One of the downsides to researching and reviewing so many older films – especially those with rather sterling reputations amongst the cultural elite – is that the road is treacherous with disappointment.
Academics, film historians, and others have propped up a great many productions because of their lasting relevance and impact. In other words, these notable experts earn their professional bona fides by knowing which releases were the ‘very first’ to do something memorable in the medium or are considered the finest examples of early craftmanship that would evolve into industry trends in the years to come. When they spy something groundbreaking, they draw attention to it necessarily, some times to the point of fatiguing readers who just want to know the bullet points over what works or what doesn’t. The use of a new lens or the prevalence of crossfades and jump cuts don’t typically mean much to casual viewers, and yet there are a number of diehard aficionados who call point to the exact time stamp when a director or cinematographer doesn’t something revolutionary in any given reel. Such minutiae – while interesting scholastically – doesn’t always translate into primetime experiences for everyone; and – more often than not – I’ve found myself a bit underwhelmed with productions the best and brightest assure me are worth my time.
Now, none of this is to say that Stranger On The Third Floor (1940) isn’t laudable. Artistically, director Boris Ingster clearly had a gameplan that approached a reasonably conventional murder mystery in a manner that would elevate certain psychological aspects of the tale; and – in those instances – Stranger definitely achieves something entirely deserving of praise. Still, the script from Frank Partos and Nathanael West feels a bit too chipper and leaves a few questions unanswered, leaving a bit of gap in plot logic for those of us who show up expecting full disclosure as part of the experience. Stars Peter Lorre, John McGuire, Margaret Tallichet, Charles Halton, Ethel Griffies, and Elisha Cook Jr. do what they can – with varied results – but for the life of me I still can’t quite wrap my hands around motive and opportunity when the villain is finally revealed.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“An aspiring reporter is the key witness at the murder trial of a young man accused of cutting a café owner's throat and is soon accused of a similar crime himself.”
Though some might insist that Stranger On The Third Floor is gripped with paranoia from start to finish, nothing could be further from the truth.
In fact, reasonable minds might even believe they’ve put on the wrong film – the one they’ve heard so much about with its earliest examples of Film Noir up in black-and-white – because, tonally, it’s way too upbeat. Opening scenes featuring the recently promoted crack newspaper reporter Michael Ward (played McGuire) and his lovely fiancé Jane (Tallichet) resonate with playful delight – the easily dreamy stuff of far too many typical Hollywood flicks of the era when marital bliss existed (A) without any notable effort and (B) in spite of separate beds. Granted, this was a sign of the times, but methinks director Ingster went a bit overboard in his narrative set-up.
Structurally, there’s no denying what he was trying to do: Stranger sought to juxtapose some kind of idyllic pretense of everyday existence alongside the stark reality that sometimes Lady Justice wasn’t only blind but also seemed ‘on the take’ when it came to sending innocent men and women ‘to the big house’ on convictions stemming entirely from circumstantial evidence. It’s these sequences – i.e. Joe Briggs’ (Cook Jr.) screaming denial of committing a crime to the entire courtroom; Ward’s nightmarish descent with pangs of guilt when doubting whether or not he’s done the right thing in testifying; the unnamed Stranger’s (Peter Lorre) cray-cray verbal meanderings shared with Jane on the dark city streets; etc. – that give the film its power. Anyone telling you otherwise is clearly watching a different picture.
Thankfully, Ingster – in his debut work – captured the right level of visual expression necessary to elevate what was an otherwise rather pedestrian caper, the kind that falls apart upon any serious dissection. In fact, the film essentially ignores giving its signature somewhat-serial-killer any foundational compunction for committing either of the murders featured in it: basically, he’s just a lunatic – there are references that he’s ‘escaped’ from an asylum – who abides by no moral code. Apparently, he just likes the act of killing, serving as a counterpart to Ward (who just likes being a reporter and in love); and these two characters adequately serve as polar opposites as if that’s all the audience really needed to prop up the chronicle. There’s not even an explanation offered as to why he found himself on the title’s third floor and did what he did to poor but nosey Albert Meng (Halton); but his presence was needed to give Ward enough of the heebie jeebies to set the nightmare in motion.
