Paramount Pictures, 108m 48s
"Wickedness
abounds...it's as universal as love."
—Mark
Bellis
Film noir
might be the most contested genre in cinema history in regard to what accounts
for its composition, or what might constitute the best examples and why. Every
now and then a casual movie fan asks me, "What is film noir, anyway?" I never know where to begin, and I doubt
if I ever have answered the question the same way twice. Yet the hallmarks of
the noir structure are easy enough to
discern, as they are in SO EVIL MY LOVE,
a so-called "gaslight noir"
set in Victorian London. A dialectical opposition between classes contributes
to a darkly ironic, fatalistic atmosphere where conditions for mutual human
benefit do not seem to exist. People of virtue appear to be rare commodities,
and true to form for any noir
permutation, the past maintains a tight hammerlock on the present. As directed
with fastidious care by Lewis Allen, perhaps the most prominent noir theme that distinguishes SO EVIL MY LOVE is the psychological
anguish that comes to torture its major characters.
On
a ship bound for Liverpool, a missionary's widow named Olivia Harwood (Ann
Todd) fatefully encounters Mark Bellis (shifty-eyed Ray Milland), a delirious
malarial patient who lives off women. Sought by police on three continents, his
essence is revealed early when he learns of Olivia's inherited property, a
revelation that causes him to perk up before he instinctively shields his face
from area law enforcement. An eminently predatory male, Mark's behavioral
mechanisms are energized by greed and self-preservation, nothing more. He
becomes a lodger at Olivia's bed and breakfast in Kensington, where he relies
heavily on his practiced skills as a player to develop a parasitic attachment
to the vulnerable blonde widow. Olivia soon finds herself trapped in a
situation in which Mark constantly asks more of her, despite the fact she is
not a wealthy woman. She is betrayed by her own persistent feelings for the
despicable trickster.
In
an inversion of the idealized likeness theme so common in film noir that followed LAURA
(1944), Mark's painting of Olivia works to awaken her missed opportunities. She looks at her portrait and sees only unrealized
potential. That nagging feeling of disappointment works in favor of Mark's
agenda as he reminds her a lifetime of giving to others has done nothing to enrich
her own life. He skillfully inculcates her with a sense of entitlement. That
coupled with Mark's immutable appetite for money consistently coerces Olivia
into making bad decisions, even though she only desired togetherness. The piano
instructor Miss Shoebridge (Muriel Aked), a troglodyte tenant who leaves the
Harwood house in a huff, suspects Olivia is possessed by the devil. Could
be—Mark's acts of deception know no boundaries. After Olivia steals financial
assets due to intense encouragement from Mark, he boldly hides 40% of the
income realized from the sale!
A
man of multiple identities (Mark, Robert, Gilbert, Kenneth), always the badge
of the noir cad, the homme fatale
Mark recalls similarly odious film noir
schemers such as Charlie Oakley (Joseph Cotten) in SHADOW OF A DOUBT (1943) and Ronnie Mason (Zachary Scott) in DANGER SIGNAL (1945). Though a painter
of some talent, Mark has no qualms about stealing paintings and eventually
overcomes his reluctance to sell imitations of famous artists. In a speech that
lays the groundwork for art forgery, Mark expresses concern that appreciation
for art is locked in achievements of long ago. He thinks it highly unlikely a
new artist could be discussed alongside the accepted greats, and even if it
happened, the best one could hope for is posthumous acclaim. That accounts for
his somewhat uneasy criminal allegiance with Edgar Bellamy (Raymond Lovell). It
is never revealed exactly what past events bind Mark with Edgar, though it is
inferred if one goes to the gallows, so does the other.
Much
of film noir is grounded in a cynical
assumption about human nature: people
like Mark derive a satisfying sense of superiority through manipulation and
control of others. Henry Courtney, Esq. (Raymond Huntley), a tyrannical purveyor
of entrenched patriarchal values, is another such individual, especially with
the added presence of his icy mother (Martita Hunt). An annoyingly
condescending and chauvinistic husband, he threatens to commit his troubled
wife Susan Courtney (Geraldine Fitzgerald) to a sanatorium. Susan is a jittery
neurotic in desperate need of a helpful support network, but probably not the
sort her husband has in mind. She shows her humanity when she scrapes up twenty
pounds for Olivia, but of course the funding is turned over to Mark in short
order. Unable to provide her husband an heir (probably through no biological
fault of her own, though Henry's potency is called into question), Susan
progresses from a fragile psychological state to borderline madness, thanks mostly
to the combined efforts of a domineering husband and a false friend. Everyone
who should care for her turns on her. The indifferent noir universe really has
it in for Susan, shown to be on unsteady ground when we first meet her, and
unable to stand by the film's final act. She even comes to believe those who
see guilt in her must be correct.
