LISBON: Blu-ray (Republic Pictures, 1956) Kino Lorber

Two minutes into Lisbon (1956) uber-suave crime lord, Aristides Mavros callously whacks a baby sparrow to death with his tennis racket, leaving a trail of breadcrumbs leading to its petrified corpse for his wicked little pussy cat to follow. If only the rest of Lisbon had been as invested in Claude Rain’s silky malevolence, the audience might have been in for some great chills and good suspense. But no, Lisbon is actually the tale of Capt. Robert John Evans (Ray Milland, whose false modesty precludes him from outright advertising he is also the director/producer of this faulty flick – billed as ‘R.A. Milland’ in the producer’s credits, and similarly, ‘R. Milland’ as its director).  Perhaps, Milland had second thoughts about taking too much credit after seeing the final cut. Lisbon is stylishly photographed, but a fairly dull ‘thriller’ with more hairpin turns and misdirection than a Hitchcock suspense movie on crack, though with none of that master of suspense’s finesse, wit or sophistication. The picture stars Milland as an elusive smuggler. But Capt. Evans is not really a bad egg. He doesn’t run guns, drugs or get involved in human trafficking or murder. So, I suppose we can sincerely forgive him wanting to bring contraband goods like perfume, watches and lipstick, to the good people of Portugal…for a price. Lisbon is not a terrible movie – just a snore; John Tucker Battle’s screenplay, based on a page-turner by Martin Rackin, little more than a detour through some exotic locales, looking utterly sun-drenched and resplendent in Trucolor.

Milland, who began his Hollywood career as an aimable sort in thirties screwball/romantic comedies, outgrew the part of the male ingenue after playing the raving alcoholic in Billy Wilder’s Oscar-winning The Lost Weekend (1945). And while Milland truly came into his own here, apart from his superb performance in Hitchcock’s 3D masterpiece, Dial ‘M’ for Murder (1954) the actor hit a rather spotty spate of films thereafter, finding his niche on television instead. Personally, I have never understood Milland’s appeal as a ‘leading man’. He possessed the charisma, but not the look. And let us be clear here. We are not talking about sex appeal, per say, but an ‘interesting face’. Milland’s visage promises a congenial enough fellow, but one otherwise suited to selling us some ‘Watchtower.’ In Lisbon, Milland attempts to revert back to the modest chap that made his bones in films like Say It in French (1938) or The Doctor Takes a Wife (1940). First problem: Milland is older. His aforementioned ‘look’ – that, at least in youth could have passed for the disposably clean-cut fop, is, by 1954, leaning toward a bloated budgie who should have known better than to present himself as the movie hero of any woman’s daydreams. On this outing, the lady in question is…well…no lady: Sylvia Merrill – a henna-haired/noir-styled shrew, vamped to the nth degree by Maureen O’Hara (as miscast as the uber-bitch as Milland is as the stud). The picture also costars Francis Lederer as the darkly purposed Seraphim; his range of expressions, as though hardened in cement or to have come from the Buster Keaton School of Emoting.

In the mid-fifties, Milland aspired to transition his career behind the camera. This might have worked. If only he did not continue to appear in the movies he also directed. Republic Pictures, then foundering and desperate for a ‘name’ to buoy their product, gave Milland the opportunity to wear two hats. And Milland, to his credit actually, emerged with a remarkably good B-western, A Man Alone (1955) as his first directorial feature for the studio. Lisbon marks Milland’s second stab; a genuine pity the girth of his creativity is not as elasticized herein. Instead, he just seems very stiff throughout Lisbon, his directorial skills not all that much more animated – distracted, perhaps by running back and forth to check the shot, then actually perform within it. Milland’s Capt. Evans is not an old salt, a young buck or an enterprising smuggler, flying by the seat of his pants. Instead Milland plays at the lover and the fighter as pure dumb show, with a dash of the supposedly loveable rogue besides, yet with a gamut of reactions that choke on the chasm between ‘A’ and ‘B’ and, on occasion, do not even get from ‘A’ to ‘A-’.  We could have forgiven Milland being distracted with more pressing concerns behind the camera, had Lisbon’s plot moved like gangbusters and the story been soooooo good, even a limp noodle in the lead could not submarine it. But no, Lisbon is clumsily stitched together, fracturing plot and purpose for most of its 86 minutes and feeling – even at this scant run time – as though it has outstayed its welcome by at least twenty.

We meet Capt. Evans and quickly discover he is a post-war expat who has made Lisbon his home. And why not? In America, Evans would likely be held up in a one-bedroom apartment, suffering the crumbs and going door to door selling insurance or encyclopedias to lonely war-widows and tiny tots. But in Portugal he is a rogue – or rather, rogue ‘wannabe’ – considered the dashing middle-aged smuggler, who delights in outfoxing the rather simplistic local authorities to bring his ‘black market’ stash into port on the fastest boat in these parts. Point blank: Evans has a reputation – enough to be of interest to the ebullient Greek crime boss, Aristides ‘Mr. Big’ Mavros (Claude Rains). Marvos has a proposition…and its worth a cool $10,000. Evans is asked to sneak Lloyd Merrill (Percy Marmont) into Lisbon. An aged but wealthy industrialist, Merrill has escaped from behind the Iron Curtain. His much younger wife, Sylvia (Maureen O’Hara), already in Lisbon, is an ice princess. Worse for both men, she has already made the executive decision to use her feminine wiles on Evans at her husband’s expense. After all, if some accident should befall Lloyd, Sylvia would be worth a cool $25 million.

