FOOTSTEPS IN THE FOG: Blu-ray (Columbia, 1955) Indicator/Powerhouse

Marrieds, Stewart Granger and Jean Simmons make disreputable music together in Arthur Lubin’s Footsteps in the Fog (1955), a Gothic melodrama made partly – okay, mostly – in the best tradition of the ‘gaslight’ and gargoyle sub-genre. By 1955, this had distinctly run its course. Hollywood’s affinity for mysterious and brooding tales with a distinct British flare began in 1940; David O. Selznick’s Oscar-winning Best Picture, Rebecca, based on the novel by Daphne du Maurier, taking the lead. From this auspicious debut it was only a quick hop, skip and a jump before the rest of Hollywood was on board, looking for, or tailor-making, its own spooky Gothic noir melodramas. This cycle would reach its zenith a scant four years later with George Cukor’s masterpiece, Gaslight (1944) – itself, a remake of the Brit-born flick of the same name; so potent in its wicked depiction of a husband’s deliberate manipulations of his impressionable wife, it actually coined the phrase ‘gaslighting’; loosely translated as a potent and systematic psychological deconstruction of a person’s sanity. With the exception of Rebecca, set in the 'then' contemporary ‘present’, most of these pictures took full advantage of Victorian/Edwardian London and its unique sooty charm; 1944’s remake of The Lodger, 1945’s Hangover Square, and, The Picture of Dorian Gray preying on audiences’ expectations for a good fright.

Footsteps in the Fog is actually based on a short story by W.W. Jacobs. The plot, however, is heavily rewritten and expanded upon by screenwriters, Lenore J. Coffee, Dorothy Davenport and Arthur Pierson, refocusing the suspense on a dangerous game of cat and mouse between aristocrat by marriage, Steven Lowry (Granger) - recently, to have murdered his wife - and, Lily Watkins (Simmons), the enterprising scullery maid in his employ who plays her hand of discovering his crime into a lucrative social-climbing position as the (il)legitimate ‘lady’ of the house. ‘Footsteps’ is a curiously off-kilter affair. Initially, Stewart Granger thought little of the project and even less of his role, running into chronic clashes with Lubin. Worse, the first thirty-minutes of the picture are frightfully uneven at best. Some scenes prematurely fade to black, right in the middle of a conversation, suggesting wholesale cuts were made to some fairly dull material, merely to satisfy arbitrarily imposed time constraints. Perhaps most intriguing of all: the story is concentrated on a pair of ne’er-do-wells. Hence, our empathy for the ruthless Lowry and his devious mistress is solely derived from the skillful execution of these roles by Granger and Simmons. Five years into their real-life ten-year marriage, the queer and unsettling chemistry between these two fine actors is palpable and, at times, quite disturbing. We can wholly believe Granger’s murderous nob could find a moment’s warmth with Simmon’s jealous guttersnipe, and she would devote her every waking concern to a killer’s comfort and care; even, to lie for him on the witness stand after he murders again – this time, a total innocent, mistaken for Watkins in the pea soup fog.

Art director, Wilfred Shingleton has obviously paid attention to Cedric Gibbons’ set decoration in 1944’s Gaslight; an homage cluttered with all means of heavily laden bric-a-brac; rooms too full of fine furnishings, framed in weighty brocade, stiffly lining the walls and window treatments, and even a mildewed solarium with oversized wrought iron cages full of strawberry finches and budgies. It certainly makes for an ornate labyrinth, these trappings only affluence can provide, proving ever more tomb-like and richly foreboding as our story evolves. Costumer, Beatrice Dawson has a field day dressing Stewart Granger in an impressive assortment of regal smoking jackets and fine-threaded tuxedoes; his immaculate ensemble starkly contrasted by Jean Simmons’ demure to downright dour and monochromatic ensembles as the downstairs maid about to be made over. Curiously, producer, M.J. Frankovich elected to shoot the picture in Technicolor, though decidedly without the usual blossoming of a boldly saturated palette. Even more interestingly, these desaturated tones are the perfect complement to a story virtually conceived, at least in character, for B&W.  Both Granger and Simmons agreed to make Footsteps in the Fog, mostly to rekindle their love for England after an absence of some years; sneaking away from their stately suite at the Dorchester Hotel to indulge in late night home-style fish n’ chips; the stars, given an ample expense account but rather meager salary for their respective work.   