SO EVIL MY LOVE is
steeped in moral ambiguity, with no character dramatically better than another.
The dynamic between Henry and Olivia illustrates that notion perfectly. Henry
hires Olivia to keep a watchful eye on the dipsomaniacal Susan, but ironically
his incessant cruelty intensifies Olivia's allegiance with Mark as she removes
valuables from the Courtney estate. When she seemingly seizes the upper hand
against Henry, Olivia relates her unprecedented feeling of empowerment to Mark: "It was a wonderful sensation. I've
never had it before." Such are the words of a woman long accustomed to
patriarchy as society's dominant ideology. Interestingly, Henry expresses only
mild annoyance when confronted with her £5000 blackmail attempt. In the film noir, to exert or absorb such
pressures is to be expected of everyone concerned.
The
concluding sequence implies female sacrifice is necessary to topple entrenched
patriarchal power, even in a house of worsening male health. That takes "a
brave woman" according to the private investigator Jarvis (Leo G. Carroll),
who serves as the morality mouthpiece ("...the things you'd find in the
most respectable neighborhood you'd be surprised..."). The impotent
barrister Henry embodies aristocratic decay, the mean man with (naturally) a
weak heart, chronic sickness clinging to power. It is worth noting Henry
actually outwits Olivia's blackmail maneuver; it is her physical vitality that
leads to his defeat, not her prep work. As for Mark, his shallow woman on the
side Kitty Feathers (Moira Lister) unknowingly activates his comeuppance.
Through the return of an item originally owned by Susan, Olivia learns the hard
truth: the widow has been both victim
and victimizer. The narrative's power struggle triggers mental trauma episodes
that recall the type of psychological hell promised for wrongdoers in the
nightmarish conclusion of Fritz Lang's SCARLET
STREET (1945). Mark questions everything about himself and Olivia is
plagued by deeds that cannot be undone. Far worse off is Susan, left in the
wreckage of one of film noir's many
fruitless marriages. Though the most reprehensible men of the film are unable
to avoid the sting of retribution, the all-male jury that judges Susan reflects
an aging last bastion of male privilege unlikely to go quietly.
 |
| Die by the sword |
 |
| To topple patriarchy, a woman must fall |
An
Anglo-American co-production between Paramount's Hal Wallis Productions and
Denham Studios in England, SO EVIL MY
LOVE is an adaptation of the 1947 novel FOR HER TO SEE by Gabrielle
Margaret Vere Campbell Long (published under the pseudonym Joseph Shearing).
Certain plot elements may have been derived from the unsolved death of
barrister Charles Bravo in 1876, as well as the death of Cesar Young in 1905.
The pleasingly literate screenplay was written by Ronald Millar and Leonard
Spigelgass. Cinematographer Mutz Greenbaum's virtuosity with camera placement
is apparent at all times; there is a logical elegance to the simplicity of
coverage that breezes effortlessly through a world of endless deceit.
The
Kino Lorber dual-layered Blu-ray edition released recently serves up a new 2K
master and looks very good in motion, various scratches be damned. Framing is
approximately 1.38:1. The disc includes a new audio commentary track from
incisive film historian Imogen Sara Smith, who appraises classic film as well
as anyone. For an old-school film fan like me, one must come prepared with a
quality pen and a lot of paper when Smith is talking; there is much to note.
One of her best findings is that none of the many transgressions seem justified
or are likely to evoke a sympathetic response from the viewer, yet somehow one
is able to empathize with the principal characters, however unappealing they
may be. Indeed the film noir
specializes in the presentation of such patterns of criminal behavior. Part of
the package is a level playing field; the lower class is depicted no better
than the upper class in terms of a moral compass. Also according to Smith, the film noir under review provides a rare
glimpse into a relationship between women with its "...believable if ugly
portrait of female friendship..."
A
trailer gallery includes the featured film and several other related titles
available from the ever-reliable Kino Lorber.
