As I’ve often opined, there’s a vast disagreement over what truly accounts for a good film noir as opposed to something only mildly similar.
Honestly, I’ll never pretend to understand the how’s and why’s of precisely how such a controversy developed over the years. Frankly, I honestly think a good amount of it really boils down a the differing of professional opinions – one person’s expertise is another person’s bloated valuation of self – so I do tend to avoid such murky waters. I can say that – as a casual viewer and reader of films – I accept a great deal of input at face value: I’ll then do my own research, mull over the facts and opinions, and try to stand logically on my own two feet, but even that process doesn’t always work out wonderfully. More often than not, I have better luck deciphering older flicks – classics that have a good degree of scholarly writing and reviews to substantiate their quality – and sometimes even those let me down. Such is the case today.
You see, I’d been assured that 1946’s The Strange Woman was a bona fide Film Noir; and – once again – I’m coming up short in grasping how such a verdict could possibly be so. Yes, the picture arguably has a great deal in common with other releases from the corresponding era, but – for my tastes – far too much of what’s in this story (based on the novel by Ben Ames Williams) really resembles far more traditional Hollywood melodramas of the 1940’s. Hell, I’ve even read that many ‘in the know’ suggest Woman remains an overlooked gem chiefly because it resembles so many other projects of the day; and – lacking the expertise to know with certainty otherwise – I don’t find that conclusion a stretch at all. If you’ve seen it all before, then why show up for simply more of the same? It’s a good flick – a bit clever in spots but largely celebrated for being one of Hedy Lamarr’s signature outings – but I just don’t see it as ‘noir’ as others have.
Principally, it probably gets the label attached because Lamarr’s character – the lovely Jenny Hager – is about as ‘femme fatale’ as one gets on the silver screen; and that’s saying something. However, the lack of any supporting material and/or secondary plotlines kinda/sorta leaves this one a bit of a ‘one trick pony’ so far as I’d say … but when the pony looks as good as Lamarr does in it you might want to saddle up for a single viewing because she definitely showcases her reputation as ‘the most beautiful woman in the world.’
(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 …)
Honestly, I’ll never pretend to understand the how’s and why’s of precisely how such a controversy developed over the years. Frankly, I honestly think a good amount of it really boils down a the differing of professional opinions – one person’s expertise is another person’s bloated valuation of self – so I do tend to avoid such murky waters. I can say that – as a casual viewer and reader of films – I accept a great deal of input at face value: I’ll then do my own research, mull over the facts and opinions, and try to stand logically on my own two feet, but even that process doesn’t always work out wonderfully. More often than not, I have better luck deciphering older flicks – classics that have a good degree of scholarly writing and reviews to substantiate their quality – and sometimes even those let me down. Such is the case today.
You see, I’d been assured that 1946’s The Strange Woman was a bona fide Film Noir; and – once again – I’m coming up short in grasping how such a verdict could possibly be so. Yes, the picture arguably has a great deal in common with other releases from the corresponding era, but – for my tastes – far too much of what’s in this story (based on the novel by Ben Ames Williams) really resembles far more traditional Hollywood melodramas of the 1940’s. Hell, I’ve even read that many ‘in the know’ suggest Woman remains an overlooked gem chiefly because it resembles so many other projects of the day; and – lacking the expertise to know with certainty otherwise – I don’t find that conclusion a stretch at all. If you’ve seen it all before, then why show up for simply more of the same? It’s a good flick – a bit clever in spots but largely celebrated for being one of Hedy Lamarr’s signature outings – but I just don’t see it as ‘noir’ as others have.
Principally, it probably gets the label attached because Lamarr’s character – the lovely Jenny Hager – is about as ‘femme fatale’ as one gets on the silver screen; and that’s saying something. However, the lack of any supporting material and/or secondary plotlines kinda/sorta leaves this one a bit of a ‘one trick pony’ so far as I’d say … but when the pony looks as good as Lamarr does in it you might want to saddle up for a single viewing because she definitely showcases her reputation as ‘the most beautiful woman in the world.’
