The Strange Love of Martha Ivers
1946 / B & W / 116 minutes
Tagline: Fate drew them together... and only murder could
part them!
On
December 13, TCM screened, yet again, an interesting example of big
budget film noir. It blends the right amounts of guess work, women’s movie
romance and nice clothes, and hard-boiled notions about the wicked ways of life in seemingly ideal
communities.
Much of the suspense hangs on characters
who act on mistaken assumptions and oblivious characters who don’t know they lack
crucial information. I won’t discuss plot and incident because an account would
dilute the suspense that every movie watcher has the right to savor on her own.
Because the movie takes a little too
long for characters to tumble to facts, I will reveal to a world dying to know
that my butt started to go numb at about the 95-minute mark of this two-hour
movie.
Barbara Stanwyck plays the femme fatale
as she did in Double Indemnity. She
is hard and ruthless, but vulnerable and liable to a pitiful but frightening instability.
She’s acted on impulse that caused others pain, cost two unfortunates their
lives, and blighted her own life in the process. Violence and the prospect of
cruelty excite her.
The other female lead, Lizabeth Scott,
brings to mind Lauren Bacall, with her husky sultry voice and unique but not
pretty face. But in only her second screen appearance, Scott gives the
character a convincing broken manner. Like a hunted animal, she’s always
looking over her shoulder, wincing in expectation from the next blow from a
drunken parent, a violent sib, or a sadistic prison guard with a billy club.
Born to be victimized, she isn’t close to clever and knows it. She needs
somebody to take care of her.
The male leads are cast against type. To
me, Van Heflin always seemed genial, harmless and Pillsbury Doughboy-soft. Here
he plays a supposedly tough veteran of Anzio and a canny product of circus life
and rambling gambler. In his screen debut, Kirk Douglas plays a drunken
milktoast who is also a conniving, ethics-free DA who coerces small time crooks
into bad funny business and sends innocent men to the gallows. This is noir,
remember, so human failings cause trouble and suffering. Douglas pulls off
playing a dynamic weakling, persuading us that his character has complexity –
gutless, devious, dangerous, untrustworthy, volatile, but a husband totally in
love with his wife.
Film noir tends to be cynical about appearances. Near the
beginning of a movie is a wonderfully awful example of creepy decoration. A
rich woman’s mansion has furnishings that look Late 19th Century
Western Frontier Genteel though the scene is set the late 1920s. Naturally, the
fancy decorations hide the inner rot of the semi-monsters that have to inhabit
the house. Later in the movie the mansion is inhabited by Babs the Adultress
who rubs her extramarital affairs with personal trainers in her alcoholic
husband’s face. Hubby the DA takes his anger out on the petty crooks at work.
He fixes problems for his friends and hires plug-uglies to usher drifters out
of town.
The mid-sized factory town looks safe and prosperous
enough. But it is run by a cabal of the spoiled rich and their corrupt lickspittles.
The ordinary citizens are cranky toadies who accept their subordination as part
of the natural order. In short, the town is the sweltering hell that
Republicans think of when they think of the Good Old Days. The arrival of the stranger Van Heflin
uncovers the rot inside civic life. The
good citizens sure don’t like him being so rebellious.
Because of the big budget and requirements of The Code,
the ending is not nearly as fatalistic and dark as film noir endings usually
are. Despite the happy ending, enjoy.
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