Classic Films in Focus: WHERE DANGER LIVES (1950)

Robert Mitchum takes another dive into darkness in Where Danger Lives (1950), and once again he plays an easy mark for a dangerous dame, this time embodied by the sultry Faith Domergue. An icon of film noir, Mitchum made more celebrated forays into the genre both before and after this outing, but Where Danger Lives has much to offer in its 82 minutes of twisted flight, thanks to expert direction from John Farrow and gripping performances from Mitchum, Domergue, and the perpetually brilliant Claude Rains. Like many noir films, Where Danger Lives depicts people's lives crashing into ruin in spectacular fashion, but the peculiarly bent nature of Domergue's femme fatale gives this story an extra shot of the strange and perverse.

Mitchum plays a young doctor named Jeff Cameron, who unexpectedly meets trouble when the seductive Margo Lannington (Faith Domergue) tries to commit suicide and is placed under his care. Almost immediately, Margo and Jeff begin a steamy romance, and Jeff decides to dump his steady girlfriend, Julie (Maureen O'Sullivan), in order to marry Margo. Jeff finds out too late that Margo is already married, and her husband (Claude Rains) ends up dead after an altercation with Jeff. Dizzy and disoriented from a concussion sustained in the fight, Jeff accompanies Margo on a run for the Mexican border, but her mental instability and the pair's bad luck get worse with every passing hour.

Jeff is one of Mitchum's most straight-laced and passive noir protagonists, just a normal young professional until Margo tempts him into the depths. Admittedly, his resistance is pretty weak, especially when he already has a good match in Julie, who lacks Margo's glamor but shares Jeff's professional world and is grade A wife material. Once he's in over his head, Jeff lets Margo take the lead, largely because he keeps passing out thanks to a poker blow from Margo's husband, but also because Margo constantly manipulates the situation to her own ends. Mitchum's best scenes are the woozy ones, where he doesn't really know what's going on and has to plunge ahead in spite of it, always getting himself deeper and deeper into Margo's crazy scheme. Faith Domergue, perfectly cast as the unstable siren, has her finest moments when Margo is at her worst; the wildest, most maniacal actions light a strange fire in her dark eyes, and we believe that she's capable of anything. Her scenes with Rains are electric; he has just a hint of madness about him, too, so that we understand their attraction to each other as well as their mutual hatred. Sadly, Rains' character gets killed off early in the picture, but his warnings haunt Jeff until the end. "If you take her," Lannington tells Jeff, "it's a long road. There's no turning back!" Like Edward G. Robinson's trolley car speech in Double Indemnity (1944), the admonition proves prophetic.

From the moment Jeff and Lannington have their fatal encounter, the action of the picture never lets up, but the protagonists are driven forward more by cruel quirks of fate than their own intentions. Jeff and Margo think the police are after them long before Lannington's body is actually found, which forces them to abandon their plan to fly to Mexico in favor of a more dangerous journey by car. They make rookie mistakes; neither is an experienced criminal, so they get into more jams and become more desperate with each new error. For Jeff, drifting in and out of consciousness, the trip has a nightmarish quality, reflected in the desolate landscapes and strange characters they encounter. All around them are opportunists, eager to take advantage of their obvious problems, like the car dealer who profits by swapping an antiquated clunker for their car and even gets Margo's forgotten fur coat into the bargain. There's a darkly comical element to many of their misadventures, especially the town that forces them to stop and get married because of some goofy local festival going on. In a screwball comedy it would be the start of marital bliss, but in this setting it's a perverse punishment, giving Jeff exactly what he thought he wanted at a point where he no longer wants it. When he finally realizes the extent of Margo's madness, it's too late to walk away; Jeff and Margo can only be separated by the same kind of violence that first brought them together, and the finale is an explosive confrontation on the Mexican border, a symbolic line that mirrors the film's juxtapositions of good and evil, sanity and madness, and life and death.