(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:
“In 1820s New England beautiful but poor and manipulative Jenny Hager marries rich old man Isaiah Poster but also seduces his son and his company foreman.”
There’s no denying the fact that Hedy Lamarr was a beautiful woman; and – equally – there’s no denying the reality that such ravishing beauty was pivotal to the role she played aboard The Strange Woman.
In this 1946 tragedy, Jenny Hager rises to the top of the social circuit of Bangor, Maine. Throwing off the shackles of an oppressive and alcoholic father, she – of her own volition – marries into wealth by securing the attentions of a town elder – timber merchant Isaiah Poster (played by Gene Lockhart) – with the intent to reshape the small town into the personal paradise she always dreamed possible. As such, Jenny engages in spending the Poster fortune on charitable deeds not so much because of a big heart but because she’s driven to find a love that’s escaped her over the years; and why not get it from everyone when love from a single man is never enough?
In the course of this rise to fame and shame, our antiheroine still stops at nothing to corrupt the hearts of those she desires even superficially. First, she entices her own stepson – a boyhood crush Ephraim Poster (Louis Hayward) – to murder her husband (his own father); and, then, she leads the young man to suicide when she spurns him as undeserving of her womanly love. Later, she woos her best friend’s fiancé – John Evered (George Sanders) – right out of that woman’s arms into her own; but theirs is a love that ultimately leads to a downfall staged both figuratively and literally off the side of a small cliff.
I guess it ain’t so easy being beautiful after all.
Of course, there’s a bit more to the story than just a few bullet points. Bangor, Maine isn’t exactly all that it’s cracked up to be with or without Jenny spending someone else’s money to spruce the place up a bit; and this figures largely into the social dynamics our femme fatale rolls up her sleeves to confront. The adaptation – chiefly attributed to Herb Meadow – occasionally tries balancing out discussion on men’s and women’s roles – albeit lightly – and even dabbles in darker subjects – incent, suicide, etc. – but nothing in here gets the serious dressing down it deserves. The last reel introduces how a traveling evangelist’s fiery sermons eventually forces Jenny to loosely take stock of her life, unintentionally putting her on a path to even greater self-destruction if such a thing were possible. Still, because so much of the drama is handled casually, many in the audience will likely dismiss this as a good period piece that crosses over into ‘chick lit.’
“In 1820s New England beautiful but poor and manipulative Jenny Hager marries rich old man Isaiah Poster but also seduces his son and his company foreman.”
There’s no denying the fact that Hedy Lamarr was a beautiful woman; and – equally – there’s no denying the reality that such ravishing beauty was pivotal to the role she played aboard The Strange Woman.
In this 1946 tragedy, Jenny Hager rises to the top of the social circuit of Bangor, Maine. Throwing off the shackles of an oppressive and alcoholic father, she – of her own volition – marries into wealth by securing the attentions of a town elder – timber merchant Isaiah Poster (played by Gene Lockhart) – with the intent to reshape the small town into the personal paradise she always dreamed possible. As such, Jenny engages in spending the Poster fortune on charitable deeds not so much because of a big heart but because she’s driven to find a love that’s escaped her over the years; and why not get it from everyone when love from a single man is never enough?
In the course of this rise to fame and shame, our antiheroine still stops at nothing to corrupt the hearts of those she desires even superficially. First, she entices her own stepson – a boyhood crush Ephraim Poster (Louis Hayward) – to murder her husband (his own father); and, then, she leads the young man to suicide when she spurns him as undeserving of her womanly love. Later, she woos her best friend’s fiancé – John Evered (George Sanders) – right out of that woman’s arms into her own; but theirs is a love that ultimately leads to a downfall staged both figuratively and literally off the side of a small cliff.
I guess it ain’t so easy being beautiful after all.
