Die seltsame Liebe der Martha Ivers

Lewis Milestone's The Strange Love of Martha Ivers presents a, well, strange case. Much if not most of it fits comfortably into the noir cycle that was just gathering its head of steam. But its look, save some recurrent bus-station shots, suggests lavish and well-lit prestige productions (as does its length), and in its deep-rooted narrative it harks back to sprawling, brooding melodramas such as Kings Row.

That narrative is broken-backed as well, with two disjointed time frames. The movie opens in 1928 in sooty Iverstown, a steel city almost certainly somewhere in Pennsylvania. There we meet, as teenagers, three of the story's principals: Unruly Martha, making yet another attempt to run away from her wealthy, rigid aunt (Judith Anderson); her street-urchin buddy Sammy; and prissy school-teacher's son Walter. On the night Anderson is bludgeoned to death (to the tune of lightning, thunder and crashing rains), Sammy waits for Martha to join him; when she doesn't, he signs up with the circus and blows town.

Fast-forward to 1946, when decorated veteran Sammy (Van Heflin), headed west, cracks up his car and finds himself once more in Iverstown. He meets up with the fourth main character, Lizabeth Scott, who not unlike himself has been knocked about (she's a jailbird). When the police lock her up for violating parole, he pays a visit to his old friend Walter (Kirk Douglas, in his debut), now the district attorney, to secure her release.

Douglas, who rarely draws a sober breath, holds the office thanks to the ambition and power of his wife Martha (Barbara Stanwyck). (The original publicity campaign cautioned `Whisper her name!') When she shows up unexpectedly and warmly greets Heflin, all Douglas' insecurities and jealousies erupt; not only does he suspect that Heflin has always been his wife's first love but he fears that Heflin, privy to the long-buried secret of the aunt's death, can undo his marriage, his success, and the industrial empire Stanwyck has built. He takes heavy-handed measures to defend himself, blackmailing Scott into framing Heflin. But hasn't reckoned with the resourcefulness of his adversary – or with the wilfulness of his wife.

But the story is really plotted along romantic coordinates whose intersections are punctuated by Miklos Rozsa's throbbing score. Douglas loves Stanwyck, who really loves Heflin, while Scott loves Heflin, who loves her back but still has unfinished business with Stanwyck (no wonder Douglas drinks – nobody loves him). And in the rondelay of turnabouts and betrayals (or seeming betrayals), The Strange Love of Martha Ivers slips perilously close to soap opera. Its stately pace and prosperous look give it a dated, ponderous feel, quite unlike the rough sleekness of film noir, though there's an unmistakable echo of Double Indemnity – Stanwyck's performance as Martha Ivers reworks hers as Phyllis Dietrichson, right down to the concluding love-death tableau.

But, while occasionally cumbersome, The Strange Love of Martha Ivers stands on its own as an overwrought, obsessive drama, with a very topical acknowledgment of the insulation that money and power can buy, and of the moral and social corruption that inflexibly comes as part of the package. It's a strange movie, all right, but a haunting one as well.

this movie is one of those lost gems. barbara stanwyck and kirk douglas do a great job but they are not the reason this is a great gem. van heflin (of shane) and lizabeth scott are superb and in some ways overshadow kirk douglas in his screen debut and stanwyck. lizabeth smolders and pouts her way to perfection, what a babe!!. lizabeth should have been a huge star especially in the film noir genre. both van heflin and lizabeth scott are massively underrated and typically not remembered. that is a shame since they both were fine actors, that is the present generations loss. the plot is superb and throws some nice curves that keeps you on your toes.

A powerhouse cast is assembled for "The Strange Love of Martha Ivers." It's a treat to watch this able quintet at work, making for an engrossing film experience.

Barbara Stanwyck is at her peak--sure, confident, and unfailing. Van Heflin's natural talent makes everything he does seem effortless. Kirk Douglas offers a most impressive film debut in what, in retrospect, is an uncharacteristic role. Lizabeth Scott (who seems to me a fascinating cross between Lauren Bacall and Rosemary Clooney) is constantly engaging. Long after her part has faded, Scott's image remains indelibly fixed in the memory. And finally, the great Judith Anderson is on in a strong character role.

