Du rouge pour un truand

This picture makes for an interesting companion piece to Michael Mann's recent "Public Enemies"; it covers not only the same era and the same setting but, inevitably, much of the same source material. And compared to earlier black-and-white gangster movies it shares a similar distinctly modern sensibility. Indeed, dubbed a "cheerful exploitation flick", it far outdoes the more recent film in the sheer quantity of sex and nudity on display. Yet oddly enough it manages to avoid the impression of gratuitous indulgence: the lolling female flesh on view is treated as more matter-of-fact (sometimes grotesque) than erotic, and the explicit violence is never casually treated.

"The Lady in Red" turns out to succeed on a number of levels where "Public Enemies" failed: above all and most vitally in characterization and plot development. We actually care what becomes of the heroine and those she meets, however lurid the scenarios that ensue. Individuals are vividly drawn and memorable, and a vein of black humour periodically enlivens the script; it even conjures up some moments of almost lyrical happiness to provide a far more convincing love affair than Mann can achieve. Every victory over tyranny may seem to leave Polly in the long term worse off, and yet we cheer fiercely at her rebellion. There is no lack of audience identification here.

The film is also surprisingly sure-footed in its period setting. After the initial reflex jolt at seeing the familiar monochrome settings re-enacted in colour -- unthinking: of course in reality the colour would always have been there, it's just that we never saw it -- "Lady in Red" pulls off the rare trick of presenting a world that seems entirely natural to its era. The cars are not conscious museum pieces, the clothes are not being worn as costumes, the props are not just set dressing: 'period' productions so often give the air of having tried too hard over every glossy detail, or else of importing a patronising grime of deprivation. This one seems to do neither. It even gets away with the potentially heavy-handed use of period cultural references (Elliot Ness, King Kong). After a while -- the ultimate accolade -- you forget that it's in colour.

And finally, despite an escalating violence/body count, this film manages to retain death to genuinely shocking effect. There are no diminishing-return shots of gun porn here; no five-minute jerking, numbing sprays of muzzle-flash after dark. (And, although it had not until now occurred to me, no cars that roll over and burst into flames...) A lot of people wind up dead one way or another: but seen through Polly's eyes, it is neither cheap entertainment nor taken for granted.

Acting performances are admirable all round in both major and minor roles. The use of music, in particular the evocative "42nd Street" as general theme to the picture in changing moods for each context, is excellently done. This isn't the sort of picture I would have anticipated liking -- the breast count alone is about fifty times greater than anything I'd normally see -- but I found it quite unexpectedly successful... and, I'm afraid, superior on every level to "Public Enemies", with which it has on the surface so much 'modernity' in common.

Often the crime scene was overpowered by the men, The Woman In Red points out an opposite vision of preestablished status quo, where a young woman after passing by many plights insert herself in world of crime on late twenties, a stunning performance of the gorgeous Pamela Sue Martin arouse attention nothing less than Tarantino that had great regards of the little masterpiece.

Deeply overshadowed by majors releases at its time, it somehow thru the time arouse awareness of many defenders, watching this picture for first time I'd realize the filthy environment of house of pleasures, the harassment on the industry and on the jail as well a corruptive world where just the strong can survive.

Thanks for reading.

Resume: First watch: 2024 / How many: 1 / Source: DVD / Rating: 8.

Polly Franklin (Pamela Sue Martin) is an innocent farm girl obsessed with 42nd Street. She gets caught up with the Dillinger gang's bank robbery. She gets a red dress from a reporter and loses her virginity to him. Her father beats her and she runs away. She is befriended by Rose at a sweatshop but her life descends into prison and forced into prostitution by the ruthless warden.

It's produced by the Roger Corman family. It's a bit rambling. Pamela Sue Martin used to be a star in the 70s and 80s. I missed most of that since I didn't watch Dynasty. I don't really see the range although she has some charisma. The biggest issue is that this story is simply a series of incidents. Some parts are less compelling than others. This could have been an interesting prison movie but that part is pretty quick. The sweatshop confused me a bit. This needs some better directing.

If they had called it "The life of a Gun Moll", nobody probably would have gone to see it. So they went with the Dillinger angle, but forget it this is Pamela Sue's film.

If you ever wondered how "good little" girls end up being window dressing for some of the most notorious gangsters that ever lived, this film gives a good look at her rebellion against her strict religious up bringing and her descent into crime and prostitution.

Pamela Sue is so cute, you have a hard time believing she is a hardened criminal, but she just about pulls it off.

Clearly a product of the Corman School, Sayles's first major screenplay shows that he already knew how to tell a great story from an interesting angle, something he has never forgotten how to do.

Director Teague keeps the pace rattling along, and hammers the message home fast (he was an occasional assistant to Sam Fuller, of course).

The plot's quite straightforward, and all the better so - this packs something of the punch of the 30's classic gangster films, but with distinctly 70's sensibilities to violence.

Where the film becomes more interesting than your average low-budget 'gangster-exploiter', however, is in the telling of the story through her eyes, rather than his (a distinctly 70's approach). Yet it's wonderfully ambiguous, on reflection, as to whether the film champions her willingness to break away and start acting for herself (she's a great strong character), or whether she just goes from one woman in peril situation to the other (which is the plot, basically).

I've probably over-analyzed it already, but if you've got a spare hour and a half on your hands, give it a chance. A classic of its kind.