Of course, there’s a bit more to the story than just a few bullet points. Bangor, Maine isn’t exactly all that it’s cracked up to be with or without Jenny spending someone else’s money to spruce the place up a bit; and this figures largely into the social dynamics our femme fatale rolls up her sleeves to confront. The adaptation – chiefly attributed to Herb Meadow – occasionally tries balancing out discussion on men’s and women’s roles – albeit lightly – and even dabbles in darker subjects – incent, suicide, etc. – but nothing in here gets the serious dressing down it deserves. The last reel introduces how a traveling evangelist’s fiery sermons eventually forces Jenny to loosely take stock of her life, unintentionally putting her on a path to even greater self-destruction if such a thing were possible. Still, because so much of the drama is handled casually, many in the audience will likely dismiss this as a good period piece that crosses over into ‘chick lit.’
Critics suggest that Lamarr’s work in the best reason to see The Strange Woman, and I’ve no reason to argue otherwise. Director Edgar G. Ulmer certainly makes the most of her range here, capturing the actress in some wonderful lighting, costumes, and cinematography; and the resulting flick is exceptionally easy on the eyes as anyone could hope. In a world where good looks matter, Lamarr had that to offer in spades … but it would’ve been nice for the supporting cast to be given something significant to do as well in this 100-minute drama. Sadly, they’re little more than pawns on Jenny’s board; and, while that was to be expected mostly, I’ll always argue that one central performance rarely works as often as it gets tried.
Curiously, Woman ends on a note that mildly suggests that Jenny somehow (???) found a bit of redemption in her demise. Some of this could be my misreading it, but I have read some commentary online implying the same. Should a life spent both expanding and destroying lives of others be granted a note of grace even if the good deeds were still performed in an attempt to fill a whole in one’s life? Meh. I’ll leave such arguments to the saints to argue. Me? I saw a manipulative shrew brought down by her own inability to control desire, and I’ll leave it at that.
The Strange Woman (1946) was produced by Hunt Stromberg Productions and Mars Film Corporation. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at The Film Masters. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I can still assure readers that the provided sights-and-sounds are mostly satisfactory in here: I’ve read that the film has long been in public domain, so I can’t speak to whether or not the best source material was used and can only assume. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? The disc boasts an audio commentary from Professor Bernard M. Prokop … and, yeah, it’s reasonably dry the way a scholarly lecture might be. Occasionally interesting but nothing riveting at all.
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
As I stated above, The Strange Woman (1946) is revered amongst the works of the late Hedy Lamarr and given how lovingly she’s captured on film throughout this picture it isn’t hard to see why. While her acting skills weren’t exactly top of the line here, the woman still chews scenery when and if required with the right aplomb. Of course, there’s no denying the sexiness of her presence; and, yes, that’s probably what she accomplished best in all of this. Those scenes resonates like she clearly new what she was doing … and probably damn well liked it, too.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at the Film Masters (via Allied Vaughn) provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of The Strange Woman (1946) 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
Curiously, Woman ends on a note that mildly suggests that Jenny somehow (???) found a bit of redemption in her demise. Some of this could be my misreading it, but I have read some commentary online implying the same. Should a life spent both expanding and destroying lives of others be granted a note of grace even if the good deeds were still performed in an attempt to fill a whole in one’s life? Meh. I’ll leave such arguments to the saints to argue. Me? I saw a manipulative shrew brought down by her own inability to control desire, and I’ll leave it at that.
The Strange Woman (1946) was produced by Hunt Stromberg Productions and Mars Film Corporation. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at The Film Masters. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I can still assure readers that the provided sights-and-sounds are mostly satisfactory in here: I’ve read that the film has long been in public domain, so I can’t speak to whether or not the best source material was used and can only assume. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? The disc boasts an audio commentary from Professor Bernard M. Prokop … and, yeah, it’s reasonably dry the way a scholarly lecture might be. Occasionally interesting but nothing riveting at all.
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
As I stated above, The Strange Woman (1946) is revered amongst the works of the late Hedy Lamarr and given how lovingly she’s captured on film throughout this picture it isn’t hard to see why. While her acting skills weren’t exactly top of the line here, the woman still chews scenery when and if required with the right aplomb. Of course, there’s no denying the sexiness of her presence; and, yes, that’s probably what she accomplished best in all of this. Those scenes resonates like she clearly new what she was doing … and probably damn well liked it, too.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at the Film Masters (via Allied Vaughn) provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of The Strange Woman (1946) 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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