La dame du lac

I'll get the obvious out of the way first. Robert Montgomery's 'Lady in the Lake (1947)' is most renowned for being one of the only mainstream films to unfold almost entirely from the first-person perspective of the main character, in this case Raymond Chandler's Philip Marlowe. The technique had been used before, albeit on a lesser scale, in the opening five minutes of Rouben Mamoulian's 'Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1931).' In 1947, shortly after the release of Montgomery's film, Delmer Daves would take an enormous risk by filming the first hour of 'Dark Passage (1947)' without showing the face of Humphrey Bogart, though the star's status was such that he was eventually forced to emerge from the shadows (after which point, it must be said, the film becomes more conventional and marginally less interesting). Montgomery, in his last film at MGM, was also given the opportunity to direct, and he doesn't flinch from his chosen gimmick. Marlowe's face is seen only during several brief explanatory interludes, and whenever he happens to catch his reflection in the mirror.

Setting aside the gimmick – which MGM optimistically hailed as the greatest cinematic innovation since synchronised sound – 'Lady in the Lake' doesn't quite measure up to other popular Chandler adaptations of the time. Robert Montgomery may have been a great actor – I honestly can't say, this being my first film with him – but his Philip Marlowe doesn't possess the toughness of Bogart in 'The Big Sleep (1946),' nor the cocky swagger of Dick Powell in 'Murder, My Sweet (1944).' The awkwardness of the role is only accentuated by Marlowe's constantly being behind the camera, though even the occasional direct-to-camera interruptions seem to miss the mark. I don't expect that the supporting actors had much experience in speaking directly to a piece of equipment, and so their performances are capable without being particularly memorable. The chemistry between Montgomery and Audrey Totter, the potentially-villainous femme fatale, was mostly stale for this reason, as we're really only seeing one side of their conversation.

Perhaps the film's greatest weakness – and, once again, this all comes back to Montgomery's chosen gimmick – is that everything moves so slowly. One would expect those 1940s movie cameras to have been incredibly clunky, and so, in these pre-Steadicam days, Marlowe ambles from A to B with devastating sluggishness. The first-person technique, however, did work wonderfully in the sequence where Marlowe is being pursued in his car, and also when he must drag himself across the gravel to a public telephone. There are lots of prolonged silences where nothing happens, and, despite striving for realism, the film should have conceded more of a musical soundtrack to fill these voids. The one piece of music put into use, however, was an eerily effective choir song that reminded me of György Ligeti's "Requiem" from '2001: A Space Odyssey (1968).' Overall, 'Lady in the Lake' is a fascinating film noir experiment that doesn't quite manage to pull it off. Even so, it's worth a look for its unique take on Philip Marlowe and several scenes of inarguable excellence.

Drawing on his life of crimefighting to write a short story, Raymond Chandler's tough but noble P.I. Philip Marlowe (Robert Montgomery, pulling double duty as actor and director) submits his work to Kingsby Publications, home of such pulp fiction mags as LURID DETECTIVE and MURDER MASTERPIECES. Before he can say "byline," editor Adrienne Fromsett (Audrey Totter) has Marlowe up to his neck in murder, missing dames, and crooked cops -- and you can see things Marlowe's way, literally! Before all those slasher movies came along during the last couple of decades, LADY IN THE LAKE used the subjective camera treatment -- hell, the camera was practically a character in the flick! Throughout most of LADY..., we see everything exactly as Marlowe sees it; the only times we see Marlowe/Montgomery's face is when he looks in a mirror, as well as in a brief prologue, an entrè-acte segment, and an epilogue. In the trailer (featured on the spiffy new DVD version of LADY..., along with an enjoyable and informative commentary track by film historians Alain Silver and James Ursini), MGM's publicity department did its best to push the film as the first interactive movie experience: "MGM presents a Revolutionary motion picture; the most amazing since Talkies began! YOU and ROBERT MONTGOMERY solve a murder mystery together! YOU accept an invitation to a blonde's apartment! YOU get socked in the jaw by a murder suspect!" YOU occasionally start snickering in spite of yourself when the subjective camera gimmick teeters dangerously close to parodying itself, like when Totter moves in for a smooch with Our Hero The Camera. Some of Totter's facial expressions in the first half of the film as she spars verbally with Montgomery are pretty funny, too, though I'm not sure all of them were meant to be (she uses the arched eyebrow technique done so much more effectively later by Eunice Gayson of DR. NO and FROM Russia WITH LOVE, Leonard Nimoy, CQ's Angela Lindvall, The Rock, et al... :-). Having said that, the subjective camera technique works more often than not; in particular, I thought the fight scenes and a harrowing sequence where an injured Marlowe crawls out of his wrecked car worked beautifully. It helps that Steve Fisher provided a good solid screenplay for Raymond Chandler's novel, though Chandler purists were annoyed that the novel's pivotal Little Fawn Lake sequence was relegated to a speech in the recap scene in the middle (apparently they tried to film that scene on location, but the subjective camera treatment proved harder to do in the great outdoors, so they gave up). The performances are quite good overall, including Lloyd Nolan as a dirty cop and an intense dramatic turn by young Jayne Meadows. Montgomery's sardonic snap mostly works well for cynical Marlowe, though he sometimes forgets to tone it down during tender dialogue, making him sound simply cranky. Totter eventually tones down her mugging and becomes genuinely affecting as her Adrienne lets down her guard and begins falling for Marlowe. You may love or hate this LADY..., but if you enjoy mysteries and you're intrigued by offbeat movie-making techniques, give her a try!

