La strada scarlatta

It is often said of Fritz Lang that his American films aren't as good as the ones he made in Germany, and judging by the films of his that I've seen so far; this analysis is proving itself to be true...but damn, this one isn't far off. Scarlet Street is simultaneously compelling and unpredictable for it's duration; Lang truly knows how to plot a film, and that is evident throughout. The story follows a banker and aspiring painter, played to perfection by Edward G. Robinson, who saves a young woman from a purse snatcher one night while on his way home from a party. The two begin talking to each other, and the banker 'accidentally' tells the girl that he's paints pictures and gets a lot of money for doing so (Lang shows us the pitfalls of trying to impress young women by way of lies). However, all was not what it seemed with the purse-snatcher, and he's actually the young lady's fiancé; and when he learns that his girlfriend has a man with money after her.... he's out for all he can get!

A lot of Lang's American oeuvre is concentrated on the American justice system and various other crime related things, and this one is no different. Scarlet Street professes that nobody can ever 'get away with murder', and the fantastic climax to the movie shows this masterfully; much more so than many other films that have tried to convey the same message have. Scarlet Street is drenched with irony throughout (ironically, it took a non-American to make an ironic American film). This irony ensures that the film stays interesting, as the audience is never able to guess what's around the corner. There's nothing worse than a predictable film, and Scarlet Street is certainly anything but. The movie is packed with stand out moments, but non stand out more so than the ending. I'm a big fan of horror films and have seen many; but many of those fail to be as chilling as the ending of Scarlet Street. The atmosphere that Lang creates is incredible, and it ranks one of the most powerful psychological mind games that I've ever witnessed on screen. If Fritz Lang set out to put people off murder with this film; I dare say he succeeded. I know I won't be murdering anyone after watching this!

Overall; Scarlet Street is another Fritz Lang masterpiece. While not as mind blowing as Metropolis or as powerful as M; Scarlet Street fills a niche all of it's own. I rate this film as a 'must see', and I can almost guarantee that you will not be disappointed after seeing it.

Chris Cross is a bank cashier who has just been given a gold watch by his boss for years of faithful service. Chris has three gifts, which are highly sought and cannot be bought: honesty, integrity and talent. The first two earned him the gold watch but the third is something he keeps to himself. He's a "Sunday" painter who paints from the inside out as a means of escaping his colorless life and loveless marriage. Chris is a man who loves beauty but has none himself, and so he fantasizes about some pretty girl that might see beyond his exterior to the man inside. And so one late rainy night chance places a beautiful damsel in distress in this path, and after saving the girl from the villain, he falls desperately in love and to his amazement, the girl loves him back. But things are not what they seem, and in a short while, Chris will trade in the three gifts he does possess for something he can never have. One of the defining films of Classic Film Noir.

It's hard to see that your youth has escaped you. It happens to us all. The sad personage of Christopher Cross is very touching. He has seen his life pass with a nice gold watch all he has to show for it. His wife is ugly and mean spirited, his work is dull. He is quite a good painter but hasn't time to do anything about it. Them "she" comes into the picture. All those charms, sexy, vulnerable, and evil, with a connection to Dan Duryea (what a cad) to boot. When the Robinson Character comes to her rescue, it's Johnny (Duryea) who is slapping her around. She is perceptive enough to believe that the well dressed older man must have money, and, if she plays her cards right, she can squeeze him for money. He falls, hook, line, and sinker, and really believes she cares about him. Not only is she an opportunist, she even uses his art as her own to get more money. Because he is moonstruck, he lets her go on and on. There is a subplot concerning his wife's first husband and some other things, but he slowly descends the path to destruction. Everyone watching the movie knows that the poor sap is going to get his at some point. The way it happens is a bit of a stretch. Chris should really feel very little guilt; he is victimized all long the way. But in film noir, the dark elements demand their pound of flesh. He is paid for his foolishness and trust.

