THE BLUE DAHLIA: Blu-ray (Paramount, 1946) Shout! Factory

Alan Ladd and the ill-fated Veronica Lake are reunited for the third, and arguably most memorable of their 4-picture outings in director, George Marshall’s The Blue Dahlia (1946), based on a proposed novel by Raymond Chandler and for which Chandler actually wrote his own screenplay. Chandler’s great gift to the noir crime thriller was his superb dialogue. Construction, alas, was not his thing, and The Blue Dahlia, like John Huston’s The Big Sleep (released this same year) is yet another example of style triumphing over substance. Asked to explain the importance of the title, as virtually only two brief scenes occur in the otherwise posh nightclub owned by spurious lady’s man, Eddie Harwood (Howard Da Silva), Chandler begrudgingly had to admit “there’s no such thing as a blue dahlia!” In other words, the title – like the flower, is nothing more substantial than a screen MacGuffin. It also has absolutely nothing to do with ‘the black dahlia’ – the name posthumously afforded aspiring starlet, Elizabeth Short, whose grotesquely mutilated body was discovered in Leimert Park and whose killer has remained infamously at large ever since. For much of its run time, The Blue Dahlia concerns itself with the whereabouts of one Johnny Morrison (Alan Ladd), a flyer newly returned to civilian life, only to discover his slinky wife, Helen (Doris Dowling) has been carrying on, presumably with many partners in his absence; the already married Harwood, her latest affair du jour. Into this mix, Chandler introduces a slightly damaged best friend, Buzz Wanchek (William Bendix), and, Veronica Lake as Harwood’s wife, Joyce - the perennially cool blonde with a wicked jaw and tart-mouthed rebuttal to any unwanted advances.  Also, in for the ride are Hugh Beaumont – as an unlikely third ‘best friend’, ever devoted to watching over Buzz like a mother hen, and, Don Costello (who tragically died of a sleeping pill overdose not long after completing this picture) as the heavy - Leo, a spurious manager of Harwood’s business concerns.  

As a murder mystery, The Blue Dahlia is an absorbing delusion; Chandler’s ever-careening authorship constantly moving all of these unscrupulous partners in crime in deviant directions so as to thoroughly muddy his narrative with calculatingly plotted intricacies that, in the final analysis, still lead fairly deliberately to the expected killer’s front door. Watching The Blue Dahlia for the first time, one is immediately struck by two aspects: first, that its boat-load of red herrings never capsizes the plausibility of its denouement, and second, how easily Ladd and Lake make for an engaging pair of star-crossed lovers, even though he portrays a guy who is hardly the ‘loving’ type and she does not even appear until nearly 20 minutes in, and thereafter, only sporadically crops up to reignite Johnny’s wild fire passions. The action sequences that steadily escalate the screen’s tensions are masterfully executed and, even in dumb show, appear fairly brutal. Alan Ladd, of whom much has been written about his lack of confidence due to his diminutive 5’ 6” frame, unequivocally proves herein that neither raw talent nor even more potently realized raw masculinity can be measured in inches. Ladd’s screen persona, at least in the 1940’s, towered over much of the competition. With immaculately chiseled good looks, and dressed in suits to exaggerate his broad shoulders, Ladd just seems to be the epitome of the all-around good guy, insulating his heart in an outer layer of chest-thumping male toughness.

And Veronica Lake, still sporting a variation of the slinky blonde tresses, a kinky shock to lazily drape and momentarily obscure her porcelain visage, first debuted in Sullivan’s Travels (1941), is Ladd’s perfect foil herein; a sex kitten that can scratch as well as purr pure animal magnetism. Despite this legendary and trademarked sex appeal, Lake too suffered from a queer and lifelong built-in insecurity; her inability to reconcile her studio-trumped-up public persona with a rather shy and unassuming reality would eventually lead Lake to self-destruction. Eerily similar, Ladd succumbed to a cerebral edema caused by an acute overdose of alcohol and drugs, later ruled as accidental. Knowing the last acts of each star’s life adds something to our appreciation for their combined talents in their prime. Herein, the electricity between Ladd’s volatile war hero and Lake’s wounded sparrow is both kinetic and gratifying. The screen was made for them and they for one another. The Blue Dahlia may not play up this angle as much as one might hope, but from the moment Johnny and Joyce meet cute as she cordially offers him a ride out to Malibu, until the penultimate moment when they are set free by fate and circumstance to romantically pursue one another on their own terms, The Blue Dahlia achieves its primary objective – to give audiences more of the Ladd/Lake chemistry that made them – if only briefly, as memorably suited as Bogie and Bacall, Hepburn and Tracy, or, Powell and Loy.

