Mistério de uma Mulher

In 1942, I expect the studios tossed off productions like this like cars on an assembly line. But don't let that fool you. Assembly line product or no, this is an atmospheric and expertly acted 90 minutes from Columbia Pictures, with that great unsung actress of the period Ida Lupino, supported by two of the daffiest character actresses of the day, Elsa Lanchester and the wild-eyed Edith Barrett.

And what a wacky production it is. Adapted from a stage play, everything takes place on a single foggy sound stage. But that's okay because it's a Gothic thriller with lots of shadowy interiors and dark secrets inside a big old house. Lupino's cursed with two ditzy sisters and, by golly, she's going to take care of them come what may. It's this unbending family loyalty that finally lends Lupino's role an uncommon measure of dramatic pathos. Watch her with her tightly wrapped hairdo and stiff-necked manner. It's like she's taken a solemn oath to defend her pathetic sisters, and she's going to do it, no matter the sacrifice, unlike the bounder Louis Hayward who takes advantage of the situation only to enrich himself. But it's really the girlish Barrett, an obscure RKO actress, who steals the show-- all innocence and wide-eyed enthusiasm over the least little thing. No wonder, Lupino takes extreme protective measures.

Stylish director Charles Vidor does a lot with the slender material. Just consider the single, fog-bound set that could have become impossibly static. But Vidor keeps things moving and our attention with it. Then too, he knows how to use the Louis Hayward character to liven up the Gothic solemnity. What's also notable is that neither the screenplay nor Vidor takes the easy way out by vilifying the flighty Mrs. Fiske (Isobel Elsom). She's ultimately as sympathetic as Lupino. I kept wondering what Hitchcock would have done with the material since the theme and characters are right up his alley. Be that as it may, this is one of the many by-passed gems from the studios' golden age, and deserves rediscovery on its own many merits.

Glorious Gothic camp. A seemingly unlikely, yet perfectly cast, Ida Lupino is the stiff-backed housekeeper and companion to fussy actress Isobel Elsom. When she discovers that her two daft sisters, (an excellent Edith Barrett and a superb Elsa Lanchester), are to be evicted from their lodgings she decides to move them in but first she must do something about her employer. Things get complicated when Lupino's scurrilous 'nephew' turns up and is quick to put two and two together.

The setting is one those quaint old cottages on the English marshes that are perpetually shrouded in fog and which one someone in Hollywood could dream up and the source material was a play by Reginald Denham and Edward Percy. By rights it should be terrible but it's actually hugely enjoyable and Lupino's terrific, (she makes for a very sympathetic murderess). It's the kind of film that would sit very nicely next to "Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte" and "Whatever Happened to Aunt Alice".

it's been so many years since i've seen this remarkable movie that most of it is forgotten. but its effect endures. that brick oven in almost every interior shot. the subtle verbal fencing between feather and ellen creed. the simple-minded amusements of her sisters. her panic near the end is so well conveyed, i still remember her face. ida lupino elaborated on her great acting in "the light that failed". she deserves to be remembered as one of the great female stars. the atmosphere of this film is very much like "night must fall", which featured a hatbox instead of a brick oven. louis hayward was a perfect foil for lupino, his insinuating, prying remarks bringing out her best (worst) emotions. i can't wait to see this gem of english intrigue another time.

Why so many British spinsters took to spending their twilight years in old houses at the edge of the moors, all gnarled trees and lowering skies, remains one of life's enduring mysteries: Didn't they know they were sitting ducks? Those crusty old cruets of malt vinegar weren't averse, however, to the occasional taste of honey to sweeten their vanity, especially if it came from charming young drifters harboring antisocial personality disorders. Emlyn Williams' Night Must Fall remains the classic example, but another is Ladies in Retirement, which also started out on stage before Charles Vidor started the cameras rolling.

Isolbel Elsom takes on the part of the vain old biddy with a theatrical past (and her disappearance comes far too quickly). The beguiling drifter is Louis Hayward, who comes to the door hoping to cadge 12 quid to make up for a shortfall in the teller's drawer in the bank he works for. He gets it from her, though he really hoped to hit up her housekeeper – and his aunt – Ida Lupino (the two were married at the time).

Lupino, alas, was off in London at the time, packing up her two dotty sisters (Elsa Lanchester and Edith Barrett) who were evicted from the last of their lodgings for their shenanigans. They park at Elsom's house `for a day or two,' but after six weeks Elsom comes to the end of her tether and gives them, and Lupino, their walking papers. At which point, Lupino decides that blood is thicker than water and acts accordingly. But her crafty nephew grows suspicious when the old lady's `travels' seem to be coming to no foreseeable end....

Vidor chooses not to ventilate the play, keeping the action squarely in the moldering old homestead – which affords him opportunity for strangely angled and shadowed shots in the rabbit-warren of rooms and staircases. The cast does the piece proud, with Hayward, Elsom, Lanchester and Evelyn Keyes, as the maid, all chewing a good portion of the scenery. Lupino wisely opts to underplay, giving the tight and wary performance of a woman with too many secrets to keep.

Ladies in Retirement shows its age in its conventions and attitudes, but it's still reasonably spry; it's fun to settle into, and offers a preview of the noir style that was just starting to develop. It's a hell of a lot fresher and easier to swallow than the distantly similar Arsenic and Old Lace, that overwrought farce which coaxed out of Cary Grant the worst performance of his career.

Ida Lupino as Ellen Creed cryptically says to her nephew (Louis Hayward). Lupino is in top form here as a housekeeper who must care for her two sisters who are being evicted or sent to an asylum. It is the late 1800's and the weather on the heath is unforgiving and reminiscent of a Bronte novel.

Elsa Lanchester and Edith Barrett portray the two sisters whom Lupino must care for. She lives at Leonora Fiske's (well-portrayed by Isobel Elsom) mansion and at first the sisters are allowed to stay. But Ms. Fiske is an eccentric matron and tires of their company. She informs Ellen Creed (Lupino) they must leave. ..."Have you no compassion, no feeling for the poor?"... Lupino intones this even as she sees the mistress of the house will be throwing her out on the street. Lupino feels obligation to the two wayward sisters, who have some mental issues and would have been (at that time probably) committed to Bedlam state asylum. So she decides what she must do.

Later, Louis Hayward pops up and is the nephew. He becomes suspicious when Ms. Fiske never shows up; He is intrigued that his aunt suddenly owns the house. There is much suspense here and the cinematography is haunting and shadowed; we are not certain at the capabilities of Ellen Creed (Lupino) or what she may do next. I also highly recommend "Road House" with Ida Lupino and Richard Widmark. Excellent and could never be remade today. 10/10.