Strange Illusion (1945)

Directed by Edgar G Ulmer; produced by Leon Fromkess

Young Paul Cartwright (James Lydon) has a recurring nightmare about his father’s mysterious death, involving a faceless man who is bringing danger to his family. He thinks it’s connected to the impending marriage of his mother (Sally Eilers) with the handsome and suave Brett Curtis (Warren William). Though everyone likes Brett, and nothing seems wrong with him, Paul is suspicious, and the more he looks into the new man, the less he likes him.

A film noir with slight supernatural overtones, Strange Illusion takes its inspiration from Shakespeare’s Hamlet, with a dream replacing the ghost. The plot isn’t as intricate as the ‘original’ and, despite some difficulties in proving his case, Paul’s suspicions are hardly red herrings. It’s straightforward - too much so, in fact, for a mystery (eg. the villains conveniently keep an incriminating automobile hidden under hay in a barn.)

While the plot is ordinary, the script itself is a little better, principally in dialogue, though it leaves questions both unasked and unanswered. It never reveals completely what the villains’ motives are. Curtis was investigated by Paul’s father, an eminent judge, while Curtis’s accomplice, a psychiatrist (Charles Arnt) who runs a sanatarium, doesn’t seem to have a reason, though it might be the money Curtis may - or may not - have access to after his wedding.

Nonetheless, the writing provides a bit deeper characterisations to a number of the personalities, something cheap film noir doesn’t often do. Curtis is a reasonably devised bad guy (if one doesn’t count the vague motive) with a penchant for forcing himself on young women, something his partner suggests will be his undoing. Paul’s mother reveals real conflict over her attachment to Curtis, after her husband’s death.

The production is cheap. It was directed by someone now rather renowned for his low-budget movies, three for Producers Releasing Corporation, the smallest of Hollywood studios (though, unlike many companies that ground out cheap films, PRC was an actual studio), which was responsible for Strange Illusion. Ulmer certainly does make an an effort, giving the whole film a kind of dream-like/nightmarish aspect, which the low quality of the film inadvertently assists.

The performers, too, are adequate for the level of movie they are in. I suspect none is familiar even to the average fan of 1940s black-and-white cinema. The only one I recognise is Regis Toomey, taking on his usual role as a support player. Interestingly, two of the actors, Lydon and Eilers, resemble others from later times, Tommy Kirk and Virginia Madsen, respectively.

Never one to deride a movie because of its straitened budget, I nevertheless found Strange Illusion little more than a satisfactory time-filler. The principal disadvantages are the b-level acting and the story, while the low budget is easily overlooked.

Diva (1981)

Directed by Jean-Jacques Beineix; produced by Irène Silberman and Serge Silberman

Jules (Frédéric Andréi) is obsessed with opera singer Cynthia Hawkins (Wilhelmina Wiggins Fernandez), who has never consented to being recorded. He illicitly tapes one of her concerts, intending the music for just himself and friends. But a pair of Taiwanese mobsters learns of and covets it. Meanwhile, the police are trying to shut down a murderous prostitution ring, their efforts hinging on a cassette recording. In the deadly confusion that results, Jules may or may not be aided by a roller-skating kleptomaniac and her boyfriend - an enigmatic man who assembles giant jigsaw puzzles in an empty warehouse - all the while growing closer to his idol.

Not your usual crime or caper film, Diva nonetheless entertains with a number of its elements. Ironically, the relationship between Jules and Cynthia is the least compelling aspect of the film, and the scenes given to their platonic romance seem to come from a rather different movie. Even so, these scenes create an atmosphere that gives Diva a definitely French background.

That atmosphere is assisted by the direction and cinematography, and especially by the choice of locations. They move from stereotypical Parisian streets to a seaside lighthouse - called ‘the magic castle’ which, in a glowing dusk does indeed seem magical - to the literal dump in which Jules lives (it appears to be a resting place for severely damaged automobiles.) The settings are well used by the director, whether the narrow confines of straitened lanes or the wide, open spaces of huge, empty rooms. It may be a commonplace that the use of colours, sometimes one shade for everything in a scene, creates mood, but the old axiom pays dividends here.

