The Madonna's Secret (1946)
Jul. 9th, 2011 01:18 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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classicfilmLast year, I bought the first Film Noir Reader and set out to watch the noir canon. I didn't get very far before getting distracted, but the idea has been rattling around in my brain ever since. Noir isn't really a genre, particularly not one defined by plot content, and it wasn't a movement; nobody making noirs at the time would have called them that. Even defining what noir is is tricky, never mind figuring out which films count. Everybody watches the dozen most famous films and stops there. Bogie, private eyes, and a bad ending: That's noir, right?
Well, sure, that's one thing noir was, but there are noirs that aren't about cops and PIs at all, and lots of them don't star any big names. Tons of them were short, trashy B movies nobody watches these days, and I think that's a pity. That's why I picked The Madonna's Secret. It's not really very good, but it provides a great look at what was going on in the styles of the time. (Ok, ok, I confess: it's also quite short and available on Netflix instant view. Ahem.)
The Madonna's Secret is a Republic noir. I've seen some reviews talking about how it could pass for an A picture, and the lighting and sets are certainly quite nice. The acting, however has not aged so well. There are moments when real emotions slip through, particularly in the darker parts, but most of the movie has the wooden, mannered delivery that makes so many old movies unwatchable to a modern audience. It could really have used more scenery chewing and less romance.
The plot meanders rather a lot before it gets to the point. In some ways, I think this weakens the film, but it also provides some of the more interesting moments, and the actual villain is so transparently obvious that--but I'll get to that in a moment.
We open on an art gallery where a dapper gentleman is examining a haunting portrait of a lady. Like Laura, she appears to be made up of paints daubed over a photo. Her haunting face mesmerizes the viewer. Yadda yadda. The gentleman becomes obsessed with finding out who the girl in the painting is; he's sure he's seen her before. After some exposition and finding out he's a theater critic, he finds his way to the model, who looks nothing like the portrait. This sends him back to the artist who, five years before, was tried and acquitted for the murder of his fiancee and model. Dun, dun, DUN! The critic corners the artist in a cafe where a beautiful singer is performing with a knife thrower. The artist is drawing a doodle of her being killed. The theater critic turns out to have stalked him in Paris and tried to convince everyone of his guilt. None of this--not the critic, not the doodle, and not the stage show--will be remotely important to the rest of the movie. In this section, we also meet the artist's doting mother.
The mother did it.
Seriously, I defy any genre savvy viewer to watch this movie now and not realize what's going on within seconds of her appearing on screen. How are there reviews that call the twist ending a surprise? This is not a spoiler. This is a function of having seen any movie since 1946!
Next, the artist finally realizes his current model loves him, paints a picture with her face for once, and asks her on a date. But then--horrors--as he gazes at his original portrait of his dead fiance, a woman's voice calls out to him to send her away for her own protection. I originally thought this was Mom playing freaky games, but she doesn't do anything like that in the rest of the film, so I have no idea. Maybe when you stare at a portrait of Laura too long, you start to hear things. And this guy doesn't just have one painting of his dead love, oh no, the entire studio is covered with different ones, each with the haunting paints-on-photo Laura look.
Of course, the model turns up dead, so now he has the theater critic and the police persecuting him, plus his creepy studio of Laura portraits is made creepier by the portrait of dead love #2 and the original portrait fo dead love #1 (the titular The Madonna's Secret) facing each other. It's no wonder this guy is going batty standing between those two paintings! There is an interesting digression where the theater critic explains to the police that the artist kills to fuel his muse. It's all very interesting and psychological and promptly ignored for the rest of the movie.
Now the plot thickens: The critic has dug up dead model #2's sister and sent her along as a plant. I was guffawing as soon as this happened. A best friend would be one thing, but would a portrait painter really not notice the similar bone structure and guess exactly who she was? Our intrepid idiot tries to look at the portrait of her sister, but the artist sends her into another room to change so he can rifle through her purse where he finds a pistol. Props to our heroine for packing heat. Less so for leaving it around where it won't do her any good.
The artist, I assume guessing why she's really there, unveils the portrait and turns it to face the door. She comes back in and sees it. Gasp! Reaction shot! Creepy questioning from the artist! If I thought the room of dead lady portraits was funny before, it's hilarious here. The movie plays it absolutely straight, which makes it even funnier.
