Le masque aux yeux verts

Not popular with the critics,and I agree the critical chorus had a certain amount of truth behind it. True, the plot is full-blown melodrama and the characters are pasteboard figures. But what does it matter? Is not extravagant plotting with all its coincidences, unlikely twists and larger than life surprises the stuff that escapist entertainment is made of? Are not players of the calibre of Mason, Lockwood, Rennie, Jones, Aylmer, Roc and Stamp Taylor sufficiently personable and charismatic to breathe life into one-dimensionally written figures? Certainly, I think so (even if Mason himself did not, although undoubtedly one of the causes of his dissatisfaction was the role's brevity).

Leslie Arliss has written and directed with verve, pace and style, his script helped by a great deal of witty additional dialogue and catty repartee, his direction aided by Jack Cox's typically moody, gray-toned photography, John Bryan's magnificent sets, Elizabeth Haffenden's eye-catching Restoration costumes. (Perhaps some of the film's enormous success at the box office can be traced to its low-cut, period gowns. It would be hard to deny that Misses Lockwood and Roc fill their costumes most attractively).

The Wicked Lady has an undeniable sweep and a vigorous dash that carries the audience right along. It may be too excitingly plotted for some, but it always looks so terribly authentic, it is hard not to be drawn into the machinations of villainess Lockwood or sympathize with the careless, carefree vigor of James Mason's full-blooded Captain Jackson. A welcome cast of deservedly popular support artists help round out the movie's terrific production values. Aside from some obvious process screen effects, no expense has been spared. In fact, this Wicked Lady is lavish to a fault.

That's the best British film I have ever seen, at least concerning those from the forties, which is a period that I am not particularly fond of. Margaret Lockwood is here absolutely outstanding, terrific as an evil woman who has nothing to envy from Gene Tierney's similar performance in LEAVE HER TO HEAVEN. A most possessive woman for sure. I saw it thirty years ago and I have it in my collection. That's a pure jewel, folks. British cinema industry is quite different from the US one. And many movies from this country remain to be discovered, even today.

A real must see.

Wicked Lady is quite the racy little melodrama! For its time, I can imagine it was totally scandalous, but quite tame by today's standards. Margaret Lockwood is delicious as the "bad" Barbara Worth, and James Mason is totally sardonic and witty as her bad boy companion. The times when the two of them are together on screen are by far the most wicked fun (except, of course, when Barbara is contriving some plot to bend everyone around her to her silly will). Honestly, you can see the wheels turning in her head. Her performance and character was the prototype for that queen of all heroines, Scarlet O'Hara. At this time the film was made, English ladies were all atwitter about this genre of Rank Organisations films (of which The Wicked Lady might be the best). I suppose during the war, this type of escapism fantasy must have been just the ticket.

The British cinema in the 1940s was often characterised by excessive emotional restraint, "Brief Encounter" being a good example. Although it deals with an adulterous love affair, it does so in such a stiff- upper-lip way as to dissipate the emotional impact which it might otherwise have had. Gainsborough Pictures, however, were a studio which seemed to go to the opposite extreme; their films are frequently notable not for restraint but for full-blooded melodrama. "The Madonna of the Seven Moons" from 1944 is one such film, and "The Wicked Lady" from the following year is another.

The film is based on a novel by Magdalen King-Hall, which in turn was based upon the life of a real historical individual, Lady Katherine Ferrers. Or perhaps I should say upon the legends which have grown up around Lady Katherine, as there is no evidence that she was actually guilty of the crimes which the popular imagination has attributed to her. The "Wicked Lady" of the title is here renamed Barbara Skelton. It has been suggested that the name was borrowed from the socialite and writer of the same name, but this seems doubtful as the real-life Barbara Skelton was not a particularly well-known figure when King- Hall's novel was published.

Lady Katherine died in 1660, but the story of this film is set in the 1680s. In the opening scenes Barbara seduces and subsequently marries Sir Ralph Skelton, the fiancé of her friend Caroline. Although Sir Ralph is a wealthy landowner, however, Barbara quickly becomes bored with life as the wife of a country gentleman. Her solution to the problem of boredom, however, is a rather extreme one. A notorious highwayman named Captain Jerry Jackson is operating in the area, and this gives Barbara the idea of taking up highway robbery herself, at first to recover her gambling losses but later on simply for the sake of excitement. Eventually, Barbara meets the real Jackson when both try to hold up the same coach. Intrigued by the fact that his rival is a beautiful woman, Jackson takes Barbara as his partner, and the two become lovers.