Hence, Sylvia and Mavros conspire to have Lloyd meet with an untimely end at the hands of Marvos’ private secretary/assassin: Seraphim (Francis Lederer).  Unbeknownst to Sylvia, Marvos adds Evans to this hit list. Meanwhile, the Captain has fallen for one of Mavros’ sex kittens, Maria Maddalena Masanet, (Yvonne Furneaux). Our introduction to the luscious Furneaux – Maria, lazily soaking up some rays with a lime green sombrero barely covering her unmentionables. From here on in, Lisbon’s plot becomes a series of fairly contrived red herrings as Milland rather arbitrarily keeps moving his markers do a three-act structure to the penultimate showdown. These diverting machinations are supposed to be suspense-laden and riveting, but instead simply fill the run time until the moment when Maria confides in Evans about Marvos’ double-cross. After the dust has settled, Sylvia is left with a hubby still very much alive, and Marvos, effectively implicated in Evan’s smuggling operation. As a point of contention, but also to conclude Lisbon on the proverbial note of a ‘happy ending’ – Evans professes to go legit and stay with Maria.

Even as tricked out in Trucolor and Naturama (Republic Pictures answer to Cinemascope) Lisbon is forgettable to a fault. Director, Milland’s setup to the main plot is strong. The first fifteen minutes or so have the necessary unease to heighten our curiosity and keep us watching. But then, inexplicably, everything falls apart as star, Milland gets hooked on the particulars of his character intervening in Lloyd’s imprisonment. Alas, the State Department’s thumb-screws approach to pumping Sylvia for intel, or, at the very least, force her to step aside – all elements in the original novel – is barely referenced or entirely expunged from John Tucker Battle’s screenplay, presumably at the studio’s behest. Herbert Yates, head of Republic, probably had the right idea. Why ruffle feathers with political intrigue, especially during the era of the McCarthy witch hunts? So, Lisbon becomes a tepid, diffused and thoroughly unprepossessing thriller.  Milland plays Evans with an even keel of good will and empathy. This may bode well for Milland’s public persona, but it does absolutely nothing for the character. Evans lacks the edginess one would hope to find in an international trafficker. Claude Rains is rather delicious – as Rains always is. He could read the telephone book and it would be considered art. But we do not get nearly enough of Mavros’ menace or Rains’ star power herein to satisfy. Marvos is a secondary character, relegated to third-wheel status by Milland, whom I suspect knows full and well he is being out-classed and upstaged professionally. So, Rains’ baddie gets sacrificed to add more close-ups of Maureen O’Hara’s haughty and exclusive wench in heels. She is fun to look at…especially in Trucolor.

Perhaps the most perplexing aspect of Lisbon is that apart from its title card advertising it as having been ‘made in Portugal’ by the Republic Corporation, most of what is here hails from confined studio sets, presumably shot on the Republic backlot. Exteriors of the Palácio da Pena in Sintra and Mosteiro dos Jerónimos, briefly glimpsed in all their sunlit glory, are fascinating portholes to a time before tourism run amuck, replacing green spaces with high-rise condos and beach-front hotels. But most of the action takes place on transparent re-creations, under controlled lighting and with a decidedly faint whiff of embalming fluid creeping in from the peripheries. The Palácio in Estoril, as example, is chronically referenced, but never shown. Was this not in the budget?!?  What about the stock footage of Evan’s boat always sailing past the same stretch of pebbled coastline? Lisbon is passably attractive, thanks to Jack A. Marta’s cinematography. But it remains deadly dull as a dramatic story. If the picture is remembered at all today, it must be for Nelson Riddle’s main theme, recorded several times after the film’s release and even given a vocal reprise by famed Portuguese fadista, Amália Rodrigues.

Kino Lorber lets Lisbon loose on Blu-ray in a transfer described as both ‘new’ and derived from a ‘4K scan of the original Trucolor negative.’ I just wish Kino would add certain caveats to their marketing PR – namely, that little actual ‘restoration work’ has been done to eradicate age-related artifacts, and, in one glaring instance – severe damage to the original camera negative. There is also some misregistration of the Trucolor, resulting in glaring halos of color that sporadically crop up but cause the image to become severely out of focus and ugly. On the whole, colors are punchy. But the anamorphic image has a soft quality and fine details never come to the forefront, despite the 4K scan. The DTS 2.0 audio is acceptable, and clean, and sounds about what you would expect for a vintage fifties release. So, no complaints here.  Kino gilds the lily with Toby Roan’s audio commentary. I have to say, given my lack of enjoyment with the actual story, Roan’s factually-dense coverage of the making of this movie is the real star here. This is a great listen.  We also get a handful of trailers for other Kino product. Bottom line: Lisbon is just below average entertainment. The stars are never given an opportunity to truly shine. The 1080p transfer is flawed and should not be touted as 4K quality when it needs more work to truly give it that added oomph. Regrets.

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

2.5

VIDEO/AUDIO

3

EXTRAS

1