Striking camera work letting the viewer see through the eyes of hard-boiled detective Philip Marlowe(Robert Montgomery). This is an intriguing Raymond Chandler tale that has the "private dick" solving a murder while seeking a missing socialite. Montgomery directs himself and is primarily only seen in a scene looking in a mirror. Novelty of the camera work is clever and makes YOU part of the movie. Its pretty cool finding the clues. Very apt cast featuring Audrey Totter, Lloyd Nolan, Leon Ames and Jane Meadows. Fun to watch.

Robert Montgomery was a pretty savvy guy. As I recall, President Eisenhower tapped him to be the first presidential adviser on TV appearances at a time when the tube was still a new- fangled technology. No doubt, his being a well known Republican also helped.

Too bad this experiment in the subjective camera fails as clearly as it does. I'm sure it took guts for Montgomery to pitch the idea to the notoriously conservative MGM. But he did get the opportunity. My feeling is that he took on too much for this, his first feature as a director.

First, he's not only directing but starring as well. That might be okay if he weren't also refashioning his image from lounge-lizard playboy to tough-talking private eye. After all, Dick Powell had managed a similar transition the year before in the highly effective Murder, My Sweet (1944). The trouble here is that we seldom see Marlowe (Montgomery), thanks to the subjective camera. Instead we hear him all the time in a pinched unnatural voice more annoying than compelling. Nor, for that matter, does the tough-guy tone match Marlowe's or narrator Montgomery's dapper appearance. Despite some clever cracks from scripter Fisher, the transition just doesn't work.

Just as troublesome is the complex Chandler novel that Fisher adapts without simplifying. The resulting narrative is almost impossible to unravel, which compounds a slow-moving camera whose subjective pov has to avoid the kind of quick-moving pans that might disorient or upset the viewer. Together, they produce a labored result, both visually and narratively. A simpler story-line would have demanded less from sometimes over-burdened viewers.

This is not to say the experiment doesn't occasionally produce interesting effects, especially the hazy, claustrophobic climb out of the wrecked car. Then there's the blonde receptionist's come-hither look while exiting the room that almost had me leaving my chair to follow. Note, however, how the the subjective eye of the camera alters traditional assumptions about movie acting . When Marlowe grills Adrienne Fromsett (Totter), the camera doesn't cut back and forth in routine conversational style. Rather the camera stays on Totter the entire time Marlowe eyeballs her. Thus, Totter has to perform uninterrupted for an extended period in which any false note or exaggeration gets magnified; at the same time, flaws cannot be finessed in the editing process. Rather, the whole scene has to be re-shot. Though the players do well enough, I suspect the novel technique was not popular.

If the movie fails, it's at least an honorable failure. Then again, the talented Montgomery bounced back in his next dual effort Ride the Pink Horse (1948), a gripping noir expertly acted and directed. Apparently, appropriate lessons were learned from this disappointing initial effort.

Shatteringly clumsy and agonizingly inept treatment of a Chandler story, totally lacking in style, variety and excitement. First impressions, for once, can be trusted: the disastrous opening scene in which Marlowe sits at his desk and *addresses the camera* gives you an utterly correct impression of the kind of cinematic screw-up you are in for. Next disaster: Robert Montgomery is a wholly uninteresting and un-charismatic actor whose attempts to portray the fast-talking, back-chatting Marlowe frequently come across as merely nasty. Failure Number Three is the ludicrous decision to film the entire story as a series of 'point-of-view' shots, giving us a 'Marlowe's-eye-view' of what little there is to see (Don't miss the bit where Marlowe crawls on his hands and knees - and we see the backs of his hands - before going on to use a telephone - when, gosh, we find ourselves looking at a telephone...). The two-fold pointlessness of the continual P.O.V. beggars belief: first, because it throws the weight on supporting players whose third-rate skills cannot carry it; second, because the fact that we have to watch a series of long, unbroken, unvaried, UNINTERESTING takes - in which whoever Marlowe is talking to simply faces the camera 'square-on' and talks 'back' to it - make vast stretches of the film UNBEARABLY TEDIOUS to watch and the details incredibly difficult to take in. Directors don't cut, employ 'reverse angles', reaction shots, profiles and so on for no reason. Fourth problem: removing Marlowe almost entirely from the visible action removes a lot of useful possibilities and adds PRECISELY NONE. Fifth problem: when Marlowe *is* actually visible, all we see is some lug talking to the camera - whereas a 'voice-over' would at least let us see something *different* happening. And why angle the story as a 'solve-it-yourself' mystery when *everyone* tries hard to work out a Chandler plot anyway? All in all, the results are so abysmal that one asks oneself how it could possibly have come to be done that way. Well, here are my suggestions. First, Bogart is a tough act to follow: by putting Marlowe out of view here, someone must have thought they were avoiding unfortunate comparisons. Second, look who the director is: yes, it's wooden leading man Robert Montgomery, who plainly can't see how bad his direction is when he's acting, and won't see (or hear) how bad his acting is when he's directing. Someone has bitten off more than they can chew - and this is the result: an unwatchable, saggy mess that manages to be significantly less interesting than 90 minutes spent putting your books in alphabetical order.