Footsteps in the Fog begins with a funeral on a grisly grey and weather-beaten afternoon. Stephen Lowry is mourning the death of his wife. In attendance among a select few close personal friends are Lowry’s employer, Alfred Travers (Ronald Squires), his daughter, Elizabeth (Belinda Lee) and her amiable suitor, David MacDonald (Bill Travers).  On the carriage ride home, Elizabeth encourages Stephen to stay with them for a few days. And although her father agrees, David is staunchly opposed to the idea. From the outset, it is rather shamelessly transparent Elizabeth fancies the widower for herself. Stephen declines the Travers’ invitation. And, at first, we suspect he quite simply wishes to be alone in his grief. The Lowry’s housekeeper, Mrs. Park (Marjorie Rhodes) and general overseer, Grimes (Norman Macowan) concur with this assessment. The master is lost without his beloved wife…or so it would seem. But then, alone in the library, Stephen proudly pours himself a stout glass of port, gazing with pleasurable contempt at Mrs. Lowry’s austere portrait with a thin, queer smile spreading across his lips. And we implicitly know he has just gotten away with murder.

Downstairs, Mrs. Parks harbors an unusually potent disgust for the scullery maid, Lily Watkins. And although the girl appears put upon by this grotesquely unsympathetic harridan, very soon we find that Lily has unusually confident cheek unbecoming of her social caste; threatening, even, as she promises sweet revenge for his mistreatment. It will not take long for Lily’s prophecy to be fulfilled as, having stumbled upon the bottle of Mrs. Lowry’s tainted medicine hidden in the basement, and several dead rats who have drunk from its bottle, Lily astutely deduces the master has murdered the Mrs. Precisely what she will do with this evidence is revealed a few short scenes later when Lowry questions Lily as to the whereabouts of his late wife’s jewelry. Having taken it, claiming it was at Mrs. Lowry’s bequest, Lily quietly informs Lowry she knows too well the lady of the house did not die of natural causes. Lowry is forced to concede as much. In reply, Lily demands the position of housekeeper that otherwise ought to have rightfully gone to Mrs. Parks.  Unaware of what has transpired between these two plotters, Mrs. Parks and Grimes are mortified after being informed by Lowry they will now be taking their marching orders from Lily – not the other way around. 

Refusing to accept this slight, Parks and Grimes resign, leaving Lily in charge of the household. It is a perfect arrangement – at least, for Lily, who now makes it her vocation to learn all she can about being the perfect mistress of this maison. There is no need to hire another cook. Lily will perform all of the duties herself. Unable to argue the point, Lowry is deeply disturbed by this turn of events. He retreats to the Travers’ for a formal dinner engagement. There, Alfred informs Stephen of his plans to make him a partner in their law firm. Afterward, Elizabeth confides her love in private. And although Lowry would like nothing better than to seduce the daughter of his employer, he is bound by Lily’s jealousy to keep himself chaste. Returning home quite late, Stephen discovers Lily in his wife’s boudoir, wearing one of Mrs. Lowry’s evening gowns as well as her jewels. Taking the girl into his arms, he instructs Lily never to wear Mrs. Lowry’s perfume. We fade to black, suspecting something of an erotic nature – fraught with sexual frustrations, anxiety and a kinetic energy to devour one another – has occurred. The next afternoon, while Elizabeth foolishly pines for Stephen, David makes his intentions painfully transparent. Although he cannot place his finger on the crux of his apprehensions, he is quite certain it goes well beyond mere jealous rivalry for Liz’s affections.

Elizabeth is entirely too wrapped up in her own euphoria to see that Stephen is up to no good. And nothing David says will convince her otherwise. Meanwhile, tensions in the Lowry household reach their fevered pitch after Lily informs Stephen he shall not pursue Elizabeth for his own. Told he will never be rid of her influence, Lily now departs into the thick night fog to post a letter to her sister. After some moments’ contemplation, Stephen takes hold of his large walking stick and makes chase after her. Unfortunately, he becomes disoriented in the dense fog, meeting up with the wife of the local Constable Burke (Barry Keegan). From behind, she uncannily resembles Lily. And prompted by his insatiable passion to be rid of the girl who now holds all the cards, and decidedly not in his favor, Lowry bludgeons Mrs. Burke to death, still unaware he has murdered the wrong person. Spotted by several patrons emerging from a nearby pub, a call for the police is sounded and a chase on foot ensues. Skillfully dodging his pursuers, Stephen finds his way back home, steadying his nerves with a glass a port. He is startled when Lily arrives unharmed, confused, and full of stories about the murder that has only just occurred. Inadvertently reaching for Lowry’s overcoat, strewn nearby, Lily discovers fresh blood on its sleeve, and suddenly realizing, first, that Lowry has killed again, and second, she was his intended victim all along.

