides a handy Top 20 list that highlights the best of the bunch.

Faded Video Labels

I don’t remember how I stumbled upon this site, but I’m sure glad I did. Joe, the writer, hails from London, and his favorite films include The Big Heat, Sunset Boulevard, Gilda, and In a Lonely Place. Really, what more do you need to know? I absolutely love Joe’s film reviews – he’s an outstanding writer, he provides interesting and varied film choices, and each review includes fascinating information and great insights.

Can’t Stop the Movies

This great blog is written by four friends – Danny, Ryan, Jacob, and Andrew – and it’s one of those sites that I can (and have) happily spend hours exploring. Each film falls into one of three categories: Like, Indifferent, or Dislike, and there are numerous projects, including Dance Films, Silent Sundays, Films on Faith – and my two absolute favorites, Noirvember and Pre-Code Follies.  Check it out for the inventive, top-notch writing, stay for the fun!

Grand Old Movies

Grand Old Movies looks at Golden Age films from a wide range of genres – including comedy, musicals, westerns, and film noir (!) – and for those with more discriminating tastes, there are also such tantalizing categories as “Bugs,” “Mustaches,” and “Gorillas. The writing is smart, comprehensive, and interesting, the film choices are intriguing, and a highlight is the posts offered as part of numerous blogging events, including The Guilty Pleasure Movie Blogathon and the Queer Film Blogathon.

TCM Picks for February: Film Noir

•February 4, 2012 • 6 Comments

I have a great fondness for a number of Alfred Hitchcock features – Rebecca, Mr. and Mrs. Smith, Suspicion, Shadow of a Doubt, Notorious, Dial M for Murder. But Strangers on a Train (Warner Bros., 1951) is right up there at the top. So it was a no-brainer to select it as my must-see noir airing on TCM this month. The film offers a simple but intriguing plot, a first-rate cast highlighted by the superb performance of Robert Walker, and a breathtaking climax that still sets my heart aflutter, even after countless viewings.

Bruno (Robert Walker) shares his theory for the perfect murder.

The Plot:

Two strangers – Guy Haines (Farley Granger), a tennis pro, and wealthy gadabout Bruno Antony (Walker) – meet on a train bound for New York. Antony recognizes Haines from the newspapers, and over lunch, holds forth on one of his favorite theories – to “swap” murders: by way of an example, he offers the suggestion that Guy kill Bruno’s hated father, and Bruno, in return, murder Guy’s unfaithful wife, which would clear the way for Guy to wed his senator’s-daughter girlfriend (Ruth Roman).

Favorite scene:

Miriam (Laura Elliott) is not at all offended by the behatted stranger following her.

The scene begins with a close-up shot on Bruno sitting outside, smoking, his gaze intently fixed on an unknown target. Seconds later, we see that he is seated across from the house of Guy’s wife, Miriam (Laura Elliott). Miriam and two male companions exit the house and board a bus that pulls up, with Bruno following close behind as the trio disembarks at a local carnival. The action masterfully unfolds as Bruno trails Miriam and her pals throughout the park, and Miriam grows increasingly – and favorably – aware of Bruno’s pointed attention. He makes no attempt to hide his interest, and Miriam coyly and constantly darts backward glances at him to confirm his continued presence. I don’t want to get into any more specifics about the scene – I’ll just urge you to look for some of my favorite touches – Bruno and the boy with the balloon, the “Strongman” game, the Tunnel of Love, Miriam’s glasses, and the blind man. That’s it. That’s all I’m going to say!

Favorite quote:

“What is a life or two, Guy? Some people are better off dead. Like your wife and my father, for instance.” Bruno Antony (Robert Walker)

Other stuff:

  • Strangers on a Train was based on the first novel written by Patricia Highsmith. Highsmith also wrote The Talented Mr. Ripley, which was made into a first-rate thriller starring Matt Damon, Jude Law, and Gwyneth Paltrow. Hitchcock bought the rights to Strangers on a Train for just $7,500, but he purposely kept his name out of the negotiations to ensure a low purchase price. Highsmith was reportedly less than pleased when she learned to whom she’d given up the rights this small amount. (By the way, in Highsmith’s novel, Guy Haines was an architect, not a tennis player.)
  • Strangers contains Robert Walker’s final completed screen performance.  He died a few months after the release of Strangers, at the age of 32. He was shooting the film My Son John at the time of his death, which was caused by an allergic reaction to a sedative administered to him by his psychiatrist. The ending of My Son John had to be re-written, and outtakes from Strangers on a Train were used in the film. 
  • A couple of goofs: In the opening scene in the train, when Guy accidentally bumps Bruno’s foot, we hear Guy say “Oh, excuse me.” But Farley Granger’s lips don’t move. A few minutes later, in that same scene, the cigarette in Bruno’s mouth disappears in mid-sentence – watch for when he says, “Oh, I get it – a little chat with your wife about the divorce.” 

