Showing posts with label Double Indemnity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Double Indemnity. Show all posts

Monday, November 03, 2014

The Spell of the Woman in the Window



Richard (Edward G. Robinson): The flesh is still strong, but the spirit grows weaker by the hour. You know, even if the spirit of adventure should rise up before me and beckon, even in the form of that alluring young woman in the window next door, I'm afraid that all I'll do is clutch my coat a little tighter, mutter something idiotic and run like the devil.

Dr. Barkstane (Edmund Breon): Not before you got her number, I hope?

Richard: Probably.

A lot of movies are labeled film noir, but "The Woman in the Window," which debuted 70 years ago today, is a classic of the genre — purely film noir.

And, when I say it is "purely film noir," I mean that is really all that it is — no distracting subplots.

Fittingly, then, "The Woman in the Window" is credited, at least in part, with the first use of film noir as a description of that particular genre. It is my understanding that film noir was first applied to American movies in 1946 when several of the movies that are now recognized as the early ground–breakers — among them "The Maltese Falcon," "Double Indemnity," "Laura" and "The Woman in the Window" — were first released in France.

In many ways, it reminded me of "Double Indemnity," another film noir that was in the theaters only a couple of months earlier and featured Edward G. Robinson — but in a different kind of role. In "The Woman in the Window," he played the same kind of part Fred MacMurray played in "Double Indemnity." He, too, was involved with a seductress; he, too, killed a man who was connected to the woman.

MacMurray's character killed as part of a plot, though, whereas Robinson's character killed in self–defense. Or did he? Was he an unsuspecting pawn manipulated by the woman in the window?

Robinson's femme fatale was played by Joan Bennett. Before I saw "The Woman in the Window," I knew her only as Elizabeth Taylor's warm–hearted mother in "Father of the Bride." But that was a later phase of her career. It really was like watching a completely different actress in "The Woman in the Window" and "Scarlet Street," both of which were directed by Fritz Lang and starred Bennett, Robinson and Dan Duryea.

As I say, Robinson's character shared some similarities to the one played by MacMurray in "Double Indemnity," but there were some differences as well. MacMurray was in insurance; Robinson was a psychology professor. Well, I suppose there were some similarities there as well. I mean, an insurance salesman has to comprehend a certain amount about human psychology, right? Actually, I guess that is true of a successful salesman of any kind.

They both tried to dispose of the bodies of their victims, and the women with whom they were involved tried to help. Afterward, they both tried to nonchalantly learn details of investigations into the disappearances of their victims — in "Double Indemnity," MacMurray, as an insurance salesman, tried to learn about the investigation from the claims adjuster, played by Robinson.

In "The Woman in the Window," Robinson tried to find out what the police knew by prying details from the district attorney, played by Raymond Massey. And Robinson took some good–natured teasing from Massey — not unlike the joshing Robinson threw MacMurray's way — about really being guilty of the crime (wink, wink, nudge, nudge) that was much more on the mark than any of the characters knew.

Of course, the audience knew — and, in "The Woman in the Window," Robinson actually managed to make viewers sympathize with him. He was, after all, a lonely professor whose wife and children were on a vacation; it was purely a random thing that he found himself in the wrong place with the wrong person. He and Bennett met when he noticed a painting of her in a display window, and it turned out she was there to observe people's reactions to the painting.

They struck up a friendship and went back to Bennett's home, where her wealthy lover showed up and got into a fight with Robinson. In self–defense, Robinson stabbed him with a pair of scissors.

The rest of the story was about how Robinson and Bennett (Robinson mostly) disposed of the body and tried to keep from being discovered.

That led to a surprise ending of which the filmmakers were quite proud.

By and large, film noir can be a bit heavy–handed for my taste. For example, the first time we saw Robinson in this movie, he was lecturing his students about the legal degrees of homicide.

"The various legal categories such as first– and second–degree murder, the various degrees of homicide, manslaughter, are civilized recognitions of impulses of various degrees of culpability," Robinson told his students, neatly foreshadowing what was to come. "The man who kills in self–defense, for instance, must not be judged by the same standards applied to the man who kills for gain."

Did I say "foreshadowing?" It wasn't as subtle as that. How about "telegraphing?"

If there was a theme to the story, I suppose it was that conditions often resolve moral dilemmas, one way or the other. That certainly was true of Robinson and Bennett. Everything they did was dictated by things that, for the most part, appeared out of their control.

And if I have a blanket criticism of film noir, it is the general absence of subtlety. Maybe it is because the facts of the case are assumed to be known — or at least strongly suspected — by the audience, whether that much information actually has been communicated to the audience or not.

I'm not saying that was the case with "The Woman in the Window," only that it has been a problem with many of the film noirs I have seen in my life.

"The Woman in the Window" was a pretty good movie. It's a shame that many of the entries in the film noir genre that followed didn't come close to its standards.

Saturday, September 06, 2014

A Trail-Blazing Film Noir



"It was a hot afternoon, and I can still remember the smell of honeysuckle all along that street. How could I have known that murder can sometimes smell like honeysuckle?"

