Dana Andrews vs. Hot Rods to Hell

A dear friend was recently involved in a car accident en route to the airport for a vacation. Fortunately, no one suffered serious injuries--but a sore back, a banged-up knee, and a two-week vacation delay is no fun. So, he turned to a comfort movie later that day...selecting Hot Rods to Hell.

Gloria and the guys out for some kicks on the highway.

Ironically, this 1967 cult classic starts with a car accident when family man Tom Phillips' car is hit by a drunken driver on Christmas Eve. Tom (Dana Andrews) sustains a severe back injury that ends his career as a regional salesman. His brother Bill convinces Tom to give up his Boston home and buy a hotel in a small California town. Tom resists initially, but eventually makes the big decision with the support of his wife (Jeanne Crain) and young son--but not his teenage daughter Tina.

Laurie Mock as Tina.

As they cruise along a desert highway toward their new home, the family runs afoul of a trio of thrill-seeking teens in souped-up cars. The youths harass the Phillips family--almost running them off the road--until Tom seeks sanctuary in a well-populated picnic area. While waiting there, Tina meets one of the trouble-makers, a handsome lad named Duke. That night, she sneaks out of her room at the hotel to look for Duke in a nearby rock 'n' roll joint. She finds him and the sparks fly, but Duke wants more than just a flirtatious dance....

It's easy to dismiss Hot Rods to Hell as a campy melodrama with outdated dialogue. Two of the most overwrought scenes feature Tina, writhing in bed as she thinks of Duke and later frantically clutching her father in the car as Duke and a pal play "chicken" with the Phillips family.

Mimsy Farmer as Gloria.

Yet, she is no match for Gloria--the wildest of the juvenile delinquents, who is aptly described as "way out." That she is, but she's really no different from Marlon Brando's restless biker in The Wild One (1953). Gloria is desperate to do something, noting that: "Everybody's out for kicks. What else is there?" She even makes suggestive promises to slimy hotel owner Lank Dailey, hoping that he will take her to L.A. or Vegas.

In a historical context, Hot Rods to Hell serves as an intriguing transition from the Beach Party films of the early 1960s to the violent biker pictures heralded by the previous year's The Wild Angels (1966). It's almost as if the alienated youth characters from the 1950s had regressed from Brando's gang leader to parodies like Eric Von Zipper and then moved forward again with Duke and Gloria and eventually the Hells' Angels.

Jeanne Crain as Tina's mother.

Originally titled 52 Miles to Terror, Hot Rods to Hell was intended as a made-for-TV movie for ABC, but it was deemed too intense and released theatrically. Ironically, it made its television debut a few years later and was shown not only uncut--but with ten additional minutes.

It's an entertaining time-capsule film with a rock score performed by Mickey Rooney, Jr. and his Combo. My only major complaints are that the ending comes across as a cop-out and that Gloria, the film's most vibrant character, disappears well before the climax.

Mimsy Farmer, who played Gloria, and Gene Kirwood, who was Duke's pal Ernie, enjoyed intriguing careers after Hot Rods to Hell. Mimsy Farmer married an Italian screenwriter and forged a solid career in European cinema. Her most famous role may be as the female lead in Dario Argento's 1971 thriller Four Flies on Grey Velvet. As for Gene Kirkwood, he became a producer on films such as Rocky, The Idolmaker, and New York, New York. That's just proof that alienated youths can grow into responsible adults.

Danny Kaye Gets Up in Arms

Danny Kaye's feature-length film debut is a serviceable musical comedy intended as a showcase for its star and radio singing sensation Dinah Shore. In that regard, Up in Arms (1944) works well enough, though Kaye became a more controlled--and more effective--entertainer in later films such as the comedy classic The Court Jester (1955) and perennial favorite White Christmas (1954).

Dinah singing "Now I Know."