Under producer, John Houseman’s aegis, Paramount acquired the services of Raymond Chandler to script The Blue Dahlia; the two men having previously collaborated on The Unseen (1945). Indeed, Chandler had fallen into a creative rut on The Blue Dahlia, first planned as a novel when Houseman offered to read the roughly 120 pages Chandler had already committed to before succumbing to writer’s block. Blown away by its intensity, Houseman convinced Paramount’s executive brain trust to buy the unfinished manuscript as their next vehicle for Alan Ladd. Almost immediately, Houseman began assembling his cast, hiring Bendix and Marshall from the outset.  Ladd, who famously judged his fellow actors by their height, determined that none should be taller than he, admired Lake, who was perfectly sized opposite him. But Ladd attempted, rather unsuccessfully, to get rid of Doris Dowling as she had six inches up on him. Instead, Houseman reasoned with his star, assuring Ladd that in their brief scenes together Dowling would always be seated or lying down. Meanwhile, Paramount was faced with another crisis. Ladd, who honorably served in the army until a discharge due to illness, more recently had been reclassified 1-A. This meant, at any moment he could be recalled into active duty, leaving the studio holding the bag. As a result, Paramount wasted no time putting The Blue Dahlia into production before a final script was completed. Director, Marshall shot so efficiently, by the fourth week of principle photography the script girl noted that at this pace he would run out of pages before film in the camera. Meanwhile, Chandler poured over his original ending. Initially, Buzz was to have murdered Johnny’s wife in a fitful rage, immediately followed by a blackout. As Buzz was a veteran, the U.S. War Department impressed upon Paramount that to have one of their own depicted as a cold-blooded killer would cast a pall on all servicemen.

In desperation, Paramount offered Chandler a $5000 bonus to wrap up the screenplay post haste. Ironically, this only added to Chandler’s increased lack of self-confidence, his anxiety over finishing the movie on time, and, his sense of dignity, he suddenly believed had been impugned. Instead of expediting the writing process, Chandler offered to quit. Mercifully, Houseman convinced his creative genius to go home and sleep on it. A day later, Chandler returned to the fray with his own list of demands: first, permission to start drinking again – a way to build up his courage, even as he tore down his health. Second, the use of two Cadillac limos, six secretaries and a direct line to Paramount’s front switchboard.  Granted everything, Chandler dug in and finished the script. But he was increasingly discontented, not only with being squeezed to write an alternative ending to the one he preferred, but also with Lake’s performance – nicknaming her ‘Moronica Lake’. “The only times she's good is when she keeps her mouth shut and looks mysterious,” Chandler reportedly told a friend, “The moment she tries to behave as if she had a brain she falls flat on her face. The scenes we had to cut out because she loused them up! And there are three godawful close shots of her looking perturbed that make me want to throw my lunch over the fence.” For her part, Lake made a half-hearted attempt to get to know this writer she had never read; then, reverted to reciprocating Chandler’s distaste for her back at him. Indeed, Lake had a reputation within the industry for being ‘hard to handle’. Apart from Alan Ladd, with whom she got on rather splendidly, Lake quickly acquired a reputation on set, referred to as ‘that bitch’. Similarly, rumblings of Lake’s attitude had dogged her since Sullivan’s Travels’ costar, Joel McCrea refused to be reunited with her, for I Married A Witch (1942), adding, “Life’s too short for two pictures with Veronica Lake.”  

