Archive for The Lodger

The Wronger Man

Posted in FILM with tags , , , , , , , , , on September 5, 2020 by dcairns

I’d always meant to watch John Brahm’s 1939 criminal justice melo LET US LIVE, and now I know why I held off — I got a chance to watch it streaming from Bologna in a gleaming fresh copy, better than any grungy old version I might have tracked down.

Henry Fonda plays an innocent cabby wrongly convicted of armed robbery and murder. Maureen O’Sullivan is his bride-to-be, frantically trying to prove his innocence before he goes to the chair. The movie anticipates Hitchcock’s THE WRONG MAN in plot terms, but Brahm gives it all a glossy Hollywood expressionism more showy than Hitch’s gloomy death march.

How to account for Brahm’s fluctuating visual style — here in this relatively early work (he’d done his remake of BROKEN BLOSSOMS in the UK, and three B pictures for Columbia before this one) his arresting use of chiaroscuro and violently off-centre framing is fully developed. In later films it comes and goes. It could be the amount of prep time, the skills of the cinematographer he was working with, or the amount of enthusiasm he could muster.

(Brahm films to see: THE LODGER and HANGOVER SQUARE, THE LOCKET, GUEST IN THE HOUSE, his Twilight Zones and some of his Alfred Hitchcock Presents episodes. He never had what you’d call the best scripts to work with.)

One cut to Fonda’s face made Fiona gasp, exactly as happened in THE LODGER with Laird Cregar. Remember Billy Wilder’s line about a close-up being like a trump card in a game of bridge, to be used sparingly where it’ll really count? But how many times has a simple cut to a character, already established as being present in the scene, taken your breath away?

My new ambition — if I can get to direct one more thing, I’d like to make that happen. I know the trick — the face or expression must be new and arresting, and the face appear in an unexpected part of the screen in an unusual, off-centre composition. Now somebody give me a million bucks before I forget.

Autumn of Terror

Posted in FILM with tags , , on October 27, 2019 by dcairns

After months of inertia, a new edition of The Shadowcast just in time for Project Fear, our own podcast in which this time Fiona and I discuss some filmic representations of Jack the Ripper.

Under the knife: three versions of THE LODGER, two TV miniseries, one Jess Franco abomination, FROM HELL’s appalling DVD extras, the investigations of Sherlock Holmes and HG Wells. Didn’t have room to delve into PANDORA’S BOX and WAXWORKS, alas, and there’s a tantalizing reference to a copycat killing in the wake of 1988’s centenary Michael Caine show which we fail to follow up on. And the tone veers from tragic horror to blimey-guvnor-strike-a-light whimsy.

Other than that, I believe you’ll find everything in order.

Here.

Wallflower

Posted in FILM with tags , , , , , , , , on March 23, 2019 by dcairns

A shot — just one of several — that got a WOW! from Fiona. From John Brahm’s film of THE LODGER.

The movie is full of bold images, courtesy of Brahm and Lucien Ballard. This one takes us by surprise since star Laird Cregar’s position has changed since we last saw him, and because, presented as co-star Merle Oberon’s POV (she and Ballard were married, and he lavishes care on her lighting), it seems an outrageous optical cheat: SHE hasn’t pressed her face to the wall to look at Laird. But in fact, the layout of the room makes the shot quite feasible. I wonder if the idea for the dramatic composition preceded and inspired the design, or followed on from it with James Basevi & John Ewing’s set giving Brahm the opportunity for a startling composition.

Merle walks blithely into a little nook of her dressing room. Cregar, having emerged from behind a screen, speaks off-camera ~

Merle turns, startled. And we cut to the image at top: the view from her nook.

Mr. Cregar is the subject of a profile I’ve written for The Chiseler, inspired a viewing of THIS GUN FOR HIRE: I hope you’ll read and share.

Expect more on TGFH and LODGER soon…

Also of note for noir-hounds: the great and powerful Imogen Sara Smith on DECOY.