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Dana Andrews investigates in the shadow of Gene Tierney in film noir Laura |
Director: Otto Preminger
Cast: Gene Tierney (Laura Hunt), Dana Andrews (Mark
McPherson), Clifton Webb (Waldo Lydecker), Vincent Price (Shelby Carpenter),
Judith Anderson (Ann Treadwell), Dorothy Adams (Bessie Clary)
Laura is the sort
of film noir that on the surface gives you what you would expect, but actually
shakes its formula up pretty successfully. The femme fatale starts the film
dead (although anyone who has seen a mystery will be expecting a twist when we
hear a shotgun has destroyed her face beyond recognition). The detective does
very little detecting, and engages in hardly any police business. One of the
lead suspects is allowed to tag along to every interrogation to spray witty
barbs around. There are only four potential suspects and barely any other
characters. The solving of the mystery often takes a back seat to flashbacks
and character beats. When the reveal comes, it feels like it’s been hiding in
plain sight the whole time. But yet it really works.
Laura Hunt (Gene Tierney) is a leading female advertising
executive found murdered in her apartment. Detective McPherson (Dana Andrews)
is called in to investigate, with the suspects being: Walso Lydecker (Clifton
Webb), a waspish newspaper columnist who was her mentor; Shelby Carpenter
(Vincent Price), a parasitic southerner, sponging off Laura’s success; and Ann
Treadwell (Judith Anderson), a matriarch who may or may not be conducting an
affair with Shelby. But is all as it seems? Well of course it isn’t, and as
McPherson gets more obsessed with Laura, so does the mystery of her murder
deepen.
Otto Preminger took over the direction of Laura mid-way through the production,
after the rushes of the original director (Rouben Mamoulian) underwhelmed. Preminger
repackaged the film as a sort of part-thriller, part-shrewd black comedy, and
gave huge scope to Clifton Webb’s hugely enjoyable performance as the waspish
Waldo, a turn that totally dominates the film. Clifton Webb’s arch performance
is a complete delight, and the film plays subtly with Waldo’s sexuality.
Introduced in a bath with a typewriter, like some gossipy Marat, Waldo is
heavily implied to be at least ambiguous in his sexuality, a dandy about town
with more knowledge about clothing and high society than the initial ingénue
Laura.
To be honest, watching it today, Waldo is so clearly a
possessive creep – a preening, domineering personality who takes an obsessive
pleasure from “owning” Laura – that you’re far less likely to be surprised to
find he has a considerable dark side than many of the viewers of the original
film. For all the witty barbs he throws about – “Haven’t you heard about
science’s latest invention, the doorbell?” he snaps at an welcome intrusion
from MacPherson – Waldo remains part comic delight, part intensely
black-hearted weirdo. It’s a line Webb’s performance walks extremely well.
It does mean that there is very little room in the film for
Andrews and Tierney as the film’s two leads. Laura is the presence that hangs
over the film – quite literally at times, with many scenes taking place in her
flat, beneath an enormous portrait of her. But despite this, she becomes less
and less interesting as the film progresses. Essentially, Gene Tierney is so
striking looking as the lead – and the build-up she gets from Waldo in
particular is so extreme – that her acting can’t quite live up to the presence.
The character is possibly the least well written of the film, an enigma that we
never quite get into – or feel inclined to try.
McPherson is a far more interesting part. The film suggests
(indeed Waldo says it outright) that McPherson is falling hard for the victim.
There is a wonderful sequence where McPherson stays overnight in Laura’s
apartment, moving through the flat, rearranging things in her rooms, drinking
her whisky then settling into a chair and starring up at her painting before
going to sleep. It’s like a date with only one person there. McPherson gets a
very personal investment in the case – so it’s a shame that he’s played so
flatly and boringly by Dana Andrews, a serviceable sort of B-list film noir
lead who brings no spark to the part at all.
The two leads can’t compete with Webb, or the playful
performances in the supporting roles from Price and Anderson. Preminger gets
the tone just right with these big performers, playing both characters just on
the edge of satire. Price is languidly dry, delighting in his gauche lack of
interest in other people and his selfishness. Anderson is a strangely needy
matriarch, a woman hiding her need for the interest of a younger man, archly
proud but slightly tragic. Throw these colourful performers at the edge of the
picture and it’s not hard to lose interest in the two leads – especially as
they are playing characters so different from what you expect from these films.
The mystery itself is not too much of a puzzle. There are
two or three twists in there, two of which I was able to predict and the third
one I didn’t pick up on some early signposting (including in the opening lines).
But the enjoyment here isn’t from the puzzle but from the colour that it’s put
together with. Preminger stages the whole thing like a jet black comedy and
mixes it with plenty of gorgeous film noir lighting. The story is slight but
staged with real energy and dynamism – you can’t believe how swiftly it flies
by. The film probably has more sympathy for the eventual murder than a modern
audience will feel – but that’s no big deal. Well written, spicily played by
the supporting cast and well directed, you can see why this is one of the
classic film noirs.
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