They Won't Believe Me (1947)

The movie opens with Robert Young, who plays Larry Ballentine, a serial cheater on trial for murder. On the stand Larry has to explain the story of how he in fact did not murder his wife and one of his two girlfriends. Did I mention this is a film noir?

I've recently learned about myself that I do not like movies or TV shows in which the characters are unlikeable. For reasons I cannot explain, I need to have someone to root for - even if it's the bad guy. I need someone that I perhaps identify with, or enjoy elements of their character. But this is a movie where none of the main characters are likeable: a philandering husband, a gullible wife who tries to stop the cheating by throwing money around and buying new property, a first girlfriend, Janice, (played by Jane Greer) who as a smart successful business woman, is the most likeable character except she can’t totally let go of her Casanova; and a second girlfriend who’s young - and probably impressionable - but is also just trampy.

It is this second girlfriend who dies first in the movie, when she and Larry are running away together, but are involved in a car accident along the way. Larry survives, but is hospitalized, and his girlfriend's remains are beyond recognition. As Larry is in fact a married man, it is widely assumed that the female remains are that of his wife. Since his actual wife has now moved to her third - and rather reclusive - home (to both run away from her husband, but also hope he will follow her and stop finding women to cheat with) no one questions the identification. And naturally, being the cad he is, Larry doesn't correct the authorities.

Once recovered from the accident Larry, returns home to find that his wife, upon reading his goodbye letter to her, took a trip to a steep canyon with her beloved horse and died (also, by accident).Larry, being the money-hungry infidel that he is, realized that now that his wife truly is dead, he will inherit her money. So he proceeds to try and hide the body. But stupidly - and shockingly - he leaves the horse. The horse is eventually found, though too sick now to survive - but the purse white horse does lead the police that found him to the body of his beloved owner, Larry's wife. It being 1947, her remains are also not identified. But, this being a film noir, Larry does not get away with everything.

Even though Larry is completely innocent of the charges of murdering his girlfriend that died in the car crash, he is in fact a very guilty man in life; and in film noir, indiscretions never go unpunished. So now we cut to present-day and Larry trying to explain to the jury that he is not guilty of the charge of murder. Convinced the jury won't believe him, Janice - the only woman in his life that is still alive -  tries to convince Larry that he’ll be exonerated; and further and promises to be there for him when he gets out. In all fairness to Janice, she did put an end to the relationship as she knew he was married. But now he's a widower, so Janice can take up the relationship again guilt-free.

Back in the courtroom, Larry returns to hear the verdict. Perhaps it's the guilt of everything he has done wrong, or perhaps he's that convinced that he will be found guilty, but Larry cannot take the pressure of this moment. With lightning speed, Larry tries to jump out the window - only to be stopped by an officer's bullet that takes him out anyway. For the court record, the verdict is then read: not guilty. While this ending is shocking, I'm not unhappy about it. I'm sure Larry would just return to his cheating ways anyway - only this time with his wife’s fortune to burn.

A Letter to Three Wives (1949)

I love old movies (obviously); and I love how they are a bit of a glimpse into what life was like back then. The clothes, the cars...how everything was so much cheaper. But I also really enjoy when I see a movie that has really aged - that the storyline could be made pretty much the same even today.

In A Letter to Three Wives, three very different women in a circle of friends, all receive a letter from a fourth friend, Addie Ross, who announces that she is running away with one of their husbands. Deborah is a writer for a soap opera style radio show, who is married to a school teacher (played by Kirk Douglas). Her husband thinks she works too much, and frankly thinks radio is just trashy. Lora Mae, who grew up poor and on the "wrong side of the tracks" is a self-assured gold-digger. There seemed to be no question about her marital motivations. Sweet Rita is comfortable in a Navy uniform during the war, but insecure about joining the Country Club set after she married Addie Ross' first love.

The ladies receive this letter just as they are about to embark on a boat for an afternoon-long picnic with a group a children. And since this is an old movie, there are no cellphones and no way to call home to see if their husbands are home. They are left with their own thoughts and fears as Addie - who is never seen - narrates the story. What is still true today is how the woman allow their own insecurities, and imperfections in their marriages to convince themselves that they must be the one whose husband has run away. The movie takes us back to times in each of their lives when they first met their husbands, the trials they have shared together, and time in which it seemed that Addie could certainly have wormed her way into her husbands' heart. But honestly, whose marriage is perfect? Who in life has all the answers and always says and does the right thing? The movie leaves you guessing - like a thriller or a whodunit - but for these women's love lives. 

