Corridor of Mirrors (1948)

Directed by Terence Young; produced by Rudolph Cartier

Journeying to London by rail, young wife and mother Mifanwy Conway (Edana Romney) recollects the man she knew seven years before. Paul Mangin (Eric Portman) was a fabulously wealthy and eccentric artist, who preferred to dwell in the past. One night, he saw Mifanwy and became smitten by her. His growing fascination with her, and the obsession he had with the past, combined to create a dramatic situation which ended with Mangin being immortalized in Madame Tussaud’s waxworks. But how did it end there? And did it end there?

An involving tale of love and madness, Corridor of Mirrors was adapted from a novel by Christopher Massie, who wrote the source book of the film Love Letters (reviewed on this blog in June, 2021). Corridor of Mirrors, at least as brought to the screen, has a quite different atmosphere compared to the other work. The screenplay was written by the producer and the female lead, Edana Romney; though the latter had had almost no film roles previously, she and Cartier formed a company to produce this movie. It took seven years to gather the financing and interest a studio in the prospects. The results are, if not unforgettable, then satisfying.

The story is rather reminiscent of a Poe tale, without the lurking eerieness. An aspect of the writing is that it keeps the viewer guessing as to where it will go, whether Mangin will descend into lunacy from what is originally a fad, and whether he will do harm as he goes. It involves the viewer as well in the sympathetic character of Mangin; he comes across as eccentric, certainly, but also lonely, with no one understanding either him or his passions. What his ultimate goal may be remains a mystery for much of the movie. It turns out to be rather simple, possibly unattainable, and perhaps deadly.

This is the first directorial effort by Young, and he does a good job. Considering that he went on to direct a number of James Bond movies, it’s ironic that he is more successful in Corridor of Mirrors when he concentrates on faces, expressions and gestures, rather than wider action; but then, leading man Portman was especially good at subtle looks, and Romney, while not in her co-star’s league, is liked by the camera.

As mentioned, Romney is capable in her performance, but not outstanding. This was her only starring role, and she soon afterward settled into the new medium of television, as a programme hostess. She became another kind of hostess when, in her thirties, she moved to Hollywood and became famous for her house-parties.

Portman carries the movie in his part as Paul Mangin. We never see the character painting, and it appears that his art is hardly a passion. Portman instead gives Mangin a quiet but deep and possibly dangerous love of the past, an idealized, romantic past that cannot be recreated. The edge with which Mangin is portrayed comes from not knowing if he realises the impossibility of his fantasies. Nonetheless, it is Portman who allows Mangin to become more sympathetic as the film progresses.

A word should be mentioned as well of Barbara Mullen, who plays the suitably unnerving Veronica. It is a small but effective role. Look for Christopher Lee in a bit part, his movie debut.

The set design and the lighting must be commended, too, particularly at the end when we see the fruition of Mangin’s fever for renaissance Italy. It might have been spectacular in colour; even so, the impression that the back garden of Mangin’s townhouse is an expansive and separate world, the product of a limitlessly romantic mind and a nearly limitless bank account, is convincing.

Corridor of Mirrors doesn’t quite match any genre, while it borrows from several. Not excellent, but very good, it conjures up a world not quite real, highlighted by the mundanity of the lives ‘bookending’ the principal story. It’s worth an evening’s viewing.

The Fallen Sparrow (1943)

Directed by Richard Wallace; produced by Robert Fellows

Having been captured by the Nationalists while fighting in the Spanish Civil War, John ‘Kit’ McKittrick (John Garfield) returns to the United States to find out who killed his friend, a New York police officer. Since he helped McKittrick escape from his jailers, the man’s death may have something to do with Spain, though how closely events in the U.S. are tied to what happened to McKittrick in the war, the latter can only guess.

The Fallen Sparrow has the feel of a Hemingway story, though the plot seems rather too convoluted for that origin. It is also a movie that could have had Humphrey Bogart as its lead. It is, however, very well-served by Garfield, who gives a more vulnerable performance than Bogart might have. That’s not to write that the latter could not have done as well - he was a far better actor than many of his roles, performed as if without effort by the man, imply - but Garfield’s weaknesses are more openly seen. Indeed, they are necessary to the story, and thus must be shown both convincingly and unmistakably.

The acting is the strongest part of The Fallen Sparrow, as the characters are interpreted interestingly. The viewer may have little difficulty in determining the principal villains, but who may be assisting them, whether they are being helped willingly or otherwise, and who will pay for it and how, are all factors conveyed more by the characters than by the plot.

Maureen O’Hara does well as a woman who clearly has something to hide, and her behaviour is greatly influenced by it. John Miljan has an enjoyable part as a police detective who appears to have trouble believing McKittrick’s intentions, while hiding his own. And that’s John Banner (Sergeant Schultz from tv’s Hogan’s Heroes) looking as a young man very much like comic-actor Bill Murray.

The plot starts off as a standard film noir story-line: a man coming to town to look into, and possibly avenge, a friend’s death. More important than that, however, is McKittrick’s background, and the reason why he was held by the Nationalists in Spain and tortured. It revolves around a battle standard but becomes less plausible as the movie progresses. Though I can fully appreciate the moral value of a symbol, it is never really explained why the symbol in question is important. Nor is there an explanation of its connection to the coat-of-arms of an expatriate French aristocrat.

