La femme à l'écharpe pailletée

The File on Thelma Jordon is directed by Robert Siodmak and written by Ketti Frings and Marty Holland. It stars Barbara Stanwyck, Wendell Corey, Paul Kelly, Joan Tetzel, Stanley Ridges and Richard Rober. Music is by Victor Young and cinematography by George Barnes.

Assistant district attorney Cleve Marshall (Corey) falls for Thelma Jordon (Stanwyck) after she seeks help solving a problem with prowlers and burglars. But is there more to Thelma than meets the eye?

Probably due to availability issues in home viewing formats, this appears to be one of film noir legends Siodmak and Stanwyck's under seen pictures. Which is a shame, for although it is often tagged as something of a lesser value Double Indemnity, it's a noir that noir lovers can get great rewards from.

As we are in noirville the plot isn't at all surprising. Stanwyck fronts up for what we expect is femme fatale duty, Corey looks to be on course for being a hapless loser dude, Kelly is up for some tough copper portrayal, while Rober stalks the edges of the frame as bad news bloke. A despicable crime is at the core of the story, and characterisations are straight out of the dark alleyway (Thelma has murky secrets and ideals, Wendell is unhappily married with a drink problem). Running at 100 minutes in length, the pic does feel a touch too long, especially given that the first thirty minutes is focused on building the principal players, where they are at in their life and the build up of their relationship. This asks for faith in staying with the piece, in hope it rewards for the following hour plus. Thankfully it does.

As the crime arrives, we are treated to noir nirvana as per style of film making. It's the middle of the night in a house menaced by shadows as the wind bashes an open window shutter. For a good twenty minutes, prior to - during - and post the crime, the house is a scary monstrous place, perfect for a dark deed to be enacted. The great Siodmak (The Killers, The Spiral Staircase, Criss Cross) is in his element on this, where aided by the superb photographic skills of Barnes (Rebecca, Force of Evil), the staging of scenes and the visuals enhance the moody machinations of the plot. As does Young's dramatic musical score. So with acting performances comfortably on par for the good, the tech credits are high.

Irks come with that drawn out first third of film, and the ending poses some question marks as well. Personally I would have liked it to have finished five minutes earlier, but as it stands there's a sort of double whammy with the finale. Some will find it contrived, others will applaud the ultimate outcome since it doesn't cop out. Either way, this is a noir film worthy of seeking out for the like minded purveyors of such things. 7/10

The Assistant District Attorney Cleve Marshall (Wendell Corey) has an unhappy marriage with his wife Pamela Blackwell Marshall (Joan Tetzel) due to the interference of her father, Judge Calvin H. Blackwell (Minor Watson). He decides to drink in his office after hours instead of going to the birthday party of Pamela. Out of the blue, a woman named Thelma Jordon (Barbara Stanwyck) arrives at the office looking for Cleve's boss to report an attempt of robbery of her wealthy Aunt Vera Edwards (Gertrude W. Hoffman) and she ends the night drinking and dancing with Cleve in a restaurant. Soon they have a love affair and Cleve falls in love with Thelma. But he does not know anything about the past of the mysterious Thelma. When Aunt Vera is murdered at home, Thelma calls Cleve to help her since she would be the prime suspect of shooting her aunt. He covers up the evidences that might link Thelma to the death becoming her accomplice and is assigned to be the prosecutor of her judgment. What will happen to Thelma and Cleve?

"The File on Thelma Jordon" is a fine film-noir directed by the master Robert Siodmak. Barbara Stanwyck performs the typical femme fatale, seducing the assistant DA Cleve Marshall and destroying his life. The moralist conclusion could have been better but the film is worthwhile watching. My vote is eight.

Title (Brazil): "A Confissão de Thelma" ("The Confession of Thelma Jordon")

Wendell Corey had a long career in film and television. In this film he plays Cleve Marshall, an assistant DA who is staying late at the office to avoid going home on his anniversary because his father-in-law (Minor Watson) is there.