Kaye plays Danny Weems, a hypochondriac who works as an elevator operator so he can be near the many physicians working in his building. He fancies himself in love with a nurse named Mary (Constance Dowling), although he'd be better matched with Mary's friend Virgina (Dinah Shore). To complicate matters, it's instant love for Mary when she meets Danny's pal Joe (Dana Andrews). Before these romantic entanglements can be worked out, all four friends wind up in the Army--with Danny accidentally smuggling Mary aboard the ship carrying his unit into action.

In character for the "Theater Lobby"
number written by his wife Sylvia Fine.

Kaye seems determined to carry this flimsy plot by himself if required. He employs physical comedy, uses a wide variety of different voices, and sings nonsensical songs at breakneck speed. Most of his routines are very funny, but he could have benefited from more structure and a better supporting cast. Dana Andrews has little to do and seems out of place. Constance Dowling has one funny scene with Danny. The only other performer to stand out is Dinah Shore, who shows why she was successful enough to get her own radio show, Call to Music, in 1943.

Indeed, Danny and Dinah provide three good reasons to watch Up in Arms: her rendition of the Oscar-nominated ballad "Now I Know"; Danny's appropriately-titled "Theater Lobby Number," which is a musical "summary" of a made-up movie with Kaye playing all the characters; and, best of all, Danny and Dinah combining for "Tess's Torch Song." The last number is a hoot, with Goldwyn Girls sprouting from giant vases in the background and the two stars repeating each other's nonsensical lyrics with perfection. In fact, it's so good that--instead of a closing scene--there's a short reprise of "Tess's Torch Song" just prior to the closing credits.

Danny, Dinah, and Goldwyn Girls in giant vases!

Virgina Mayo.

Speaking of the Goldwyn Girls, one of them is played by Virgina Mayo (in fact, she has a brief speaking part as a WAC named Joanna). While she and Kaye never share a scene together, the two subsequently teamed up for Wonder Man (1945), The Kid from Brooklyn (1946), The Secret Life of Walter Mitty (1947), and A Song Is Born (1948).

Dinah Shore appeared in only a handful of films and never achieved silver screen stardom. That probably didn't bother her much, since she remained a recording star through the 1950s and also achieved success on television. After a career lull during the 1960s, she made a comeback as a popular daytime talk show host in the 1970s.

Night of the Demon: If Hitchcock Had Made a Horror Movie...

Although made in the late 1950s, Night of the Demon (US: Curse of the Demon) owes its inspiration to producer Val Lew-ton's 1940s “B” horror films. Constrained by a low budget, Lewton knew he couldn’t afford to show a scary monster, so he made psychological thrillers like The Leopard Man in which the film’s menace was implied. One of Lewton’s directors was Jacques Tourneur, who would later helm the film noir classic Out of the Past and, of course, Night of the Demon.

According to legend, Tourneur’s original cut of Night of the Demon never showed the title creature. The producers felt it wasn’t creepy enough, though, and inserted two scenes with a gruesome two-horned, fanged demonic creature created by Wally Veevers. Whether the tale is true or not, the decision to show the demon works to the film’s advantage. The creature’s rare appearances make quite an impact and Veevers’ work is quite impressive.

The real star of the film, though, is Niall McGinnis, who plays devil cult leader Dr. Julian Karswell. At the beginning of the film, Karswell receives a visit from Professor Harrington, who has been investigating the cult. A frightened Harrington tells Karswell that he will stop the investigation and pleads with Karswell to “call it off.” Karswell notes that “some things are more easily started than stopped.” Later that night, a hideous demon kills Harrington.

John Holden (Dana Andrews), an American psychologist, and Joanna Harrington (Peggy Cummins), the professor’s niece, pick up the investigation. Holden, who doesn’t believe in the supernatural, pays a call on Karswell at the latter’s country estate. Karswell, sporting clown make-up, is giving a Halloween magic show for the local children. It’s my favorite scene and features such great dialogue as:

Holden: I see you practice white magic as well as black.