SCARLET STREET is, no doubt, one of Hollywood's first mature forays into the relationship of a prostitute with her pimp and her client.

Until 1945, the big screen's version of a 'lady of the night' was almost waif-like in her mien, casting innocent doe-like eyes at any gentleman who would like to share "a spot of tea" for a nominal fee. As portrayed by Joan Bennett, Kitty is cool,cynical, calculating, a 'ho' who is world weary and holds no illusions. Dan Duryea as her slick, slimy pimp/boyfriend, Johnny, matches Kitty scene for scene in the seediness of their relationship. "Lazylegs" is Johnny's term of affection for his Kitty when he's not cuffing her about openly on the streets.

Then there's the third wheel to this tragic ride, Edward G. Robinson as the henpecked husband Chris Cross who also happens to be a frustrated weekend artist. Kitty sees Chris as a hearty meal ticket as Chris laps up Kitty's milk, little realizing that his dream girl is a nightmare in waiting.

Director Fritz Lang's unflinching finale leaves the viewer drained of emotion. There is no Hollywood happy ending at the end of SCARLET STREET, just a back alley of guilt, punishment and shame.

It is no coincidence that 'Melancholy Baby' is refrained throughout this flick. As played on Kitty's phonograph, the record is scratched and skips over and over at the same spot. For this recording is, like all the characters who reside on SCARLET STREET, damaged goods.

Fritz Lang does a wonderful job directing "Scarlet Street," a true film noir from 1945 starring Edward G. Robinson, Joan Bennett and Dan Duryea. A miserable, henpecked man, Chris (Robinson) falls in love with a prostitute, Kitty, and she starts milking him for money with the encouragement of her abusive boyfriend Johnny (Duryea). Chris is a cashier who has just reached his 25th year of service; he's also a part-time painter. He steals bonds from his wife, who is the widow of a police detective, and sets Kitty up in an apartment where he can also paint since all his wife does is complain about him cluttering up their place. He believes that Kitty is an actress and that Johnny is the boyfriend of Kitty's ex-roommate. You really want to slap him. His stealing escalates; meanwhile, Johnny and Kitty are passing his art work off as Kitty's, and she's making a name for herself. Instead of killing her then and there, Chris is happy about it, believing that he's a failure and could never have sold a painting, and continues providing her with art work. We assume she and Johnny are getting the money.

Alas, there probably are desperately lonely and unhappy men like Chris with footprints all over their bodies, though Chris seems pretty gullible even by 1945 standards. Robinson, however, does a fantastic job in helping us understand why Chris is the way he is. He's a simple, shy, self-effacing man who just wants someone to love him and enjoy his hobby of painting, and Kitty pays lip service to that while she's sleeping with Johnny. It seems that just to bask in her presence is enough for Chris.

Using the backdrop of New York City, Lang has directed this with magnificent style and flair, making it one of the most famous noirs of all time. And the performances are top notch. It's amazing how much Joan and Constance Bennett looked alike when they were both blond, but they were very different actresses. Constance had a great deal of sophistication; Joan did better playing tramps. She had a low voice and could be very sexy, and she made a stunning brunette. I saw her in person in the late '80s and was surprised at how tiny she was given how tall she looks here. If anyone has seen the "Gone with the Wind" screen tests, she was one of the most beautiful Scarletts. Here she's very convincing talking out of both sides of her mouth, telling Chris that she loves him and Johnny that she loves him. Duryea is phenomenal as a very unlikable con man, and the two make a great couple.

But the character of sad Chris hangs over the film due to Robinson's performance with his shy smile and nervous manner. When his anger emerges, it's years and years worth of it. Unfortunately, he's basically too good a man not to hate himself for actions committed in a rage, and in true Hollywood fashion, he goes the way of most men who let themselves be made fools of by women.

A really, really great film. Lang was difficult to get along with, and as the studio system diminished, the powers that be were less willing to put up with him, so his last Hollywood films can't compare with those he did at the top. This is top Lang. Don't miss it.