The Blue Dahlia opens with a rare location shot, lensed in downtown Los Angeles as Johnny Morrison (Ladd), Buzz Wanchek (William Bendix) and George Copeland (Hugh Beaumont), three recently discharged Navy aviators, suddenly find themselves at liberty. Johnny is eager to return to his wife, Helen after serving in the South Pacific. But Buzz and George are rudderless, electing to take a room together. Buzz has shell shock, aggravated by jazz music, and, a metal plate in his head he reveals to all during a barroom brawl with a soldier playing the jukebox. Surprising Helen at the bungalow suite they shared before the war, Johnny is in for a few unwelcome surprises of his own.  He finds his home jam-packed with inebriated revelers and Helen sneaking kisses with a new lover, Eddie Harwood (Howard Da Silva) behind a closed door. The establishment’s house detective, ‘Dad’ Newell (Will Wright) is the lecherous sort. After exposing Helen and Harwood and punching the latter square in the chops, Johnny demands to know the truth about their affair. Helen, bitter and drunk, reveals to her husband for the first time that their young son, Dickie did not die of diphtheria as she had originally written him overseas, but rather, was killed in a hideous car crash caused by her drunken incompetence. Johnny pulls a gun on Helen, but cannot bring himself to use it. Instead, he drops the pistol at Helen’s feet and leaves.

Unable to make contact with Johnny, Buzz decides to go in search of him. Buzz meets Helen socially at the hotel bar. Quite unaware who she is, he joins her for a drink and is lured back to the bungalow she shared with Johnny. Now, Harwood telephones. He has had enough of fooling around with Helen. Alas, hell hath no fury, and Helen instead attempts to blackmail Harwood into seeing her again. Meanwhile, Johnny is picked up in the rain by Harwood’s wife, Joyce who is separated from her husband. As neither reveals their name, Joyce and Johnny become flirtatious on the ride over to the Malibu Inn. The next morning, having spent the night in separate bedrooms, Joyce and Johnny have breakfast together. Sheepishly, he decides to give his marriage a second chance. But before departing the inn, Johnny catches an ‘all-points bulletin’ revealing the discovery of Helen body in their bungalow apartment, shot with his pistol. As the police’s prime suspect, Johnny flees, checking himself into a seedy motel under an assumed name. Discovering Dickie’s photo among Johnny’s possessions, the corrupt hotel manager, Corelli (Howard Freeman) attempts a feeble blackmail. Instead, Johnny beats Corelli and his accomplices senseless, discovering a cryptic confession on the back of Dickie’s photo. This reveals that Harwood is actually Eddie Bauer – wanted for a murder in New Jersey.

Regaining consciousness, Corelli sells Johnny's identity to the gangster, Leo (Don Costello), who not only manages Harwood’s nightclub, The Blue Dahlia, but also hires a couple of thugs to kidnap Johnny. These brutes take Johnny to a secluded cabin. But Johnny, after several missteps, manages a violent escape before Harwood arrives. Meanwhile, Buzz and George pay a call on Harwood at the Blue Dahlia where they are also introduced to Joyce. The club’s band plays, reminiscent of the ‘jungle music’ Helen was listening to in her bungalow the night she was killed. This triggers a violent episode in Buzz. Arriving late to this party, Johnny forces Harwood to admit how fifteen years earlier he was involved in the cold-blooded murder of a bank messenger. Leo tries to silence Johnny but shoots Harwood instead. Still a hunted man, Johnny flees to the Blue Dahlia, even as the police are trying to pin Helen’s murder on Buzz. Instead, Johnny encourages Joyce to turn up the music, realizing it will trigger Buzz’s memory, and, indeed, under duress, he vividly recalls having left the bungalow while Helen was still very much alive. Confronted with this truth, Police Captain Henrickson (Tom Powers) presses Newell on his account of the events, with an added accusation of blackmail gone wrong, leading to Helen’s murder. Realizing he is trapped in a lie, Newell tries to shoot his way out of a bad situation but is shot by Henrickson instead, leaving Joyce and Johnny to pursue each other on their own romantic terms.