Karswell: I don’t think it would be too amusing for the youngsters if I conjured up a demon from Hell for them. Or for myself for that matter. As we’re not protected by the magic circle, we’d both of us be torn to shreds.

Holden: And you’d spoil the party.

Karswell: You’re so right…but how to make the point.

To do just that, Karswell summons up a wind storm (a medieval witch’s specialty, he explains later) that sends screaming children running inside the house—a scene that foreshadows a similar children’s party gone awry in Hitchcock's The Birds.

The film's most famous sequence, though, is probably Holden's late night trek through the woods. After an encounter at Karswell's country estate, Holden makes for a quick exit out the study door. Karswell politely advises him not to take the path through the woods, but the defiant Holden does just that--setting the stage for a chase very reminiscent of those in Lewton pictures like The Cat People.


A creature worth showing!

Night of the Demon was loosely based on M.R. James' short story "Casting the Runes." The witty screenplay was co-authored by Charles Bennett, who worked on early Hitchcock classics like The 39 Steps. He gives McGinnis almost all the good lines. When Karswell finds the skeptical Holden searching his study, the cult leader remarks about Joanna: “At least, she doesn’t have her head in the sand. She believes she can see. She can. She believes that she’s alive. She is. She believes that you will die tomorrow night. You will.”

Indeed, the film’s only weakness may be that Karsell is so much more interesting than Holden. It doesn’t help that Dana Andrews gives a bland performance as the disbelieving hero and the talented Peggy Cummins has very little to do. The film's second best performance is given by screen veteran Athene Seyler, who plays Karswell's mother. Their mother-son relationship is straight out of Hitchcock (who seemed to have a soft spot for his villains' mothers).

Sadly, Night of the Demon would be the last significant film for director Jacques Tourneur. He worked mostly in television in the 1960s, directing episodes of shows like Bonanza, Twilight Zone, and T.H.E. Cat. Still, his final two films weren't without interest: War Gods of the Deep (1965) was a bizarre, entertaining adventure film about an underwater city and The Comedy of Terrors was an amusing trifle written by Richard Matheson and starring Vincent Price, Peter Lorre, Boris Karloff, and Basil Rathbone.

As Tourneur's swansong in the horror genre, he couldn't have done better than Night of the Demon. I've often thought that if Hitch had made a horror film, it might have looked something like Night of the Demon. He probably would have wanted to avoid showing the title creature, too. I’d have to disagree, though, because, in close-up especially, that disagreeable demon is quite chillingly memorable.

Piper Laurie Elevates "Smoke Signal"

By her own admission, Piper Laurie didn't get a lot of good roles as a contract player at Universal in the 1950s. However, one of the exceptions was the blandly-titled Smoke Signal, an above-average Western that avoids the genre's most common cliches.

The action gets off to a quick start when a small Cavalry unit discovers a dead scout with an arrow in his back. It doesn't take long to realize that the previously-peaceful Utes are on the warpath. When they attack the soldiers, the Cavalry troop seeks refuge in a nearby fort. The situation there isn't much better. It turns out the fort has been surrounded for days and the scout sent to seek reinforcement--well, we know that he didn't get very far.

Dana Andrews and William Talman.

The newly-arrived Captain Harper (William Talman) discovers an old acquaintance, Brett Halliday (Dana Andrews), tied to a hitching post. A former Cavalry officer, Halliday deserted long ago and joined the Utes' tribe. Harper believes the Indians want to free Halliday, but the latter claims his life is in danger, too. He urges Harper to transport two boats to a nearby canyon river and seek escape by navigating the rapids.

Augmented with stunning scenery, Smoke Signal zips along efficiently, mixing character-driven scenes with action sequences involving Indian attacks or the perils of the river. Although Dana Andrews--who was on the downside of his career--is billed as the lead, it's Piper Laurie who holds the film together.

Piper Laurie and Andrews.