Though some might disagree, I’d offer up the opinion that Stranger’s obsessive use of voiceovers – across a great deal of Ward’s character moments – could’ve been curtailed just a bit. As an actor, McGuire gave enough of a performance to convey a good portion of what the budding reporter was going through psychologically that a bit ‘less might’ve provided ‘more’ for viewers. The constant verbal reminding of exactly what the man was thinking grew redundant, much in the same way Harrison Ford’s detective Rick Deckard speechifies a bit too much in 1982’s Blade Runner (the studio cut predicating on the suits thinking audiences were too stupid to understand what was happening before their eyes). Granted, it’s a small complaint, but I think the end result could’ve been achieved with a bit of trimming of the audio track, leaving individuals to interpret the vastly superior visuals for what they truly were.
Stranger On The Third Floor (1940) was produced by RKO Radio Pictures. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Warner Archive. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I can still assure readers that the provided sights and sounds are quite good as the release is reported to have been remastered into 4K from the feature’s original nitrate camera negative. (Shadows are particularly effective in the dream sequences.) Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? Well, the disc boasts some other fodder related to the era – cartoons and three radio shows starring Lorre – but there’s sadly nothing film-specific in here; and it would’ve been nice to learn a bit more about Stranger as it’s been heralded as groundbreaking by so many.
Recommended.
While some of elements of Stranger On The Third Floor (1940) are a bit quizzical, there’s no denying the film’s visual prowess once it truly finds its groove. Granted, that does take a bit and viewers might find themselves shackled with something far too conventionally presented especially given the film’s reputation for being one of the earliest examples of Film Noir: but it is worth the wait when it comes to its stark, meaningful visuals. Those showing up expecting it to be a Peter Lorre project? Well … the talent is sadly relegated to an incredibly small portion of the running time (a brisk 64 minutes), and it does soften the blow knowing that reality going in. Chiefly, Lorre was cast here for his appearance (in my opinion), and that arguably might be as important as Ingster’s aesthetics.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Warner Archive (via Allied Vaughn) provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Stranger On The Third Floor (1940) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
Academics, film historians, and others have propped up a great many productions because of their lasting relevance and impact. In other words, these notable experts earn their professional bona fides by knowing which releases were the ‘very first’ to do something memorable in the medium or are considered the finest examples of early craftmanship that would evolve into industry trends in the years to come. When they spy something groundbreaking, they draw attention to it necessarily, some times to the point of fatiguing readers who just want to know the bullet points over what works or what doesn’t. The use of a new lens or the prevalence of crossfades and jump cuts don’t typically mean much to casual viewers, and yet there are a number of diehard aficionados who call point to the exact time stamp when a director or cinematographer doesn’t something revolutionary in any given reel. Such minutiae – while interesting scholastically – doesn’t always translate into primetime experiences for everyone; and – more often than not – I’ve found myself a bit underwhelmed with productions the best and brightest assure me are worth my time.
Now, none of this is to say that Stranger On The Third Floor (1940) isn’t laudable. Artistically, director Boris Ingster clearly had a gameplan that approached a reasonably conventional murder mystery in a manner that would elevate certain psychological aspects of the tale; and – in those instances – Stranger definitely achieves something entirely deserving of praise. Still, the script from Frank Partos and Nathanael West feels a bit too chipper and leaves a few questions unanswered, leaving a bit of gap in plot logic for those of us who show up expecting full disclosure as part of the experience. Stars Peter Lorre, John McGuire, Margaret Tallichet, Charles Halton, Ethel Griffies, and Elisha Cook Jr. do what they can – with varied results – but for the life of me I still can’t quite wrap my hands around motive and opportunity when the villain is finally revealed.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“An aspiring reporter is the key witness at the murder trial of a young man accused of cutting a café owner's throat and is soon accused of a similar crime himself.”
Though some might insist that Stranger On The Third Floor is gripped with paranoia from start to finish, nothing could be further from the truth.
