La muerte en un beso

Nicholas Ray is a director who has almost been forgotten these days, despite making brilliant movies like 'They Live By Night', 'On Dangerous Ground', 'Johnny Guitar' and 'Rebel Without A Cause', and numbering Martin Scorsese and Wim Wenders among his fans (the latter even gave him a small role in his 'The American Friend'). 'In A Lonely Place' could be Ray's best. It's a fascinating movie that mixes drama, suspense and romance in a very interesting way. You could call it Noir I suppose, but it's a very difficult movie to tie down. Humphrey Bogart plays a bitter, hard drinking and frequently violent screen writer who becomes a murder suspect when a young girl (Martha Stewart) is killed. Gloria Grahame ('Crossfire', 'The Big Set Up') is a neighbour who supplies him with an alibi. This odd way of meeting leads into a romance. At first everything is wonderful, and Bogart is even writing again, but bit by bit Grahame starts to see his dark side and begins to fear him, even suspecting that he may have been involved in the murder after all. I don't think I've ever seen Bogart better. It's a terrific performance, and while his character can be charming at times he's also surprisingly unlikeable and intense (we are told he broke an old girlfriend's nose, for example. Imagine Mel Gibson or Brad Pitt doing that in a movie today and still being the romantic lead!). Grahame pulls off a difficult role too, being torn between love and terror. They both make a great team. Such a pity they never worked together after this. I also liked Frank Lovejoy ('House Of Wax', 'The Hitch-Hiker') who plays Bogart's cop buddy. 'In A Lonely Place' is a movie not to be overlooked. I thought it was superb entertainment.

In 1950, Billy Wilder released his latest masterpiece, 'Sunset Blvd.,' a scathing satire on the pitfalls of Hollywood celebrity, delicately drawing a contrast between the deluded and volatile has-been Norma Desmond (Gloria Swanson) and the scheming wanna-be screenwriter Joe Gillis (William Holden). While Wilder's film deservedly received an overwhelming critical response, and its share of controversy, another impressive, similarly-themed film slipped beneath the radar that same year. For decades, director Nicholas Ray was overlooked and neglected by most film critics, before developing something of a cult following in the 1970s, and films such as 'Rebel Without a Cause (1955)' – which I first watched just a week ago – are now recognised as masterpieces. 'In a Lonely Place (1950)' has only now been lauded as one of the finest entries into the film-noir movement, and Humphrey Bogart's performance has emerged as among the most intense and profound in his distinguished repertoire. A brooding study of aggression, trust and success, Ray's film meticulously deconstructs the Hollywood myth, revealing a frightening world where the man you love could very well be a murderer.

Dixon Steele (Humphrey Bogart) is a down-on-his-luck screenwriter, an unsuccessful artist who resents being pressured into writing hackneyed, unoriginal scripts, which are guaranteed money-makers for the studios but possess zero artistic integrity. The morning after he brings home a bar hat-check girl (Martha Stewart) to recite the plot of the novel he is to adapt, Steele is hauled into the police department to explain why the girl was found murdered, her strangled body dumped from a moving vehicle. Appearing almost indifferent to the crime, Steele declines all knowledge of the homicide, and his story is shakily corroborated by a neighbour, Laurel Gray (Gloria Grahame), with whom he forms an intimate relationship. As Steele begins to pen his latest screenplay, he uncovers an outlet for his pent-up aggression, however, when Laurel betrays a lingering suspicion that her love might possibly have perpetrated the horrific murder, he threatens to lash out in a fit of violence, only further cementing her misgivings. By the film's end, the tragedy of the couple's relationship is revealed: whether or not Steele actually did commit the murder is almost irrelevant; what ultimately dooms their romance is that he conceivably could have.

In an obvious critique of the Hollywood studio system, Steele bitterly condemns the career of a successful producer, accusing him of remaking the same movie twenty times and of being a "popcorn salesman." The producer, apparently comfortable with his prosperous but creatively-deficient profession, snidely reminds Steele that everyone in Hollywood is inherently a "popcorn salesman," so why fight it? It's this notion of creativity – or, rather, the lack of creativity in film-making – that forms the heart of 'In a Lonely Place.' There's no doubt that Dixon Steele is a talented screenwriter, but his reluctance to allow his work to be influenced by popular opinion makes him feel trapped and alone, as though Hollywood is attempting to stamp out his genius. His frustration with the film-making business is allowed to accumulate steadily within, before being unleashed in adrenaline-charged explosions of aggression and violence. From here is born the dilemma of Laurel's relationship with him: it is Steele's creativity with which she most assuredly fell in love, but this gift is intrinsically linked with the hostility of which she is so frightened.

"I was born when she kissed me. I died when she left me. I lived a few weeks while she loved me."