Margaret Lockwood has been described as the only sex symbol to have been created by the British cinema alone, without any help from Hollywood. (Most other British sex symbols, such as Jean Simmonds, Audrey Hepburn, Joan Collins and even Diana Dors, eventually moved to America). "The Wicked Lady" is probably the film by which she is best remembered today, and she gives a splendid performance here, both seductive and at the same time detestable. By modern standards her acting is a long way over the top, but period melodrama like this does not really call for naturalistic acting. Lovely though Margaret was, however, she has a rival for the title of "most beautiful girl in the film" in the shape of Patricia Roc who plays the naïve young Caroline. (Roc was actually 30 when the film was made, but had the sweetly innocent looks to enable her to play a 19-year-old).

James Mason is not normally thought of as a "swashbuckling" actor so might not have seemed the most natural choice to play a dashing highwayman. And yet he is very good in the role, bringing to it not only great charm but also some of the world-weariness which characterised a number of his performances. Jackson knows that his career is likely to end in his death, yet fatalistically accepts this probability. He also retains a certain sense of honour- he is, for example, very unwilling to kill those whom he robs- unlike Barbara who is completely amoral and ruthless. There is also a good contribution from Griffith Jones as Ralph, a total fool where Barbara is concerned but otherwise decent and honourable.

This was the most popular film in Britain in 1946. (It was released in 1945, but these were the days when only a limited number of prints were made, so it could take months for a film to be shown in all parts of the country). In America, however, it fell foul of the censors. What upset the Hays Office was not the fact that Barbara is guilty of adultery, robbery and murder. They were far more upset by the low-cut dresses worn by Barbara, Caroline and some of the other female characters, even though these would have been appropriate to the period. Eventually, a bowdlerised version, with several scenes re-shot, was released in America.

Today, Gainsborough melodramas like this one can come across as very dated and more than a little camp, with their exaggerated emotion and exaggeratedly black-and-white view of the world, represented here by the contrast between the evil Barbara and the saintly Caroline. Yet, for all its faults, Lockwood is spellbinding enough to make "The Wicked Lady" compulsive viewing. 7/10

Judging by the IMDb ratings breakdown for this film, sixty years after its production it remains very much "a women's movie" with female opinion rating it vastly higher than the male across every age group; fascinating to see how the divide still lingers! For my own part, I've always enjoyed the Gainsborough melodramas, and this is probably the best of them thanks to its wonderfully acerbic script.

This style of film is basically the screen equivalent of the classic paperback 'bodice-ripper', with heaving bosoms, witty ripostes and dastardly deeds a-plenty -- which probably accounts for the sex divide. On the other hand, I'd have thought it had a good deal to appeal to the average male viewer... Frankly, I'm not surprised that this picture fell foul of the American censors (a fate shared with various other dramas set in morally dubious eras) in the 1940s: it's not just a matter of the amount of cleavage on display or of the protagonist's flagrantly shocking morals (since these are rewarded in appropriate fashion), but of the racy tinge to a lot of the dialogue.

I think it's the dialogue that makes this film really shine. Where "The Man in Grey" has a tendency to moralise or lumber, "The Wicked Lady" has a sparkling streak of humour almost throughout; watching it in the cinema, you realise for the first time just how many laughs there are as they sweep across the audience. But it also benefits from a galaxy of strong female stars, from the minor parts to the two leading roles: Patricia Roc pulls off the difficult trick of making her gentle, idealistic character both sympathetic and believable when faced with the formidable opposition of Margaret Lockwood's beautiful, amoral Barbara. Barbara as anti-heroine almost takes over the film, and manages to attract our sympathies to the extent that we find ourselves willing her deception of old Hogarth to succeed -- but ultimately she goes too far. Too far for Jerry Jackson, and too far for this viewer at least to feel anything but vicarious satisfaction as her 'bittersweet' ending turns entirely bitter. The Wicked Lady is bad -- bad to the bone.

My main gripe with the film, ironically, is with the happy outcome as shown, after the high emotions and dark ironies that have led up to the finale. I don't hold any grudge against the lovers at all -- it's obvious that all is going to turn out well once the truth is out in the open, and I'm all in favour of their union -- but the way that it is heavy-handedly interjected into the final frames of the picture creates a virtually bathetic anti-climax. That particular outcome really might have been taken for granted, rather than pasted on thickly at precisely the wrong moment...