She portrays the daughter of the fort's commanding officer, who died at the hands of the Utes. In many Westerns, Laurie's character would have been a bitter daughter intent on revenge. However, in Smoke Signal, she's a strong, but quiet character intrigued with Halliday and why he forfeited his Army career. Some of her best scenes are simply intent looks--filled with curiosity--directed toward Halliday when she believes others are not watching.

Smoke Signal is peppered with familiar faces, to include Talman (Hamilton Burger on Perry Mason), William Schallert (the father on The Patty Duke Show), and Milburn Stone (Doc on Gunsmoke). However, the other cast standout is Douglas Spencer as a trapper that joins the soldiers. Surprisingly, the likable Spencer spent most of his Hollywood career as Ray Milland's stand-in. His best-known performance as a supporting player was as the reporter Scotty in 1951's The Thing.

Dana Andrews, who was still struggling with alcoholism at that time, gives an acceptable performance. Unfortunately, his character's eventual romance with Laurie doesn't work at all. First, at age 46, he was almost twice the age of his co-star. More importantly, the script doesn't give the two characters enough time together before they're smitten with each other. There are other flaws in Smoke Signal, too, starting with the unlikely reason that there just happens to be two boats in the fort.

A better title?

Still, it's an interesting Western and deserves credit for not turning the Indians into nameless villains. Halliday speaks of them sympathetically and the film's true bad guy turns out not to be one of the Utes. For the record, there are some smoke signals in the movie. Of course, that's just one more reason why I don't like the film's title. If the studio was going to go in that smokey direction, then--for the sake of accuracy--they should have called the movie Smoke Signals. Or better yet, why not go with the film's French title: The River of Last Chance?

The Western Film Fair Brings Classic Stars and Fans Together

Hawthorne Hotel and Conference Center.

Last week, I joined over 500 Western movie buffs as they assembled in Winston-Salem, NC for the 37th annual Western Film Fair. One of the oldest fan conventions in the U.S., this year's event featured guest stars such as Piper Laurie (The Hustler, Carrie), Jon Provost (Timmy on Lassie), Johnny Crawford (The Rifleman), Parker Stevenson (The Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew Mysteries), and Joyce DeWitt (Three's Company). All the celebrities had a Western connection, ranging from Piper Laurie's co-starring role in 1955's Smoke Signal to Parker Stevenson's guest appearance on the contemporary Western TV series Longmire.

The format was the standard one for film fan conventions, consisting of: panel discussions and autograph sessions with the stars; movie screenings; and a room full of vendors selling DVDs, movie posters, comic books, etc. My goal was to interview some of the celebrities for this blog, though--having never attended a fan festival--I didn't know if my plans were realistic.

The wonderful Piper Laurie.

On my first afternoon, I approached Piper Laurie at the autograph table and asked if I could interview her. I spent the next 45 minutes sitting next to her, asking detailed questions about her career, her co-stars (e.g., Rock Hudson, Tony Curtis), and personal life as she stopped periodically to autograph photographs. The charming Ms. Laurie discussed life as a Universal contract player in the 1950s, her three Oscar-nominated performances, and acting on the stage and in live television drama. If my Western Film Fair experience had ended right there, I would have deemed it an unqualified success.

Parker Stevenson--on the right--and me.

Still, that same afternoon, I scored interviews with Jon Provost and Parker Stevenson. Both actors were incredibly gracious and gave delightful interviews. Stevenson even insisted on taking a selfie of the two of us, warning me not to crop myself out of the picture. The only disappointment of the day was a minor one. I spent a half-hour sitting next to Johnny Crawford--but a constant stream of fans prevented an interview.

Most of the stars signed the Western Film Fair program for free. However, they charged $20 to $30 for an autographed photo and $10 to autograph an item provided by a fan. One gentleman had Piper Laurie sign a mint-condition, one-sheet poster of her horror film Ruby, which undoubtedly increased the value of that collectible significantly. By the way, Ms. Laurie posted a sign stating that all the proceeds from her autographs would be donated to the Wounded Warriors Project. Such a classy lady!

Johnny Crawford.