Walter (Fred MacMurray)

Most people probably associate Billy Wilder with outrageous comedies like "Some Like It Hot," but he worked on some of the great dramas in film history as well — like film noir "Double Indemnity," which premiered on this day in 1944.

Film noir became something of a refuge for movie people who had been pigeonholed. Take Dick Powell, for example, who found a whole new career, thanks to "Murder, My Sweet," which premiered a few months after "Double Indemnity."

Rightly or wrongly, many film historians have said "Double Indemnity" was the first film noir. There were others that were made around the same time but, like "Murder, My Sweet," premiered later. It cannot be said that those films were influenced by "Double Indemnity," only that they came along later — by a few weeks or months.

But because of its chronological prominence, I suppose, "Double Indemnity" is perceived as the first and, therefore, the one that established the rules for film noir. That was true to an extent, I suppose. But film noir has always been reinventing itself, rewriting its rules.

On the surface, "Double Indemnity" was a story of two people who used each other to commit murder and collect the insurance money — all the while insisting they loved each other. But they didn't act the way I would expect two people in love to behave. They didn't have to be bumping into the furniture, but they could have been more convincing.

I thought I knew what motivated Barbara Stanwyck's character, Phyllis. The victim was her husband. Through Walter (MacMurray), she got a life insurance policy with a double indemnity clause if her husband died accidentally. The $50,000 payoff seems like chump change in the 21st century, but it was a small fortune in the '40s. Phyllis was clearly a phony, with her obvious wig, and she oozed sleaziness with that anklet she wore. Shouldn't an insurance salesman like Walter Neff, who dealt with all kinds of people every day, be able to see through her?

What was it that motivated Walter? Did he lust for Phyllis the way he said he did? Or did he want his share of the money? Or both? Maybe even he didn't know.

I guess most critics interpret Walter as being overcome with lust and greed. Walter was a weak man, and he was easily manipulated by Phyllis, who was much stronger psychologically. Perhaps Phyllis was driven entirely by profit — the audience knew her husband had been losing money so it was easy to accept that as both her motivation and the source of her sense of urgency — and she used Walter to accomplish her goal.

The first time I saw "Double Indemnity," I had no problem believing that Walter and Phyllis worked together to kill Phyllis' husband for the insurance money. I just never really felt they were as into each other as they claimed to be.

And the more I thought about it, the more I doubted that either one was in it for lust or greed. Money was the surface motivation; I think it was more primal than that. They were in it for the thrill of the kill — one of those cases you hear about from time to time, like the killers of that family in Kansas that Truman Capote immortalized in "In Cold Blood." Alone, they were capable of primarily petty crimes, might even hurt someone now and then but could never kill anyone. Paired with a complementary personality, they could.

They became like one.

If you watch the movie, pay particularly close attention to how Phyllis reacts to Walter's first visit to her home. It is as if a light bulb suddenly has come on in her head and a plan to kill her husband begins to take shape. Was Walter its inspiration? Did Phyllis really love him, or was he merely a convenient element of the plan?

By the time the movie was over, I just didn't think they were behaving like two people helplessly in love. I guess that goes without saying, though; I mean, they did shoot each other in the end.

I really liked Edward G. Robinson's character, the veteran claims adjuster. Even after repeated viewings, though, I still can't figure him out. Not entirely.

Was he wise to Walter all along? Or did he only learn the truth when he overheard Walter recording his confession?

The thing I can figure out is that his character was good at his work.

"This Dietrichson business," he said. "It's murder, and murders don't come any neater. As fancy a piece of homicide as anybody ever ran into. Smart, tricky, almost perfect — but I think Papa has it all figured out. It's beginning to come apart at the seams already. Murder is never perfect. It always comes apart sooner or later. When two people are involved, it's usually sooner."

I guess the folks who vote on the Oscars didn't really know what to make of "Double Indemnity," either. It got seven Oscar nominations — including Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actress and Best Writing — but didn't win any.

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Need a Tax Day Diversion?



Tomorrow is April 15, Tax Day, and, whether you've already filed your taxes or you've been putting it off, you can probably use a diversion.

And Turner Classic Movies has a good one planned — "Double Indemnity," a 1944 film noir directed by the legendary Billy Wilder and starring Fred MacMurray, Barbara Stanwyck and Edward G. Robinson.

Many folks may remember MacMurray and Stanwyck for their TV roles — MacMurray as the patriarch in the TV series "My Three Sons" and Stanwyck on "The Colbys" — but their performances in "Double Indemnity" were truly electric.

So was Robinson's. His career didn't include any TV roles that I know of, but "Double Indemnity" was, in many ways, a departure for him. Robinson is mostly remembered for his work in gangster movies, but his role in "Double Indemnity" had few things in common with his previous work.

As for Wilder, what can one say? He directed many classic films, and "Double Indemnity" was one of them. People may remember Wilder's comedies, like "Some Like It Hot," but he could clearly direct a drama with the best of them.

And this one will keep you on the edge of your seat.

TCM will be showing it at 7 p.m. (Central) on Wednesday.