There'll Be Masterpieces

Scarlet Street (Fritz Lang, 1945)

To distance myself from this year’s cinematic tripe, I sought a vintage film. A public domain title from a YouTube channel I subscribe to caught my eye; Fritz Lang’s film noir Scarlet Street (1945). There is a particular satisfaction in experiencing a film for the first time, especially one as old as Scarlet Street, which exceeds all expectations and predictions. Given the film’s focus on deception, it is ironic that it actually fooled me.

Chris Cross (Edward G. Robinson) is a middle-aged dreamer whose life feels unfulfilled. He would rather be a fine art painter than a cashier. His boss’s affair with a young woman further exacerbates his drudgery. He is also burdened by his domineering wife Adele (Rosalind Ivan) who idolises her late husband and is more interested in her radio show The Happy Household Hour. Returning home from a formal dinner party, Chris accidentally knocks out a mugger with his umbrella while rescuing Katherine ‘Kitty’ March (Joan Bennet*). Unbeknownst to Chris, the mugger is Kitty’s boyfriend Johnny Prince (Dan Duryea) who she conceals from him after persuading him not to report the attack to the police. Kitty presumes Chris is wealthy given his formal attire. She is also aware of his gullibility and sees potential in charming some money out of him. The hustle is set.

Edward G. Robinson portrays Chris Cross, a man experiencing a mid-life crisis, with remarkable authenticity. The character was already diminished to an impotent individual well before succumbing to the influence of Bennet’s femme fatale. His unhappy marriage has him reduced to doing all the domestic work in the home. To keep out of Adele's way, he's forced to do his weekend painting in the bathroom. In a notable scene, Chris is depicted wearing an impractical frilly apron as he carves liver for dinner. At that moment, Adele enters and interrogates him about his relationship with Kitty. Is his affair with Kitty rumbled? The camera zooms in on him as he stares at the knife in his hand. Robinson’s expression conveys the turmoil within his mind.

Similarly, Joan Bennet’s Kitty is another unfortunate individual; despite her deceitful nature she remains a victim. She is constantly abused by Johnny and her money is frequently stolen from her. Her appearance is merely a tool for her boyfriend to exploit on gullible men. Yet she is hopelessly in love with him, even addicted to his influence. Her cruel control over Chris is a reversal of her relationship with Johnny. Consequently, selling Chris’s lucrative paintings, even taking credit for them, highlights her indifference towards the hapless cashier. In the ultimate act of domination, when Chris asks her to paint her, she hands him a bottle of nail polish and raises her foot. “Paint me, Chris! Obligingly, he stoops to one knee and paints her toes. Like a cat with cream, she declares “They’ll be masterpieces.” In that moment I both admired Joan Bennet’s performance and wished for a fitting consequence for her character.

Dan Duryea’s portrayal of Johnny Prince should not be underestimated. His dominance over Kitty and dependency on money completes the ménage à trois of deception. Kitty is thus a tool for him to exploit. However, he is intelligent enough to be aware that Chris is the golden goose in the love triangle. Without him there is no fancy pad, fast car and wads of cash. Duryea’s conman is a compelling character. Initially he pretends to be a boyfriend of Kitty’s friend Millie Ray (Margaret Lindsay) but Chris has his suspicions. These are proven correct when he encounters Kitty and Johnny in a loving embrace which effectively triggers the film’s chilling direction.

Scarlet Street was not the first adaptation of Georges de La Fouchardière’s 1929 novel La Chienne (translating to English as The Bitch). That honour would go to the French dramatist André Mouëzy-Éon’s 1930 stage play. Jean Renoir would adapt it for film the following year. Scarlet Street was a reunion for its three main actors and director, as they had all worked together the previous year on The Woman in the Window (1944). Scarlet Street shares many similarities with its earlier French counterpart, although it had to adhere to the Hays Code at the time. Consequently, the professions of its two con artists were made considerably more vague including Edward G. Robinson’s. The film was still banned in some states. Having recently watched Renoir’s film, I find Scarlet Street considerably superior. 

The subplot involving Adele’s first husband is a notable element of Renoir’s La Chienne that surpasses Lang’s remake. It is less awkwardly introduced in Renoir’s film. However, this is not sufficient reason to choose it over Scarlet Street. Lang’s film is superior in every other department; better direction, superior acting, beautifully photographed scenes and no jarring time jumps. Furthermore, Lang draws upon his German Expressionist roots in the final ten minutes, veering into psychological horror territory. This is surprisingly downbeat given the era and beyond the black comedy of Renoir's original. In conclusion, only the most pretentious of cinephiles would opt for La Chienne over Scarlet Street. The cinematic equivalent of someone preferring Bob Dylan’s All Along the Watchtower over Jimi Hendrix’s superior cover.

Scarlet Street is a highly engaging film noir from Fritz Lang. It shifts between comedy and melodrama at times before concluding in Poe-esque horror. A cautionary morality tale at its core, it features a particularly early scene where the superstitious Cross is the third to have his cigar lit with the same match. Despite crossing his fingers, it spells doom for all of Lang’s characters. While one might escape justice, no one escapes their fate. An excellent film.

 *Didn't realise Joan Bennet was Madame Blanc in Dario Argento's Suspiria (1977) until now.