The Blue Dahlia’s scenarios are not so much ‘twisted’ as ‘tangled’ and – occasionally ‘mangled’ – Chandler’s brilliance encountering more than several implausible roadblocks on route to his denouement. As with a good many of Chandler’s master strokes of genius, it is not essential for the plot to follow a linear, or even a progressive dramatic arc. His writing is so good, even when it fails to adhere to movie-land logic, or, on occasion, basic common sense, it still holds the audience captive. And Chandler does not need narrative cohesion either, especially when he has stars as sexy and brilliant as Ladd and Lake, and, to a lesser degree, Howard Da Silva and William Bendix, who provide intriguing secondary character studies without any real narrative trajectory to complete them. The Blue Dahlia is a stylish noir. Lionel Lindon’s chiaroscuro-lit cinematography adds immensely to its moody magnificence. If the picture has a flaw, it arguably remains Paramount’s executive decision to keep the picture studio-bound, relying on matte process shots to add dimension to the few locations sporadically interpolated throughout.

The picture’s title, ‘The Blue Dahlia’ has absolutely nothing to do with our story – or rather, very little. Chandler tries to link Helen’s murder with her insidious obsession for this dark flower whose petals she frustratingly plucks and strews about her bungalow mere hours before meeting her untimely end. But the neon-tubed facsimile we first encounter under the main titles – actually the marquee of Harwood’s nightclub – is decidedly a red herring, as only two brief scenes actually take place at Harwood’s Hollywood hot spot, and even then, neither pivotal to the overall plot. I confess, ‘The Blue Dahlia’ is a ‘cool’ noir-ish title that conjures all sorts of perverse mystery at a glance. The whodunit we get is not nearly as compelling as the title, but it works as a slinky bit of noir-inspired deception with Ladd and Lake doing their utmost to tantalize us. They do. The movie does as much, and ultimately, The Blue Dahlia succeeds as a suggestive, stark and steely-eyed entertainment, populated by stars who are fun to look at, and, a plot that continues to baffle until one simply surrenders the ghost of playing ‘armchair detective’ and elects, instead, to take on this dark thrill ride on its own terms and to its inevitable conclusion. Wow! What a great picture…for all the wrong reasons!

The Blue Dahlia arrives on Blu-ray via Shout! Factory’s ‘Select’ series. As with The Glenn Miller Story – another Shout! acquisition from Universal – the results here are a mixed bag at best. Universal’s transfer is 'forgivably' flawed. The 1080p B&W image sports excellent contrast and sharpness, with oodles of fine detail revealed throughout and good tonality in its gray scale. Tragically, little has been done to eradicate age-related artifacts. At times, the print is in very good shape with minimal speckling. However, at regular intervals we get a lot of dirt and scratches. Film grain has been inconsistently rendered. At times, it appears indigenous to its source; but then, almost entirely gone, and then, much too heavy to be accurate. Odd, awkward and badly done. The original mono soundtrack is in fairly good shape and sounds adequate in 2.0 DTS. Several extras accompany this release, starting with an audio commentary by film historians, Alan K. Rode and Steve Mitchell. It’s okay, but somewhat meandering, and often prone to merely commenting on the on-screen action. We also get the half-hour 1949 Screen Guild Theater Radio broadcast of The Blue Dahlia, plus the original theatrical trailer and a photo gallery. Overall, the results are just a shay above middling: disappointing, given Shout! has elected to consider this a ‘Select’ Blu-ray release – usually reserved for its more pristine 1080p mastering efforts. As The Blue Dahlia is not altogether in dire straits what would it have cost Universal (the current custodians of all pre-fifties Paramount product) to apply some marginal clean-up efforts and remaster this movie in a quality befitting video mastering circa 2018? What, indeed? Bottom line: excellent noir thriller with a less than exceptional transfer. Judge and buy accordingly.

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

4

VIDEO/AUDIO

3

EXTRAS

3