La dame du lac

For a suspense writer whose observations of mid-20th-century Los Angeles proved so gimlet-eyed that he has been enshrined as the city's unofficial bard, Raymond Chandler had a bumpy fling with Hollywood. The first of his five major novels to be filmed during the classic period of film noir, Farewell, My Lovely was first turned into an installment in the Falcon series of programmers, then into Edward Dmytryk's 1944 Murder, My Sweet (a success, but too short; to do justice to Chandler's atmospherics and milieu demands longer time spans than the movies allot them).

From 1946, probably the most adroit blending of style and content taken from his works was Howard Hawks' The Big Sleep. But its popularity, then and now, owes as much to the chemistry between Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall – and to the frisky, irreverent tone Hawks brought to the movie – as to Chandler, whose outlook was one of dispassionate observation tinged with disgust.

The following year, The Brasher Doubloon, from the book The High Window, can be deemed a failure. That leaves the odd case of The Lady in the Lake, also from ‘47, which Robert Montgomery, starring as Philip Marlowe, ill-advisedly decided to direct himself. The movie labors under two huge handicaps: one of technique, the other of tone.

Cited often (and often by those who may not have actually seen the movie) for its subjective use of the-camera-as-character, The Lady in The Lake flounders on an idea that may have sounded good when initially floated but had to have looked bad once the first rushes came in.

Except for an explanatory prologue (the necessity for which should have raised red flags) or in scenes where he's caught in a window or mirror, Montgomery's Marlowe remains unseen. We, through the camera lens, are the detective. Conceivably, this gimmick might have worked at a later date, when swift, lithe Steadicams were part of Hollywood's technical arsenal. But in1947, the camera lumbers along as though it were being shoved through wet sand. As a result the pace slows to deadening, as though a senescent Marlowe were tracking down clues from the rail of an aluminum walker.

In consequence, time that might profitably been expended on filling in missing pieces of the puzzle gets wasted on Marlowe's getting from point A to point B. Vital and evocative parts of Chandler's novel take place in the summer resort areas of Puma Point and Little Fawn Lake; that snail of a camera, however, was not up to a hike in the great outdoors, so the movie preserves none of them.

And in tossing away chunks of the novels to accommodate budgets and shooting schedules, movie versions (like this one) mistake Chandler's strengths, which did not lay in plot. (The scriptwriters on The Big Sleep, including William Faulkner, couldn't figure out who killed one of the characters, so they asked Chandler, who didn't know either.)

His strengths were in weaving intricate webs of duplicity and deceit shot through with corruption and dread. That was heavy fare for Hollywood – even during the noir cycle. So stories tended to be simplified and atmosphere lightened: the freighted response gave way to the wisecrack, suggestive tension between two characters turned into a meet-cute, the brooding loner became a red-blooded American joe.

So, in The Lady in The Lake, the icy and questionable Adrienne Fromsett of the book (Audrey Totter) is now a sassy minx to Marlowe's snappy man-about-town, and so on. The plot deals with Marlowe's attempts to find a missing woman (an off-screen character whom the Christmas-card credits, in a droll fit of Francophone humor, call Ellay Mort).

Is a verdict possible? Some viewers find the movie's conceits and distortions amateurish and self-congratulating, while others overlook them to find a vintage mystery from postwar vaults. The Lady in The Lake remains a flawed experiment that over the years has developed its own distinctive – if not quite distinguished – period bouquet.

As confusing a plot as any Chandler novel might be, The Lady in the Lake screenplay is full of some interesting twists, film noir staples, and a unique point of view. The viewer sees only what the protagonist Phillip Marlowe sees - and just the way he sees it! Yes, at first I thought this novelty was interesting, but eventually it lost its allure and started hurting the actual story - of course this may have been purposely done. The story starts with Marlowe sitting in an armchair telling us about this crazy case of his that creeps up in suspense. A book editor hires Marlowe to find her boss's wife. After that, who knows? Joking aside, I have a vague idea about what the eventual outcome of the film was - but have no complete account to be sure. Bob Montgomery plays the detective and I think his performance hurts the film the most. He isn't bad, but he isn't real good either. After seeing Bogie in Murder My Sweet, my expectations were too high I suppose. Montgomery does a workmanlike job if nothing else, but he plays one crabby private dick! He is all sour and no sweet. Bogart at least always had a high level of humour indirectly laced throughout his performance. He was a layered character - something film noir heroes strive to be. Montgomery's Marlowe is just cantankerous and crabby. We see only one side. The rest of the cast is okay - Lloyd Nolan gives a pretty good performance. The main "doll," Audrey Totter is a pretty accessory who overacts quite a bit. Nothing real special here, but certainly I recommend it for its film novelty if nothing else.

I recently saw this at the 2008 Palm Springs Film Noir Festival. Popular actor Robert Montgomery branches out into directing in this Film Noir from 1947 with mixed results. Using a subjective camera technique, Montgemery stars as detective Phillip Marlowe in a film shot from Marlowes point of view and is rarely on screen himself except for occasional mirror reflections and in a few scenes where he relates the story directly to the camera. This POV technique for an entire film can be demanding on the actors who talk to a disembodied camera instead of an actor and can wear thin on an audience after a while but although I did like the film, I can see why others may not. Based on the the Raymond Chandler novel with a screenplay by Steve Fisher who enjoyed success in the Film Noir genre with several film screenplays it has some good witty lines. The film begins with Christmas carols and the opening credits on Chrismas cards and it does take place on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day but that's the only thing Christmasy about it. It wasn't even released for Christmas and make it's debut in theaters in late January of 1947. Marlowe is set to give up his private eye career and become a writer instead and submits his first manuscript to an agency specializing in pulp fiction and horror stories. Adrienne Fromsett (Audrey Totter) isn't interested in Marlowe's literary talents and instead want to hire him to find out what happened to the missing estranged wife of her boss Derace Kingsby (Leon Ames). Totter's expressions, emotions, wit and beauty make a strong camera presence carry the film. Tom Tully as Cpt. Kane and Lloyd Nolan as Lt. DeGarmot make an excellent good cop-bad cop combination. Dick Simmons as Chris Lavery is excellent in a small role and Jayne Meadows as the mysterious Mildred Haveland is superb in her rapid-fire delivery. Meadows herself was on hand for the film's screening at the festival and did a Q&A for the audience after the screening in which she said she had never seen the film before even when it was first released. Beautiful blonde bit part actress Lila Leeds was only 18 years old when this was filmed in May of 1946 and was probably being groomed by MGM as the next Marilyn Monroe but in 1948 she was arrested along with Robert Mitchum for marijuana possession and as a community service part of her sentence she was given a staring role in the 1949 anti-drug film "Wild Weed." It would be her only starring role and at age 21 her film career was over. Look for great costumes on the actresses in this film by noted designer Irene. There are no location shots in this film and we never make to the lake and only learn of events that happen up there. It's an all-around strange film but a great cast and I would give it a 7.5 out of 10 and recommend it.

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.

I saw this film on TMC on Christmas Eve 2000. I thought it was pretty interesting. The first first-person film I've ever seen. It really caught the first-person POV with which Chandler wrote the novel. I loved Marlowe, wise-cracking, one-liners ("Do you fall in love with all of your clients? Only the ones in skirts.") I thought the director handled the camera very well, with the mirrors to show the first-person perspective. I like it a lot. Great noir! Kept me riveted.