Of note is the editing, by future famed director Robert Wise. He interestingly fades to black a number of scenes at dramatic or tense points, especially when McKittrick’s highly strung nerves force him to re-live his torture. This technique gives insight into the protagonist’s damaged psyche that needs no words.

The Fallen Sparrow is an entertaining thriller, rather let down by its writing, which is ordinary on the one hand and incredible on the other. It is, however, redeemed enough by its performers to recommend.

Easy Living (1937)

Directed by Mitchell Leisen; produced by Arthur Hornblow Jr

Fed up with her over-spending, banker J B Ball (Edward Arnold) throws his wife’s new fur coat off the roof of their New York townhouse. It lands on near-penniless Mary Smith (Jean Arthur). This random act touches off a chain of circumstances that leads to romance, mistaken identities, economic disaster and an epic food-fight.

The set-up is perfect for a classic 1930s screwball comedy; with a screenplay written by Preston Sturges, Jean Arthur for a leading lady, Ray Milland as her love-interest and Edward Arnold as a supporting player, one would think a hit was in the making. One would be wrong. Easy Living is a loud, largely unfunny movie that, despite the talent that goes into it, manages to be rather boring.

The screenplay by Sturges has its problems. Every author has his off-day, and Easy Living may have been written on Sturges’s. The man that penned The Great McGinty, Sullivan’s Travels and The Palm Beach Story certainly showed otherwise that he was a master-craftsman at comedy. The actual plot of Easy Living is a good one, if predictable from our current point in time. There are funny moments, such as when Mary, needing to salvage a few cents from a piggy-bank, puts a tiny blindfold on the piggy before smashing it.

Such scenes are forgotten, however, with the introduction of tedious characters such as Luis Alberni’s hotelier, Louis Louis, and the awkward placement of slapstick. The interjections of servants and minor characters don’t come off well, either, and Arnold’s character is rather erratically written.

The acting is not at fault. Arthur is extremely winning, as always, and Milland, a versatile actor when in his prime, is a capable partner-in-crime. Arnold provides good support, showing that, if provided with a stable character, he can play a sympathetic, if gruff, man as well as a villain.

What sinks Easy Living is, I believe, the direction. Though Leisen was behind the camera on a number of fine movies, this isn’t one of them. Perhaps screwball comedy was not his forté. Much of the dialogue is delivered with a heavy hand; there is too much shouting, too many double-takes; certainly excess is often used successfully in farce, but that genre is not as simple to perform as it may seem. The riot in an automat is amusing, but even that is a bit too extended for its best effect.

Easy Living is a misfire, though not without its graces (even if they aren’t of the ‘saving’ kind). It might have done better if the writer were also the director, as he was in his biggest hits.

Impact (1949)

Directed by Arthur Lubin; produced by Leo C Popkin

Walter Williams (Brian Donlevy) has everything he could want. A powerful industrialist, he is confident, wealthy and respected, with a fine home and a beautiful wife, Irene, whom he adores. But one day, all that changes. Irene (Helen Walker), is not only having an affair but plots with her boyfriend, Jim (Tony Barrett), to kill Williams. In executing the homicidal scheme, however, it is Jim who is killed, accidentally, and in a fashion that makes the world think it is Williams who died. Will the would-be victim remain hidden or seek his revenge?

Donlevy rarely filled the parts given to character actors; neither did he often play the lead. But he has his chance in Impact, and he succeeds admirably. Often a villain, he is usually gruff, irascible or hard even when a good guy; his naturally stern expression helps. Here, he turns that to advantage. Williams is a tough man, used to getting what he wants. But he is also, as his unfaithful wife rightly assesses, a ‘softy’: he is concerned with others’ welfare, will do favours for strangers and becomes embarrassed when anyone sees how much he feels for his wife.

Williams is portrayed, in fact, as quite human. Donlevy’s conveyance of a man crushed by betrayal is convincing, especially so at the moment when he deduces that his spouse had tried to have him murdered. Thereafter, Williams develops a different kind of hardness than he had had, yet with vulnerability.

Donlevy’s performance is crucial to Impact’s success, but other actors do as well. Ella Raines, as Marsha, the small-town widow who takes a liking to Williams, conveys a forthright freshness that is needed, while Walker makes her treacherous character suitably vile, twisting at every angle to gain whatever advantage is to be had. Charles Coburn, perhaps a bit too old to play a police detective, even one facing retirement, is energetic and amusing in his search for justice.

Director Lubin fit Impact between several Abbot and Costello films on one side and a couple of Francis the Talking Mule flicks on the other – and he does a fine job of it. He keeps things subtle, for the most part, even in the scene when Williams is overwhelmed by the enormity of the plot against him. At one point, Williams, who had been ten years a mechanic before taking a desk job, hesitates before beginning a car’s repair job: as someone points out, his hands show he hadn’t done such work in a while. That’s typical of the small touches Lubin includes.

The script is also good, though it becomes rather too complicated in the final act, and, at 111 minutes, could have been tightened a bit in the editing room. Nonetheless, it complements the direction in its use of almost incidental moments. When Marsha talks about continuing to run her garage after her husband’s death in combat, she – and the script – hurries past the admission, as if dwelling on it for more than a second or two would be too painful.

Impact is a good crime-film with a concentration on character. That is so much to its advantage, in fact, that when the plot looms larger than the people, it rather hurts the movie. Nonetheless, thanks to the acting and directing, this is an entertaining and enjoyable picture.