For more of Mitchum's noir films, see Out of the Past (1947), The Racket (1951), and Angel Face (1952); he also worked with John Farrow on His Kind of Woman (1951). Faith Domergue's career never quite came together, but you can find her in The Duel at Silver Creek (1952), Santa Fe Passage (1955), and This Island Earth (1955). Catch Claude Rains making other noir turns in Moontide (1942), Notorious (1946), and The Unsuspected (1947). John Farrow also directed Wake Island (1941), for which he won an Oscar for Best Director, Alias Nick Beal (1949), and Hondo (1953). Maureen O'Sullivan, best remembered as Jane to Johnny Weissmuller's Tarzan, was married to John Farrow; the two worked together on The Big Clock (1948) as well as Where Danger Lives, but their most famous collaboration would be their actress daughter, Mia Farrow, the third of their seven children.

Classic Films in Focus: THE BARRETTS OF WIMPOLE STREET (1934)

Once upon a time, the romance of Victorian poets Elizabeth Barrett and Robert Browning was one of the world’s most celebrated love stories, although today it’s a tale that only English majors with a particular interest in the 19th century are likely to know well. The Barretts of Wimpole Street (1934), adapted from the play by Rudolph Besier, takes the usual poetic license with history, but it’s a lovely vision, nonetheless, with strong performances from Norma Shearer and Fredric March as the literary lovers. Viewers don’t really need to know anything about the poets to appreciate the elegant costumes, the tender love scenes, or the striking depiction of Victorian domestic dysfunction, but those well-versed in the works of both Barrett and Browning are likely to enjoy the film that much more. Memorable appearances by Charles Laughton, Maureen O’Sullivan, and Una O’Connor will give classic movie fans a particular thrill, as well.

Norma Shearer plays celebrated poet Elizabeth Barrett, an invalid who lives at Wimpole Street with a large collection of siblings and their overbearing father, Edward (Charles Laughton). The younger Barretts live in fear of Edward, who refuses to let any of them marry, and even Elizabeth, his favorite, shrinks from his relentless control. Strong-willed Henrietta (Maureen O’Sullivan) engages in a forbidden romance that enrages her father, but his ire is even greater when he suspects that Elizabeth has more than platonic feelings for the energetic young poet, Robert Browning (Fredric March).

Shearer embodies Barrett’s intelligence and frailty beautifully, and she looks fabulous in the sumptuous period gowns and the poet’s signature curls. Her performance earned her an Oscar nomination for Best Actress, the fourth of her career. Fredric March makes an excellent foil to her languid lady with his boundless energy and enthusiasm; he dashes into the room at their first meeting, an irresistible force determined to pull Elizabeth into life and love despite her own misgivings. The two talk of poetry briefly, invoking Browning’s early work, Sordello, in particular, but their later conversations turn almost entirely to affairs of the heart. That reluctance to be literary might be one of the film’s real weaknesses, since it denies uninitiated viewers a chance to figure out what these two poets are actually famous for, and it seems a shame that Barrett’s “How Do I Love Thee?” never gets an airing, since it was first written during the period that the film chronicles.

The supporting players fill the Wimpole Street house with well-defined characters who help to shape the lovers’ story in one way or another. Charles Laughton offers a compelling argument for patricide in his portrayal of Edward; the incestuous nature of his obsession with Elizabeth spills out in one climactic scene, but throughout the entire film he makes the viewer’s skin crawl with his thick lips, pitiless religiosity, and absolute suffocation of his children. Maureen O’Sullivan, as Henrietta, gets several excellent scenes of rebellion against him; she’s less a saint than Elizabeth, but her fiery courage makes us root for her to escape her father’s clutches by any means necessary. (The real Henrietta Moulton-Barrett did eventually marry Surtees Cook, although her father immediately disinherited her.) The delightful Una O’Connor also makes a noteworthy contribution as Elizabeth’s maid, Wilson, who loves Elizabeth far more than she fears Edward.