Miklos Rozsa's compositional style is remarkable in its adaptablity. Close one's eyes, and the film could well be set a thousand years earlier--or any point in between. Which is to say, it's general, while at the same time, specific.

The writing team headed by Robert Rossen created a slick and saucy script, which holds interest throughout, and Hal B. Wallis was sharp enough to retain this productional team formula for many years. Were the film to have been given a perhaps more poetic--less Gothic--title, it might have enjoyed even greater stature in the annals of the genre.

As it is, "Ivers" is a worthy member of the noir film family.

This is a well-written, well-acted, thoroughly absorbing film noir. The always-great Barbara Stanwyck is at her sultriest as Martha, and Van Heflin is incredibly sexy and masculine as Sam. Watching this movie, you wouldn't think Kirk Douglas, who plays the weak-willed, alcoholic Walter, would soon become a bigger star than Heflin and play the tough, romantic hero parts like Sam Masterson. Douglas excelled at those parts, as he did with a very different type of part in this movie, but I can't help thinking that if Heflin had gotten more of those roles, he would have been just as big a star. Husky-voiced Lizabeth Scott rounds out the star foursome nicely as Toni, a wrong-side-of-the-tracks girl who's been burned by trusting the wrong men. This movie, more than most of its era, trades in shades of gray; the "bad" characters, Martha and Walter, have reasons for the evil they do, while the "good" characters, Sam and Toni, are no angels--he's a decorated war hero, but he makes his living by gambling and once killed a man in self-defense, while she just got out of jail. This complexity adds to the film's interest. The film also provides a believable depiction of small-town life; it's realistic, no Bedford Falls. The flashback portraying several of the characters as teenagers has the spark of reality as well. Highly recommended.

Odd title to this movie. There's never any love in the Martha Ivers' circle. She never got enough chance in early life to become acquainted with the real article. Her dye is already cast by the time the old boyhood friend shows up again. You only get to actual love with Sam and Toni, or especially Sam for Toni. He's a sensitive and caring fellow. Martha needed his influence for that reason. Maybe he could have helped her be human had he been able to stay around early on.

I had trouble focusing on the unfoldings at the beginning due to recognition of the aunt, Judith Anderson. Why, that's Mrs. Danvers from "Rebecca." Same creepy type of woman.

**Possible spoiler paragraph** It is interesting to watch this again with what you learn from the first viewing. About Sam, that is, and what he doesn't know. You watch it the first time with everyone thinking that Sam is back to cash in on what he knows about the aunt's demise. You know better than that, that the return is accidental and the revisit spontaneous. But you have no reason not to think he saw what happened on the stairs. Then, he seems pretty indifferent to the event as he reacquaints. You think, well, he doesn't care. But then we learn that he left the house before it happened. Now, watch it again with that in mind.

Everyone notices Kirk Douglas. He's so attractive you wish for him to be a more virile character. Didn't have to wait very long for that to come about. There were a couple more weak guy roles, and then he took off with mastery. And, a case could be made for it requiring ability to play a weak person as well as a stronger one.

Van Heflin - Something very attractive about him. He was almost always a guy with inner stability, aiding the balance of those around him, usually women. To me, that inner quality WAS his attractiveness. He's the one that could always walk into a mess and immediately start sorting it out.

Lizabeth Scott had a certain strong allure that seemed could have gone best with a stronger character. I don't have much patience with the pathetic drama she dishes out here. Those weepy, tragic type dames showed up a lot in the streetwise pictures of the era, and I always found them irritating. Usually, they have some guy like Heflin trying to bolster them up because some bully type is grinding them down. If you ask me, that type is asking to be ground. "Good grief; give it a rest, sister," I say to the screen. Oh well, nowadays we can fast forward.

Barbara Stanwyck is at the height of her beauty here or maybe one of her more glamorous roles. She seemed slated to be an evil woman or remembered most for those roles. In contrast, I recall her in an early picture called "The Mad Miss Manton," in which she is an airhead bounding around all over the place. That was really enjoyable, but it was a type that she would naturally move away from to go on to other things. But she was really fun to watch in that.

If you don't mind walking on the dark side a bit, this is an interesting one to watch.