    Hitchcock making his cameo appearance.

  • Alfred Hitchcock’s patented cameo appearance came about 10 minutes into the film, as Guy Haines is seen exiting the train. He squeezes past Hitchcock, who is climbing aboard carrying a double bass fiddle. 
  • William Holden was first considered for the role of Guy Haines, but when he wasn’t available, Hitchcock tapped Farley Granger for the part. Granger had previously starred (with John Dahl, of Gun Crazy fame) in Hitchcock’s Rope. In other casting news, Hitchcock did not want Ruth Roman for the role of Guy’s girlfriend, but Jack Warner insisted on giving her the part, as she was under contract to Warner Bros. 
  • Hitchcock hired Raymond Chandler to write the screenplay for Strangers, but the experience was not a positive one. In a 1967 interview with Francois Truffaut, Hitchcock admitted, “Whenever I collaborate with another writer who, like myself, specializes in mystery, thriller, or suspense, things don’t seem to work out too well. [My collaboration with Chandler] didn’t work out at all. We’d sit together and I would say, ‘Why not do it this way?’ and he’d answer, ‘Well, if you can puzzle it out, what do you need me for?’” Hitchcock eventually tossed out Chandler’s version and hired Czenzi Ormonde, one of Ben Hecht’s assistants, to completely rewrite the screenplay, with help from Hitchcock’s wife, Alma. Although both Hitchcock and Chandler wanted Chandler’s name removed from the credits, Warner Bros. insisted, citing the prestige the famed writer’s name would add to the production.

    Marion Lorne and her on-screen son (and his smoking jacket, which features a print of cigarettes and ashtrays.)

  • The film marked the screen debut of Marion Lorne, who played Bruno’s well-meaning but slightly addled mother. Lorne is perhaps best known for her portrayal of Aunt Clara on the long-running TV series Bewitched. (Speaking of Bewitched, Laura Elliott, who played Miriam, portrayed Larry Tate’s wife on the series. By that time, she was going by the name Kasey Rogers.)
  • Hitchcock’s daughter, Patricia, played Ruth Roman’s sister. With Farley Granger’s death last year, Patricia is the only surviving member of the cast. According to a studio press release, Hitchcock – who, like his daughter, had a fear of heights — offered Patricia one hundred dollars if she would agree to ride the Ferris Wheel on the set of the film. After she accepted the bet, so the story goes, Hitchcock ordered the power cut, leaving her alone, in the dark, at the top of the ride, for an hour. But in Charlotte Chandler’s 2006 biography of the director, Patricia contradicted the tale – she wasn’t alone on the ride (she was with the two actors who played Miriam’s amorous boyfriends), and they were only at the top for a few minutes. “My father wasn’t ever sadistic,” Patricia said. “The only sadistic part was I never got the hundred dollars.”

Don’t miss Strangers on a Train,  airing on TCM on February 22nd. You only owe it to yourself!

TCM Picks for February: Pre-Code

•February 2, 2012 • 8 Comments

I’m pleased to launch a regular feature here at Shadows and Satin – TCM Picks – in which I recommend my top pre-Code and film noir selections airing in the coming month on Turner Classic Movies. For my inaugural edition of TCM Picks, I offer, for your consideration, The Guardsman (1931), on February 21st, and Strangers on a Train (1951), airing the following night on February 22nd.

First up, The Guardsman, starring Alfred Lunt and Lynn Fontanne, and featuring Roland Young, Maude Eburne, Zasu Pitts, and Herman Bing. Filmed near the start of the pre-Code era, The Guardsman is a first-rate comedy with spicy sexual overtones, sparkling wit and charm, fast-paced direction, and outstanding performances.

The plot:

Newlywed Broadway stars (named only as The Actor and The Actress in the credits) have a relationship that is typified by their mutual inflated egos and their constant bickering, even on stage. When his suspicions are aroused by his wife’s penchant for playing Chopin, sitting in darkened rooms, and weeping inexplicably, the Actor decides to test her faithfulness by disguising himself as a royal Russian guardsman and attempting to seduce her.

Favorite scene:

Roland Young looks on at the faux guardsman.

