Leave Her to Heaven
The first thing that strikes you about this film is the gorgeous technicolor. During this period, the dark themes of film noir would usually be reflected by the shadowy, moodily lit scenes in which the drama plays out. However, this is not the case in Leave Her to Heaven. Indeed, director of photography Leon Shamroy paints an idyllic picture of their surroundings, we see the deep blues of lakes and verdant hues of trees in all their glory. This hides the typical noir vice which bubbles beneath the surface in a rather apt manner, echoing the way in which our main character Ellen masks her transgressions beneath a facade of seemingly innocent beauty.
Gene Tierney's murderously jealous partner Ellen is beguiling, playing her with a quiet coldness obscured by her good looks, she laces every coquettish smile with threat. A particularly chilling scene captures Ellen watching her husband's brother drown. As he starts to struggle, she sits there expressionless - eyes hidden behind her sunglasses - passively deciding his fate. We are implicated in what she has done by a performance that in many ways manages to make Ellen - a sociopath - sympathetic; somehow her motives are made to seem reasonable. Unfortunately, Cornel Wilde's performance as Ellen's husband Richard is far less engaging. My mum summed it up perfectly after leaving the cinema, describing him as "wet in the extreme". He seems to meander from one tragedy to another with a perverse lack of emotion. Given a narrative which lends itself to melodrama, one would expect a more involved performance.
We also have an extremely anticlimactic final courtroom scene that feels meaningless, a lawyer swans around - acting his little heart out - while director John M. Stahl attempts to tie the plot into a needlessly tidy bow. Despite this disappointing finish, Leaver Her to Heaven is a film of considerable appeal, pulsating with frenetic energy whilst simultaneously delivering a detached character study, it is a film all about what lies beneath its lacquered sheen.
Scarlet Street
Quintessentially noir themes abound in Fritz Lang's version of the Jean Renoir film La Chienne; we have the corrupting power of women, deception, and murder. Despite this, the film doesn't play like your typical noir. Indeed, it has an acutely comic edge which makes it feel like more of a black comedy thanks to a sharp script and excellent acting from the leads that many darkly funny moments.
Edward G. Robinson - excellently cast - plays a married cashier who falls for Joan Bennett's deceitful femme fatale Kitty. These performances are central to the success of the film, the physicality of Robinson's depiction of Chris Cross (great name) is admirable - always submissive with eyes downcast - he portrays a man used to subservience. Bennett plays Kitty with delightfully duplicitous allure, scheming for the duration, she is as charming as she is two-faced.
Milton Krasner's cinematography also displays classic noir at its best, every shot is under-lit, shadowy and deceptive, reflecting the typically dark noir themes. Perhaps best displayed in a brilliantly bleak scene towards the end of the film. Chris - wracked with regret - sits in a cramped room, haunted by Kitty's voice; the minimal lighting makes you feel like she could really be with him in the room, hidden in one of the many dingy corners.
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