In fact, reasonable minds might even believe they’ve put on the wrong film – the one they’ve heard so much about with its earliest examples of Film Noir up in black-and-white – because, tonally, it’s way too upbeat. Opening scenes featuring the recently promoted crack newspaper reporter Michael Ward (played McGuire) and his lovely fiancé Jane (Tallichet) resonate with playful delight – the easily dreamy stuff of far too many typical Hollywood flicks of the era when marital bliss existed (A) without any notable effort and (B) in spite of separate beds. Granted, this was a sign of the times, but methinks director Ingster went a bit overboard in his narrative set-up.
Structurally, there’s no denying what he was trying to do: Stranger sought to juxtapose some kind of idyllic pretense of everyday existence alongside the stark reality that sometimes Lady Justice wasn’t only blind but also seemed ‘on the take’ when it came to sending innocent men and women ‘to the big house’ on convictions stemming entirely from circumstantial evidence. It’s these sequences – i.e. Joe Briggs’ (Cook Jr.) screaming denial of committing a crime to the entire courtroom; Ward’s nightmarish descent with pangs of guilt when doubting whether or not he’s done the right thing in testifying; the unnamed Stranger’s (Peter Lorre) cray-cray verbal meanderings shared with Jane on the dark city streets; etc. – that give the film its power. Anyone telling you otherwise is clearly watching a different picture.
Thankfully, Ingster – in his debut work – captured the right level of visual expression necessary to elevate what was an otherwise rather pedestrian caper, the kind that falls apart upon any serious dissection. In fact, the film essentially ignores giving its signature somewhat-serial-killer any foundational compunction for committing either of the murders featured in it: basically, he’s just a lunatic – there are references that he’s ‘escaped’ from an asylum – who abides by no moral code. Apparently, he just likes the act of killing, serving as a counterpart to Ward (who just likes being a reporter and in love); and these two characters adequately serve as polar opposites as if that’s all the audience really needed to prop up the chronicle. There’s not even an explanation offered as to why he found himself on the title’s third floor and did what he did to poor but nosey Albert Meng (Halton); but his presence was needed to give Ward enough of the heebie jeebies to set the nightmare in motion.
Though some might disagree, I’d offer up the opinion that Stranger’s obsessive use of voiceovers – across a great deal of Ward’s character moments – could’ve been curtailed just a bit. As an actor, McGuire gave enough of a performance to convey a good portion of what the budding reporter was going through psychologically that a bit ‘less might’ve provided ‘more’ for viewers. The constant verbal reminding of exactly what the man was thinking grew redundant, much in the same way Harrison Ford’s detective Rick Deckard speechifies a bit too much in 1982’s Blade Runner (the studio cut predicating on the suits thinking audiences were too stupid to understand what was happening before their eyes). Granted, it’s a small complaint, but I think the end result could’ve been achieved with a bit of trimming of the audio track, leaving individuals to interpret the vastly superior visuals for what they truly were.
Stranger On The Third Floor (1940) was produced by RKO Radio Pictures. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Warner Archive. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I can still assure readers that the provided sights and sounds are quite good as the release is reported to have been remastered into 4K from the feature’s original nitrate camera negative. (Shadows are particularly effective in the dream sequences.) Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? Well, the disc boasts some other fodder related to the era – cartoons and three radio shows starring Lorre – but there’s sadly nothing film-specific in here; and it would’ve been nice to learn a bit more about Stranger as it’s been heralded as groundbreaking by so many.
Recommended.
While some of elements of Stranger On The Third Floor (1940) are a bit quizzical, there’s no denying the film’s visual prowess once it truly finds its groove. Granted, that does take a bit and viewers might find themselves shackled with something far too conventionally presented especially given the film’s reputation for being one of the earliest examples of Film Noir: but it is worth the wait when it comes to its stark, meaningful visuals. Those showing up expecting it to be a Peter Lorre project? Well … the talent is sadly relegated to an incredibly small portion of the running time (a brisk 64 minutes), and it does soften the blow knowing that reality going in. Chiefly, Lorre was cast here for his appearance (in my opinion), and that arguably might be as important as Ingster’s aesthetics.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Warner Archive (via Allied Vaughn) provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Stranger On The Third Floor (1940) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
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