Anyhow, a lot of forgettable filler happens where the artist makes creepy faces and intrepid idiot looks blank or writes in her diary about how she hates him for his evil, murderous ways. (This is accompanied by both voiceover and shots of the writing itself. Just in case you were worried that those were missing from a movie with this much noir lighting and portraits of dead ladies.) Eventually, he takes her out in his boat and demands that she ask him what she wants to know. At this point, he reveals that her bone structure did indeed give her away (My god, the first bit of sensible writing in this whole movie!) and throws her gun in the Hudson.
Having not been murdered, I gather intrepid idiot is now in love with him, so along comes a femme fatale to disrupt their happiness. I adore Ella. She pursues the artist until he gives in, insinuates herself into his life as his new model, proposes marriage, and generally steals the scene and hams it up at every opportunity. Naturally, she gets offed too. The artist comes home from turning down her proposal and falls asleep on his couch where he writhes sweatily. Every good noir needs a heavy-handed dream sequence, and here it is. His dead loves drift before him, and he pushes them into the water with maniacal glee. He wakes up convinced he's repressed the memory of killing them--just in time for the police to arrest him for the latest murder.
But intrepid idiot convinces him not to give up hope! She will fight for him no matter what! She leaves with his mother (to the screams of the aforementioned genre savvy viewers) and he lolls about his cell. This allows for some lovely noir lighting and a lot of voices echoing in his head as he comes to a Terrible Realization. Meanwhile, Mother is finally revealing just where he got the creepy stare and wooden line delivery from. The police rush in at the last instant and shoot her, providing the Hayes code with at least one dead bad guy to justify this whole meandering plot and all of the vague implications of incestuous feelings. The movie ends with the artist reciting Romans 13:12 over a shot of himself and intrepid idiot gazing happily into the distance as the sun literally rises in the background.
And some pictures of pictures of dead ladies:
My overall verdict: Freud soup with a great lighting director.
What are your favorite noirs? What dead lady portrait movie should I watch next?
Does anybody else have the Film Noir Reader series? (I highly recommend them.) Any other favorite books and blogs on noir?
I think this particular "gem" is ripe for remaking, preferably with a more naturalistic acting style and more focus on the supposed serial killer motive. Do you have any classic noirs you'd love to see them remake? And what's up with that Johnny Depp Thin Man? (Can we hope it will be more like a faithful adaptation of the novel and less like a hideous murdering of the movies?)
Well, sure, that's one thing noir was, but there are noirs that aren't about cops and PIs at all, and lots of them don't star any big names. Tons of them were short, trashy B movies nobody watches these days, and I think that's a pity. That's why I picked The Madonna's Secret. It's not really very good, but it provides a great look at what was going on in the styles of the time. (Ok, ok, I confess: it's also quite short and available on Netflix instant view. Ahem.)
The Madonna's Secret is a Republic noir. I've seen some reviews talking about how it could pass for an A picture, and the lighting and sets are certainly quite nice. The acting, however has not aged so well. There are moments when real emotions slip through, particularly in the darker parts, but most of the movie has the wooden, mannered delivery that makes so many old movies unwatchable to a modern audience. It could really have used more scenery chewing and less romance.
The plot meanders rather a lot before it gets to the point. In some ways, I think this weakens the film, but it also provides some of the more interesting moments, and the actual villain is so transparently obvious that--but I'll get to that in a moment.
We open on an art gallery where a dapper gentleman is examining a haunting portrait of a lady. Like Laura, she appears to be made up of paints daubed over a photo. Her haunting face mesmerizes the viewer. Yadda yadda. The gentleman becomes obsessed with finding out who the girl in the painting is; he's sure he's seen her before. After some exposition and finding out he's a theater critic, he finds his way to the model, who looks nothing like the portrait. This sends him back to the artist who, five years before, was tried and acquitted for the murder of his fiancee and model. Dun, dun, DUN! The critic corners the artist in a cafe where a beautiful singer is performing with a knife thrower. The artist is drawing a doodle of her being killed. The theater critic turns out to have stalked him in Paris and tried to convince everyone of his guilt. None of this--not the critic, not the doodle, and not the stage show--will be remotely important to the rest of the movie. In this section, we also meet the artist's doting mother.
The mother did it.
