A Taverna do Caminho

This was a very interesting character study of three people: "LIly Stevens" (Ida Lupino), "Jefty Robbins" (Richard Widmark) and "Pete Morgan" (Cornel Wilde).

The two guys are attracted to Lupino, who prefers good-guy Wilde. The scorned Widmark then gets his revenge. This film was a year after Widmark played sadistic killer "Tommy Udo" in "Kiss Of Death" and his character in this movie isn't too far removed from Udo. In both films, Widmark provides the spark when the story needed it.

That's not to say the rest of the cast isn't good, too, but Widmark playing these psycho villains is just fascinating and just stands out. Another fine thespian is Celeste Holm, who also is in this picture but with a role that did not stand out. I can't even remember what she did in here, although it's been awhile since I've seen this. Hopefully, this film noir will be issued on DVD some day.

This is made with enough memorable pieces - the 'road house' in the small Midwest town, the torch singer fresh from Chicago who comes to upset the sleepy routine, the two men, owner and manager of the joint, who lust after her - that it would have been something to see regardless of who was in it.

Someone like Gene Tierney or Rita Hayworth would have been equal parts fierce and coquettish in navigating their private wants against the male desire that threatens to create a narrative that engulfs them. That would have been fine and the film worth watching.

But we got Ida Lupino instead, that whirlwind of softly indomitable spirit. I had heard enough about her in my various travels through film, always in context of trailblazing individualism, and have even seen her in a couple of films before. But for whatever reason, this was the first time I was so profoundly captivated by her talent that from now on, she's forever celebrated in my house.

Going by what she achieves here, she should be rightfully mentioned on par with Cagney, that other whirlwind of intelligent presence. It's an ability to float past obvious limits of a narrative, and from there inhabit a self who can freely enter the story, play and improvise on that edge, that makes her unerringly modern. In this case she gives us the soulful ingenue, the one required by the story, but at her choosing, and the next morning freely becomes someone who just wants to look around and explore.

Just look how her ability to shift what she inhabits in an easy and free manner makes the whole context of a scene shift. The scene with going up to the pond for a swim is written for her character to impress Wilde's as not just a stuck-up singer from Chicago. But the way she plays it turns it into she's there for a swim and shucks if he's impressed. Maybe she likes him, but she'll be fine either way.

She's so marvelous in the first half of this (which is largely devoted to her and her romance), you forget you're watching a film noir of the time. It's like watching an actor from 20 years later, a Nouvelle Vague woman. She manages to make the whole transcend and had me feeling what it would be like if more studio pictures of the time were allowed to simply follow along with contemporary life on the streets. We'd have to wait for Cassavetes to start that ball rolling and then onwards to Altman and the others. Ida would have made a dreamy collaborator in those years and would have flourished and shined all the more as both actor and filmmaker.

But this is still a film noir, which means succumbing to narrative controlled by selfish desire. In this case Richard Widmark is not happy that she chose his helping hand around the club; so he conspires to create a vengeful narrative that entraps all three, and no less his own self. The setting for this part is a remote cabin in the woods.

In a great scene the two lovers, looking glum now, sit across the table from each other overseen by Widmark at the head, as if the whole world has shifted to something other than real. Widmark, that early Jack Nicholson of film, deserves a standing ovation himself for all he achieved; not once has his usual mode of seething, petulant menace failed to enhance a film all the more.

The resolutions are predictable and really the last part of of the film is, but it's still decent noir. Taken as a whole, it's a rich primary text and wholly deserves the visit.

The movie doesn't really take off until the last third when Widmark (Jefty) gets angry at last. And every fan of noir knows what happens when Widmark starts losing it. No one before or since can equal that deranged giggle, and here it's worth waiting for. Just watch his little William Tell sporting event with Lupino (Lilly) in that nightmare forest where no birds sing or deer roam. In fact, what I like best is the art department's contribution. That road house interior is a real eye-catcher, sort of a post-war mix of woodsy cabin and singles recreation center where actual people set up bowling pins while a hulking brute wrecks everything else.

Great role for Lupino. She gets to do her hard case with a soft heart as a torch singer all the way from big city Chicago. Her raspy rendition of One More for the Road is a riveting one-of- a-kind and in her own voice too. (What an immensely talented woman, and why did Hollywood never honor her for that.) Lilly's problem is not one man but two. But then by the time she slips into those white short-shorts, we know she's decided on Wilde whose manly chest no doubt has something to do with it. The trouble is that leaves Widmark as odd-man- out and we know what that means. Question-- What's the point of Susie's (Celeste Holm) role in the movie? Maybe I missed something.

Anyhow, it's an atmospheric 90 minutes, complete with rainy streets, smoky rooms, and that gloomy forest from heck. The movie may not rise to noir classic, but in the meantime, it'll sure do.

Lupino gives a premier league performance. Take her rendition of "One for My Baby, One More For The Road": it's an object lesson in how a conventionally beautiful voice is NOT required in order to triumph as a singer. Although she croaks the number rather than sings it, she acts it as if the character has felt every ounce of suffering in the lyric - and then some.

A fascinating, quietly invigorating noir piece from director Jean Negulesco. Richard Widmark is fantastic as the owner of the roadhouse who spoils the marriage of Cornel Wilde and Ida Lupino in the quasi-idyllic setting located in the U.S.-Canadian border. There are two things that kept me fascinated by this odd and satisfying little noir. One is the sultry presence of Ida Lupino as the silky, smooth-voiced torch singer Lily (her rendition of "One for My Baby" is itself precious). Without a doubt this is one of Lupino's best performances. The other is director Negulesco's intriguingly stylish direction: the use of languorous long takes and deep focus, particularly in the misty, smoke-induced finale in the wilderness is quite haunting and expressive. This is the only Negulesco film I've seen. I'm looking forward to this other works.