The Lady Confesses

Showing on the Moonlight Movies Channel. The only name i recognize in here is Hugh Beaumont... Dad, from Leave it to Beaver. Larry Craig's wife, thought long-dead, shows up and threatens the new girl-friend. then gets bumped off. A couple good songs, probably actually sung by Claudia Drake in this one, since most of the film takes place in a night club. The coppers question everyone, but one guys tells a different story than everyone else. A film noir... except that it feels like even the writers didn't know who dunnit until almost through filming. Suddenly, someone starts doing stuff, and now we know they must be involved. It's pretty good, but gets cheesy right near the end. It's ok. Directed by Sam Newfield, long-time bigshot at PRC film company.

The Lady Confesses doesn't have a lot going for it, except for plot, and even that's pretty hackneyed. But it's foolish to expect more from a 64-minute cheapie from Producers Releasing Corporation starring Mary Beth Hughes and Hugh Beaumont (later to grasp immortality as The Beaver's dad). Nonetheless, there have been worse programmers.

After a seven year absence (unexplained to us), Beaumont's wife suddenly shows up, putting the kibosh on his plans to marry Hughes. Soon after her return, alas, she's found garotted. Beaumont, the prime suspect, has an alibi: he was passed out in the dressing room of a nightclub singer. Hughes, in the plucky style of the 40s, cops a job as a roving photographer in the club to dig up clues. What she turns up, however, brings her into peril....

The Lady Confesses has been called noir by virtue of its era and its setting, but it's really more of a quick-and-dirty mystery thriller with its roots in the previous decade. The director, Sam Newfield, started out in silents and directed a whole passel of forgettable Westerns before catching up with the emerging noir style of the post-war years. He retains the dubious distinction of having directed Beaumont in nine films.

By the humble standards of both director Sam Newfield and bottom-rung distributor P.R.C., The Lady Confesses (irrelevant title but catchy) shapes up as an outstanding little film noir. The screenplay is reasonably gripping and intriguing, the players (particularly the four leads: Hughes, Beaumont, MacDonald and Drake) are all on the ball, and more importantly both director Sam Newfield (I'd rate this as his best film) and photographer Jack Greenhalgh give it their best college try, using lots of effective close-ups, framed against noirishly glossy, black backgrounds. Even Emmett Vogan (minus his usual trademark glasses) comes across with reasonable conviction, while Dewey Roninson makes the most of his comparatively large role as an over-buoyant bartender. My only complaint is that all three of Claudia Drake's pleasing song numbers are either cut short or interrupted by the demands of the swift-moving plot.

Okay, not much can be expected from quickie director Sam Newfield or an independent outfit like Alexander-Stern. Then too, the production never does rise above bare-bones status. However, the script does show imaginative twists plus dashes of snappy dialog. In short, the 60- minutes manages to be better than expected, even if the lighting bill couldn't exceed a buck fifty. So who killed meanie wife Norma, who, all in all, should have stayed dead. That's the whodunit part. But, in a neat twist, the last part turns unexpectedly into a nail-biting suspenser.

Got to admit I didn't recognize cult favorite Hughes in dark hair and even, surprise, surprise, playing a good girl, which she does well. Then too, there's Beaver Cleaver's dad, Beaumont, playing what else but somebody's husband. At least, he doesn't have a couple kids to amusingly cope with. Anyhow, kudos to the writers for rising above the usual formula, and maybe to Newfield for noirish direction. All in all, the little flick's a cut better than the standard programmer.

This is a web of women's plots. Craig's wife invests a fortune in a night club, gets involved with the partner of the affair, starts divorcing Craig and then vanishes for seven years, to turn up again just as he has planned to marry another nicer girl without other engagements. The wife visits the girl and tells her straight out that she cannot marry her husband, because she will now not divorce him. Later she is murdered.

Craig has an alibi too perfect for questioning, as he was at the night club dead drunk that night and later slept it off in the room of Claudia Drake, who is the real actress here. She is also involved with Mrs Craig's partner in the club and knows too much, or is suspected to know too much, so she is also murdered. There are not many left to suspect of all these lovely women murders.

There is a bit of excitement, and you are given plenty of space to keep wondering about the mystery here, but it all runs out rather quickly and does not amount to more than a fairly good B thriller. The police inspector is awful, but the music is good enough.