Also included is an exciting chase sequence, involving a running cop and a fleeing suspect on a moped; external and internal staircases, subway trains and ancient arcades are all used in an unusual and extended action sequence.

The story is rather complicated, as may be guessed from the synopsis. It is not difficult to follow, but the different strands of the plot move along separately, then intersect, then part once more. It opens up from the simple tale of gentle obsession that it at first appears to be.

Added to the interest is the uncertainty as to what side some characters are on, if any, and what they will do. The character of Serge Gorodish (Richard Bohringer) in his warehouse has many layers; one suspects his calm and confident demeanour throughout the movie comes from being more than, well, whatever he is. Also, since personalities involved in the story seem either fluid or mysterious in their allegiance, there is no predicting how the movie will end, which is always a plus with thrillers.

The acting is very good, with the exception of Fernandez, whose lines are recited rather stiltedly, and whose emotions while convincing, nevertheless feel too acted. The other performers, most of whom have bigger parts than she, do fine work, managing to blend realism with the slightly fantastic, and making the plot, at first small and personal, actionful and entertaining, yet credible.

Equal parts style, plot and character create a winning film in Diva.

The Pied Piper (1942)

Directed by Irving Pichel; produced by Nunnally Johnson

Mr John Howard (Monty Woolley) is an active Englishman just past middle age; upset at not being found useful in the fight against Nazi Germany, he retreats to rural France, to fish and mope. With his country on its beam ends, though, he changes his mind and heads back home to take on whatever job he can do. A British couple (Lester Matthews, Jill Esmond), hoping to get their children (Roddy McDowall, Peggy Ann Garner) home, even if they themselves can’t, ask Howard to take them. Soon, the reluctant guardian is saddled with a number of kids, and while he finds them an ordeal, they are nothing compared with the hazards of travelling through war-torn France.

A pleasant and amusing movie, The Pied Piper doesn’t quite fulfill its potential. Even so, it benefits greatly from the lead actor and supporting players. Woolley, though an American, has what came to be termed a ‘mid-Atlantic’ accent, allowing him to portray convincingly Englishmen or Americans without altering his speech. (Cary Grant famously had the same quality, as did James Mason.) Howard’s gruff but decent personality allows him to push through obstacles with a determination that is natural and enjoyable to watch.

The other performers include two well-known child-actors of the time, McDowell and Garner. They do well in their roles but don’t contribute as much as they might have. Anne Baxter is rather needlessly added to the cast; if the lead were a younger man, she would be his love-interest. Instead, their connection is through Howard’s son, an RAF officer killed even earlier in the war. Otto Preminger has the biggest supporting role, as an SS officer. His voice is tremendously grating, probably intentionally so.

The principal problem I found with The Pied Piper is the story. It comes from a novel by Nevil Shute, with a screenplay by Nunnally Johnson, so the talent is there. Nonetheless, there seems to be a level of digression that hurts the over-all flow of the movie.

Initially, Howard and Ronnie (Roddy McDowell) are rather gentle adversaries, the boy having contradicted the man in the latter’s belief that Rochester is a state and not a city in the U.S. Ronnie shows himself resourceful (not least of which because he can speak French) and mature, and is as much a protector of other children as is Howard. It would have been interesting to have developed their relationship - perhaps paralleling what might have been Howard’s with his own son. Instead, Ronnie is sidelined to make room for Major Diessen (Otto Preminger).

This distraction leaves Howard’s character incomplete. The audience gathers that he doesn’t like children - principally because he says so - but he is hardly rough or even impolite with them. It might have been intriguing to use Howard’s son’s death to put a wall between the man and other children, which those in his care would have broken down.

Diessen’s inclusion is sometimes cited as a detriment, with Preminger’s performance suggested to be that of a stereotype or over the top. Certainly those are legitimate judgements, though the era and the situation in which the movie was made must be taken into account. But I thought - aside from the sudden shift from the adult/child dynamic to an adult/adult confrontation - that Diessen’s part was an interesting twist to the plot, given the solution to the showdown between him and Howard. It also made Diessen more than just a cardboard cut-out.

The Pied Piper, therefore, is mostly entertaining. It is well-acted and directed, and well-written as far as it goes, though it could have gone farther.