The Actress and her longtime companion (whom she affectionately calls “Mama”) are delighted when a bouquet of roses and a letter arrive from the Guardsman. (“Seems like old times again, doesn’t it?” Mama squeals. “This is just too romantic!”) In the letter, the Guardsman informs the Actress that he will come to visit her if she appears at her window later that day. Moments later, there is a knock at the door. The women hurriedly return the flowers to the box behind them on the dressing table and spread out Mama’s apron to cover them. We then see The Actor enter the room. When the camera returns to the women, they are posed, unmoving, as if for a portrait, both of their faces frozen in a countenance of sweet, smiling innocence. It’s one of those moments that you have to experience for yourself to appreciate, but it makes me laugh out loud every time I see it.

Favorite line:

“Your own mother might not know you. Your own wife might not know you. And you might put on all the uniforms and all the whiskers and all the wigs in the world. But, as long as you owe me money, I would know you.” Herman Bing as a Creditor

Other stuff:

  • Lunt and Fontanne were the preeminent couple of the stage. They have a theater named for them on Broadway, were presented with the Presidential Medal of Freedom by President Lyndon Johnson in 1964, and in 1999 were honored with their images on a postage stamp.

    Lunt and Fontanne: First Couple of the Stage.

  • The Guardsman was based on a play by Ferenc Molnar. An interesting article appeared in the New York Times a few years ago about a family fight over Molnar’s legacy. Read more about it here.
  • Molnar’s play was remade by MGM in 1941 as The Chocolate Soldier, starring Nelson Eddy and Rise Stevens. (Incidentally, you can also see The Chocolate Solider on TCM on February 21st, right before The Guardsman.)
  • Noel Coward’s play Design for Living was written for Lunt and Fontanne, who starred with Coward in the Broadway production. (The screen version starred Miriam Hopkins, Fredric March, and Gary Cooper.)
  • Lunt and Fontanne were nominated for Best Actor and Best Actress Oscars for their performances in The Guardsman. (Fontanne lost to Helen Hayes in The Sin of Madelon Claudet; Lunt lost to Wallace Beery and Fredric March, who won in a tie vote for The Champ and Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, respectively.)

    Herman Bing played a small but memorable role.

  • The small part of a bill collector was played by character actor Herman Bing. Known for his thick accent and broad comedic facial expressions, Bing appeared in small roles in great number of features – nearly 90 between 1931 and 1935. But job offers for Bing decreased in the post-war era and, despondent over his dwindling career opportunities, Bing shot himself in 1947.
  • The film was directed by Sidney Franklin, who also helmed The Good Earth and several Norma Shearer vehicles, including Private Lives (which I covered here), Smilin’ Through, and The Barretts of Wimpole Street.
  • Zasu Pitts (the maid, Liesl) and Maude Eburne (Mama) also co-starred with Roland Young (Bernhardt, the critic) in Ruggles of Red Gap in 1935.
  • Lunt and Fontanne turned down other film offers, concentrating mostly on their stage career and a handful of television appearances. Lunt was once quoted as saying, “We can be bought, but we can’t be bored.”

Stay tuned for coverage of my film noir TCM pick for February, Strangers on a Train.

LAMB Acting School 101: Pre-Code Joan in Our Blushing Brides

•January 29, 2012 • 13 Comments

Dorothy Sebastian, Joan Crawford, and Anita Page.

I love Joan Crawford’s pre-Code work. She was in so many memorable features from this era – Possessed, Grand Hotel, Letty Lynton, Sadie McKee. But I think my favorite is Our Blushing Brides. It’s got so much going for it. Entertaining performances from Anita Page and Dorothy Sebastian. Gratuitous scenes featuring lingerie-clad ladies. A deliciously scandal-filled pre-Code plot. Robert Montgomery, playing a character just to the left of a full-fledged cad. Elaborate costumes by the famed Adrian. Gorgeous Art Deco sets courtesy of Cedric Gibbons.

But best of all, it has Joan Crawford.

Our Blushing Brides was the third in MGM’s “jazz age” trilogy; unlike Our Blushing Brides, the first two – Our Dancing Daughters (1928) and Our Modern Maidens (1929) – were silent films. Brides was based on a story by Bess Meredyth, who also co-wrote the screenplay – the wife of director Michael Curtiz, Meredyth was an Oscar-nominated writer who was one of the founders of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences. In Our Blushing Brides, she offers up a tantalizing tale of young girls in the big city.

Crawford strikes an alluring pose for the film's publicity.