Powerful, emotionally real and devastating, with one of Bogart's most complex roles he ever played and maybe his Greatest Performance. One of the best Noirs i've seen 'til Date, i Highly Recommend it.

For all the praise film-noir is lavished with (quite a lot of it valid), the majority of it relies on convention as much as the standard white-picket-fence, happy-ending 'family' film does: just invert the

cliches and bathe them in deep-focus shadows. While this movie, on its surface, resembles the classic-style film noir of DOUBLE INDEMNITY, it's a whole different animal. No calculating evil females or tough guys masking hearts of gold populate IN A LONELY PLACE. It's a much more wrenching and powerfully disturbing film because the murder that draws the protagonists together turns out to be of peripheral importance, while the love story between Humphrey Bogart's troubled screenwriter and Gloria Grahame's B-actress spins inexorably towards damnation completely on its own power. The basic story has him a suspect in a killing and her in love with him yet unsure of his innocence, but director Nicholas Ray stages the proceedings so that WE see it's not the murder that disturbs her but her own conviction that his self-destructive and volatile nature will destroy them both. Yet, Ray never takes the easy way out of having Bogart turn monster on her. You care deeply about these people, hoping desperately (as Bogart's agent does in the film) that some transforming moment will come that will spare these people and allow their deeply felt love to flourish and heal them both, even as the evidence before your own eyes tells you there ain't no way. For 1950 -hell, for any year- such an unsentimental and uncompromising treatment of a tragic adult relationship is a terrible wonder to behold. The shadows suffusing this excellent film come not from UFA-influenced lighting but from moral and spiritual desolation, the death throes of old Hollywood, the coming of McCarthyism and the Black Dahlia murder of 1947. But most of all, they're projected from within the characters themselves. The finest work of Bogart, Grahame and Ray. Special note should be taken of Ray and Grahame, whose own deteriorating relationship formed the template for the doomed lovers; for them, this film is an act of great courage. Bogart himself has taken elements of all his previous romantic loners and blended them with the sour pigments of Fred C Dobbs; as the star and executive producer, his performance is unflinching in its honesty, and as fearless as Grahame and Ray. See this movie.

Bogart reportedly thought the movie a failure. Certainly box-office results were dismal and Bogie's production company, Santana, lost a bundle. Hard to believe anyone thought this disturbing film with its downbeat ending would actually make money. Bogart's Dix Steel (that name should have been reconsidered) is a borderline psychopath, a Jekyll and Hyde who can boil over in an instant. He's a walking volcano whose sensitive side simply cannot contain the inner turmoil. In that day, few Hollywood egos had the assurance to take on such an unflattering role, especially the shadowy later scenes where his creviced face approaches the grotesque. It's a fine and daring performance, and the last, I believe, where Bogart plays even a semi- romantic leading man.

Good as Bogart is, this is a Gloria Graham showcase. Her droopy upper lip and pouty face never quite fit the Hollywood mold, and by decade's end, she was gone. Here, however, she's near perfect as the jaded starlet, with a questionable background and just a hint of 50's kink. Her Laurel Gray emerges as a vulnerable, yet street-wise toughie, drawing the eager Steel into a torrid affair, (only hinted at because of the production code of the day). But as his character unravels, so must hers, which it does in beautifully understated stages. Watch her quietly desperate reaction to Steel following the assault on the motorist, or her barely controlled panic at film's end. It's an award-level performance, all the better for refusing to go over the top, despite the many opportunities. Small wonder she remains an enduring noir favorite.

The mystery angle may be a clever plot device, but it's director Nicholas Ray's powerful vision that makes the film gel. A poet of post-war alienation, he's the perfect overseer of such fare, combining the elements into a grimly compelling view of human estrangement and isolation. Perhaps no director other than Elia Kazan could work with a cast as effectively as Ray. Notice how distinctively each of the supporting players is drawn, from the Shakespearean drunk to the hard-bitten maid to the lounge lizards at Romanoff's. Only the cops in routine roles seem to fade into the background. Underrated in many of Ray's best films is the scoring, and this film is no exception. George Antheil's compositions are simple yet expertly conceived, highlighting the scenes without rivaling them and lending just the right emotional tone. My one complaint: I've never understood why an industry so close to the beach couldn't film at the beach, or at least couldn't have come up with a better process shot than the one here.

Nonetheless Bogart was wrong. The film is anything but a failure. Coming from an era of happy endings, Dix and Laurel remain star-crossed lovers, doomed by their own sophistication and inner demons, for which there appears no cure. Expecting uplift, audiences of the day may not have responded, but viewers during the years between have, recognizing In a Lonely Place for the noir classic it is. This quietly disturbing portrayal of one man's inability to cope continues to resonate beyond the confines of today's slam-bang world. So whatever you do, don't miss it.