A pair of constables arrive with the grim news Mrs. Burke has been murdered. Unaware they are staring at the killer, they instead advise Stephen to bolt his doors and windows. A short while later, Lowry is summoned by Inspector Peters (Findlay Currie) to explain why his walking stick has been discovered at the crime scene. Lowry feigns having lost the stick some time ago; a ruse corroborated by Lily. In the meantime, Lily’s brother-in-law (William Hartnell) comes forward with an incriminating letter Lily sent her sister, Rose (Sheila Manahan). It clearly explains how, if any harm should come to Lily she would like it known Stephen Lowry is likely responsible, having already murdered his wife. Asked by Inspector Peters to explain the letter, Lily denies writing it. As proof, Peters asks Lily to sign her signature for him. She deliberately fakes this autograph and Peters dismisses the charges against Lowry. However, on the way out, Constable Farrow (Peter Williams) asks that Lily sign another release form. Elated to be free, Lily forgets herself and signs in her true hand, the sample compared with the actual letter: undeniable proof both were written by the same person. Lowry is arrested for Mrs. Burke’s murder and put on trial.

Elizabeth begs David to defend Stephen. Very reluctantly he does. To everyone’s surprise, the circumstantial evidence collected by the police is not enough to convict Lowry of the crime. Not even Constable Burke is convinced the man he daily greeted while on his beat, and whom so generously he shared his thoughts, could have so cold-bloodedly murdered a woman he never met. And so, Lowry is restored to his former life, pledging himself in marriage to Elizabeth. Lily is insanely jealous. Only now, Lowry lies to her about his ‘real’ plans for the future; an impromptu escape to America to begin their lives anew and far away from these prying eyes. Lily is convinced Stephen is telling her the truth. But not long thereafter, Stephen suddenly falls ill, plagued by a curious malady that fails to improve, despite being placed under Dr. Simpson’s (Frederick Leister) strict care. Greatly weakened, Stephen delays his wedding plans. Only now he has concocted an even more diabolical revenge. He will drink an almost certain lethal dose of the same poison meant for his wife, have Lily send for the doctor, then frame her for attempted murder – thus, allowing him to get well and wed Elizabeth. The plan, alas, goes horribly awry as Lily is picked up by Constable Farrow and brought in for more questioning regarding the letter and her forged signature.

Finagling her way out of the situation with expert cunning, this time even Inspector Peters is certain of her innocence. Meanwhile, a frantic Stephen begins to suffer the effects of the poison. Realizing Lily is not coming home as she promised, Lowry hails down Constable Burke, who hurries to fetch Dr. Simpson. Arriving home too late, Lily finds the doctor and Constable Burke hovering over a dying Lowry who, even with his last breath, tries to cast the pall of suspicion on her for Mrs. Lowry’s murder.  Realizing much too late Stephen never loved her, and, in fact, would have likely gotten away with his frame-up, Lily pieces together the evidence for the police. Lowry dies in his armchair and Lily is taken away by the police – guilty at last…but of what? Bad judgement?

Footsteps in the Fog is an affecting thriller. In its final moments it is tinged with grave sadness and elemental tragedy for the hopeless romantic. Lily Watkins is not a green girl. And yet, there is something genuinely naïve to draw our empathy closer to her; chiefly, after Lowry is acquitted of murdering Mrs. Burke and Lil’ takes on a more intimate role in the master’s life. True confessions aside, Lily exposes a glimmer of genuineness to and for this man whom we suddenly recognize she deeply desires, despite her rigid and miscalculated bids to maintain control over him through blackmail.  Regrettably, Lily’s heart is not in it for either the position or monetary gain. In fact, she desires Stephen Lowry as a man – primal defects and all; a real pity such heartfelt affections are never reciprocated in kind. That even she can be fooled by Lowry’s warped master plan reveals Lily’s Achilles’ heel – love. If only she were as shallow and ruthless, then this too could be a match made in heaven…or some such place where exhalations of the flesh supersede all common sense.  