I was amazed by the patience exhibited by the stars, who would listen intently as gushing fans described favorite TV episodes or other stars they had met. Some of these encounters lasted for five to ten minutes (even when other people were waiting in line). None of the celebrities charged to pose for a photograph with one of their fans. I know these stars appear at fan conventions to make money, but, frankly, I was impressed at the way they treated their fans.

Jim Rosin with one of his books.

On the second day, I interviewed Jim Rosin, an actor and writer who penned several episodes of Quincy M.E. (and played an alien in the popular cult film The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai). Rosin has also written several books on classic TV series such as Wagon Train, Route 66, and The Naked City. That's no surprise as he was a great storyteller, sharing anecdotes about working with Jack Klugman, interviewing George Maharis, etc. Rosin also served as the moderator for the panel discussions with the stars.

After screening the Western Smoke Signal, I stayed for the panel discussion with Piper Laurie. Jim Rosin spent the first half-hour asking questions about her career, from her start in Hollywood at age 18 to a recent appearance in the stage musical A Little Night Music. Ms. Laurie then spent another thirty minutes fielding questions from the audience of about 60 people. Of her Smoke Signal co-star Dana Andrews, Piper Laurie said she idolized him as a teen ("My girlfriend and I would go to see films he did with Linda Darnell six times"). Yet, when she first met him at his Burbank home, he was "out cold" from intoxication in the backseat of his car. He struggled with alcoholism throughout the making of Smoke Signal. Ms. Laurie ended, though, by adding: "Mr. Andrews became sober, rehabilitated himself completely, became president of the Screen Actors Guild, and became a useful member of society and a star of Broadway after all this."

Tommy Hildreth, one of the organizers.

That evening, after the panel discussion, I watched The Mississippi Gambler starring Tyrone Power and Piper Laurie (she won the role over Linda Christian, who was then Mrs. Power). The film, which also featured Julie Adams, was shown on 16mm. I learned later that the print belonged to Tommy Hildreth, one of the Western Film Fair organizers. When I asked him to name some of his all-time favorite guests at the event, he deferred initially. But when I pressed for an answer, he admitted that Julie Adams and Piper Laurie were probably his favorites, adding that he had been a fan of both actresses since the 1950s.

The Purple Monster!

During the convention's three days, over 70 digital and 16mm films were screened in multiple rooms, from ten o'clock in the morning until after midnight. While most of them were "B" Westerns featuring cowboy stars such as Hoot Gibson, there were also TV series episodes and serials. The latter included one of my childhood favorites, The Purple Monster Strikes, about an evil Martian decked out in a very cool--if impractical--costume.

Bob "Fuzzy" Brooks.

A primary attraction for many of the Western Film Fair attendees was the vendor room. Collectors scoured the vendor tables carefully, looking for desired items at good prices. Of course, you could also purchase non-collectibles such as Fuzzy's Bunkhouse Brew Coffee, which was being sold by Bob (Fuzzy) Brooks. Heck, Fuzzy has a Facebook page (Westerns Trails Stars of the Silver Screen) with almost 6,000 "likes." He has been a staple at the Western Film Fair for the last four years. Decked out in full Western gear, he certainly attracts attention. In fact, he recounted an amusing story about going to an Atlanta restaurant in his fuzzy outfit and being mistaken for Stinky Pete from Toy Story.

A WFF attendee.

I missed the awards banquet, the convention's culminating event, on Saturday evening. I'm sure it was a delightful affair--combining live music, the presentation of the Ernest Tubbs Award, and attendance by many of the stars. Yet, for all the celebrities and the movies, Hildreth made an insightful observation when asked about the enduring appeal of the Western Film Fair: "I think a lot of people would come even without the guest stars. They look forward to getting together year after year with their friends and talking about the Westerns they love."

There's a Crack...in the World!

"Slow in takeoff and inclined to over-clinical scientific exposition, (the) action gradually hits its stride when the experiment backfires and results in giant earthquakes, tidal waves and general destruction of the world."

