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Laura is a movie that sets up an interesting mystery and steps all over it. It’s not the most unexpected thing for a classic film noir, which typically had levels of convolution that could only be matched by soap operas. But still, there’s something I find disheartening to how this movie, directed by Otto Preminger in 1944 after a lengthy battle for it with Fox head Darryl F. Zanuck, unfolds its’ mystery with a twist that makes the whole affair far less compelling than it should have been -indeed that it was. And I will have to reveal that twist, which happens at about the films’ midpoint, in order to discuss the movie properly.
Laura is alive. The mystery surrounding her death is a matter of mistaken identity -it was her secretary who took the bullet for her. And now she accompanies the detective, who has been falling in love with her memory, onto the case of who tried to kill her but failed. As usual when dealing with films from this period, I assumed initially this had to be a choice thrust on the picture by the Production Code to ensure the movie had no dealings in pseudo-necrophilia and that the handsome leading man could have his love interest. But no, this as it happens, was a part of the original novel by Vera Caspery on which the film is based. Why? The plot leading up to that was so much more enticing, so much more perversely thrilling.
It opens with Laura, an elite young advertising executive, assumed dead, murdered recently in cold blood, the facts told to us by her friend (outright lover in the novel), a wealthy newspaper columnist Waldo Lydecker (Clifton Webb) -who tends to type out his stories, often infused with gossip, from his bathtub, in which context we meet him and his interviewer. Dana Andrews is the inspector Mark McPherson, and the image of him in suit and hat that accentuate his youthful looks, with a cigarette often sticking out of his mouth is a quintessential noir image that could almost border on parody -certainly some of his dialogue does, though indeed that seems to be an intent as I’ll get into. He interviews Lydecker and Laura’s dopey fiancé Shelby Carpenter (Vincent Price), both of whom exude immense camp energy, and are the primary suspects in the case. Carpenter once had a portrait painted of Laura, a giant one that now hangs in her home and seems to represent her spirit as McPherson gets deeper into the case, learns more about her person, and seems to become enamoured with her post-mortem. He spends a lot of time in her home and going through her things, stares almost longingly at that painting. It’s captivating, it’s grotesque, it’s psychologically bewildering. And then she shows up, clears the misunderstanding, and all of that is rather swiftly brushed away. Sure, McPherson is still broadly interested in her, but it’s no longer so complicated -he and Laura quite viscerally take a back seat to the supporting characters in terms of interest. What Laura might have been is left behind.
I know there are several fans of this movie to whom this doesn’t matter. Laura being alive is a matter of course, a twist to serve the real mystery of the plot as to who tried to kill her -bringing her back thus forces a confrontation. But what’s lost is a kind of Hitchcockian fascination with obsession, and a fairly original take on it. The posthumous intoxication with Laura would have made for an intrepid psychological study, it would have given Dana Andrews a chance to play something truly unique, and it would have made the film as a whole more haunting. What we do see of this certainly fits the bill, McPherson stalking about her home, asking probing questions of his suspects, looking into her history through letters and diaries as deeply as he can. It’s intense, shocking. And I’m captivated by where that could have led.
When Laura shows up, that tension is deflated; the mystery of who tried to kill her didn’t matter a whole lot before, it’s even more conspicuously unimportant now she’s alive. There are ways this could have led to new complexities –and maybe it’s just because I so recently saw Decision to Leave, which used a twist relating to a detective-suspect relationship more effectively- but I can see how the story could have renewed its’ intrigue. But it doesn’t much, and Gene Tierney, despite being in possession of a killer look, is not all that exceptional in the role. Neither her nor McPherson are allowed great dimension going forward, the movie is made to rely even more on the suspects for drama.
It’s not the worst thing because these are highly entertaining characters bitterly fighting over Laura, despite her not terribly having much affection for either of them. Carpenter is too irresponsible, too naïve, and too dependent –if not on Laura than on his elitist aunt played by Judith Anderson (Mrs. Danvers from Hitchcock’s Rebecca) in a cold performance that flies under the radar. Contrarily, Lydecker, though a confidant of Laura, is petty, confrontational, and far too openly envious of Laura’s relationship with Carpenter despite how extremely coded gay he is. Clifton Webb was nominated for an Oscar for this performance, and maybe Vincent Price should have been too -or neither of them, but these parts are on equal footing. There’s a silliness to them and their rivalry over Laura that is amusing, the film aware of on some level and exploiting the camp effect they create, though there’s no real tension out of their capacity to kill. And when the reveal does come as to which it is there isn’t much to it but a curious note in how it relates to the way the film opened and played its’ flashbacks. The acting is superb in a hammy theatrical way, but that’s all there is to carry the movies’ ending, which at least doesn’t feature an out of left field kiss between Laura and McPherson. Although had it played on more of that one-sided romance in the second half there might have been more to latch onto and engage with, rather than both Tierney and Andrews’ performances going stiff.
The matter is resolved with efficiency, though even the films’ final line can’t help but ring a touch inappropriately comical -the melodrama of Laura rarely rises above ironic. This may not be accidental though, as the movie has a degree of a non-serious air to it. Certainly some of its’ noir attributes can’t help feel exaggerated, even for this genre -and in another time it might have been an open comedy with its’ gumshoe clichés and complaints by one character about another overusing the term “dame”. Roger Ebert further notes the film combines low B-movie absurdities with high style, and though there is a palpable level of technical craft on the part of Preminger, I fail to see how this has an artfulness of even fellow noir-named-for-a-woman, Gilda. Also, Preminger was known as a filmmaker for pushing the envelope of taboo subject matter, most notably in Anatomy of a Murder and The Man with the Golden Arm (admittedly, these would come a decade later, when Production Code authority was beginning to wane). Yet for this film he shies away and I think it is lessened for that. Laura could have been a great exploration of obsession, even beyond death, yet only goes halfway -rendering a strong idea that it can call its’ own, but presenting only the idea itself.
The musical theme by David Raskin is pretty and well-remembered, and I will give credit to the script’s dialogue, which for as campy as it consciously is, is often exceedingly smart and creative. There are some really good witticisms, often coming from Lydecker or Carpenter: “I don’t know a lot about anything, but I know a little about practically everything”, “In my case self-absorption is completely justified; I have never discovered any other subject quite so worthy of my attention”, “I can afford a blemish on my character but not on my clothes”, “I just dropped in to inquire about the state of your health -insipid, I hope”. It’s quite charming to listen to. There’s honestly a lot to the film that works, but the crucial parts, to my observation, don’t. The main mystery, the main curiosity, and the main characters are subverted from their potential, and there’s only so much heavy lifting Webb and Price can do. I can still get why some might revere Laura -its’ provocation certainly stands out for its’ time, as does that painting that looms over almost every poster. These things are shallow notes though that the content of the movie doesn’t live up to. Laura was better off dead.
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