Brides was Joan Crawford’s 31st film and her fourth talking feature. In it, she plays Geraldine “Gerry” March, a department store model who lives with her two buddies and fellow shopgirls, Connie Blair (Anita Page) and Francine “Franky” Daniels (Dorothy Sebastian). The plot, according to one reviewer, centers on the girls’ “private lives and their struggle for happiness and the things that youth desires.” More specifically, Gerry refuses to compromise her virtue although she has a crush on Tony Jardine (Montgomery), the elder son of the department store owner; Connie throws caution to the wind when she falls in love with the younger son, David (Raymond Hackett); and Franky gets more than she bargained for in her quest to snag “an old guy who’s just ready to leave her a million and croak.”

The film was a hit when it was released, and Crawford’s performance was lauded by most of the critics of the day – in the New York Times, Lucius Beebe praised the “humorous and intelligent acting of Joan Crawford, who plays the part of a mannequin with enough assurance for a marchessa and enough virtue for a regiment,” and Harrison Carroll wrote in the L.A. Herald, “In Gerry, Joan Crawford finds a role admirably suited to her, and she gives the best performance of her career.” Interestingly, Crawford herself once labeled the film “a dud,” but she added, “fortunately my part was okay.” I’d say it was more than okay. Here are some of the reasons why I can’t get enough of Joan Crawford and Our Blushing Brides:

What's pre-Code without ladies in lingerie?

There’s a scene near the opening of the film that shows the three girls at work – Connie works at the perfume counter and Franky sells blankets in the basement. But Gerry has the most interesting job – we see her, along with several co-workers, modeling lingerie for a wealthy customer (while Tony Jardine, the store owner’s son and the object of her longing, looks on appreciatively). The women are all shown in various stages of undress, but Joan’s outfit is one of the most revealing, as she’s seen wearing a bra and lace step-ins under a satin robe. The scene does little to advance the plot, but what would pre-Code be without a scene with women in their undies?

Of the three roommates, Gerry is the most practical, the most sensible and the most virtuous – she demonstrates her unflagging wisdom in one scene when she sarcastically sums up the viewpoint of the department store heir that has captured Connie’s heart: “Young David Jardine wants you to give up work. He hates to see anyone so beautiful standing behind a counter all day.  He wants to buy you a lovely little apartment. And he wants to see you in beautiful clothes. He can’t marry you just yet, but later on, of course – mm hm.” She represents David’s stance so closely, in fact, that Connie wonders if Gerry has been talking to him. “Nope. But I’ve talked to lots of other men,” Gerry replies.

Gerry dons a blond wig for her visit to Tony's estate.

Gerry visits Tony Jardine’s country estate, where she and her fellow models have been invited to provide entertainment to a visiting dressmaker from France. The models put on an elaborate, nine-minute fashion show, which starts out with them clad in winter wear, and ends with them donning blond wigs, wearing see-through white gowns and performing a lengthy dance number (during which their high kicks display their undies more than once). Again, the scene does little more than provide a showcase for Adrian’s talent for clothes design, but it’s a hoot, nonetheless.

While at the estate, Tony invites Gerry to his oh-so-fancy “treehouse,” where he assumes he will have his way with her. But Gerry has other ideas. When Tony confesses that she’s “driving him mad,” Gerry replies, “Just a moment, Mr. Jardine. Why is it when men get emotional, they all use ridiculous, rubber-stamp lines?” Despite Tony’s obvious intentions, and in spite of her attraction to him, Gerry refuses to be swayed by Tony’s insults about her “morbid sense of virtue.” She doesn’t cry or sulk or struggle – but she lets him know, in no uncertain terms, that she’s not that kind of a girl. And when Tony insists that she’ll change her mind next time, she coolly informs him, “Don’t hold your breath until then.”

Gerry is as "solid as a rock" to her friends.

Although Connie and Franky both think they have everything all figured out, Franky’s marriage to a millionaire and Connie engaging in a “back street” affair don’t exactly turn out to be the rosy experiences that they’d initially seemed.  And while they both view Gerry as a “prize simp,” it turns out that Gerry is the rock that they both come running to when their respective worlds crumble. And to her credit, nary an “I told you so” ever escapes Gerry’s lips – she’s never judgmental or condescending – she’s simply there for both of her girlfriends, to the end.

One of my New Year’s resolutions is to stop divulging the plots of the films I write about here, so I won’t say more about how Gerry and her pals wind up – suffice it to say that, for Gerry at least, all’s well that ends well – and sometimes virtue is more than simply its own reward. If you know what I mean.

Our Blushing Brides is not yet on DVD, but it frequently pops on TCM – if you haven’t seen it, check it out – you only owe it to yourself. It has a lot to recommend it, and Joan Crawford is the most of these!

A Great Lady: Remembering Patricia Neal

•January 19, 2012 • 7 Comments

Patricia Neal was talented, striking, ambitious, versatile, alluring.