Simmons and Granger made Footsteps in the Fog partly to broker favor with English audiences who had frowned upon their marriage for puritanical reasons in their age discrepancy; his forty-two to her twenty-six in 1955. Despite this, for a brief wrinkle in time, the couple enjoyed international renown, made all the more heart sore as they were rarely on the same continent at the same time during these heady days in their respective careers. Granger always regarded acting as more of a job than a craft. Nevertheless, he did his work and was amply provided compensation in both wages and popularity with audiences as the new swashbuckler of the post-war era. Even so, while Simmons was shooting Desiree (1954) with Marlon Brando in Hollywood for Fox, Granger was in Columbia making Green Fire (1954) with Grace Kelly for MGM. Hence, producer Mike Frankovich’s invitation to partake of a mutual assignment, and, in the couple’s native Britain, must have seemed a godsend…with caveats to be addressed. Chiefly, Granger disliked Arthur Pierson’s early treatment of W.W. Jacob’s ‘The Interruption’ – briefly rechristened as ‘Deadlock’. He was also appalled to learn Frankovich had chosen Arthur Lubin to direct. Lubin’s career was primarily comprised of Abbott and Costello and Francis the Talking Mule programmers – hardly the right ‘type’ of director to helm a gloomy Gothic/noir melodrama. And before Simmons and Granger agreed to partake, Footsteps in the Fog almost starred Maureen O’Hara and George Sanders. While we can certainly see the merit in Sanders as the proverbial cad, the lusciously henna-haired O’Hara is a tough sell for the dowdy housemaid. In the end, Footsteps in the Fog proved something of a disappointment for all concerned. Despite its appeal in England, the picture was unceremoniously dumped on the market state’s side as the bottom half of a double bill where it quietly registered as little more than a blip. However, in the intervening decades its reputation has only continued to grow and for good reason.

If only we could sing such high praises for Indicator/Powerhouse’s Blu-ray release. Alas, no – the source material provided by Sony Home Entertainment is well below par and a rather disappointing blemish on the studio’s usual high standards in hi-def. Christopher Challis’ deliberately desaturated use of Technicolor herein looks very dull and unrefined, plagued in spots by some horrendous misalignment of the 3-strip records, resulting in some thoroughly disturbing halos. Film grain has been amplified, in some cases, with a grave inconsistency. Lest we forget, Technicolor was a grain-concealing process.  Also, contrast is weaker than anticipated, with flesh tones adopting the ill-fated ‘piggy pink’ tonality. It makes everyone look anemic at best, or worse – cartoony in the extreme. Never having seen Footsteps in the Fog during its theatrical run, I am still fairly certain none of these glaring lapses were part of Challis’ original visual design. Finally, the image suffers from intermittent bouts of age-related artifacts and a distinct hint of edge enhancement. This creates a shimmering effect duly noted in the pronounced Roman columns and architecture inside the Lowry estate. Honestly, I could not be more disheartened by what I am seeing here. The DTS mono audio is passable at best, sporting general clarity, I would expect nothing more or better from a vintage VHS copy. On that score, it does not disappoint.

Perhaps in a veiled attempt to gild this wilting lily with other reasons to buy, Indicator has given us some exemplary extras, beginning with a 70 min. audio only interview from Stewart Granger, recorded in 1990. The actor provides clarity and commentary on his life in pictures. It’s a great listen. Indicator has also assembled a trio of experts to weigh in on the many facets of the production. Prof. Steven Chibnall offers nearly a half-hour appraisal of co-star Belinda Lee – the ill-fated toast of Devon who, after conquering stage and screen, died in a horrible car accident outside of Vegas in 1961. She was only 26. Josephine Botting weighs in with another half-hour critical analysis of Hollywood’s post-war infatuation with the Gothic melodrama. Finally, Kat Ellinger explores the movie’s Gothic origins. Add to this another comprehensive booklet of goodies – essays by Chibnall and an original theatrical trailer and you have plenty to whet the appetite for a broodingly good thriller, alas, given short shrift in hi-def. For shame! Judge and buy accordingly.

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

4.5

VIDEO/AUDIO

2

EXTRAS

4