La rue rouge

I've seen LA CHIENNE, and although most of SCARLET STREET is a remake, the two are entirely different films. LA CHIENNE is virtually a comedy. In fact, it begins with an introduction by puppets (!), so we know we're not to take the plot very seriously. Renoir's film is light and fun, and is very interesting to watch for comparisons of 'moral standards' between France and Hollywood.

By now, you probably know the story. A sad little man gets involved with a prostitute and her pimp. Hollywood toned down the fact that Robinson and Bennett were involved in a sexual relationship, and the ending of the film had to live up to Hollywood's standards of 'morality'. I won't spoil it for those who haven't seen it yet, but needless to say, the endings between the two films differ in a major way.

What makes SCARLET STREET so outstanding in my opinion, is that given the repressed nature of the protagonist, the film works better because of the changes. You can better understand the pressures of what living as a human doormat has done to this man, and how coiled up he really is. Edward G. Robinson gives one of the best performances of his career, which is saying a lot! I know, there will always be those who will insist on seeing him as the cigar-chomping tough guy only, and won't accept him as anything else, but SCARLET STREET showcases his more subtle talents and his enormous range. Joan Bennett is pure charm and snake oil in this, and Dan Duryea out-weasels Richard Widmark in KISS OF DEATH [in fact, I'll bet good money that the weasel toons in WHO FRAMED ROGER RABBIT were based on Dan Duryea's character!]. Hollywood films will always falter in comparison to other country's films because the industry's fear of offending audiences always dulls the blade of truth. But, at least during the classic era of Hollywood, the talent usually made up for the story flaws. What do you get when you put Fritz Lang, Edward G. Robinson, Joan Bennett and Dan Duryea together? Magic!

This is a good, tense drama that builds up an interesting 'noir' story that includes some rather creative story elements. It has several strengths, but most of all it features three fine performances by Edward G. Robinson, Joan Bennett, and Dan Duryea. It's also easy to see Fritz Lang's skilled hand at work in the story-telling, mood, and pacing.

Robinson shows his skill and versatility in portraying a mild-mannered bank cashier who really wants nothing more than the chance to dabble in his painting, before getting caught up in a complicated situation. Bennett is quite effective as the opportunistic young woman who befriends him, and Dan Duryea adds his presence and ability to very good effect - Duryea had the knack of portraying this kind character as well as anyone. His appearance in any film-noir always seemed to make an average movie good and a good movie even better.

The story is developed carefully, as Robinson's character slowly begins to realize that he has gotten into a situation beyond his control. By the time that things come to a head, the tension is considerable. The ending is also rather resourceful, in being carefully written so as to satisfy the stringent requirements of the production code of the era while also ending the story in a way that seems appropriate and fitting to the tone of the movie as a whole.

All of this adds up to make "Scarlet Street" a fine movie that is well worth seeing, especially for fans of film-noir.

Edward G. Robinson gives the most subtle - and possibly the greatest - performance of his career in this, the most depressing film ever made. Such a devastating ending is hardly possible these days, and indeed wasn't supposed to have been in 1945. "Immoral, corrupt and tending to incite crime," they called it, "A Hollywood movie we can do without." Perhaps the subversive ending was Lang's answer to those who had criticised his 'cop-out' ending for 'The Woman In the Window' a year earlier. The other two leads - Duryea and Bennett - are brilliant as well, and all the actors make us feel in the end that no one has got what they deserved. 'Scarlet Street' has so many beautifully subtle touches in it that it really has to be seen several times in order to be fully appreciated: the parallel between Kitty and Chris' flower (his 'problems with perspective'); the expression that flashes over Kitty's face when Chris 'confesses' that he's a married man; the brief reference at the beginning to Chris's superstition, which will eventually bring about his psychological downfall. Like many Lang films, it deals with the concept of criminal justice, and is a clever, cruel and fascinating film - a little dated technically, but far ahead of its time, and one of the greatest and blackest film noirs from the forties. The climax is still one of the most chilling in film history - more frightening than most of the great horror films.

Christopher Cross, in middle aged, and in a life going nowhere and devoid of love and inspiration. Till one evening he rescues Kitty March from a mugger, it's the start of a relationship that has far reaching consequences for them, and those closest to them.

The previous year director Fritz Lang had made The Woman In The Window, a film that was hugely popular with critics and fans alike. Here he reunites from that excellent film with Edward G. Robinson, Joan Bennett and Dan Duryea, the result being what can arguably be described as one of the best exponents of Film Noir's dark sensibilities. Adapting from works by André Mouézy-Éon and Georges de La Fouchardière (novel and play), this story of desperate love and greedy deceit had already had a big screen adaptation from Jean Renoir in 1931 as La chienne, which appropriately enough translates as The Bitch! Now there's a Noir title if ever there was one! What Lang does with this adaptation is drip his own expressionism all over it, whilst crucially he doesn't ease off from the harsher aspects of the story. This is nasty, cruel stuff, and with Lang at the time feeling a bit abused and used by the studio system he was slave to, who better to darkly cloak a sordid story with a biting edge? Is it purely coincidence that Lang took on this film about a struggling artist who's vision is stifled by another? Possibly not one is inclined to feel.

Edward G. Robinson is fabulous as the pathetic Chris Cross. Married to a wife who constantly heckles and belittles him (Rosalind Ivan), Robinson's take on Cross garners empathy by the shed load, so much so that once Kitty (Bennett) and her beau, Johnny Prince (Duryea), start to scheme a scam on Chris, the audience are feeling as desperate as Cross was himself at the start of the movie. Few noir guys have so meekly fell under a femme fatale's spell as the way Cross does for Kitty here. But such is Lang's atmospherics, you not only sense that it's going to go bad, you expect it to, and naturally Robinson is just the man to punch us in the guts with added impetus. Bennett and Duryea are very convincing, almost spitefully enjoying taking the hapless Robinson character for everything they can, and the visuals, especially during the bleak, shadowy last couple of reels, cap the mood perfectly.

This film is in truth probably saying more about its director than anything else that he made. And in fact it was said to be one of his all time favourites. That's nice to find out because it finds him on particularly good, and yes, devilish form. Grim, brilliant and essential film noir. 9/10

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.