But, perhaps, above all, Patricia Neal was endurance personified.

The willowy, husky-voiced actress was an Oscar, Tony, and Golden Globe winner, and appeared in such noteworthy films as A Face in the Crowd, The Day the Earth Stood Still, Breakfast at Tiffany’s and Hud. And while she certainly couldn’t be labeled a film noir icon, a la Marie Windsor or Claire Trevor, Neal earned a solid place in the world of noir with her starring role in The Breaking Point (1950) opposite John Garfield. Away from the cameras, Neal suffered a series of tragedies, heartbreaks and setbacks, any one of which would have understandably caused irrevocable devastation to most of us. But not Patricia Neal.

She endured.

On August 8, 2010, Patricia Neal’s extraordinary life came to an end when she died of lung cancer at the age of 84 in Edgartown, Massachusetts at Martha’s Vineyard. In honor of what would have been her 86th birthday, Shadows and Satin remembers her here.

Neal (in the rear), graces the cover of Life magazine in 1947.

Patricia Louise Neal was born in a mining camp in Packard, Kentucky, on January 20, 1926, one of three children of the town doctor’s daughter and a transportation manager for the South Coal and Coke Company.  She grew up in Knoxville, Tennessee – by the time she entered Knoxville High School, she was giving monologues at local social clubs and had won the Tennessee State Award for dramatic reading. After high school, Neal studied drama at Northwestern University in Chicago, where her classmates included future performers Jean Hagen and Ralph Meeker. She would later say that she was destined to be an actress:  “I remember being 11 and going to church to give a monologue, and I said to myself, ‘This is what I want to do.’” After two years at Northwestern, Neal moved to New York, where her eye-catching good looks earned her work as a model. In 1945, Neal got a job understudying Vivian Vance in The Voice of the Turtle on Broadway, but her big break came the following year when she caused a sensation as Regina, the spoiled and willful daughter in Lillian Hellman’s Another Part of the Forest. Hailed by one critic as “a young Tallulah Bankhead,” Neal, at the age of 21, won a Tony (the first year they were awarded) for best actress, and was seen on the cover of Life magazine.

Hollywood beckoned soon after. Neal’s film debut was in the mostly forgotten John Loves Mary (1949), where she portrayed a senator’s daughter engaged to ex-GI Ronald Reagan. But later that year, now under contract to Warner Bros., Neal made a more memorable impact in King Vidor’s The Fountainhead, based on the bestselling Ayn Rand novel. The film would be more than just another cinematic experience for the actress.

In a publicity still for "The Fountainhead" with co-star (and lover) Gary Cooper

In The Fountainhead, Neal portrayed Dominique Francon, the beautiful and tempestuous daughter of a granite quarry owner who falls in love with architect Howard Roark, played by Gary Cooper. Although the role of Dominique was coveted by many actresses, including Barbara Stanwyck, the overly melodramatic film was not well-received. Neal later recalled, “You knew, from the very first reel, it was destined to be a monumental bomb.  My status changed immediately. That was the end of my career as a second Garbo.”

But the crackling sexual chemistry on the big screen was no act – Neal and Cooper began an affair during filming that lasted for the next three years. Although Neal fell deeply in love, and would always consider Cooper as the great, true love of her life, the 48-year-old Cooper was married with a daughter, Maria. During the affair, Neal became pregnant with Cooper’s child and, reportedly at his urging, got an abortion. When Cooper’s wife, Veronica, learned of the affair, she sent Neal a telegram, demanding that she put a stop to the relationship. Although Cooper and his wife briefly separated, the affair eventually ended (but not before Cooper’s daughter spat at Neal in public). After the actor returned to his family, Neal suffered a nervous breakdown.

Neal's sole film noir appearance, in "The Breaking Point."

Meanwhile, on screen, Neal played opposite Ronald Reagan in the British-made The Hasty Heart (1949), followed by another starring role with Gary Cooper in Bright Leaf (1950), in which she played an aristocratic southern girl vying for the affections of Cooper’s tobacco tycoon. Also that year, she was seen as a “wised-up good time girl” in the film noir The Breaking Point (1950), the second – and more faithful – adaptation of Ernest Hemingway’s novel To Have and Have Not. The film’s star, John Garfield, played a financially strapped fishing proprietor who finds himself embroiled in a scheme involving a shady lawyer and a gang of crooks.

Neal’s next big role was in The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951), the Robert Wise-directed sci-fi classic in which a humanoid alien and his robot companion land on Earth to warn its inhabitants that they must learn to live peacefully or be destroyed. As a widow in whose boarding house the alien seeks refuge, Neal’s uttered the film’s most famous line, “Klaatu barada niktu.”