That was Variety's assessment of Crack in the World when it was released in 1965. I pretty much agree, although time has been kind to this well-made, modestly-budgeted science fiction film. In retrospect, it is one of the better sci fi efforts of the 1960s, though certainly not in the same category as the somewhat similar The Day the Earth Caught Fire.

Dana Andrews as Dr. Sorenson.

Dana Andrews stars as Dr. Stephen Sorenson, a dedicated scientist who hopes to create "limitless, clean heat" by drilling to the magma at the Earth's core. Unfortunately, after drilling down two miles, his team hits a portion of the Earth's crust that can't be penetrated by mechanical means. Sorenson's solution is to use a thermonuclear device to punch through that final layer.

His colleague, Ted Rampion (Kieron Moore), adamantly opposes that plan, claiming the explosion will trigger ruptures in existing fissures created by previous nuclear tests. Sorenson ignores Rampion's warnings and, after securing permission by a government commission, he detonates the atomic bomb. Without minutes, an earthquake creates a crack in the Earth's crust that travels along a fault line at 3 miles per hour--threatening to literally cut the Earth in half.

Rampion (Kieran Moore) in the volcano.

Except for occasional stock footage,which is ill-matched for the most part, there's a dearth of disaster scenes in Crack in the World until the fiery climax. Still, veteran director Andrew Marton (King Solomon's Mines) mounts two impressive sequences in the film's final half-hour. The first one generates effective tension as Rampion emplaces another thermonuclear device into a live volcano, hoping to create a hole big enough to stop the crack. Marton's other highlight is an action sequence with Rampion and Sorenson's wife (Janette Scott) racing to higher ground to avoid crashing boulders and streams of steaming lava.

The film's human elements don't work as well. The terminally-ill Sorenson pushes away his younger wife--right into the arms of her former lover Rampion. If it was because he was concerned about her future happiness, he might come across as sympathetic. As it is, Sorenson remains an egotistical genius ("I have an opportunity to turn the pages of history"), who becomes consumed by guilt after his actions result in thousands of lost lives.

Janette Scott as a blonde.

Except for Andrews as Sorenson, the cast is saddled with stereotypical characters. That said, Kieran is fine as the stalwart Rampion--part scientist and part action hero. Sadly, the lovely Janette Scott is wasted in the thankless role of Maggie Sorenson. It's a sharp contrast to the resourceful heroine she played in Day of the Triffids.

Shot in Spain, Crack in the World looks more expensive than its budget. Much of that credit belongs to Eugène Lourié, who received credits for both art direction and special effects. Born in France, Lourié first gained fame as an art director working with Jean Renoir on classics such as Grand Illusion (1937). He moved to America during World War II and worked on films ranging from the The House of Fear (with Basil Rathbone as Sherlock Holmes) to Charles Chaplin's Limelight. Lourié also directed occasionally, with his best work being another above-average 1960s sci fi film Gorgo.

The Dark Side of Obsession: Laura

Machiavelli wrote that “it is better to be feared than to be loved.” The title character of this film should have read more about political philosophy and less about fashion. Too many people just loved her to death…or at least tried.

A classic psychological film noir, Laura is one of the best films Otto Preminger ever made. Yet, the plot of Laura seems quite simple when you compare it to the behind the scenes plot that unfolded daily at 20th Century Fox. First Preminger was to direct; then studio head Darryl Zanuck fired him and replaced him with Rouben Mamoulian. Then Mamoulian was fired (nothing new for him) and Preminger was rehired. Then they argued over the cast. Zanuck wanted John Hodiak to play Detective McPherson and Preminger wanted Dana Andrews. Zanuck also tried to put the nix on Clifton Webb (who ended up being nominated for a Best Supporting Actor Oscar) and first-time cinematographer Joseph LaShelle (who won the film’s only Academy Award for his photography), who replaced Lucien Ballard after Mamoulian was fired. In the end, Preminger won most of the battles and his film garnered five Academy Award nominations, including Best Director, Best Art Direction (Lyle R. Wheeler, Leland Fuller, and Thomas Little), and Best Screenplay (adapted from the Vera Caspary novel of the same name by Jay Dratler, Samuel Hoffenstein and Betty Reinhardt).