Seriously, I defy any genre savvy viewer to watch this movie now and not realize what's going on within seconds of her appearing on screen. How are there reviews that call the twist ending a surprise? This is not a spoiler. This is a function of having seen any movie since 1946!
Next, the artist finally realizes his current model loves him, paints a picture with her face for once, and asks her on a date. But then--horrors--as he gazes at his original portrait of his dead fiance, a woman's voice calls out to him to send her away for her own protection. I originally thought this was Mom playing freaky games, but she doesn't do anything like that in the rest of the film, so I have no idea. Maybe when you stare at a portrait of Laura too long, you start to hear things. And this guy doesn't just have one painting of his dead love, oh no, the entire studio is covered with different ones, each with the haunting paints-on-photo Laura look.
Of course, the model turns up dead, so now he has the theater critic and the police persecuting him, plus his creepy studio of Laura portraits is made creepier by the portrait of dead love #2 and the original portrait fo dead love #1 (the titular The Madonna's Secret) facing each other. It's no wonder this guy is going batty standing between those two paintings! There is an interesting digression where the theater critic explains to the police that the artist kills to fuel his muse. It's all very interesting and psychological and promptly ignored for the rest of the movie.
Now the plot thickens: The critic has dug up dead model #2's sister and sent her along as a plant. I was guffawing as soon as this happened. A best friend would be one thing, but would a portrait painter really not notice the similar bone structure and guess exactly who she was? Our intrepid idiot tries to look at the portrait of her sister, but the artist sends her into another room to change so he can rifle through her purse where he finds a pistol. Props to our heroine for packing heat. Less so for leaving it around where it won't do her any good.
The artist, I assume guessing why she's really there, unveils the portrait and turns it to face the door. She comes back in and sees it. Gasp! Reaction shot! Creepy questioning from the artist! If I thought the room of dead lady portraits was funny before, it's hilarious here. The movie plays it absolutely straight, which makes it even funnier.
Anyhow, a lot of forgettable filler happens where the artist makes creepy faces and intrepid idiot looks blank or writes in her diary about how she hates him for his evil, murderous ways. (This is accompanied by both voiceover and shots of the writing itself. Just in case you were worried that those were missing from a movie with this much noir lighting and portraits of dead ladies.) Eventually, he takes her out in his boat and demands that she ask him what she wants to know. At this point, he reveals that her bone structure did indeed give her away (My god, the first bit of sensible writing in this whole movie!) and throws her gun in the Hudson.
Having not been murdered, I gather intrepid idiot is now in love with him, so along comes a femme fatale to disrupt their happiness. I adore Ella. She pursues the artist until he gives in, insinuates herself into his life as his new model, proposes marriage, and generally steals the scene and hams it up at every opportunity. Naturally, she gets offed too. The artist comes home from turning down her proposal and falls asleep on his couch where he writhes sweatily. Every good noir needs a heavy-handed dream sequence, and here it is. His dead loves drift before him, and he pushes them into the water with maniacal glee. He wakes up convinced he's repressed the memory of killing them--just in time for the police to arrest him for the latest murder.
But intrepid idiot convinces him not to give up hope! She will fight for him no matter what! She leaves with his mother (to the screams of the aforementioned genre savvy viewers) and he lolls about his cell. This allows for some lovely noir lighting and a lot of voices echoing in his head as he comes to a Terrible Realization. Meanwhile, Mother is finally revealing just where he got the creepy stare and wooden line delivery from. The police rush in at the last instant and shoot her, providing the Hayes code with at least one dead bad guy to justify this whole meandering plot and all of the vague implications of incestuous feelings. The movie ends with the artist reciting Romans 13:12 over a shot of himself and intrepid idiot gazing happily into the distance as the sun literally rises in the background.
And some pictures of pictures of dead ladies:
My overall verdict: Freud soup with a great lighting director.
What are your favorite noirs? What dead lady portrait movie should I watch next?
Does anybody else have the Film Noir Reader series? (I highly recommend them.) Any other favorite books and blogs on noir?
I think this particular "gem" is ripe for remaking, preferably with a more naturalistic acting style and more focus on the supposed serial killer motive. Do you have any classic noirs you'd love to see them remake? And what's up with that Johnny Depp Thin Man? (Can we hope it will be more like a faithful adaptation of the novel and less like a hideous murdering of the movies?)