That evening the friends are to meet at a club, but when Deborah is finally able to call home she learns that her husband has left for the day and won't return. Heartbroken, she goes to the club alone to meet the other two couples. While she sits at the table, devastated by the idea that her husband has left with Addie, Lora Mae's husband complains to her that Lora Mae is dancing with another man. Feeling defensive Deborah tells him that Lora Mae truly does love him, and isn't really there just for the money. Still feeling like he is nothing by a cash register, Lora Mae's husband doesn't believe Deborah, who in a fit of frustration gets up to leave and announces that her husband has left her for Addie Ross.

In a twist, Lora Mae's husband confesses that it was he who was going to run away with Addie. But says he changed his mind. Turning to Lora Mae, who has abandoned her dance partner at this point, he tells her she can have a divorce if that's what she wants. Lora Mae, proving her love for her husband, tells him she "didn't hear a word he said" and they go off to the dance floor. This of course, in the age of "Me Too" and Times Up" may be where the movie would differ if it was made today. Not that I want it to be remade - they tried that with another amazing movie (with a terribly dated ending) called "The Women" (1939) ...and, no...just don't do it.

In the end, Addie's voice over bids us all a good night, and everyone, presumably, lives happily ever after. What I also liked about this movie was that because we never saw Addie's face, she is mysterious and I want to know more about her. In the beginning of the movie Deborah and Rita are in the car driving together to the picnic and the topic of Addie is brought up. To which Deborah exclaims, "why is it that sooner or later no matter what we talk about, we wind up talking about Addie Ross?" The voice-over of Addie replies "Maybe it's because if you girls didn't talk about me, you wouldn't talk at all." Addie is clearly one sassy friend. And as much as I'd like to know more about this character, I suspect these three women are done with their friendship with Addie Ross.  

Scarlet Street (1945)

Nice guys finish last....but so do the bad guys.

This is the general theme of most film noirs, and particularly the story of Average Joe, Christopher Cross.  I was intrigued by this movie mostly because it was directed by Fritz Lang, who is responsible for the deeply physiological noirs such as M (1931) and Fury (1936).  While I had full faith that Lang would not disappoint, I had serious doubts that quintessential gangster actor, Edward G. Robinson, could play a meek man who gets hoodwinked by manipulative couple, Kitty and Johnny (played unremarkably by Joan Bennett and Dan Duryea). Well, I can admit when I'm wrong; and I was definitely wrong about Robinson's acting skills.

Kitty repeatedly convinces Chris to give her money (for clothes, an apartment, whatever she wants) while dangling the carrot of a relationship in front of him. Chris, in a mundane job and a marriage of convenience to a horrible woman, easily hands over the money - even if he has to steal it. Kitty gets an apartment - allegedly so Chris can use it as an art studio since his wife hates his paintings so much - and also a sweet love nest for her and Johnny. Too bad Chris also has a key...

Throughout much of the film I found it to be quite a vanilla noir, and thought to myself "where's the Lang-ness here?" The discomfort I felt about the "bad guys" getting away with so much while poor, sweet Chris has no clue, is in fact all Lang. But then the end - oh yes, this is when the plot turns and the audience is finally treated to the psychological twists and bends that is 100% Fritz Lang, and I loved it.

Kitty and Johnny grow careless with their rendezvous, and one day Chris walks into the apartment just as Kitty is confessing her love for Johnny. And what does a man in a noir do when he finds his dame cheating on him? He kills her, of course. Chris flees the scene, leaving Johnny to take the fall. Everything seems perfect. The apartment was rented for Kitty in her name; and Chris' unsigned paintings that Kitty and Johnny stole and sold were known in the art world as Kitty's work. Even Chris' nasty wife thinks Chris copied Kitty's now-famous paintings. Everyone knows Johnny has a temper, but who would meek and mild Chris ever hurt? It all fits. Happy ending? If only. But this is a noir.

After the trial, Johnny is sent to the electric chair, and Chris boards a train where he engages in a conversation with a group of men about how such a murder would effect a man psychologically. These thoughts enter Chris' head and he can't shake the memory of being responsible for not only Kitty's death, but Johnny's too. He can't shake the ever-present thoughts and eventually even tries to take his own life. His boss refused to prosecute Chris for stealing money, but he did lose his job. Chris' real passion for painting can't continue as his distinctive work is now famously known as that of a dead woman's - and now selling for tens of thousands. He has nothing to lose. But his suicide attempt also failed, and he ends up a homeless drunk sleeping on a park bench.

The end!

You really have to prepare yourself when watching noirs - although the good guy doesn't always get it in the end, they aren't exactly 'feel good' movies; but they are both thrilling and amazing.

I read afterwards that Edward G. Robinson was much more like the Chris character in real life, than he was all those gangster characters he played so well. He was even an avid art collector.  I am so glad he was given the opportunity to show is acting skills rather than remaining type cast. And I am also glad Fritz Lang gave us the ending I never expected....the saucy dark chocolate to an otherwise vanilla film.