With husband, author Roald Dahl.

After this feature, Neal’s film career stalled, but she rebounded the following year with a return to Broadway in Lillian Hellman’s The Children’s Hour, playing a schoolteacher accused by a student of lesbianism. At a dinner party given by Hellman, Neal met best-selling author Roald Dahl, who would later pen such beloved classics as Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Fantastic Mr. Fox, Matilda, and James and the Giant Peach. Dahl was immediately interested in the attractive actress, but Neal was less enthused. She would later state: “Deliberate is a good word for Roald Dahl. He knew exactly what he wanted and he quietly went about getting it. I did not yet realize, however, that he wanted me.” Neal and Dahl were married in 1953, dividing their time between homes in Manhattan and England. Their first child, Olivia Twenty Dahl, was born two years later, but by all accounts, the union was a troubled one from the start.

Following a series of mediocre film roles, Neal was back on Broadway as the mother of a difficult teen in 1955’s A Roomful of Roses, and the next year, she took over from Barbara Bel Geddes as Maggie in the Elia Kazan-directed play, Cat On a Hot Tin Roof. Kazan cast Neal in his next film, A Face in the Crowd (1957), a first-rate offering where Neal portrayed a small-town radio personality who discovers folksy country singer Lonesome Rhodes (Andy Griffith), and transforms him into a nationwide sensation, creating a monster in the process.

Neal and Andy Griffith were outstanding in "A Face in the Crowd."

The year that A Face in the Crowd was released, Neal gave birth to her second child, Chantal Tessa Sophia, and three years later, would add a son to the family, Theo Matthew Roald.  Career-wise, Neal was a hit in Tennessee Williams’s one-act play, Suddenly Last Summer, in London in 1958, but she was disappointed when the role in the big-screen version was given to Elizabeth Taylor. She returned to Broadway in 1959 to play Helen Keller’s mother in The Miracle Worker but again, she was initially frustrated that she was not offered the more significant role of Keller’s teacher. Still, with a sense of pragmatism that seemed to typify her personality, Neal took the news in stride.

“It was not a starring role, but I hadn’t done a play in the United States in four years or a film in three,” Neal later wrote in her autobiography, As I Am. “I was in no position to command the star spot and I knew it. I could fantasize all I wanted, but if I was to keep working, I would have to go with what was offered.” Ultimately, the role of Annie Sullivan was played, both in the Broadway and screen versions, by Anne Bancroft.

Neal was cast the following year in Breakfast at Tiffany’s (1961) as a rich society matron known as “2-E.” But just after filming ended, Neal’s four-month-old son, Theo, suffered brain damage when a New York taxi struck his baby carriage. Several surgeries were required and the infant’s sight was endangered when a tube inserted to drain cranial fluid repeatedly became blocked. After several months, Roald Dahl worked with hydraulic engineer Stanley Wade and pediatric neurosurgeon Kenneth Till to create the Wade-Dahl-Till valve to prevent the blockage of the tube. The device would later be credited with saving the sight of more than 3,000 children worldwide. But Neal barely had time to recover from this horrific incident when personal tragedy struck again – in 1962, her oldest daughter, Olivia, died at the age of seven from measles encephalitis.

Neal and Newman sizzled in "Hud."

Perhaps Neal channeled her grief into her performance in her next big film, Hud (1963) – as the cynical, world-weary housekeeper Alma Brown, Neal earned an Oscar for Best Actress.

“It was a tough part to cast,” the film’s director, Martin Ritt, said later. “This woman had to be believable as a housekeeper and still be sexy. It called for a special combination of warmth and toughness, while still being very feminine. Pat Neal was it.”

In 1964, Neal’s fourth child, Ophelia Magdalena, was born, and the following year, the actress added a BAFTA to her list of awards for In Harm’s Way, in which she played the divorced lover of a naval captain (John Wayne).  But later that year, just a few weeks into filming for John Ford’s Seven Women (1966), and three months pregnant with her fifth child, Neal suffered three massive strokes that left her in a coma for several weeks (during which the showbiz publication Variety announced her death).  When she emerged from the coma after 21 days, she was paralyzed on her right side, unable to walk or read, blind in one eye, and incapable of articulate speech. She was 39 years old.

Neal and her family, following her stroke.