In addition to the Best Actress nomination for Shearer, The Barretts of Wimpole Street also earned a nod for Best Picture, but it lost on both counts to the big winner of 1934, It Happened One Night. Director Sidney Franklin liked his film so much that he remade it in 1957 with Jennifer Jones as Elizabeth Barrett and Bill Travers as Robert Browning. See more of Norma Shearer in The Divorcee (1930), A Free Soul (1931), and The Women (1939), and catch Fredric March in Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1931), A Star is Born (1937), and The Best Years of Our Lives (1946). The versatile but always brilliant Charles Laughton also stars in Island of Lost Souls (1932), The Private Life of Henry VIII (1933), and Witness for the Prosecution (1957). Look for Una O’Connor in The Bride of Frankenstein (1935) and The Adventures of Robin Hood (1939), and see quite a lot of Maureen O’Sullivan in Tarzan the Ape Man (1932) and its sequels.

Learn more about Robert Browning and Elizabeth Barrett Browning from The Poetry Foundation.

Classic Films in Focus: THE DEVIL-DOLL (1936)

Tod Browning, the horror director best remembered for classics like Dracula (1931) and Freaks (1932), also heads up the unusual 1936 thriller, The Devil-Doll, although the lurid title rather misleads the audience about the kind of movie on offer. In fact, this weird but compelling story features the venerable Lionel Barrymore himself as its tortured protagonist, a man driven to bizarre extremes to avenge himself on the traitors who ruined his life. Effective performances from Maureen O'Sullivan, Frank Lawton, and Rafaela Ottiano add to the film's attractions, but the real surprise is the emotional depth that lies beneath Browning's grotesque facade.

Barrymore stars as Paul Lavond, a banker framed and sent to prison by his former partners. When he and a fellow inmate escape, Lavond thinks only of his revenge, but his comrade, Marcel (Henry B. Walthall), is driven by an obsession with secret scientific experiments. Marcel and his wife, Malita (Rafaela Ottiano), have found a way to shrink living beings to doll size, though the process renders the subjects mindless automatons with no will of their own. After Marcel dies, Paul and Malita take the miniatures to Paris, where Paul disguises himself as old Madame Mandilip and uses the tiny slaves as the agents of his revenge.

Adapted from Abraham Merritt's novel, Burn Witch Burn!, The Devil-Doll prefigures Attack of the Puppet People (1958) but owes a great deal to Browning's earlier film, The Unholy Three (1925), in which Lon Chaney had played the cross-dressed granny role. The title of The Devil-Doll draws attention to the gimmick of having miniaturized characters, a trick briefly used in The Bride of Frankenstein (1935), as well. The best scenes with the "dolls" feature gigantic sets that make the actors look convincingly tiny, but modern audiences will be less impressed with the composite shots, and none of the doll scenes are terrifying enough to warrant the devilish description.

Barrymore makes for the real attraction, giving a truly memorable performance in his scenes as Madame Mandilip. The humor of seeing Barrymore in drag contrasts with the pathos and wrath of his hunted character. Lavond was a good man before 17 years in prison embittered his soul, and he never becomes a true villain in spite of his strange and terrible acts. He stirs our pity by visiting his blind mother and weeping over the hard life of his daughter, Lorraine (Maureen O'Sullivan). Lavond has his limits, but madness drives his wild-eyed collaborator, Malita, and she is the much more diabolical character of the two. Rafaela Ottiano gives a terrific performance in the role, a female equal of great genre actors like Ernest Thesiger, Dwight Frye, and even Peter Lorre. It's a shame she didn't appear in more horror films.

See Lionel Barrymore in more familiar roles in Grand Hotel (1932), You Can't Take It with You (1938), and It's a Wonderful Life (1946). He also appears with Bela Lugosi in Tod Browning's Mark of the Vampire (1935). Look for Maureen O'Sullivan in Tarzan the Ape Man (1932), The Thin Man (1934), and A Day at the Races (1937). Rafaela Ottiano turns up with Barrymore in Grand Hotel, but you'll also find her in She Done Him Wrong (1933), Curly Top (1935), and Topper Returns (1941).