There are many elements that make this a prime example of a film noir. Parasitic and morally bankrupt characters run (well-heeled) rampant through the posh drawing rooms of New York City while an unconventional detective tries to unravel the sordidness of it all. There is a chilling theme song, “Laura” (which was inspired by a Dear John letter that composer David Raksin’s wife left him), that is unforgettable. And then there is the pristine black and white cinematography of LaShelle, which incorporates both shadows and an ethereal essence. And to top it all off, you have some of sharpest and outright acidic dialogue ever imagined. All of these elements combined make it one of the best film noirs ever.

The film opens with that haunting theme song and a shot of an even more haunting portrait of a woman we soon learn, via voiceover by society columnist Waldo Lydecker (Clifton Webb), was named Laura Hunt (Gene Tierney in a role turned down by both Jennifer Jones and Hedy Lamarr)—was being the key word, as she is now dead (sort of). After waxing poetic in his bathtub about his relationship with the recently murdered beauty, Lydecker invites Detective McPherson (Dana Andrews) in for a friendly chat, where Lydecker nominates himself as the most logical sidekick in hunting down the murderer (even if he himself is a suspect!).

Next suspect: Laura’s rich, spinster Aunt Anne Treadwell (Judith Anderson). We soon learn that Aunt Anne has a thing for Laura’s would-be fiancée Shelby Carpenter (Vincent Price), a Southern gentleman who deposits a lot of checks with the the aunt’s name on them. A classic line from Lydecker suggests the proper aunt lost money playing craps, but it is quite obvious to the audience that she pays for Shelby’s favors. On cue, Shelby enters and is insulted by Lydecker, who reveals that Laura was rethinking “throwing her life away on a male beauty in distress.” Thoroughly insulted (and insinuated as yet another suspect), Shelby accompanies Lydecker and McPherson to Laura’s apartment. At the deceased’s residence we find two identical items from Lydecker’s apartment in Laura’s apartment: a grandfather clock and that eerie portrait of Laura.

Later, Lydecker and McPherson head off to dine at Waldo and Laura’s special table, where Lydecker reminisces (via flashback) of happier days. They’d met five years earlier when career-minded Laura had asked him to endorse a pen promoted by her advertising agency. At first he had snubbed her, but then he changed his mind and not only endorsed the pen but decided to make her his protégé. From that point on, Lydecker was in the business of molding Laura into the most unforgettable woman ever. The problem was he didn’t want to share her with anyone, so if someone came into the picture he got rid of them. First, it was the portrait painter Jacoby, whose artistic talent (or lack thereof) Lydecker ridiculed in his column. Then, there was Shelby, who Lydecker found utterly reprehensible and suggested to Laura that she look into his background before marrying him. It was soon revealed that Shelby was a cad of the first order, carrying on an affair with Diane Redfern, a model at the agency, and also cozying up to Aunt Anne. Soon after these revelations, Laura decided to go to her country home to reconsider her marriage plans. Alas, it was the last time Lydecker heard her voice.

Back at Laura’s apartment, McPherson encounters the maid, Bessie Clary (Dorothy Adams), who reveals she found a cheap bottle of whiskey in Laura’s bedroom the night she was killed. He also encounters the gruesome threesome who have come to determine what belongs to whom. Lydecker wants a few things back that he “lent” Laura: an antique fire screen, a “priceless” vase, and the same grandfather clock he already has in his own apartment.