After Neal returned home, her husband badgered her into recovery – forcing her to walk, refusing to help her with such seemingly simple tasks as buttoning a blouse, holding items out of her reach until she was able to ask for them, and arranging for hours of physical and speech therapy. Six months later, Neal gave birth to a healthy daughter, Lucy Neal. In early 1967, Dahl decided that she was ready to perform and announced that she would give a speech in New York that spring at a charity dinner for brain-damaged children. In her autobiography, Neal wrote, “I knew at that moment that Roald the slave driver, Roald the bastard, with his relentless scourge, Roald the Rotten, as I had called him more than once, had thrown me back into the deep water. Where I belonged.”  After working daily to memorize the speech, Neal delivered it at the event to thunderous applause. Of her ability to learn to walk and talk again, Neal once said, “A strong, positive mental attitude will create more miracles than any wonder drug. I think I was born stubborn, that’s all.”

Neal was nominated for an Oscar for "The Subject was Roses."

Although she turned down the role of Mrs. Robinson in The Graduate (1968), Neal was back on the big screen the next year, playing an embittered wife in The Subject was Roses (1968), for which she earned an Oscar nomination for Best Actress (this time, she lost out to dual winners Katharine Hepburn and Barbra Streisand). That same year, Neal was honored with the American Heart Association’s Heart of the Year Award, presented to her by President Lyndon Johnson. A decade later, the Fort Sanders Regional Medical Center in Knoxville, Tennessee, dedicated the Patricia Neal Rehabilitation Center in her honor. The Center is devoted to rehabilitating stroke, spinal cord, and brain injury patients.

During the next several years, Neal was seen in a number of made-for-TV movies, including the pilot for the long-running series, The Waltons (1971), in which she played the family matriarch and earned a Golden Globe Award; A Love Affair: The Eleanor and Lou Gehrig Story (1978); and All Quiet on the Western Front (1979); as well as a variety of television series including Kung Fu and Little House on the Prairie. She also appeared in such feature films as The Night Digger (1971), which was adapted by Dahl from a novel by Joy Cowley; Baxter! (1973), where she played a speech therapist; and Ghost Story (1981), a creepy tale starring Hollywood vets Fred Astaire, Melvyn Douglas, and Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. And in 1981, she made a cameo appearance in a small screen recounting of her life, The Patricia Neal Story, in which she and Dahl were portrayed by Glenda Jackson and Dirk Bogarde.

Neal's marriage to Dahl ended after 30 years.

Then, in 1983, Neal’s world was rocked yet again – her 30-year marriage to Roald Dahl ended after she learned her spouse had been having an 11-year affair with Felicity Crosland, a set designer and close friend who Neal and Dahl had both met while Neal was filming a Maxim coffee commercial years earlier.

“It’s horrible looking back on how many times we were all together on holiday and I never knew,” Neal said later. “He’s had this affair for God knows how many years. It’s not the first one, I know, but I think this one’s been going on for years, so that’s a little much . . . It’s just really ghastly. . . . I did not want a divorce, but I would go through with it and begin my life over. I had done it before. I would do it again.”

After the 1983 divorce, Dahl married Crosland, with whom he remained until his death from a rare blood disease in 1990. Interestingly, in later years, Neal would reconcile with the widow and daughter of Gary Cooper, as well as with Felicity Crosland. (Upon hearing of Neal’s death, Crosland would tell reporters, “I join the rest of the family in saluting a terrific and brave woman who will be so missed by all who knew her.”)

In one of her final roles, Neal was seen in "Cookie's Fortune."

In 1988, Neal wrote her well-received autobiography, and went on to appear in a handful of film and television productions, most notably the Robert Altman feature Cookie’s Fortune (1999), a first-rate dark comedy in which she played the title role of a wealthy dowager who commits suicide. Her last role was a small part in the 2009 feature Flying By, starring Billy Ray Cyrus.

In recent years, Neal enjoyed life on Martha’s Vineyard, where she’d purchased a home in 1979 – reportedly, she’d been intrigued by the island since reading 30 years earlier that famed actress Katharine Cornell summered there. According to locals, Neal was a fixture at the annual fundraising auction for the Martha’s Vineyard Community Services, and in 2005, she hosted a yard sale after decluttering her home, donating the proceeds to Vineyard House, which provides group home environments to recovering substance abusers on the island.

“Here on the Vineyard we were fortunate that we didn’t know her so much as the actress, but as our neighbor who participated and gave back,” said a long-time member of the auction committee.  “You’d see her everywhere, doing things. I saw her scooping ice cream at a benefit up at the Catholic church, elbows deep in a tub of ice cream. She loved people.” Another resident of the area, Neal’s neighbor and pastor of the local Federated Church, stated that he was “always intrigued” by Neal. “She was a fascinating woman who was totally unassuming about who she was. I always thought that her stardom and her stature were really not that important to her. She loved people, and she loved to sit on her patio and talk to people as they walked by. She was just a great, great lady.”

