La grande nebbia

Selling deep-freezes has been very good for west coast salesman Edmond O'Brien. He maintains a posh apartment in San Francisco and a bungalow in Los Angeles, both equipped with all the appurtenances of post-war prosperity, including a wife in each. In the city by the bay, Joan Fontaine serves as his helpmate not only at home but at work, where she serves as his executive secretary. But those long trips south can get lonely, and one afternoon, killing time on a tour bus, he flirts with Ida Lupino. Next thing, she's pregnant and married to him, too.

He might have gotten away with living his bigamous life but for the fact that he and the barren Fontaine decide to adopt a child. Enter Edmund Gwenn, an investigator for the adoption agency. No flies on Gwenn: He delves into O'Brien's background as if he were vetting him for Secretary of Defense. Caught in his two acts, O'Brien divulges his sad saga, in flashback, to the fascinated Gwenn.

Directed by Lupino, The Bigamist looks like it's going to turn into a weeper but doesn't quite make it. For one thing, odd touches crop up. The San Francisco high-rise is decorated in chic Chinoiserie, while in Los Angeles, Lupino slings chop suey in a dump called the Canton Café. Then, on the tour of Beverly Hills mansions, the driver points out the homes of movie stars; among them is Edmund Gwenn's. Meant as a light in-joke, it ends up as a distancing ploy when O'Brien and Lupino start chatting about Miracle on 34th Street.

But, closer to the bone, The Bigamist treats O'Brien with lavish sympathy. To be sure, there are the ritualistic mentions of `the moral laws we all live by' and the like, but on the whole he's portrayed as a victim of circumstance. For every victim, however, there's usually a villain. In this case, the finger wags at Fontaine, who can't bear a child and who takes her husband's work more seriously than she takes his ego.

Much is made, justifiably, of Lupino's bucking the male-dominated system by daring to direct movies. Yet The Bigamist demonstrates how hard it must have been to buck the social outlook of America in the early Eisenhower era.

Gossipy note: Writer/producer of The Bigamist was Collier Young, Lupino's second husband. They divorced in 1951, two years before they collaborated on this movie. She went on to marry Howard Duff; he to wed none other than Joan Fontaine. It must have made for an interesting production.

Ida Lupino sparkles as the director and star of this deeply moving romantic drama. The subject of bigamy is unusual for a Hollywood movie of that era and is handled in an intelligent, compassionate way.

Edmond O'Brien convincingly portrays a traveling salesman in love with two women -- his cute, barren, career-minded pre-feminist wife (Joan Fontaine) and a lonely, stunningly beautiful waitress (Lupino) -- neither of whom know of the other's existence.

The direction is excellent and elicits beautifully nuanced performances from the entire cast. O'Brien is portrayed as a decent human being who becomes entangled in a romantic triangle and tries to find a viable solution for everyone. Unfortunately, his well-intentioned plan to be a loving husband to both women comes unstuck when a nit-picking adoption investigator (Edmund Gwenn) probes too deeply.

Although not classic film noir, there is some sharp, insightful dialog. For example, the courtroom scene effectively challenges traditional American values when the judge sympathetically remarks: "If you had simply taken her as your mistress instead of marrying her, you would not be here now."

This is a well-crafted and provocative movie that showcases Lupino's considerable talent as an actress, director, and student of human nature. Ida Lupino was an extraordinary woman, years ahead of her time. Enjoy.

This is one of the strangest films I have ever seen coming from Hollywood in the 1950s. It is a very engaging film about Edmond O'Brien and his double-life. He is married to Joan Fontaine and loves her, but there marriage is very distant--both emotionally and because O'Brien is on the road so much as a traveling salesman. Eventually, he is driven by loneliness to another woman in another town. Over and over, he vows to break it off but eventually this other woman becomes pregnant and he just can bring himself to either leave her or his wife! The movie is shown through flashbacks. And, despite the sensational plot, the movie is actually done very sedately and avoids sensationalism. Instead, it tries to portray O'Brien in a pretty sympathetic light--while not excusing his actions. And, by doing so, the movie really gets you thinking. An excellent job of acting by all, but the star of this picture is Ida Lupino who plays the second wife and so deftly directed this little film. It's well worth a watch.

PS--one very cute little inside joke was when O'Brien and Lupino were on a bus going past homes of the stars. Among the many stars' homes that were pointed out by the tour guide was that of Edmund Gwenn--who actually plays a major role in the film as an adoption agency investigator!

This film is centred on freezer salesman Harry Graham. He and his wife, Eve, are hoping to adopt a baby. Before this can be done adoption agent Mr Jordon must do a background check on each of them. His checks take him to Los Angeles where Harry spends much of his time. Here he meets Harry again and makes a shocking discovery... he has another wife, Phyllis, and a baby son. He is horrified but listens as Harry tells the story of how he came to meet, fall in love with, and finally marry Phyllis.

I found this to be an interesting film; it certainly wasn't the sort of topic I expected to be explored in a film of this era... especially given its sympathetic portrayal of Harry. While he is clearly misleading the two women the way his second relationship starts feels almost accidental and more than once he plans to do the 'right thing' but then something happens to stop him. Edmond O'Brien does an impressive job as Harry and gets fine support from Joan Fontaine and Ida Lupino as Eve and Phyllis. Ida Lupino also does an impressive directing job at a time when women directors were incredibly rare. The story is told in a way that makes it easy to believe Harry's behaviour and the fact that he got away with it for so long. Overall I'd certainly recommend this to fans of older films looking for something rather different.

One of a handful of low budget films from pioneering woman film-maker Ida Lupino. Known mainly for her soulful screen portrayals in the 1940's of downtrodden women, she managed this career turn in the early 50's, a remarkable feat given a production industry so thoroughly dominated by men.

Her best known feature is the chilling and critically acclaimed account of serial killer Emmet Myers, called "The Hitchhiker". But all her films are marked by an earnest concern for the lives of ordinary people, whether menaced in extreme circumstance or in more ordinary circumstance by the unwed pregnancy of "The Outrage". Moreover, at a time when studios were fending off small screen television with big budget Technicolor, she gamely persisted with the small, the intimate and the unglamorous.

"The Bigamist" remains an oddity, very much an artifact of its time, but worth viewing for its sensitive handling of male loneliness, a topic for which macho Hollywood has never had much time. The acting is first-rate from a trio of de-glamorized Hollywood professionals, including the poignant Lupino; there's also Edmond O'Brien in a low-key, nuanced portrayal of a man trapped by emotions, showing once again what a fine, intelligent performer he was. Notice how elliptically the pregnancy is presented, and how subtly Fontaine's career woman is projected into the breakup. Both are very much signs of that time. Although the subject matter may have tempted, the results never descend into bathos or soap-opera, even if final courtroom scene appears stagy and anti-climatic. All in all, it's a very well wrought balancing act.

Lupino's reputation should not rest on gender. This film as well as so many of her others demonstrate what a versatile and unusual talent she was, whether in front of the camera or behind. Too bad, she never got the recognition from an industry to which she contributed so much.