As time passes, McPherson, who has taken to sulking in Laura’s apartment alone, starts to become obsessed with the portrait. On one of his many visits, Lydecker accuses the detective of falling in love with a dead woman and predicts that he’s headed for the asylum. Oh, but wait…she’s not dead, as we and the detective soon learn when she returns to her apartment one stormy night to find a strange man asleep in a chair next to her portrait. She is surprised to learn that she is dead, since she seems to be still breathing. Evidently the face that had been blown off by the shotgun wasn’t hers. But whose was it? Well, when Laura finds one of Diane Redfern’s dresses in her closet the obvious choice seems to become clear. Now, Laura is a suspect for the murder of Diane. McPherson orders Laura not to contact anyone, but like any “dame” she does the opposite and calls Shelby. This tips McPherson off to the fact that Shelby might be the killer and he follows him to Laura’s country home, where he finds him with a shotgun in his hands. Shelby admits that he took Diane to Laura’s apartment to break it off, but that he was out of the room when the doorbell rang. Whoever was at the door Diane answered was the killer.

The next day at Laura’s apartment, Lydecker is in for a shock when he finds Laura alive and well. It’s such a terrible shock that he faints straight away. Soon after being revived a party is planned, where all the depraved guests suspect one another of murder. Yet, only one is arrested: Laura. Escorted to the police station by McPherson (who is obviously obsessed with having her to himself), Laura finds herself given the standard bright light interrogation. The problem is McPherson only wants to find out if Laura is in love with Shelby. Really!!! Once he ascertains that she’s not, they leave. Really!!! The lighting in this scene is marvelous and conveys oodles about both McPherson and Laura’s motivations. First, the use of the two bright lights spotlight the intense beauty of Laura. Then, after the lights are turned off, Gene Tierney just seems to glow.

While McPherson is checking out Lydecker’s apartment and finally realizing that the grandfather clock in Laura’s own apartment might hold the murder weapon, Laura is being verbally reprimanded by Lydecker in her apartment for her possible attraction to the detective. So, when the detective arrives at her apartment and Laura gives Lydecker the heave-ho, Lydecker is politely furious. When he leaves the apartment he casts a large shadow on the wall—foreboding? As soon as Lydecker’s gone, McPherson checks Laura’s clock and finds the gun. Setting off to arrest Lydecker, McPherson leaves Laura with a kiss and tells her to get some sleep. Believing the detective gone, Lydecker (who has been hiding in the hallway) creeps back into the apartment to murder Laura. For some reason, the detective put the gun back in the clock! Anyway, as he’s reloading the gun he hears his own voice on Laura’s radio; it’s his broadcast on History’s Great Lovers. With the cops beating down the door, Lydecker points the gun at Laura and says they will be together forever…fortunately for Laura she has good reflexes and she deflects the gun as it goes off. What I find particularly odd about what transpires after the police fatally wound Lydecker is that Laura runs to his side to console him. Really? This man has tried to kill you twice and you run to him? Anyway, with Lydecker’s dying words, “Goodbye, Laura. Goodbye, my love” and another haunting still shot of the Laura portrait the film ends.

The story itself is marvelous. You have a case of mistaken identity with the murder and the shocking reappearance of the murder victim. I would have liked to have been in the audience when Gene Tierney turned that light on back in 1944—I’m sure it startled some.

Besides the wonderful plot, you have a no-nonsense detective who becomes obsessed with his beautiful dead victim and a whole cast of venomous creatures. The callousness of Judith Anderson’s Aunt Anne is both appalling and delightful to watch. Vincent Price’s interpretation of a Southern ladies man is quite comical. Gene Tierney plays the femme fatale well by exuding an icy coolness that just scorches the screen at times. And, when it comes to Clifton Webb, it is difficult to believe this was his first sound film. Webb is just delightful as a bitter, homosexual who hates all masculine men and will stop at nothing to keep them away from his Laura. There are many ways to look at his obsession with Laura. Personally, I think he created her to be the woman he wished he could be (his other self) and didn’t want anyone to come between them because he would be separated from his one true love: his feminine self. But that’s just my theory, I’m sure you have your own. Whatever may be the case, this is a classic film noir.