Patricia Neal died in her home on South Water Street, with her three daughters by her side. She is survived by her four children, 10 grandchildren and step-grandchildren, and one great-grandchild. According to reports, on the night before her death, Neal shared with her daughters, “I’ve had a lovely time.”

Watching her films and basking in the glow of Neal’s talent, beauty, and resilience, we can honestly say, so have we.

This article first appeared in the July/August 2010 issue of The Dark Pages.

The Origins of Double Indemnity: A Wild Surge of Guilty Passion

•January 11, 2012 • 4 Comments

If you don’t know about the real-life 1927 case that inspired James M. Cain to write Double Indemnity (and The Postman Always Rings Twice, for that matter), pick up A Wild Surge of Guilty Passion by Ron Hansen (Simon and Schuster, 2011).  In fact, whether you know everything or nothing about the real-life case, this book makes for essential reading. In a nutshell, married lovers (married, that is, to other people) Ruth Snyder and Judd Gray killed Snyder’s husband, Albert – leading the way for Ruth to profit from a $45,000 double indemnity insurance policy she’d taken out on her husband without his knowledge. Hansen offers a fictionalized account of the relationship between the players involved, but the novel is interwoven throughout with facts from the lurid case and its aftermath.

The book lassoes your attention from the opening paragraph, which starts several hours after the murder of Albert Snyder (who was bludgeoned with a sash weight, strangled with picture wire, and suffocated by chloroform-soaked cotton stuffed in his nose) – as the novel begins, a trussed-up Ruth Snyder is trying to awaken her nine-year-old daughter by drumming her head on the girl’s bedroom door. Before long, the police have been called, detectives arrive on the scene, gaping holes are found in Ruth’s tale of a burglary by a “giant Italian thief,” and Ruth is hauled down to the station house where she promptly spills her guts. This, fittingly, opens the way for a flashback that last nearly the entire length of the novel, detailing Ruth’s life with her husband (whom she called “The Old Crab”), her chance encounter with traveling corset salesman Judd Gray, their ensuing two-year affair, and the circumstances that led to Albert’s death.

Hansen immerses the reader in the world of the mid- to late-1920s, seamlessly mingling his fictional narrative with popular culture of the 1920s, including the effects of Prohibition, and such mentions as Rubenstein lipstick and Mavis talcum powder, George White’s Scandals, author Anita Loos, the Waldorf-Astoria hotel, the Palmer Method of Handwriting, and many others. The sensation of being transported to a different era is heightened by the imagery Hansen creates:  a woman is depicted with “coffee-colored hair combed over to the left like a surge of ocean, and . . . a form-describing silk dress that hinted it could slither off.” The day that Ruth meets Judd illustrates “the fierce sun at noon, the torrid heat shimmering off the streets of Manhattan, the horns of jockeying Model T taxicabs, and the shrill whistles of white-gloved police directing the traffic on Madison Avenue.” Hansen’s prose makes you want to grab a flask and get your iced tea up on its feet.

The real-life case was the inspiration for Double Indemnity.

As a lover of the film Double Indemnity, I enjoyed identifying the similarities and differences between the product created by Raymond Chandler and Billy Wilder and the real-life events of the case. In the book, for instance, we learn that obtaining Albert’s signature on the double indemnity policy was spearheaded by Ruth, and she was aided by a crooked insurance agent (who, incidentally, was fired after the entire story came out). Also, while Double Indemnity’s Walter Neff was single, and neither he nor Phyllis Dietrichson had children, in reality both Ruth and Judd were married and each had a young daughter. And unlike the climax of Double Indemnity, Ruth Snyder and Judd Gray were tried, found guilty, and died in the electric chair.

A Wild Surge of Guilty Passion (the title of which was taken from an editorial in the New York Daily Mirror by Cornelius Vanderbilt III) is extensively researched, including accounts from numerous newspaper articles of the case, transcripts from the actual trial, a memoir penned by Judd Gray, and a serialized piece by Ruth Snyder (entitled My Own True Story – So Help Me God!). Along with Hansen’s fiction, these historical touches serve to complement and illuminate the thoughts, motivations, and actions of the principal players, making them come alive. The novel is an ideal accompaniment for viewing Double Indemnity, as well as a must-read for film noir lovers, true crime enthusiasts, and anyone who desires a trip to the past to find out what really made the 1920s roar.

(Note: This review originally appeared in the November/December 2011 “giant” issue of The Dark Pages newsletter. For information on how to purchase this special issue, click here. For information on subscribing to The Dark Pages, or to request a free electronic sample copy, click here.)

 
Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 39 other followers