While he knocking back shots as fast as he can pour them, in walks Thelma Jordan (Barbara Stanwyck) looking for help. Now, one would certainly be suspicious if a beauty like that immediately began a relationship, but our intrepid hero is too drunk to notice, and, after all, he wants to go out and find a dame.

He is no better the next day when his wife (Joan Tetzel) takes the kids to the beach house, and leaves him alone during the week.

As one would expect in film noir, everything is not as it seems. Cleve gets himself into hot water and uses all his wits to get out.

I have to admit the ending was a big surprise.

Perfectly decent noirish outing with excellent performance from Barbara Stanwyck, even if she has done much the same before. Small argument in my house where both my son and wife reckoned that the only problem was that they couldn't see the attraction of the femme fatale herself! I certainly beg to differ and feel most drawn to the feline duplicity of her sinister assuredness, but there we go. Even so a great tale that keeps twisting nicely so that even though you know she must be a baddie, the ever turning tale, especially when we get to court keeps you guessing. Wendell Corey is impressive as the assistant DA if not as a lover, but that's just me.

One of the noir cycle's best titles ushers in one of its better offerings. Barbara Stanwyck's assumption of the title role, of course, gives the picture a running start. She had worked with Billy Wilder – and helped to shape the cycle – in Double Indemnity, and was to work with Fritz Lang in Clash by Night and even Anthony Mann in The Furies (a western, yes, but a dark one), all key noir craftsmen. Here her director is the no less central Robert Siodmak, and her performances in this and the other titles cited (plus The Strange Love of Martha Ivers and at least five other suspense films of the 1940s and 1950s) cement her sobriquet as the First Lady of Film Noir.

Like her Martha Ivers, Stanwyck's Thelma Jordon has a wealthy old aunt (Gertrude Hoffman, who the next year in Caged would steal that movie from some very tough competition). One evening the niece strolls into the District Attorney's office with a story about prowlers and burglars (explaining that she bypassed the police because `My aunt is eccentric, and uniforms upset her'). She tells her tale to an inebriated assistant D.A., Wendell Corey, who's drinking to escape his embittered marriage. Stanwyck lends a sympathetic ear, and they start seeing one another on the sly.

When the aunt, inevitably, is found shot, Stanwyck calls not the police but Corey, and in a tense and extended scene of panic, he helps her cover up evidence that may incriminate her. When she emerges as the prime suspect, he also arranges for his boss to be disqualified, so he can sabotage the prosecution. Stanwyck (after a beautifully orchestrated processional from jail to courthouse) is acquitted. But her past has begun to catch up with her, complete with a shady lover who keeps turning up – and who shoves the compromised Corey out of the picture. But never trust a duplicitous woman, particularly if she's within easy reach of a dashboard cigarette lighter....

Siodmak (with Ketti Frings, who wrote the screenplay) starts the movie so slowly that it looks like it's going to shape up into a routine, adulterous triangle. But he's just laying his groundwork. He keeps Stanwyck behind ambiguous veils, too, stripping them off one by one. Corey proves just right as the dupe, the fall guy (as Fred MacMurray proved right in Double Indemnity); a skillful character actor who always submerged his own personality in the roles he played, he tended to look a little pallid in leading-man roles he took next to the female stars against whom he was pitted.

Siodmak may be the most ruminative of the great noir auteurs – he eschews flash for solid, patient construction. But when it's time for the big set-pieces (the nocturnal panic in the dark old mansion, the perp walk, the shocking flourish of violence at the end courtesy of Stanwyck and that cigarette lighter), he does them full justice. The File on Thelma Jordon falls just short of the summa-cum-laude distinction of his The Killers, and maybe of Criss Cross and even Christmas Holiday, too. But with Stanwyck's drawing upon the full fetch of her talents, it's an indispensable moment in the noir cycle.